VISITORS OF THE NIGHT.
It takes a good deal to startle an American Indian, but if there ever
was a frightened red man it was the one who heard himself thus
addressed, and, glancing like a flash to his right, saw Jack Dudley step
forward, with a Winchester rifle leveled at him.
In the language of the West, the youth "had the drop" on the intruder,
and he knew it. Had he attempted to raise his own weapon, or to draw his
knife and assail the youth, that instant the trigger of the rifle would
have been pressed and the career of the buck would have ended then and
there, and he knew that, too; but the fact that the gun was not fired,
and that a direct question was addressed to him, told the Indian that
his master was less merciless than he would have been had their
situations been reversed.
The camp-fire was still burning brightly, and the reflection showed on
the painted visage. Jack, having stepped forward into the circle of
light, was also plainly discerned by the Indian, who, turning his black,
serpent-like eyes upon him, said, without a tremor in his voice:
"Me good Injin; me friend of white man; me no hurt him."
"It doesn't look as if you would; but what is your business? Why do you
steal into our camp like a thief of the night?"
"Me hungry--want somethin' eat."
This was too transparent a subterfuge to deceive one even so
unaccustomed to life in these solitudes as Jack Dudley. An Indian
wandering through a country so well stocked with game as this portion of
the new State of Wyoming never suffers for food; and, were such a thing
possible, the present means was the last that he would adopt to procure
it.
"If you want something to eat, why did you not come forward openly and
ask for it?"
The fellow did not seem fully to grasp the question, but he repeated:
"Me hungry."
Jack recalled that there was not a mouthful of food in camp. Had there
been, he probably would have invited the visitor to walk to the fire and
partake. It was fortunate for the youth that their larder was empty, for
had the two started among the trees in the direction of the camp, the
opportunity for which the Indian was doubtless waiting would have been
secured. There would have been an interval in the brief walk when the
advantage would have been shifted to him, and he would have seized it
with the quickness of lightning.
The manifest duty of Jack was to shout to Hank Hazletine and bring him
to the spot. He would read the truth on the instant and do the right
thing; but the situation, as the reader will admit, was peculiar, and
the motive which prevented the youth from adopting this line of action
was creditable to him. He believed that the moment the guide appeared he
would shoot the intruder, and that was too frightful an issue for Jack
to contemplate. He did not want this warrior's life, and would not take
it except to save his own or that of his friends.
Jack believed that enough had been gained in thoroughly frightening the
Indian, and the thing desired now was to get rid of him with the least
possible delay. He did not think he would intrude again, even if he had
companions within call.
"We have no food; we can give you nothing; you must go elsewhere."
"Then me go;" and, as if the business was concluded, the buck turned
about and began walking toward the edge of the grove. Yielding to a whim
which he did not fully understand, Jack Dudley followed him with the
warning words:
"If you stop, or turn about, or make a move to shoot, I will kill you."
It is probable that the savage contemplated some movement of the kind,
but he must have known the fatal risk involved. Quick as he was, he
could not whirl about and bring his gun to a level before the young man
would pull the trigger of the Winchester, which was held pointed toward
him. He knew that so long as he obeyed orders he would be unharmed, and
he would have been a zany had he hesitated to do so.
He did not hesitate, but with a deliberate step that was not lacking in
a certain dignity he walked slowly between the trees, with his captor
only a few paces behind and keeping pace with him.
Almost on the edge of the grove Jack Dudley made an interesting
discovery. A pony, smaller than the one he had ridden from Fort Steele,
stood motionless in the shadow, awaiting the return of his master. He
was not tethered or tied, for he was too well-trained to make that
necessary. He showed his fine training further by merely pricking his
ears and elevating his head upon the approach of his master and
companion. A whinny or neigh might have betrayed both.
The two were now so far removed from the glow of the camp-fire that they
could see each other only dimly. There was no moon in the sky, though
the stars were shining brightly. The Indian, from the force of
circumstances, was compelled to hold his disadvantageous position,
inasmuch as he had to move out from among the trees, while Jack remained
within their shadows.
Realizing that this was a critical moment, he stood motionless, with his
weapon still at a dead level.
"My gun is aimed at your heart," he said, "and I am watching every
movement you make. Go in peace, and you shall not be harmed, but on your
first attempt to injure me you die."
The words, perhaps, were unnecessary, for it may be said that the action
of the youth was more eloquent. Be that as it may, the redskin showed a
commendable promptness in all that he did. He vaulted lightly upon the
bare back of his pony, whose bridle consisted of but a single thong, and
turned the head of the brute outward. He did not speak, for it was not
required. The pony knew what was wanted; and, with his nose pointed out
on the prairie, he emerged from among the trees into the open, with the
warrior astride.
Even in that trying moment Jack Dudley was surprised at one fact--that
was the wonderful silence of the animal. It would seem that his hoofs
should have given out sounds that could have been heard for a
considerable distance in the stillness of the night, but it was as if he
were treading on velvet. The noise was so faint that it was easy to
understand how he had come to the spot without betraying himself to the
intently listening sentinel. No wonder that the Indian ponies sometimes
display a sagacity fully equal, in some respects, to that of their
masters.
The Indian showed in another direction his perception of the situation.
Had he been leaving the presence of one of his own race, or of a veteran
white scout, he would have thrown himself forward on the back of his
animal and ridden off on a dead run, for, despite the unexpected mercy
shown him, he would have expected treachery at the last minute; but he
had seen his master and knew that he was a young tenderfoot, inspired by
a chivalrous honor which is the exception in that section of the
country. He would not shoot until good cause was given, and therefore he
took care not to give such cause.
As if in harmony with the spirit of his rider, the pony walked away in a
direct line, until the figure of himself and master disappeared in the
gloom. When he could see him no more, Jack lowered his gun, and stooping
down, pressed his ear against the earth. He could hear the soft
hoof-beats of the horse growing fainter and fainter, until at the end of
a minute or two the impressive silence once more held reign. Then the
youth arose to his feet.
"I suppose Hank will tell me I did wrong," he mused, "but my conscience
does not; it would be a woeful memory to carry with me that on my first
night in Wyoming I took the life of a human being. Perhaps it will be as
well that Hank should not know it; I will think it over."
Now, while Jack Dudley had conducted himself in some respects like a
veteran, yet he had shown a dangerous short-sightedness in another
direction. It will be noted that he had busied himself wholly with the
single intruder, and at the moment of losing sight of him the young man
was a comparatively long distance from the camp-fire. Had it been that
there were two or more hostiles stealing into camp, they could not have
asked a better opportunity, for it was left wholly unguarded. A single
warrior would have had no trouble in creeping undiscovered to a point
from which he could have sent a bullet through the unconscious forms of
Hank Hazletine and Fred Greenwood. This probability never occurred to
Jack until he started on his return to the fire, from whose immediate
vicinity he should never have allowed himself to have been tempted.
Even then his strange remissness would not have impressed itself upon
him but for a startling discovery. The fire was beginning to smoulder
once more, but enough of its glare penetrated the wood for him to note
the black, column-like trunks of the trees between it and him. With his
gaze upon the central point, he saw a figure moving in the path of light
and coming toward him. It looked as if stamped in ink against the yellow
background, and, like the former intruder, was advancing without noise.
An awful fear thrilled Jack Dudley as he abruptly halted and partly
raised his Winchester.
"While I have been busy with one Indian, another has entered the camp
and slain Fred and Hank! He is now after me! There will be no hesitation
_this_ time in my shooting!"
Before he could secure anything like an aim, the other stepped behind
one of the trunks on his right. Jack waited for him to reappear, ready
to fire, but unwilling to do so until the truth was established.
While waiting thus, a low, faint, tremulous whistle reached his ears. It
was the most welcome of all sounds, and raised him from the depths of
woe to blissful happiness, for it was the familiar signal of Fred
Greenwood that had been employed many times in their hunting excursions
nearer home.
Instead of an enemy, it was his chum and dearest friend who was
approaching him. Jack instantly answered the guarded hail, and the next
minute the two came together.
"How is it you are awake?" was the first question of Jack.
"Because it is _time_ for me to awake; it was agreed that I should go on
duty at a little after twelve, and it must be near one o'clock."
"But what awoke you?"
"Nonsense! Haven't you and I travelled together long enough to know that
when you go to sleep with your mind fixed on a certain time to awake you
are sure not to miss it by more than a few minutes?"
"You are right; I had forgotten that. How was it you knew where to look
for me?"
"I didn't. I've been prowling around camp for fifteen minutes, groping
here and there and signaling to you, without the first inkling of where
you were. I didn't want to awake Hank, and therefore was as careful as I
could be. I began to suspect you had sat down somewhere and fallen
asleep."
"I have had enough to keep the most drowsy person awake."
And thereupon Jack gave the particulars of all that had occurred while
he was acting as sentinel. It need not be said that Fred Greenwood was
astonished, for the manner of their guide before lying down convinced
them that no danger of any nature threatened them.
"Do you think I acted right, Fred?"
"Most certainly you did. Hank and the like of him out in this country
talk about shooting down an Indian as if he were not a human being, but
they have souls like the rest of us, and we have no more right to take
the life of one of them than I have to take yours. I am sure I should
have done just as you did."
"I am glad to hear you say that. I wonder whether, if we stayed out here
a few years, our feelings would change?"
"No; for the principle of right and wrong cannot change. Do you remember
what that old settler told us on the train, a couple of days ago?"
"I do not recall it."
"He said that at a little town in Montana they had a great moral
question under debate for a long time without being able to decide it.
It was whether it was wicked for the men to go out hunting for Indians
on Sunday. It was all right on week days, but most of the folks seemed
to think it was a violation of the sanctity of the day to indulge in the
sport on the Sabbath. But, Jack, you are tired and in need of sleep.
I'll take charge of matters until two o'clock."
"I wonder whether anything will happen to you? It does not seem likely,
for I must have given that fellow such a scare that he will not show
himself again."
"But you mustn't reason on the basis that he is the only red man in
Wyoming. However, I shall do my best. Good-night."
Thus summarily dismissed, Jack returned to the camp-fire in quest of the
slumber which he needed. Fred had thrown additional wood on the blaze,
and that accounted for the increase in illumination. Hank Hazletine did
not seem to have stirred since lying down. He breathed heavily, and
doubtless was gaining the rest which men of his habits and training know
how to acquire under the most unfavorable circumstances. The youth
wrapped his blanket about his figure, for he was now sensible that the
air was colder than at any time since leaving the railway station. He
was nervous over the recollection of his experience, though it would
have been deemed of slight importance to one who had spent his life in
the West. The feeling soon passed off, however, and he joined the
veteran in the land of dreams.
And thus the burden of responsibility was shifted to the shoulders of
Fred Greenwood, the junior by a few months of Jack Dudley. No one could
have been more deeply impressed with his responsibility than Fred. He
knew that a hostile red man had entered the grove while two of the party
were asleep, and, but for the watchfulness of the sentinel, might have
slain all three.
"I don't know much about Indians," reflected Fred, "but I have been told
that they are a revengeful people. That fellow must be angered because
he was outwitted by Jack, and it will be just like him to steal back for
the purpose of revenge. It won't do for me to wink both eyes at the same
time."
This was a wise resolution, and the youth took every precaution against
committing what was likely to be a fatal mistake. Although his sleep was
broken, and he could have consumed several hours additional with
enjoyment, he was never more wide-awake. The temptation was strong to
sit down on the ground with his back against a tree, but he foresaw the
consequences. The man who yields only for a few minutes to the creeping
drowsiness is gone.
Fred was more circumspect, even, than his chum. Instead of taking his
position beside the trunk of one of the trees, he walked silently around
in a circle, keeping the camp-fire as a centre. By this means he not
only kept his senses keyed to a high point, but made his espionage
nearer perfect than his friend had done.
That the night was not to pass without a stirring experience to the
younger lad was soon evident. As nearly as he could guess, without
consulting his watch, it was about one o'clock, when he became aware
that some person or animal was astir in the grove. He heard the faint
footfalls on the ground, though for a time he was unable to catch so
much as a shadowy glimpse of the intruder.
"I believe it is that Indian, who has come back to square accounts with
Jack for getting the better of him. The wisest thing for me to do is to
not allow him to see me."
This was wise; and, to prevent such a disaster, Fred adopted the precise
tactics that had been used by his friend. He stationed himself beside a
friendly trunk, which so interposed between himself and the fire that he
was invisible, no matter from what direction approached. Standing thus,
he peered into the surrounding gloom and listened with all the intensity
of which he was capable.
Suddenly he caught a glimpse of the intruder. The relief was unspeakable
when he saw that it was not an Indian, but some kind of a wild animal.
It was but a short distance off, and between him and the outer edge of
the grove.
There being no one to replenish the fire, the light had grown dimmer,
but a quick, shadowy flitting told Fred the brute was moving briskly
about, only a few paces from where the lad was straining his vision to
learn its nature.
"We might as well wind up this business," reflected Fred, as, with his
hand on the trigger of his Winchester, he started abruptly in the
direction of the stranger. The latter was quick to perceive him and
whisked away. The lad followed, breaking into a trot despite the
intervening trees. The beast continued fleeing, for nothing so
disconcerts an animal as the threatening approach of a foe.
It was but a few paces to the edge of the timber, when the brute leaped
out into full view in the star-gleam.
One glance was sufficient for the youth to recognize it as an immense
wolf, which had probably been drawn to the spot by the odor of the meat
that composed the dinner of the party. Fifty feet off the wolf stopped,
turned partly about, and looked back at his pursuer, as if to learn
whether he intended to follow him farther.
Fred did not, but the opportunity was too good to be lost. The aim was
inviting, and, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he sighted as best he
could and pulled the trigger. He could not have done better had the sun
been shining. The bullet passed directly through the skull of the wolf,
which uttered a sharp yelp, leaped several feet into the air, and,
doubling up like a jack-knife, fell upon his side, where, after several
convulsive struggles, he lay still.
Naturally enough, the boy was elated over his success, for the shot was
certainly an excellent one.
"There!" he said. "Jack frightened off the Indians, and I think I have
given the wild animals a good lesson. At any rate, _you_ won't bother us
any more."
He supposed that the report of the gun would awaken Hazletine and bring
him to the spot to learn the explanation, but nothing of that nature
followed. If the report disturbed him, he merely opened and closed his
eyes, and continued to slumber, after the manner of one who appreciates
the value of rest.
In truth, it was always a matter of wonderment to the boys that their
veteran guide adopted the course he followed that night. That actual
danger impended was proven by the incidents already narrated, and yet he
entrusted the safety of one of the boys, as well as his own life, to
another, who, until then, had never been in a similar position. Why he
did so would be hard to explain, but he never admitted that his course
was a mistake. Sometimes, as is well known, a boy is taught to swim by
flinging him into deep water, where he must choose between keeping
afloat and drowning; and it may be the guide believed that, by tossing
his young friends into the midst of danger at the very beginning of
their experience as Western hunters, they would acquire the needed skill
the more quickly.