AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER.
So mystified was Red Hand by all he had seen and heard that he was
tempted to break his word and follow on after the girl, that he might
solve the puzzle of her existence there in the midst of the Black Hills.
Had her language and appearance been different, had she been some bold,
rude girl of the frontier, he might have believed her the daughter of
some reckless borderman, who, tiring of the society of his fellow men,
had sought a home in that far-away country; or, he might have fancied
her to be the waif of an Indian camp, stolen from some settlement
during a redskin raid, and raised in the wigwam of a chief.
But her looks, her language, all belied these suppositions.
“Well, I’ll never solve the mystery standing here,” he muttered. “I’ll
go back to camp, and perhaps, as she said, we may meet again.”
So saying, Red Hand slung his rifle across his arm, and stepped
forward, when there came the sharp crack of a rifle, the whir of a
bullet, and he staggered backward and fell, a crimson stream bursting
from his left temple.
As Red Hand fell to the ground a tall form suddenly came down the steep
hillside, his rifle, still smoking, in his hand.
It was no Indian that had thus turned his rifle upon Red Hand, to
avenge his slain comrades, but a man of his own race, though the upper
part of his face was darkly bronzed, almost to the hue of the redskin,
and the lower part of his face was concealed beneath an iron-gray
beard, that fell in masses below his waist.
His eyes were dark, fiery, constantly restless, and his hair white and
worn long, though age could have scarcely thus frosted hair and beard,
and left the form strong and upright.
Over six feet in height, straight as an arrow, with broad shoulders
and massive breast, and clad in a suit of buckskin, he was a majestic
specimen of manhood, a manhood marred by a certain inquietude of
manner, nervous restlessness of the eyes, and a look of cruelty and
avariciousness upon his face.
Besides his rifle, one of the Spencer pattern, he carried in his belt a
revolver, knife, and large hatchet, and as he came down the hill at a
long, swinging pace, he seemed a dangerous foe to meet.
Upon his face rested an exultant smile, as if he rejoiced in his work,
and he advanced toward the scout with a look hard to read. But the
bullet sent in search of life had missed its aim. Only momentarily
stunned, Red Hand suddenly sprang to his feet, and with drawn knife
rushed upon his would-be slayer.
Unexpected as was the movement, the stranger leaped back quickly, and,
drawing his knife, met the blade of his assailant in mid-air. With a
loud clash, the weapons rang together. Then each man stood at bay, eyes
glaring, breath hard drawn, and muscles nerved to iron firmness.
Both men were tall and of powerful build, and whatever their sins might
be, they were as brave as desert lions, and the struggle between them
must be one of life and death, for neither would yield an inch to the
other.
As for Red Hand, he had not sought the combat. A man he did not
recognize had ruthlessly attempted to shoot him down. If, in return, he
could avenge himself, he intended to do so, though why the other sought
his life he could not understand.
For an instant thus stood the two men, their knives held firmly
together. Then the glitter of Red Hand’s eyes proved that he meditated
action. But before he could make the slightest motion there came a loud
cry of alarm, and the next moment a form bounded in between the two men.
It was the girl. As she bounded in between the two men her uplifted
hands seized a wrist of each, and her voice fairly rang, as she cried
out:
“Hold! This must not be!”
“Back, Pearl, back! I will have his life, for you know my vow!” cried
the stranger.
“No, father; lower your knife, for not half an hour ago this man saved
my life--see?”
The girl addressed as Pearl pointed to the dead bodies of her Indian
enemies.
“Ha! You were in danger, Pearl, and he saved you?”
The man spoke in earnest tones, and turned his gaze again upon Red
Hand, who had stepped back at the approach of the girl, yet still held
his knife ready for defense.
“Yes, father; this brave man rescued me when those Sioux would have
taken my life.”
“True, I did assist the girl, after she had already sent two of the
red devils to their happy hunting grounds; but if you have anything
against me, comrade, let not that act of mine stand in the way, for
twice you have attempted my life now.”
Red Hand spoke in a reckless, determined tone, peculiar to him when
much moved. The stranger turned his gaze upon the man he had attacked,
and something he saw there seemed to trouble him deeply, for he passed
his hand across his face, muttering, as if communing with the past.
“Yes, it is his face--no, it cannot be--ha, the red hand!”
He staggered back a step or two, while the girl sprang to his side,
crying:
“Father, are you ill?”
“No, child, I felt faint for a moment, when I thought how near I came
to slaying one who had saved your life. Partner, do you journey often
into these hills?”
Red Hand saw that the old man had given an evasive reply, but replied
quietly:
“This is my second coming into the Black Hills. I thought this country
far beyond the line where white men lived, yet I find you a dweller
here.”
“Comrade, I have sickened of life among my fellow men, and came here to
shun mankind. Take the warning of one who does not warn in vain, and
this very night turn your back upon these hills, for only dangers can
surround you here.”
“Comrade, I love dangers,” was the answer, with a reckless laugh, “and
if you can live here I can also. I bid you a pleasant good night.”
So saying, Red Hand wheeled on his heel, touched his hat politely to
the girl, and strode away, to soon disappear around a bend in the gulch.
More and more mystified, Red Hand walked rapidly away in the direction
of his camp, and arrived after nightfall. Then he was given another
surprise. An old trapper had come in, and was telling to Buffalo Bill
his story of how he had been hunting on the streams, and had struck the
trail of a party coming to the hills.
Feeling assured that there was something up beyond his comprehension,
the trapper said he had determined to strike the trail and follow it
up, to see what could carry a party into this wild region.
The second night after starting upon the trail he camped in a piece of
timber bordering the bank of a small stream, and was soon fast asleep,
to be awakened an hour after by the arrival of a train of emigrants,
who were also moving for the Black Hills.
From his retreat he observed that the train consisted of some thirty
pack mules, instead of wagons, and about twenty men, all splendidly
armed, while there were as many women and children accompanying them.
Not wishing to make himself known, for he believed from all he saw that
the expedition was a secret one, the old trapper lay quiet all night.
At early dawn he saw the party continue on their journey directly
toward the Black Hills, and following the trail of the party that had
gone before.
“Did you see the party again after that night, Lone Dick?” asked
Buffalo Bill of the old hunter, whom he had met in the settlements now
and then and knew as a brave man who always tramped alone, and never
meddled with the affairs of other people.
“No, I skarted around them and struck your trail ag’in, and then come
on, and here I is,” replied Lone Dick, who was a real frontiersman in
appearance and dress.
“And why did you follow us, Lone Dick?”
“I’ll tole you: Yer see, Buffler, I has hearn how there was yellow
metal up in these diggin’s, and when I seed yer trail I knowed as how
somethin’ was up, and I detarmined to nose it out. I’s been workin’ at
traps nigh onto twenty years, and I ain’t got no fortin’ yet, and I
felt as how ef yer was a good set of fellers you wouldn’t mind havin’
another true rifle and arm with yourn, for this is an all-fired dirty
Injin country, you know.”
“Yes, and I have no objection to the aid of your good arm, Lone Dick,
and will tell you frankly this party of ours did come here to prospect
for gold. But, Lone Dick, I do not understand about the train you speak
of, and think it strange that settlers should come into these hills,
bringing their wives and children with them.”
“It’s all-fired strange, Buffler; but we kin soon nose out what they’re
doin’ here, and whar they’re goin’ to squat.”
“True, and you and I will start on a scout in the morning, and follow
up their trail, while the boys are busy putting up a log fort.”
“That’s right! for the Sioux are not going to let us have peaceful
possession here, and will soon discover that some of their warriors
were killed to-day,” said Red Hand.
“What? Blazes! Did yer riz the h’ar of some of ’em to-day?” asked Lone
Dick, and Buffalo Bill and the other members of the party gazed upon
Red Hand in surprise, while he quietly replied:
“I had a little skirmish to-day; not of my own seeking, however.”
Turning away he rolled himself in his blanket and soon appeared to
be fast asleep, leaving his comrades surprised at his unwillingness
to make known the particulars of his adventure with the Indians, and
feeling confident that, as blood had already been shed, it was their
duty to make every preparation against surprise and attack.