Moonlight sauntered through the camp carelessly at first with a blanket
over her head after the manner of Indian women; but on approaching the
outskirts, nearest to the spot where Rushing River was concealed, she
discarded the blanket, sank into the grass like a genuine apparition,
and disappeared. After creeping a short way, she ventured to give the
three hoots of the owl.
An Indian brave, whose eyes were directed sentimentally to the stars, as
though he were thinking of his lady-love--or buffalo steaks and
marrow-bones--cocked his ears and lowered his gaze to earth, but as
nothing more was to be seen or heard, he raised his eyes and thoughts
again to love--or marrow-bones.
Very different, as may be supposed, was the effect of those three hoots
upon Rushing River, as he lay on the grass in perfect silence, listening
intently. On hearing the sounds, he sprang up as though an arrow had
pierced him, and for a few moments the furious glare of a baffled savage
gleamed in his dark eyes, as he laid a hand on his tomahawk; but the
action was momentary, and in a short time the look passed away. It was
succeeded by a calm aspect and demeanour, which seemed to indicate a man
devoid of all feeling--good or bad.
"Skipping Rabbit," he said, taking the hand of the child in his, and
patting her head, "you are soon to be with your father--and with
Moonlight. Rushing River goes back to his people. But the skipping one
must not move from this tree till some of her people come to fetch her.
There is danger in moving--perfect safety in sitting still."
He moved as if about to go, but suddenly turned back and kissed the
child. Then he muttered something in a low tone to his companions, and
strode into the dark forest.
Umqua then advanced and gave the little one a tremendous hug. She was
evidently struggling to suppress her feelings, for she could hardly
speak as she said--
"I--I _must_ go, dear child. Rushing River commands. Umqua has no
choice but to obey." She could say no more, but, after another
prolonged hug, ran rapidly away.
Hitherto Eaglenose had stood motionless, looking on, with his arms
folded. Poor boy! he was engaged in the hardest fight that he had yet
experienced in his young life, for had he not for the first time found a
congenial playmate--if we may venture to put it so--and was she not
being torn from him just as he was beginning to understand her value?
He had been trained, however, in a school where contempt of pain and
suffering was inculcated more sternly even than among the Spartans of
old.
"Skipping one," he said, in a low, stern voice, "Eaglenose must leave
you, for his chief commands, but he will laugh and sing no more."
Even through her tears the skipping one could scarce forbear smiling at
the tone in which this was uttered. Fortunately, her face could not be
seen.
"O yes, you will laugh and sing again," she said, "when your nose is
better."
"No, that cannot be," returned the youth, who saw--indeed the child
intended--nothing humorous in the remark. "No, I will never more laugh,
or pull the string of the jumping-jack; but," he added, with sudden
animation, as a thought struck him, "Eaglenose will bring the
jumping-jack to the camp of Bounding Bull, and put it in the hands of
the skipping one, though his scalp should swing for it in the smoke of
her father's wigwam."
He stooped, took the little face between his hands, and kissed it on
both cheeks.
"Don't--don't leave me," said the child, beginning to whimper.
"The chief commands, and Eaglenose must obey," said the youth.
He gently unclasped the little hands, and silently glided into the
forest.
Meanwhile Moonlight, utterly forgetting amid her anxieties the
arrangement about Skipping Rabbit, sauntered back again through the camp
till she reached the opposite extremity, which lay nearest to the willow
swamp. The lines here were not guarded so carefully, because the nature
of the ground rendered that precaution less needful. She therefore
managed to pass the sentinels without much difficulty, and found, as she
had been told, that one of her father's horses was feeding near the
willow swamp. Its two fore-legs were fastened together to prevent it
straying, so that she caught it easily. Having provided herself with a
strong supple twig, she cut the hobbles, vaulted lightly on the horse's
back, and went off at a smart gallop.
Moonlight did not quite agree with her mother as to the effect of
disappointment on her lover. Although heaviness of heart might possibly
induce him to ride slowly, she thought it much more likely that
exasperation of spirit would urge him to ride with reckless fury.
Therefore she plied her switch vigorously, and, the light increasing as
she came to more open ground, she was able to speed swiftly over a wide
stretch of country, with which she had been familiar from childhood, in
the hope of intercepting the Blackfoot chief.
After a couple of hours' hard riding, she came to a narrow pass through
which she knew her lover must needs go if he wished to return home by
the same path that had led him to the camp of his enemy. Jumping
quickly from her steed, she went down on her knees and examined the
track. A sigh of relief escaped her, for it was evident that no one had
passed there that day towards the west. There was just a bare
possibility, however, that the chief had taken another route homeward,
but Moonlight tried hard to shut her eyes to that fact, and, being
sanguine of temperament she succeeded.
Retiring into a thicket, she tied her horse to a tree, and then returned
to watch the track.
While seated there on a fallen tree, thinking with much satisfaction of
some of her recent adventures, she suddenly conceived a little plot,
which was more consistent with the character of Skipping Rabbit than
herself, and rose at once to put it into execution. With a knife which
she carried in her girdle she cut and broke down the underwood at the
side of the track, and tramped about so as to make a great many
footmarks. Then, between that point and the thicket where her steed was
concealed, she walked to and fro several times, cutting and breaking the
branches as she went, so as to make a wide trail, and suggest the idea
of a hand-to-hand conflict having taken place there. She was enabled to
make these arrangements all the more easily that the moon was by that
time shining brightly, and revealing objects almost as clearly as if it
had been noonday.
Returning to the pass, she took off the kerchief with which she usually
bound up her luxuriant brown hair, and placed it in the middle of the
track, with her knife lying beside it. Having laid this wicked little
trap to her satisfaction, she retired to a knoll close at hand, from
which she could see her kerchief and knife on the one hand and her horse
on the other. Then she concealed herself behind the trunk of a tree.
Now it chanced at that very time that four of the young braves of
Bounding Bull's camp, who had been sent out to hunt were returning home
laden with venison, and they happened to cross the trail of Moonlight at
a considerable distance from the pass just mentioned. Few things escape
the notice of the red men of the west. On seeing the trail, they flung
down their loads, examined the prints of the hoofs, rose up, glared at
each other, and then ejaculated "Hough!" "Ho!" "Hi!" "Hee!"
respectively. After giving vent to these humorous observations, they
fixed the fresh meat in the forks of a tree, and, bending forward,
followed up the trail like bloodhounds.
Thus it happened that at the very time when Moonlight was preparing her
practical joke, or surprise, for Rushing River, these four young braves
were looking on with inexpressible astonishment, and preparing something
which would indeed be a surprise, but certainly no joke, to herself and
to all who might chance to appear upon the scene. With mouths open and
eyes stretched to the utmost, these Bounding Bullers--if we may so call
them--lay concealed behind a neighbouring mound, and watched the
watcher.
Their patience was not put to a severe test. Ere long a distant sound
was heard. As it drew near it became distinctly like the pattering
sound of galloping steeds. The heart of Moonlight beat high, as she
drew closer into the shelter of the tree and clasped her hands. So did
the hearts of the Bounding Bullers, as they drew closer under the brow
of the mound, and fitted arrows to their bows.
Moonlight was right in her estimate of the effect of disappointment on
her lover. He was evidently letting off superfluous steam through the
safety-valve of a furious pace. Presently the cavalcade came sweeping
into the pass, and went crashing through it--Rushing River, of course,
in advance.
No cannon ball was ever stopped more effectually by mountain or
precipice than was our Indian chief's career by Moonlight's kerchief and
knife. He reined in with such force as to throw his steed on its
haunches, like the equestrian statue of Peter the Great; but, unlike the
statuesque animal, Rushing River's horse came back to the position of
all-fours, and stood transfixed and trembling. Vaulting off, the chief
ran to the kerchief, and picked it up. Then he and Eaglenose examined
it and the knife carefully, after which they turned to the track through
the bushes. But here caution became necessary. There might be an
ambuscade. With tomahawk in one hand, and scalping-knife in the other,
the chief advanced slowly, step by step, gazing with quick intensity
right and left as he went. Eaglenose followed, similarly armed, and
even more intensely watchful. Umqua brought up the rear, unarmed, it is
true, but with her ten fingers curved and claw-like, as if in readiness
for the visage of any possible assailant, for the old woman was strong
and pugnacious as well as kindly and intellectual.
All this was what some people call "nuts" to Moonlight. It was equally
so to the Bounding Bullers, who, although mightily taken by surprise,
were fully alive to the fact that here were two men and two women of
their hated Blackfoot foes completely at their mercy. They had only to
twang their bowstrings and the death-yells of the men would instantly
resound in the forest. But burning curiosity as to what it could all
mean, and an intense desire to see the play out, restrained them.
Soon Rushing River came upon the tied-up horse, and of course
astonishment became intensified, for in all his varied experience of
savage warfare he had never seen the evidence of a deadly skirmish
terminate in a peacefully tied-up horse.
While he and his companions were still bending cautiously forward and
peering around, the hoot of an owl was heard in the air. Eaglenose
looked up with inquiring gaze, but his chief's more practised ear at
once understood it. He stood erect, stuck his weapons into his belt,
and, with a look of great satisfaction, repeated the cry.
Moonlight responded, and at once ran down to him with a merry laugh. Of
course there was a good deal of greeting and gratulation, for even
Indians become demonstrative at times, and Moonlight had much of
importance to tell.
But now an unforeseen difficulty came in the way of the bloody-minded
Bullers. In the group which had been formed by the friendly evolutions
of their foes, the women chanced to have placed themselves exactly
between them and the men, thus rendering it difficult to shoot the
latter without great risk of injury, if not death, to the former, for
none of them felt sufficiently expert to emulate William Tell.
In these circumstances it occurred to them, being courageous braves,
that four men were more than a match for two, and that therefore it
would be safer and equally effective to make a united rush, and brain
their enemies as they stood.
No sooner conceived than acted on. Dispensing with the usual yell on
this occasion, they drew their knives and tomahawks, and made a
tremendous rush. But they had reckoned too confidently, and suffered
the inevitable disgrace of bafflement that awaits those who underrate
the powers of women. So sudden was the onset that Rushing River had not
time to draw and properly use his weapons, but old Umqua, with the speed
of light, flung herself on hands and knees in front of the leading
Buller, who plunged over her, and drove his head against a tree with
such force that he remained there prone and motionless. Thus the chief
was so far ready with his tomahawk that a hastily-delivered blow sent
the flat of it down on the skull of the succeeding savage, and, in
sporting language, dropped him. Thus only two opponents were left, of
whom Eaglenose choked one and his chief felled the other.
In ordinary circumstances the victors would first have stabbed and then
scalped their foes, but we have pointed out that the spirit of our chief
had been changed. He warned Eaglenose not to kill. With his assistance
and that of the women, he bound the conquered braves, and laid them in
the middle of the track, so that no one could pass that way without
seeing them. Then, addressing the one who seemed to be least stunned,
he said--
"Rushing River is no longer at war with Bounding Bull. He will not slay
and scalp his young men; but the young men have been hasty, and must
suffer for it. When your friends find you and set you free, tell them
that it was Rushing River who brought Skipping Rabbit to her father and
left her near the camp."
"If Rushing River is no longer at war with Bounding Bull," returned the
fallen savage sulkily, "how comes it that we have crossed the trail of a
war-party of Blackfeet on their way to the block-house of the
pale-face?"
This question roused both surprise and concern in the Blackfoot chief,
but his features betrayed no emotion of any kind, and the only reply he
condescended to make was a recommendation to the youth to remember what
he had been told.
When, however, he had left them and got out of hearing, he halted and
said--
"Moonlight has travelled in the region of her father's fort since she
was a little child. Will she guide me to it by the shortest road she
knows!"
The girl of course readily agreed, and, in a few minutes, diverging from
the pass, went off in another direction where the ground permitted of
their advancing at a swift gallop.
We must turn now to another part of those western wilds, not far from
the little hut or fortress named.
In a secluded dell between two spurs of the great mountain range, a
council of war was held on the day of which we write by a party of
Blackfoot Indians. This particular band had been absent on the war-path
for a considerable time, and, having suffered defeat, were returning
home rather crestfallen and without scalps. In passing near the
fortress of Little Tim it occurred to them that they might yet retrieve
their character by assaulting that stronghold and carrying off the booty
that was there, with any scalps that chance might throw in their way.
That night the prairie chief, Little and Big Tim, Bounding Bull, and
Softswan were sitting in a very disconsolate frame of mind beside their
friend the pale-face preacher, whose sunken eye and hollow cheek told of
his rapidly approaching end. Besides the prospect of the death of one
whom they had known and loved so long, they were almost overwhelmed by
despair at the loss of Moonlight and Skipping Rabbit, and their failure
to overtake and rescue them, while the difficulty of raising a
sufficient number of men at the time to render an attempt upon the
Blackfoot stronghold possible with the faintest hope of success still
further increased their despair.
Even the dying missionary was scarcely able to give them hope or
encouragement, for by that time his voice was so weak that he could only
utter a word or two at long intervals with difficulty.
"The clouds are very dark, my father," said Whitewing.
"Very dark," responded his friend, "but on the other side the sun is
shining brightly."
"Sometimes I find it rather hard to believe it," muttered Little Tim.
Bounding Bull did not speak, but the stern look of his brow showed that
he shared the feelings of the little hunter. Big Tim was also silent
but he glanced at Softswan, and she, as if in reply to his thoughts,
said, "He doeth all things well."
"Ha!" exclaimed the missionary, with a quick glance of pleased surprise
at the girl; "you have learned a good lesson, soft one. Treasure it.
`He doeth all things well.' We may think some of them dark, some even
wrong, but--`Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?'"
Silence again ensued, for they were indeed very low, yet they had by no
means reached the lowest point of human misery. While they were sitting
there the Blackfoot band, under cover of the night, was softly creeping
up the zigzag path. Great events often turn on small points. Rome was
saved by the cackling of geese, and Tim's Folly was lost by the
slumbering of a goose! The goose in question was a youth, who was so
inflated with the miraculous nature of the deeds which he intended to do
that he did not give his mind sufficiently to those which at that time
had to be done. He was placed as sentinel at the point of the little
rampart furthest from the hut and nearest the forest. Instead of
standing at his post and gazing steadily at the latter, he sat down and
stared dreamily at the future. As might have been expected, the first
Blackfoot that raised his head cautiously above the parapet saw the
dreamer, tapped his cranium, and rendered him unconscious. Next moment
a swarm of black creatures leaped over the wall, burst open the door of
the hut and, before the men assembled there could grasp their weapons,
overpowered them by sheer weight of numbers. All were immediately
bound, except the woman and the dying man.
Thus it happened that when Rushing River arrived he found the place
already in possession of his own men.
"I will go up alone," he said, "to see what they are doing. If they
have got the fire-water of the pale-faces they might shoot and kill
Moonlight in their mad haste."
"If Rushing River wishes to see his men, unseen by them, Moonlight can
guide him by a secret way that is known only to her father and her
father's friends," said the girl.
The chief paused, as if uncertain for a moment how to act. Then he said
briefly, "Let Moonlight lead; Rushing River will follow."
Without saying a word, the girl conducted her companion round by the
river's bed, and up by the secret path into the cavern at the rear of
the little fortress. Here Eaglenose and Umqua were bidden to remain,
while the girl raised the stone which covered the upper opening of the
cave, and led the chief to the back of the hut whence issued the sound
of voices, as if raised in anger and mutual recrimination.
Placing his eye to a chink in the back door, the Blackfoot chief
witnessed a scene which filled him with concern and surprise.