Produced by Chris Curnow, Barbara Kosker, Michael and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
_By ELMER R. GREGOR_
JIM MASON, BACKWOODSMAN
JIM MASON, SCOUT
_Western Indian Series_
WHITE OTTER
THE WAR TRAIL
THREE SIOUX SCOUTS
_Eastern Indian Series_
SPOTTED DEER
RUNNING FOX
THE WHITE WOLF
[Illustration: NOW WE MUST WATCH OUT! [Page 186]]
THE WAR TRAIL
BY
ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR
AUTHOR OF "THE WHITE WOLF,"
"RUNNING FOX," "WHITE OTTER," ETC.
[Illustration]
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK :: 1924 :: LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. A COURIER FROM THE WEST 1
II. OFF ON THE WAR TRAIL 13
III. THE COUNCIL FIRE 30
IV. AWAY INTO THE NORTH 44
V. SIOUX SCOUTS 56
VI. THE LONE RIDER 68
VII. SMOKE SIGNALS 75
VIII. A CLOSE CALL 87
IX. ANXIOUS MOMENTS 101
X. REBELLIOUS PONIES 115
XI. AN UNUSUAL ADVENTURE 128
XII. AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE FLATHEADS 147
XIII. A CLEVER STRATAGEM 158
XIV. THE BLACKFEET CAMP 167
XV. A PERILOUS RECONNAISSANCE 181
XVI. OFF WITH THE PONIES 197
XVII. HOTLY PURSUED 207
XVIII. THE STAMPEDE 224
XIX. TRAILING THE RUNAWAYS 236
XX. SAFE AT LAST 251
THE WAR TRAIL
CHAPTER I
A COURIER FROM THE WEST
The sun was setting behind the western rim of the plain, as White Otter,
a famous young war-chief of the Ogalala Sioux, drew near the low ridge
of foothills which he had been approaching since daylight. He was bound
on a hunting expedition for deer, having promised to kill a fat young
buck for his grandfather, old Wolf Robe, the aged Sioux chief.
White Otter approached the timber with his usual caution. He knew that
the forest often concealed foes as well as game, and he determined to
take no risks. He rode slowly toward the cover, therefore, watching for
the slightest warning of danger. He was within easy arrow range of the
woods when his pony suddenly stopped and snorted nervously. White Otter
instantly became alert. Drawing his bow, he slid to the ground, and
sheltered himself behind his pony. Then for some time pony and rider
watched the forest.
A loud crackling of undergrowth, and a number of soft, bounding
footfalls told him the cause of his alarm. He had startled a deer from
its feeding ground at the edge of the plain. Convinced that the place
was free of foes, he mounted his pony, and rode to the edge of the
timber.
This range of heavily timbered foothills was a favorite hunting ground
of the Ogalalas, and White Otter had visited the locality many times. He
was entirely familiar with the usual haunts of game, and knew the
location of every spring and salt lick. Once in the timber, therefore,
the young Sioux rode slowly along a well-worn game trail which brought
him to a small grassy park in the dip of the hills. A little stream
trickled through one end of it, and made it an ideal feeding ground for
deer and elk. As it was also an attractive and sheltered camp site, and
offered an abundance of feed for his pony, White Otter decided to remain
there for the night.
The twilight shadows were already gathering as the Sioux tied his pony
in the woods and seated himself at the edge of the little park to watch
and listen. Although the day was about gone he hoped that he might
secure his game before darkness finally settled down. It was not long
before he was roused by a rustling of wings above his head. Looking up,
he saw a pair of plump spruce grouse on a limb directly over him. As the
birds stretched their necks and cocked their heads to look at him, he
drove an arrow through the body of the cock grouse. The bird fluttered
helplessly to the ground, and White Otter immediately broke its neck.
The remaining grouse still sat peering down at him. He made no attempt
to kill it. It was a law of his people to kill only what they required
that there might always be sufficient game to replenish the supply.
"Wakantunka, the Great Mystery, has sent me something to eat," White
Otter said, reverently. "It is good."
As it was getting quite dark, and as there seemed little probability of
seeing game, the Sioux decided to abandon his vigil until daylight. He
brought his pony from the timber and tied it in the center of the park
to graze. Then he selected his camp site and made a tiny fire of dry
sticks. As a precaution against being seen by some prowling foe, he
inclosed it with a barricade of rocks to hide its feeble glow. He
plucked the grouse and spitted it on a forked stick before the fire.
Then he drew his elk skin robe about his shoulders and seated himself to
enjoy his evening meal.
After he had eaten the grouse White Otter allowed the fire to die out.
Then for a long time he sat in the darkness, listening to the night
sounds. The wind whispered softly in the tree tops. The shrill yelping
of the coyotes came from the open plain. Then the plaintive cry of the
little red owl sounded within bowshot. White Otter listened anxiously.
He knew that the call often was used as a signal, and he determined to
be on his guard. However, he soon convinced himself that it was genuine,
and dismissed it from his mind. Shortly afterward he brought his pony
from the park and tied it near him. Then he wrapped himself in his robe
and lay down to sleep.
White Otter awakened at daylight and crept stealthily to the edge of the
park. As he saw no game, he sat down to watch. He felt quite sure that
either deer or elk would soon come there for food and water. In fact he
had waited only a short time when he heard something approaching through
the undergrowth. Fitting an arrow to his bow, White Otter looked
anxiously in the direction of the sound. In a few minutes he saw an old
bull elk standing in the shadows at the edge of the woods. It was thin
and emaciated, and White Otter knew that its flesh would be tough and
unpalatable. It was well within bowshot, but he had no thought of
killing it. He had promised his aged grandfather a fat young buck, and
he had no intention of disappointing him. As the old bull walked slowly
into the open, White Otter grunted, and the elk instantly stopped and
looked toward him. Then as the Sioux rose to his feet and showed himself
the aged bull turned awkwardly and trotted stiffly into the cover.
"Go, old man," laughed White Otter. "You have lived a long time. I will
let you live on. I am----"
He stopped abruptly, for at that moment he heard a loud snort, and a
great crackling of brush, as the buck for which he had been waiting
raced safely away through the woods. The young hunter flushed with
anger.
"I am like a noisy old woman," he grumbled, savagely.
After he had gone to examine the trail of the buck, he again seated
himself at the edge of the woods to watch for game. A long time passed
before he heard anything. Then he was surprised to hear something coming
directly toward him through the woods. It made a great noise, and
sounded like a deer or an elk in wild flight. White Otter sprang to his
feet and held his arrow in readiness.
In a few moments a splendid blacktail buck leaped into the open. White
Otter was astonished to see a huge gray lynx clinging to the buck. As it
reached the park, the deer was dragged to its haunches. Then, apparently
unmindful of the interested young hunter, the lynx relaxed its hold and
sprang at the throat of its victim. The cruel fangs sank deep into the
flesh, and although the buck struggled desperately it was soon overcome.
Then White Otter drove his arrow through the lynx. It fell dead with the
arrow through its heart. A second arrow ended the agony of the blacktail
buck. Elated at his luck the Sioux ran forward to examine his game. He
lifted the head of the lynx and gazed intently into the cruel face. Then
he addressed the dead animal and made excuses for having killed it, so
that its spirit would not depart in anger and seek to avenge itself upon
him at some future time.
"Ho, old man, you were very fierce," White Otter said, softly. "You were
a good hunter. If I had not come here you would have had something good
to eat. Well, I saw you. I came here to get meat for my grandfather, the
great chief Wolf Robe. When I saw that buck I decided to take it. That
is why I killed you. But you must not feel bad about it. You have done
many bad things to my people. Yes, that is why I felt like killing you.
You have killed many young ponies. You have driven away many deer. You
have made it hard for our hunters to find meat. Now you know why I
killed you. But you must not feel bad about it. Now I am going to do
something good for you. I am going to give you some meat to take with
you on the Long Trail. Then I am going to tell my people about you. I
will speak good words about you. Now you must feel good about this
thing."
Having complied with the ancient custom of his people, White Otter
opened the carcass of the deer and placed the entrails beside the lynx.
Then he packed the buck upon his pony with a long lariat of twisted
rawhide and rode from the park.
When he reached the edge of the timber, White Otter stopped to search
the plain. A prairie wolf trotted slowly from sight over a rise of
ground. It was the only sign of life on the vast sage-grown waste.
Assured that there was nothing to fear, White Otter set out upon his
journey.
White Otter had covered two thirds of the distance to the Sioux camp
when his pony suddenly turned its nose toward the wind and whinnied
shrilly. White Otter looked about him with considerable alarm. He felt
certain that other horses were somewhere in the vicinity. The
possibility roused his suspicions. He dismounted and grasped his pony
by the nose to keep it silent. It was snorting and nervously watching a
low grassy knoll several arrow flights away.
"There are horses behind that hill," White Otter told himself.
Two possibilities suggested themselves. Perhaps there was a small bunch
of stray ponies grazing on the opposite side of the hill. Perhaps his
foes had discovered him and were lying in ambush behind the knoll. The
thought made him uneasy, as the day was far spent, and he was still a
considerable distance from his people. He had great confidence in the
ability of his pony, however, which was one of the best in the entire
Sioux tribe. He believed that in an open chase he would have little
difficulty in keeping well beyond range of any pursuers who might set
out upon his trail.
"I will find out about this thing," he declared.
He planned to ride about the knoll at a safe distance in the hope of
discovering what lay hidden on the other side. As he was about to mount
his pony, however, he saw a warrior rise to his feet, and stand boldly
outlined on the top of the hill. It was an entirely unexpected maneuver,
and White Otter instantly became suspicious. He feared that it was a
trick to lead him into a trap. He looked anxiously about the plain to
make sure that other crafty foes were not circling around behind him to
cut off his retreat. He saw no one except the mysterious stranger on the
top of the hill. He seemed to be watching White Otter as intently as the
latter was watching him. For some time neither moved.
White Otter finally decided that, as the unknown scout was too far away
to be identified, it would be foolish to waste more time watching him.
He determined to continue on his way toward the Sioux camp. If he
learned that he was being followed he planned to turn aside on a false
trail until it grew dark. Then he would circle back toward the Ogalala
village.
As White Otter mounted his pony and started away, however, the warrior
on the knoll suddenly showed signs of life. The Sioux had ridden less
than an arrow flight when the sentinel disappeared over the brow of the
hill. White Otter felt quite certain that his pursuit had begun. He
watched anxiously over his shoulder for the first glimpse of his foes.
The Crows had lately been seen in that vicinity, and he wondered if a
company of those hated enemies were about to come racing along his
trail. He did not force his pony, however, as he was eager to learn the
identity of his pursuers before he raced away for the Sioux camp.
White Otter did not have long to wait. In a few moments a solitary
horseman swept over a rise of the plain and galloped toward him. The
Sioux felt sure that it was the warrior who had been watching him. As
the stranger appeared to be alone, and eager to fight, White Otter
prepared for battle. Before venturing within arrow range, however, the
rider suddenly wheeled his pony, and raced around White Otter at great
speed. The Sioux immediately stopped and prepared to defend himself.
Then he suddenly discovered that the horseman was a friend.
"Ho, Dacotah! Ho, my brother!" shouted the rider.
"Yes, yes, now I see who you are," cried White Otter, as he lowered his
bow.
A moment later they dismounted beside each other. White Otter recognized
the rider as a Minneconjoux warrior named Lean Wolf, an old friend with
whom he had shared several perilous adventures.
"I have brought you some words from your brother, Sun Bird," said Lean
Wolf.
"It is good," White Otter replied, eagerly, as his eyes lighted with
pleasure.
"It is bad," Lean Wolf said, soberly.
"Has something bad happened to my brother Sun Bird?" the young Ogalala
inquired anxiously.
"No, I have not come to tell you that," Lean Wolf assured him. "I have
come to tell you that our enemies, the Blackfeet, came to our camp. They
crawled around the village in the dark like dogs. We did not hear them.
They ran off many ponies. Sun Bird is going to bring back those ponies.
He is the leader of a war party. He is going to fight the boastful
Blackfeet. He wants his brother White Otter to go with him."
Lean Wolf finished speaking, and looked inquiringly at the young Ogalala
war chief. For some moments the latter remained silent. He knew that a
warrior must not speak hastily, or pledge himself too eagerly. Although
his heart beat wildly at the thought of joining his friend in a war
expedition against the Blackfeet, he carefully concealed his emotion
lest he might lose respect in the eyes of the stern Minneconjoux scout.
Then, after the proper interval, White Otter replied:
"Lean Wolf, tell my brother Sun Bird that I will go with him to fight
the Blackfeet," he said, quietly.
"It is good," replied Lean Wolf.
"See, pretty soon it will be dark," said White Otter. "You must go with
me to my people."
"No, I will go back," Lean Wolf told him. "I was going to your village
to find you. Then I saw you here. It is good. I have brought you the
words of your brother Sun Bird. It is what I set out to do. I have done
it. Now I will turn back. Sun Bird is waiting."
"Go, my brother," replied White Otter. "Tell Sun Bird that I will come
to meet him at the end of three suns. If I do not come then he must wait
one sun more. Then if I do not come he will know that something bad has
happened to me. Now I am going away."
They parted without further ceremony, riding away into the twilight in
opposite directions. Once they had separated neither looked back. After
he had ridden a short distance, however, White Otter raised his head and
uttered the wild, piercing war cry of the Dacotahs. It echoed defiantly
across the plain, and the young war chief thrilled at the sound. Then,
after a short silence, it was answered from the west. White Otter
laughed gleefully as he raced his pony toward the Sioux camp.