ABORIGINAL CUNNING
Suddenly through the tomblike stillness brooding over camp and
plain, came the dull sounds of rifle firing. Two shots were in quick
succession, a third followed, then two more, after which all was as
silent as before.
The reports were apparently a half-mile to the northwest. Every one of
the sentinels listened closely, but nothing further reached them.
Jethro Mix snatched up his gun with a gasp and held his breath. Then he
moved on tiptoe around the rear of the wagon to where Alden Payne stood
tense and motionless as a statue.
“Did you hear dat?” asked the negro in a husky whisper.
“Of course.”
“What do it mean?”
“I can’t tell; we shall soon learn.”
“Listen, Al!”
The two did so for a few seconds, and then Alden said in an undertone:
“I didn’t hear anything more; did you?”
“Yas.”
“What did it sound like?”
“A hoss’s hoofs; wait a minute.”
Jethro dropped on his knees and pressed an ear to the ground. He had
done the same thing in different circumstances, and knew what help it
was to the hearing.
The next instant he sprang up.
“De Injins am coming! I hear dar hosses!”
Alden imitated the action of his companion and then quickly rose.
“It is a single horse, and he is coming this way on a run; I don’t
think the Indians are near or we should hear more hoofs; I wish
Shagbark would show up.”
But the guide did not appear for some minutes. Still standing the two
noted the sounds made by the hoofs of a pony traveling at the highest
speed. The sounds rapidly grew more distinct, and the two were quickly
able to locate the horseman. It was toward the point whence came the
rifle reports, and the fugitive must have had something to do with
them.
“Dar he is!” whispered Jethro trembling with excitement; “shall I shoot
him?”
“No; wait till we find what it all means.”
Just then the drifting clouds swept from before the face of the
moon, whose rays streamed down upon the prairie. From out this misty
obscurity shot a horse and rider, the animal with outstretched neck,
tail streaming and straining every nerve to carry the man who was
leaning well forward, beyond the zone of danger. The same rhythmic beat
that had fallen on their ears that afternoon greeted them again. The
pony was running for all that was in him.
Just as the rider flashed opposite the group of silent canvas covered
wagons, he seemed to catch sight of them. Without drawing rein or
checking the desperate speed of his horse he shouted:
“Look out for Injins! they’re close onto you!”
And then man and animal plunged into the night and disappeared, though
the fast diminishing thumping of hoofs was heard for some seconds later.
“He’s a Pony Express rider,” said Alden; “and is making for the next
station as fast as his horse can carry him.”
“Ye’re right, younker,” remarked Shagbark, who appeared at the side of
the two with no more noise than that of the flitting shadows on the
plain.
“Did he fire any of those shots?” asked Alden.
“He couldn’t; he don’t carry a rifle.”
“He has his revolver.”
“It’s easy to tell the difference atween the barking of a revolver and
a big gun; there warn’t any pistol used. He run right into the hornet’s
nest afore he seed it, and the varmints opened on him; he must have
throwed himself forrard on his hoss and the animal scratched gravel as
them ponies know how to do. Every shot missed ’em both; I reckon that
rider will carry his gun after this, even if it adds to the weight of
his load.”
“It seems to me,” said Alden, “that if those Indians intended to attack
us they wouldn’t have fired at the express rider.”
“Why not?”
“Because it warns us of _our_ danger.”
“Thar’s a heap of sense in what ye say, younker; that would have been
the way of it, if the rider hadn’t dashed into ’em afore he knowed
it, and afore they could slip out of his way; so they tried to shoot
him from his saddle; beats all natur’ what poor shooters most of the
varmints are.”
Shagbark glanced at the two.
“I’m powerful glad to see you both awake; I’m going to sneak out a
little way on the perarie where I kin see furder than from hyar. So
don’t shoot off yer guns ontil ye’re sartin it ain’t me but a redskin.”
Having given these instructions to each of the sentinels, Shagbark
set about the task he had in mind. It certainly was risky, for, while
he might count upon avoiding any collision with the red men, it was
quite likely that some of the sentinels in their nervousness would fire
upon the first glimpse of him. Be that as it may, the thought gave him
little concern.
Jethro Mix stole back to his place on the other side of the wagon. A
big scheme had flashed upon him, and he wished to turn it over in his
mind.
“Wish I war dat Pony Expressman,” he muttered; “he’s gwine so fast dat
de Injins won’t get de fust glimpse agin ob him. I’d like to be one
ob dem riders, if I could allers keep riding toward St. Joe. What’s to
hender me sneaking Jilk out from de oder critters an going like blazes
fur de Missouri riber?”
That was the thought which had taken possession of him.
“Ef I kin git a good start dere ain’t any animal in dis crowd dat could
ketch us, and when I arroves at St. Joe, it’ll take a double team ob
horses to pull me away again.”
A few minutes’ reflection, however, showed the young colored man that
his plan was impossible. He could not withdraw his pony from the group
within the circle without being seen by the sentinels who would permit
nothing of that nature. Moreover, Shagbark was likely to return at any
moment from his reconnaissance and it would be just like him to shoot
down Jethro.
“I doan’ think he lubs me much anyway; he’s been onrespectful in his
remarks when he spoke to me afore others. Guess I’ll hab to wait till
we gits to Salt Lake, where we’ll change guides and I’ll be mighty glad
ob it.”
It must be deemed fortunate for Jethro Mix that he did not attempt
the wild scheme in his mind, for the consequences must have been
disastrous to himself.
Having little or no faith in the fellow’s courage and vigilance, Alden
Payne acted as if he were wholly alone in guarding the wagon in which a
number of the women and children were asleep, unconscious of any danger
that might be stealing upon them. He had not long to wait when he made
a disquieting discovery.
For most of the time the stillness was profound. The oxen had lain down
within the enclosure and were either chewing their cuds or sleeping.
Two or three of the horses kept their feet, but most of them were also
lying down. Occasionally the stamp of a hoof sounded dully, but nothing
else disturbed the watchers. In all directions on the level plain
reigned the silence of the grave. The wide sweeping Platte, though not
far off, coursed between its banks with no ripple or eddy that could
be heard a hundred yards away. It was hard to believe that men were
abroad in this silent world, hunting for a chance to slay their fellow
creatures, but such was undoubtedly the fact.
The ever shifting shadows as the clouds tumbled past the moon,
tantalized Alden. Much would he have preferred that the sky should be
darker or lighter, provided it remained the one or the other.
It was not anything he heard which gave him his first thrill of fear.
He caught no sound, but it suddenly occurred to him that there was a
movement in the grass a few rods out. At first he could not define
its nature. It was as if some reptile, possibly a rattlesnake, was
stirring at that point. The disturbance was so slight that a moment
later he felt sure he had been deceived. The face of the moon cleared,
and a silver flood of light bathed the grassy plain. The spot which had
roused his suspicion stood out almost as at midday, when the sky is
partly cloudy.
“Could I have been mistaken?” he asked himself, motionless and peering
into the obscurity. “Shagbark warned me to be on my guard against
_everything_, but I can’t make this out.”
If a serpent had been disturbed and was zig-zagging through the grass,
he had nothing to fear, for it would not molest him.
The occasion was one in which Jethro might be able to give help. Alden
called cautiously to him, but there was no answer. He stepped softly
around the rear of the wagon, but before he discovered the big fellow
lying on the ground, he noticed his heavy breathing.
“Asleep,” muttered his master disgustedly; “I wonder that he kept awake
so long.”
Without returning to his former position, Alden again scrutinized the
plain spread out to view. In the flickering illumination, he could not
descry anything out of the usual order of things.
“It must have been a mistake but I don’t understand――helloa!”
A ragged cloud again swept past the moon, whose full rays descended
upon the earth. Could Alden Payne believe his eyes?
Barely a hundred yards away stood an Indian warrior. He seemed to be
looking at the youth himself, though that was impossible because Alden
must have been invisible to the keenest of eyes while wrapped in the
shadow. The red man was as erect as a statue, a rifle in one hand which
rested at the side below his hip. The youth noted even the feathers
which projected from the crown of his head, the naked chest, the sash
around the waist and the handle of the knife thrust behind it. A
glimpse could be caught of the leggings below, most of them with the
moccasins being hidden, however, in the grass.
The whole thing was beyond explanation. It looked as if the Indian
while crawling over the ground and hidden by the grass, had changed his
mind and deliberately risen to his feet, where he must have known he
would be in full view of the vigilant white men. What could it all mean?
The next moment, while Alden was staring at the strange sight, he
recalled the orders of Shagbark.
“The minute ye’re sure it’s a redskin, _shoot_!”
Nothing could be easier than for the youth to bring his rifle to
a level where he was screened by the darkness, and bring down the
Indian as he would bring down any other game. But he could not do it.
The thought of shooting a human being, even though an enemy probably
seeking the life of the youth himself, was intolerable. It would have
been a crime for which Heaven would hold him accountable and for whose
commission he could never forgive himself.
“I shan’t let him get out of my sight; he can do no harm so long as he
stands there; if he attacks, I’ll shoot. Shagbark will laugh at me,
but I prefer he should do that rather than offend my Creator.”
How long the Indian would have held his pose is doubtful, had not an
unlooked for interruption occurred. Alden was trying to discern the
countenance more clearly. He thought it was striped and daubed with
paint, but the view was not distinct enough to make sure. Without
intending to venture into the moonlight, the youth stepped softly aside
and back a single pace in the effort to obtain another angle of view.
In making the movement, he placed his foot directly over the mouth of
Jethro Mix, and rested most of his weight on it before he could check
himself.
“Gorrynation!” gasped the African, catching the offending shoe with
both hands and struggling to free himself, “who frowed dat house on top
of my head?”
“Shut up!” commanded Alden as he flirted his foot; “Why are you
sleeping when you were placed here to watch for the Indians?”
“Who’s sleeping?” demanded Jethro, climbing heavily to his feet; “I war
jest setting down to tie my shoestring when you come along and stepped
on my head so it’s bent out ob plumb.”
“Look over the plain and tell me what you think of _that_,” said Alden
impressively.
Startled by his words and manner, the African rubbed his eyes and did
as directed, but failed to discover anything.
“I doan’ see nuffin,” he growled.
Nor did Alden. Everything was as when Jethro lay down. The sound of his
voice must have been heard by the Indian, who vanished as suddenly as
he had appeared. It was easy for Alden to understand that, but he could
not comprehend why the redskin should have shown himself at all.
It was necessary to give some explanation to Jethro, but his young
master had no purpose of telling everything.
“I saw an Indian out there a few minutes ago and stepped across to tell
you about it, but you were asleep and didn’t know any more than you do
when you are awake. The best thing for you to do, Jeth, is to lie down
and keep on sleeping.”
“Do you mean dat?” eagerly asked the other.
“Of course I do.”
“All right; if you finds you have to do any trampin’ bout I’ll be
obleeged if you doan’ step into my mouth agin. If you do I’ll bite
your foot in two.”
Alden without noticing the fellow walked back to his first position. He
did not give Jethro a second thought.
Despite the self-evident cause of the disappearance of the skulking
warrior, the youth was ill at ease. He decided to await the explanation
of Shagbark, who would probably join him ere long.
But worst of all, the proof had been given that the redskins whom
all dreaded were prowling near the camp. One of them would not have
ventured alone to the neighborhood. There might be a dozen, a score, or
half a hundred who were formulating if they had not already formulated
a plan to surprise and massacre every one of the whites. As to what
that plan was he was as ignorant as the slumbering Jethro Mix.
All that Alden could do was use his eyes and hearing. No fear of his
falling asleep, even if he did lean against the thick spokes of the
wagon wheel. He knew better than to confine his attention to the spot
where the warrior had appeared and vanished. The fact of his having
done so would prevent his repeating the trick. He would aim to strike
his next blow from another point. And that such was the fact became
apparent a few minutes later when a fluttering disturbance similar to
the first caught his eye, though from a point well to the left.
It was so far over indeed that, without any hesitation the youth moved
a rod or more in that direction, keeping so far as he could in the
shadow of the Conestoga, but the change of position carried him into
the moonlight, and he crossed half the interval between his wagon and
the one next to it. The fewness in number of vehicles compelled their
wide separation, for the circle was large.
There was no call for him to go any farther, since the sentinel there
must be as vigilant as himself, and it was not wise to leave his own
charge unguarded even for a few minutes. Still further, Shagbark had
warned every one against abandoning his post.
Because of all this, Alden halted just beyond the shadow thrown out by
the huge wide cover of the Conestoga. His nerves were at the highest
tension, and the feeling was strong upon him that some frightful danger
was stealing upon the camp.
With the suddenness of lightning the truth flashed upon him. The second
disturbance in the grass was for the purpose of drawing him away from
his post, so as to leave that particular wagon and its precious load
unguarded!
Not only was such the purpose of the Indian but the daring plan
succeeded!