CHAPTER XXVII.
THE MOUNTAIN MAN IS REINFORCED.
The Piegan captains remained squatted at the council fire, thoughtfullysmoking.
After directing Dona Rosario, for this was the young lady whom he hadsaved from the Manitobans' clutches, to be attended to in a hut placedwholly at her service, Cherokee Bill wrapped himself up in buffalorobes to steam himself dry and drive away rheumatism. The othersrespected his curative withdrawal from the conversational circle, butevinced some anxiety lest his catching cold should spoil his voice.
The way things had come about was thus:--
We know that it was arranged that Dona Rosario should be put in thepannier of a riding mule, so that the party of gold seekers mighttravel by a straighter road. Meanwhile, Filditch and Williams werehovering about them as closely as they dared, cautiously exchangingbrief confidence with Joe and Dearborn up to the critical moment. Thenthe Spanish girl was to be aided by the two friends of Ridge.
The plan was so simple and infallible, that the girl gleefully adoptedit.
Soon after the second day's start in this order, whilst the mule wasyet fresh, Filditch and his companion sprang on two outriders andpulled them to the ground. Unfortunately, Foxface, whom the Californianhad thrown, was up again like lightning and encumbered the other as hewas trying to mount in the warm saddle. The result was, that Bill wason horseback and riding alone at the point in the file where he couldtake Rosario's mule by the bridle.
It is true Filditch kicked the man away, but the delay was fatal. Hewas compelled to plunge into the woods at the side of the ravine wherethis occurred, or be the target for twenty rifle shots.
During this the Cherokee had executed his project. Thanks to his whoop,which set the animals curveting, and the increase in the confusiondue to Joe, Leon, and Ranald, no one could get an effectual shot atthe abductor of the young girl as the two dived in at a gap in theunderwood.
But there was too much of a good thing. Rosario's mule was not alone inattraction towards the coquettish mare which the Cherokee had stolen.A number of the animals set up a cry at the mare's whinny, and for amoment the stampede threatened to be general. To be left without ahoof under them in the wild woods is the worst fate known to men likeKidd's command. They flew to work with superhuman activity, daring, andstrength, and secured most of the frenzied animals. Still, a dozen hadtailed off after Bill and the girl, very deeply to his disgust. But theonly thing was to move on with the torrent of horseflesh of his ownoriginating. In time they could be beguiled into a steep path, where,by dragging Rosario into a niche, the rest would hurl themselves by andbe gone irreturnably.
Here, again, calculations were upset by the Half-breeds on their way torendezvous with Kidd at the fixed place.
Bill saw them only in time to take a new course. But Dagard and a fewof the better mounted started off after the straggling line, of whichthey at once cut off two or three hindmost. But the others freshenedup at being so harried, and the kind of wild hunt continued hotterthan ever. The thunder of the added coursers continually reminded theCherokee that these woodsmen were not easily to be outridden and thrownoff so broad a track.
"Are you brave?" inquired he of the girl, flushed and excited by themad gallop.
"I do not know, judged by your measure," she replied; "but there'sone thing sure, I would sooner kill myself than fall again into thoseruffians' power."
"That's the true talk? By the way, have a knife," he said, putting asheath dagger into her hand as if he were offering a bonbon to a child."You may want it, though I fancy you have no great shakes to fear. I amresponsible for you."
"Thank you. I believe in you."
The flight continued, only that the Canadians, being less wearied,gained like a whirlwind on a fleeing wayfarer.
Cherokee Bill had his Winchester "fourteen shoot" and a brace of heavyrevolvers--a portable magazine.
"Keep on galloping," said he, "smack into the running water. You shallhave a warm-up beyond. I reckon it will also be hot enough here!"
So saying he blazed away at the Half-breeds for six shots. Down wentthe men out of the saddles, the rest being terrified by the accuracy ofaim and the long, killing range. Meanwhile Bill and the girl effectedthe crossing and came upon the plain where the Piegans were encamped.The reader knows the sequel. For the nonce Dona Rosario was safe.
The day advanced, and yet the Cherokee seemed loth to check hiscontemplation of mental pictures. Red Knife made up his mind to beginthe talking.
"Are the ears of my father open?" he asked.
Bill had become a father for wisdom after having been a brother forvalour.
"What is my son's desire?" was the counter query.
"The Piegans want the Cherokee sage's advice."
"The Piegans are boys of mine at my knee. Speak away."
"The Raven is a wise bird--a bird that scents a battlefield from afar.He flies straight to the mark. As the coyotes and wolves join to trackthe deer, so the bad whites and mixed bloods join to take hold of thered man's territory. What is my father's opinion on this? What oughtthe redskins to do when the mine robbers threaten to invade the holyground of the Basin of Fire?"
Without replying in words, the Cherokee looked about him. In one spota chalky seam cropping out was soaked with blood from the butcheredgame. He pointed to the white earth on one side of the red stain, andthen scratched the soft substance up with his fingernail. But to scrapethe blood-caked chalk, hardened into stone, he was forced to use hishunting knife. He took up a handful of the soft dust and slowly let itfall through his open fingers.
"This dust is the Indians, uncemented by their blood; they are grainsthat a child's breath could spin into the river. United by blood,a block is formed which turns the edge of a knife. Do my brotherscomprehend?"
"I do," answered Red Knife. "The Raven of the Cherokee counsels usto be one. Before now we have done the same, and waged war. Perhaps,had not some weaklings and traitors fallen away, a great and lastingvictory would have been ours. But our enemies are powerful as they are.What if the white trappers and hunters unite with these Canadians andthe Men of Montana?"
"You need not fear that. Oil and water do not blend."
"But the Old Man of the Mountain, the friend of the Cherokee, would henot come to the aid of the Piegans?" asked the chief, subtly.
"But the white trapper is alone--" began Bill.
"He may be alone at this hour, but my spies speak of the lone trappersconverging to join him. Does not the Cherokee know--his moccasins havecrossed the traces of theirs?"
"I know what I know. The Old Man has no secrets from his brother. Thetrappers are massing, that's a fact."
"To what end? Will he guide the gold seekers into the Enchanted Valley,where the holy fire rages, which my father has drank."
"No. Jim Ridge loves the Yellowstone--he does not want a whole_caboodle_ of scourings to be poured into its lovely glades andpeaceful parts, where the fawns come up and lick your hands."
"Ah! Does the old Yager wish the help of the Piegans to keep off thewhites? Is his Cherokee mate sent to ask that help?" came from the RedKnife, in a coaxing voice.
"Lor', no," responded Bill, coldly. "On the other hand, the old mannever refused help to an Indian who played him fair. Many a poorwretch, frozen out, has been succoured by him--more than fed, mark you;clothed in fine fur, and given a gun and powder and ball, with thepromise only understood that he should not use them on any of Jim'scolour. But never has he craved any return for what he has done. That'shis style, chief. What the Raven says is dictated by the friendlyspirit in his very bones, with which his mother tempered them. He hasno mission from anyone. But still, if to drive away these gold thirstydogs, ay, and to crush them, the Piegans want the trapper's help, whoentertains no kindly feelings for the disgraces to their race, thenfind out whether he will give it. It is a sachem that you have heard.Ponder over his words."
Bill rose and retired to a tent made ready for him. He was left aloneto recruit till about su
nrise, when the chiefs flocked round his tentdoor with all the ceremony laid down by Indian etiquette. The medicineman hallowed the tent, so that they could hold a council smoke, andthis was Red Knife's proposal:
"After considering the words of the Cherokee chief, the headmen of thePiegans have come to this conclusion: _Quorinnah_ is a wise man; heknows that only boys and squaws, having no keenness or experience liketrained men, who have made their mark, set about things unthinkingly,and with no conception of their extent. The Piegans do not ask in thisfashion, being men of war. The chief, subchief, captains, and bigbraves of the nation have resolved to say this: The Cherokee chiefloves his brothers, the Blackfeet. His heart is red, and prompts him tospeak good counsel, and that counsel has been debated on. It is truethe Old Man of the Mountain has punished trap robbers and ravagers ofthe _caches_, and that he has given shot for shot when fired on. Butif he has shed blood, he, too, has had his blood spilt. Let the rockmoss and the desert sands drink the blood up of both foe and friendof ours, and say no more about it. On the other hand, the Yager hashelped many a naked, starved, gunless Indian about the Yellowstone,and on the highland slope. He has defended the Enchanted Valley, andnever has he offered men to guide his white brethren within its boundsof fire and steam and smoke. He is alone, yet he does not need help.But we do. Never in our memory, or on the painted books of the tribehistory in the sacred lodge, have so many evil men been covering thewilderness. Lo! The buffalo and the bear are driven away by the reekof strange campfires, and the birds hurry from the uproar of carouses.The Raven of the Cherokees speaks true. He comes on no errand fromthe Great White Trapper. But the Piegans, proud to have the slayer ofsix-at-full-gallop-under-their-own-eyes as their guest, claim a serviceof him: the chiefs desire to see the Yager of the Yellowstone. Didthey know where to meet him, they would go forth in their best clothesto greet him; but the Mountain Man is a great hunter--he disguiseshis trail neatly, and his fort is an undiscoverable refuge. But theCherokee chief knows where his friend abides, and he will go to him,and say, 'Old Man of the Mountain, your sons the Piegans have a weighton the heart, a skin over their eyes--they beseech your help, with thewondrous gun that sends death so far and so true. Come to their aidagainst their enemies, who are yours; come quick; let your presenceconsole and make joy displace the grief that eats up their heart.'"
Bill did not in the faintest believe in the more than temporarysincerity of the speaker, but he spoke so feelingly, that he joined inthe murmur of applause which hailed the final words.
"The saying of my brother, the renowned of the Piegans, ring sweetly inmy ear," returned the Cherokee half-breed. "What the Piegans wish, theRaven will do this night. Away goes the cloud on my brother's heart!Leaving the young paleface girl in his brother's keep, the Raven willfly. I have spoken all that is in me."
"The young paleface maiden is not here, we see only a sister of thePiegans," answered Red Knife, nobly. "She is in the shadow of the totempole of the tribe, her head is pillowed on the ark of the BlackfeetPiegans. No danger shall befall her, though the Cherokee chief stayedaway till the moon and stars fell out of the sky, and the sun burntitself to a dead coal and dropped also into the lakes!"
An hour afterwards, at dusk, Bill Williams rode out of the camp,confidently. As we know something of the singular telegraphingand telephoning which the old trapper and his comrade employed tocorrespond secretly, we need not describe how again they conferredwithout the overhearers piercing the mystery. A little before sunrise,the Cherokee was back at the Piegan resting place. Red Knife was awake,and eagerly awaiting him at the inlet.
"What does the old father say?" queried he, after the customarygreeting.
"These are the trapper's words," returned Bill, gravely. "'Am I tobe deaf to the appeal of redskin brothers who are fighters and notthieves? No! When the sun is so high that there is no shadow at thebase of the tree, then I shall be in the Piegan camp.'"
"Good, good!" said the sachem, cordially, "I thank my father for havingswiftly and fully kept his promise. The white trapper will be welcome."
At this moment, hearing Bill Williams' voice, the door flap of DonaRosario's tent house was pushed aside, and she came forth. Albeit shewas in complete safety among the red men, her precarious positionfilled the dainty girl with restlessness. Throughout the night she hadbeen kept awake by excessive nervous excitement, caused by reflectionson recent events, and the pain from bruises and thorn scratches gainedduring the flight. In the pannier she had been shaken about more thanin a cockboat in a chopping sea. She was glad to have her enfeveredforehead kissed by the cool morning breeze. She came out over to thetwo principals, and saluted them with a grateful but still rueful smile.
Red Knife, with that innate delicate grace common to all men who liveunfettered in the open air, bowed to her respectfully, and kindly askedhow she rested. To encourage her, he repeated that she had nothing tofear from her enemies, as she should never fall again into their hands.
"Thank you, chief," she rejoined; "but," she added, with a brighteningeye of deep proud determination, "if, in spite of your powerfulprotection, those ruffians had succeeded in seizing me again, theywould have carried away merely the dead. I would have slain myselfrather than have yielded."
With a significant gesture, she flung aside the hem of a Mexicanblanket, showing the knife in her waistband.
"'Tis a brave girl," remarked Red Knife, smiling dubiously, for he hadhis own ideas about using a dagger on himself before he had struck outall he could; "but the steel was useless, my sister being under theguard of the Sacred Emblem, and my warriors would have fought to thelast shot for her."
As, in our other Indian stories, we seem to have pourtrayed theirtreatment of white women in a different light, we beg to say in thisdigression that there is really no contradiction in sense. The southernIndians are not to be trusted with women, but the northern races andthose descended from the ancient nations of the Northeast and Atlanticcoast are of opposite morality. The latter will make white womenslaves, but never their wives. The Half-breeds spring from the unionof red women and white men, it is to be remembered, which in no wisegainsays our statement of an incontestable truth.
Cherokee Bill was too profound an observer and was too familiar withthe thoughts of white people and red people, to say nothing of Mexicanones, not to understand Rosario's doubts and dreads. So he hastenedto inform her that Jim Ridge would soon be present. This intelligencemuch exalted her; hope at once was kindled in her bosom and warmed herheart with its beneficent rays. It seemed to her that this celebratedadventurer's intervention must be advantageous to her. This was apartfrom Mr. Dearborn's promising that he would confer with the Man of theMountain and compact for her rescue and Miss Maclan's. It is true theCherokee had only saved her; but, perhaps, already something had beendone in as effectual, if not in so dashing, a mode to save her dearcompanion.
She found time to ask Bill about his partner in the friendly abduction,but he had only spoken with Ridge, who had seen nothing more ofFilditch than himself.
"Patience," said he, calm as a "whole red man," "he would not havetravelled with me in the warpath unless he was capable of taking careof himself alone."
Quite as impatient as the girl were all the Piegans to receive thefamous old explorer; but they had donned the motionless mask which thesavages use to hide even the deepest feelings on public occasions.
If we were in town, we should say the hour of twelve sounded when allthe Indians, questioning the country with glittering eyes, gruntedwith pleasure. A horseman was seen to be clearing a piney wood at theextreme limit of the horizon, and gallop in a beeline towards them. Hewas alone. At a glance he was recognised as Jim Ridge.