CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
DANGERS OF THE PRAIRIE--OUR TRAVELLERS ATTACKED BY INDIANS, ANDDELIVERED IN A REMARKABLE MANNER.
There are periods in the life of almost all men when misfortunes seem tocrowd upon them in rapid succession, when they escape from one dangeronly to encounter another, and when, to use a well-known expression,they succeed in leaping out of the frying-pan at the expense of plunginginto the fire.
So was it with our three friends upon this occasion. They were scarcelyrid of the Blackfeet, who found them too watchful to be caught napping,when, about daybreak one morning they encountered a roving band ofCamanchee Indians, who wore such a warlike aspect that Joe deemed itprudent to avoid them if possible.
"They don't see us yit, I guess," said Joe, as he and his companionsdrove the horses into a hollow between the grassy waves of the prairie,"any if we only can escape their sharp eyes till we're in yonder clumpo' willows, we're safe enough."
"But why don't you ride up to them, Joe," inquired Dick, "and make peacebetween them and the Pale-faces, as you ha' done with other bands?"
"Because it's o' no use to risk our scalps for the chance o' makin'peace wi' a rovin' war-party. Keep yer head down, Henri! If they gitonly a sight o' the top o' yer cap, they'll be down on us like a breezeo' _wind_."
"Hah! let dem come!" said Henri.
"They'll come without askin' yer leave," remarked Joe drily.
Notwithstanding his defiant expression, Henri had sufficient prudence toinduce him to bend his head and shoulders, and in a few minutes theyreached the shelter of the willows unseen by the savages. At least sothought Henri, Joe was not quite sure about it, and Dick hoped for thebest.
In the course of half an hour the last of the Camanchees was seen tohover for a second on the horizon, like a speck of black against thesky, and then to disappear.
Immediately the three hunters bolted on their steeds and resumed theirjourney; but before that evening closed they had sad evidence of thesavage nature of the band from which they had escaped. On passing thebrow of a slight eminence, Dick, who rode first, observed that Crusoestopped and snuffed the breeze in an anxious, inquiring manner.
"What is't, pup?" said Dick, drawing up, for he knew that his faithfuldog never gave a false alarm.
Crusoe replied by a short, uncertain bark, and then bounding forward,disappeared behind a little wooded knoll. In another moment a long,dismal howl floated over the plains. There was a mystery about thedog's conduct which, coupled with his melancholy cry, struck thetravellers with a superstitious feeling of dread, as they sat looking ateach other in surprise.
"Come, let's clear it up," cried Joe Blunt, shaking the reins of hissteed, and galloping forward. A few strides brought them to the otherside of the knoll where, scattered upon the torn and bloody turf, theydiscovered the scalped and mangled remains of about twenty or thirtyhuman beings. Their skulls had been cleft by the tomahawk, and theirbreasts pierced by the scalping-knife; and from the position in whichmany of them lay, it was evident that they had been slain while asleep.
Joe's brow flushed, and his lips became tightly compressed, as hemuttered between his set teeth, "Their skins are white."
A short examination sufficed to show that the men who had thus beenbarbarously murdered while they slept had been a band of trappers, orhunters; but what their errand had been, or whence they came, they couldnot discover.
Everything of value had been carried off, and all the scalps had beentaken. Most of the bodies, although much mutilated, lay in a posturethat led our hunters to believe they had been killed while asleep; butone or two were cut almost to pieces, and from the blood-bespattered andtrampled sward around, it seemed as if they had struggled long andfiercely for life. Whether or not any of the savages had been slain, itwas impossible to tell, for if such had been the case, their comrades,doubtless, had carried away their bodies. That they had beenslaughtered by the party of Camanchees who had been seen at daybreak,was quite clear to Joe; but his burning desire to revenge the death ofthe white men had to be stifled, as his party was so small.
Long afterwards it was discovered that this was a band of trappers who,like those mentioned at the beginning of this volume, had set out toavenge the death of a comrade; but God, who has retained the right ofvengeance in His own hand, saw fit to frustrate their purpose, by givingthem into the hands of the savages whom they had set forth to slay.
As it was impossible to bury so many bodies, the travellers resumedtheir journey, and left them to bleach there in the wilderness; but theyrode the whole of that day almost without uttering a word. Meanwhilethe Camanchees, who had observed the trio, and had ridden away at firstfor the purpose of deceiving them into the belief that they had passedunobserved, doubled on their track, and took a long sweep in order tokeep out of sight until they could approach under the shelter of a beltof woodland towards which the travellers now approached.
The Indians adopted this course instead of the easier method of simplypursuing so weak a party, because the plains at this part were borderedby a long stretch of forest into which the hunters could have plunged,and rendered pursuit more difficult, if not almost useless. The detourthus taken was so extensive that the shades of evening were beginning todescend before they could put their plan into execution. The forest layabout a mile to the right of our hunters, like some dark mainland, ofwhich the prairie was the sea, and the scattered clumps of wood theislands.
"There's no lack o' game here," said Dick Varley, pointing to a herd ofbuffaloes which rose at their approach, and fled away towards the wood.
"I think we'll ha' thunder soon," remarked Joe. "I never feel itonnatteral hot like this without looking out for a plump."
"Hah! den ve better look hout for one goot tree to get b'low," suggestedHenri. "Voila!" he added, pointing with his finger towards the plain;"dere am a lot of wild hosses."
A troop of about thirty wild horses appeared, as he spoke, on the browof a ridge, and advanced slowly towards them.
"Hist!" exclaimed Joe, reining up; "hold on, lads. Wild horses! myrifle to a pop-gun there's wilder men on t'other side o' them."
"What mean you, Joe?" inquired Dick, riding close up.
"D'ye see the little lumps on the shoulder o' each horse?" said Joe."Them's Injun's _feet_; an' if we don't want to lose our scalps we'dbetter make for the forest."
Joe proved himself to be in earnest by wheeling round and makingstraight for the thick woods as fast as his horse could run. The othersfollowed, driving the pack-horses before them.
The effect of this sudden movement on the so-called "wild horses" wasvery remarkable, and to one unacquainted with the habits of theCamanchee Indians, must have appeared almost supernatural. In thetwinkling of an eye every steed had a rider on its back, and before thehunters had taken five strides in the direction of the forest, the wholeband were in hot pursuit, yelling like furies.
The manner in which these Indians accomplish this feat is very singular,and implies great activity and strength of muscle on the part of thesavages.
The Camanchees are low in stature, and usually are rather corpulent. Intheir movements on foot they are heavy and ungraceful, and they are, onthe whole, a slovenly and unattractive race of men. But the instantthey mount their horses they seem to be entirely changed, and surprisethe spectator with the ease and elegance of their movements. Theirgreat and distinctive peculiarity as horsemen is the power they haveacquired of throwing themselves suddenly on either side of their horse'sbody, and clinging on in such a way that no part of them is visible fromthe other side save the foot by which they cling. In this manner theyapproach their enemies at full gallop, and without rising again to thesaddle, discharge their arrows at them over their horses' backs, or evenunder their necks.
This apparently magical feat is accomplished by means of a halter ofhorsehair, which is passed round under the neck of the horse, and bothends braided into the mane, on the withers, thus forming a loop whichhangs under the neck and aga
inst the breast. This being caught by thehand, makes a sling, into which the elbow falls, taking the weight ofthe body on the middle of the upper arm. Into this loop the rider dropssuddenly and fearlessly, leaving his heel to hang over the horse's back,to steady him, and also to restore him to his seat when desired.
By this stratagem the Indians had approached on the present occasionalmost within rifle range before they were discovered, and it requiredthe utmost speed of the hunters' horses to enable them to avoid beingovertaken. One of the Indians, who was better mounted than his fellows,gained on the fugitives so much that he came within arrow range, butreserved his shaft until they were close on the margin of the wood,when, being almost alongside of Henri, he fitted an arrow to his bow.Henri's eye was upon him, however; letting go the line of the pack-horsewhich he was leading, he threw forward his rifle, but at the same momentthe savage disappeared behind his horse, and an arrow whizzed past thehunter's ear.
Henri fired at the horse, which dropped instantly, hurling theastonished Camanchee upon the ground, where he lay for some timeinsensible. In a few seconds pursued and pursuers entered the wood,where both had to advance with caution, in order to avoid being sweptoff by the overhanging branches of the trees.
Meanwhile the sultry heat of which Joe had formerly spoken increasedconsiderably, and a rumbling noise, as if of distant thunder, was heard;but the flying hunters paid no attention to it, for the led horses gavethem so much trouble, and retarded their flight so much, that theIndians were gradually and visibly gaining on them.
"We'll ha' to let the packs go," said Joe, somewhat bitterly, as helooked over his shoulder. "Our scalps 'll pay for't if we don't."
Henri uttered a peculiar and significant _hiss_ between his teeth, as hesaid, "P'raps ve better stop and fight!"
Dick said nothing, being resolved to do exactly what Joe Blunt bid him;and Crusoe, for reasons best known to himself, also said nothing, butbounded along beside his master's horse, casting an occasional glanceupwards to catch any signal that might be given.
They had passed over a considerable space of ground, and were forcingtheir way, at the imminent hazard of their necks, through adensely-clothed part of the wood, when the sound above referred toincreased, attracting the attention of both parties. In a few secondsthe air was filled with a steady and continuous rumbling sound, like thenoise of a distant cataract. Pursuers and fugitives drew reininstinctively, and came to a dead stand, while the rumbling increased toa roar, and evidently approached them rapidly, though as yet nothing tocause it could be seen, except that there was a dense, dark cloudoverspreading the sky to the southward. The air was oppressively stilland hot.
"What can't be?" inquired Dick, looking at Joe, who was gazing with anexpression of wonder, not unmixed with concern, at the southern sky.
"Dunno, boy. I've bin more in the woods than in the clearin' in my day,but I niver heerd the likes o' that."
"It am like t'ondre," said Henri; "mais it nevair do stop."
This was true. The sound was similar to continuous, uninterruptedthunder. On it came with a magnificent roar that shook the very earth,and revealed itself at last in the shape of a mighty whirlwind. In amoment the distant woods bent before it, and fell like grass before thescythe. It was a whirling hurricane, accompanied by a deluge of rainsuch as none of the party had ever before witnessed. Steadily,fiercely, irresistibly, it bore down upon them, while the crash offalling, snapping, and uprooting trees mingled with the dire artilleryof that sweeping storm like the musketry on a battle-field.
"Follow me, lads!" shouted Joe, turning his horse and dashing at fullspeed towards a rocky eminence that offered shelter. But shelter wasnot needed. The storm was clearly defined. Its limits were asdistinctly marked by its Creator as if it had been a living intelligencesent forth to put a belt of desolation round the world; and, althoughthe edge of devastation was not five hundred yards from the rock behindwhich the hunters were stationed, only a few drops of ice-cold rain fellupon them.
It passed directly between the Camanchee Indians and their intendedvictims, placing between them a barrier which it would have taken daysto cut through. The storm blew for an hour, then it travelled onward inits might, and was lost in distance. Whence it came and whither it wentnone could tell; but, far as the eye could see on either hand, an avenuea quarter of a mile wide was cut through the forest. It had levelledeverything with the dust; the very grass was beaten flat, the trees weretorn, shivered, snapped across, and crushed; and the earth itself inmany places was ploughed up and furrowed with deep scars. The chaos wasindescribable, and it is probable that centuries will not quiteobliterate the work of that single hour.
While it lasted, Joe and his comrades remained speechless andawe-stricken. When it passed, no Indians were to be seen. So ourhunters remounted their steeds, and, with feelings of gratitude to Godfor having delivered them alike from savage foes and from thedestructive power of the whirlwind, resumed their journey towards theMustang Valley.