OFF ON THE WAR TRAIL
When White Otter reached the Sioux camp he rode directly to the lodge of
old Wolf Robe, the famous Ogalala war chief.
"Ho, grandfather, see, I have brought you some meat," he cried gayly.
"Ho, I see that you have killed a fat young buck," said Wolf Robe, as
his eyes lighted with pleasure. "Come, woman, cut some meat."
At his command, old Singing Wind, the grandmother of White Otter, came
from the lodge. White Otter dragged the buck from his pony. Then, as
Singing Wind called some of the younger women to help her, White Otter
asked if he might talk with Wolf Robe.
"Yes, my son, come into the lodge and sit down with me," said Wolf Robe.
The old chief listened attentively while White Otter described his
unusual adventure with the lynx. Then he told of his meeting with Lean
Wolf, the Minneconjoux scout, and the message which the latter had
brought from Sun Bird. Wolf Robe looked sharply at his grandson.
"I am going with Sun Bird to fight the Blackfeet," declared White Otter.
Wolf Robe nodded understandingly, but made no reply. For a long time he
gazed thoughtfully at his battle-scarred war shield which hung on a
tripod of poles at the rear of the lodge. It appeared as if the aged war
leader was recalling his own glorious achievements on the war trail in
the days of his youth. White Otter waited patiently for him to speak.
"It is good," Wolf Robe said, finally. "The voice of a friend travels
far. The ears of a Dacotah are open for the words of a friend. Sun Bird
has called you. He is your friend. You must go."
Having given this advice, Wolf Robe again subsided into silent
meditation. As White Otter rose to leave, however, his grandfather
motioned for him to be seated.
"Wait, my son, I have some words for you," he said.
"It is good," replied White Otter.
"You say that you are going to fight the Blackfeet," said Wolf Robe.
"Those people are strong. They are braver than the boastful Pawnees. I
have fought with them many times. When I was a young man I was taken to
their village. They kept me there many moons. Those were bad days. Then
I got away. After that I fought many battles against those people. Once
I went to their camp, and took away some ponies. It was a hard thing to
do. Yes, my son, the Blackfeet are great warriors. Well, I have told you
about them. Now you can tell our brothers, the Minneconjoux, about it. I
believe you will have a big fight to get back those ponies. My son, you
are a Dacotah. It is enough. I have spoken. Go!"
The following day, at sunrise, White Otter set out to join the
Minneconjoux war party. He was dressed and decorated for the war trail.
Naked above the waist, he had daubed and streaked his face, chest and
arms with yellow clay. A great war bonnet of eagle plumes proclaimed his
rank as a famous Ogalala war chief. His dress consisted of buckskin
leggings, buffalo-hide moccasins, a buckskin breechcloth, and a silky
cow buffalo robe for protection against wind and storm. He carried a
wolfskin case containing his bow and arrows, a flint knife in a buckskin
sheath, his buffalo-hide war shield, and a weasel-skin pouch containing
his fire sticks and some dried meat. Mounted upon his best war pony,
the dashing young warrior made a striking appearance as he rode proudly
from the great Sioux camp.
Many friends shouted good wishes from the edge of the village. White
Otter turned his pony, and answered them with the thrilling war-cry of
the Dacotahs. Then he raced away toward the west.
Once beyond range of the camp, however, White Otter drew his pony to a
walk, and carefully scanned the plain. He had little fear of
encountering foes so near the Ogalala village, but he determined to take
every precaution. A small band of antelope were feeding far away toward
the south, and as they seemed to be the only living creatures on the
vast expanse of plain White Otter urged his pony into a canter and
proceeded on his way.
It was a glorious day in early summer. The sky was blue and cloudless.
The prairie was dotted with flowers. Birds sang gayly from the thickets.
The air was perfumed with the fragrance of blossoms, the sweet aroma of
growing grass, and the faint, spicy scent of distant sage.
White Otter rode on his way in high spirits. He was carefree, and happy,
and eager for adventure. The fact that he was about to expose himself
to the perils of the war trail caused him slight concern. He had
implicit confidence in the ability and courage of his tribesmen, the
fearless Minneconjoux, and he had little doubt that their expedition
against the powerful Blackfeet would be entirely successful. The thought
of being injured or killed in the adventure never entered his mind. If
it had he would have wasted little time upon it, as he had long since
learned to scoff at danger, and to accept injury and death as inevitable
possibilities in the life of every warrior.
Toward the end of the day White Otter came in sight of a familiar little
grove of aspens which marked a former camp site. He had encountered a
company of Ute warriors at that spot the previous year, and he was
somewhat suspicious of it. It offered a splendid hiding place to foes,
and the wily young Sioux determined to make sure that the place was
unoccupied before he ventured within arrow range. He stopped at a safe
distance out on the plain, and watched the grove with considerable
anxiety. Then, as he saw nothing to arouse his suspicions, he rode
slowly about the camp site, looking for fresh pony tracks. He soon
discovered them. They led away from the grove. White Otter dismounted,
and studied them with great care. He saw that it was the trail of a
single pony, and the tracks were several days old. Having learned that
much, he walked slowly ahead of his horse, watching carefully to
discover where the trail had entered the grove.
"Perhaps it was Lean Wolf," he told himself.
He soon learned otherwise, as the trail approached the grove from the
south. White Otter followed the tracks a short distance out on the
plain, and found evidence which convinced him that the pony had carried
a rider. As there seemed little to be gained by following the trail
farther in that direction, he turned and followed it to the grove.
The camp site was unoccupied, and as there was a spring, and plenty of
grass for his horse, White Otter decided to stop there for the night. He
picketed his pony, and then began to examine the place for signs. The
ashes from a small fire, and some charred bones scattered near by, told
him that some one had spent the night at that spot several days before.
He worked diligently to find a clew to the identity of the traveler, but
found nothing which would tell him what he wished to know. The little
mound of ashes, the remnants of a meal, and the pony tracks were his
only clews.
The fact that the unknown horseman had come from the south aroused White
Otter's interest. Both the Pawnees and the Utes lived to the southward.
As he had already encountered a war party of the latter at the grove he
wondered if it was a favorite stopping place for those mysterious foes.
However, as the signs were at least two days old, the possibility caused
him little concern.
Having finished his reconnaissance, White Otter seated himself at the
edge of the grove to watch the plain. The sun had already set, and the
purple evening shadows were creeping out of the east. The prairie
appeared lifeless. The Sioux was at a loss to account for the scarcity
of game. He feared that foes of some sort had driven it from the
locality. The thought suggested the possibility that the lone rider was
a scout, loitering behind a hunting party to watch for enemies.
At dark White Otter returned to his pony. He feared to make a fire, lest
the gleam might betray him to his foes. He sat beside the little spring,
and ate several cakes of pemmican, composed of dried meat and berries,
which he had brought for just such an emergency.
Before he ventured to sleep, White Otter returned to the edge of the
plain, and spent a long time listening for a warning of approaching
enemies. The howling of some distant prairie wolves, the gentle rustling
of the aspens, and an occasional grunt from his pony were the only
sounds. He continued to listen, however, until the night was half gone.
Then he returned to the camp site, and lay down to sleep.
Dawn was just breaking when White Otter was suddenly awakened by the
snorting of his pony. Seizing his bow, he moved cautiously to the edge
of the grove. A buck antelope was standing within easy bowshot. It had
scented the pony, and stopped to investigate. Unable to resist the
temptation, White Otter drove his arrow through its heart. It was a
yearling in prime condition, and he cut a choice steak from the carcass.
Then, as the light strengthened, and he saw no evidence of foes, he made
a tiny fire and broiled the antelope meat. He ate heartily, and gave
thanks to Wakantunka, the Great Mystery, for sending him food.
Shortly after sunrise White Otter resumed his journey toward the
Minneconjoux camp. As the pony tracks led in that direction he followed
them with keen interest. If the lone horseman really were a hostile
scout, White Otter knew that to follow him would be the surest and
safest way of locating any enemies who might be in the vicinity. He kept
a sharp watch, therefore, and approached the knolls and ridges with
great caution.
It was midday before he saw anything to make him suspicious. Then he
discovered a dense cloud of dust rising behind a slight elevation of the
plain. He immediately stopped to watch it. It suggested two
possibilities--a herd of frightened buffaloes or a company of horsemen.
White Otter longed to peep over the top of the ridge, but he realized
that it would be folly to take the risk until he knew what was before
him. He knew that hostile scouts might be watching from that spot, and
the possibility made him cautious.
"Perhaps some one is hunting buffaloes," he said.
Realizing that he might have been seen, White Otter looked for a place
of concealment. The plain was open and bare of shelter, however, and
there was no chance to hide. He determined to remain where he was,
hoping that something might appear along the crest of the ridge.
It was soon evident that whatever was raising the dust was moving
rapidly toward the north. White Otter felt quite certain that it was a
herd of buffaloes in wild flight. Perhaps they were pursued by wolves,
which were always loitering about the herds at that season to prey upon
the young calves. It was just as probable, however, that a hunting
party of foes had invaded the great Sioux hunting grounds.
"Well, I will wait here and see what comes of it," declared White Otter.
The dust cloud finally faded out some distance farther toward the north.
White Otter was perplexed. He was undecided as to what he should do. The
ridge extended like a barrier directly across his path, and it would be
necessary to cross it to continue his journey. Still, he realized the
peril of venturing within bow range.
White Otter waited a long time, and then finally turned his pony toward
the south, and rode along parallel with the ridge. Having seen nothing
which would lead him to suspect enemies, he planned to cross the ridge
some distance to the southward. When he believed that he had gone a
sufficient distance, he turned and approached the ridge. As he finally
came within arrow range he stopped and searched the top of the slope for
signs of foes. Although he failed to discover them, he realized that
they might be lying just below the top of the ridge, in which event it
would be impossible to see them. He rode forward with great caution,
therefore, and was prepared to flee at the first hint of danger.
White Otter had actually begun to climb the slope when he was startled
by a chorus of whoops and yells, and turning toward the left he saw a
company of horsemen racing toward him. He lashed his pony up the slope
and crossed the ridge. Then he rode furiously toward the west.
The maneuver completely fooled the Pawnees who had expected him to turn
down the ridge and flee in the opposite direction. Their confusion gave
White Otter a chance to get beyond arrow range before they dashed over
the ridge in pursuit of him. He looked over his shoulder and counted
eight riders whom he instantly recognized as Pawnees. His eyes flashed
dangerously as he thought of those hated foes.
White Otter was holding his lead over his pursuers when he suddenly saw
a solitary rider gallop from a little grove of trees, and race
diagonally across the plain in an effort to intercept him. The Pawnee
was mounted on a particularly fast little buckskin, and White Otter
realized that unless he swerved from his course he would soon come
within easy bow range of him. The Sioux however, refused to give way.
"I will kill that man," White Otter declared, grimly.
The other Pawnees had failed to come within bowshot, and although they
were yelling fiercely, and forcing their ponies to the limit, White
Otter gave little attention to them. His eyes were fixed on the daring
rider who was racing recklessly across the plain in an attempt to get in
front of him. The Pawnee seemed equally intent upon watching White
Otter. The ponies appeared well matched, and the race was a thrilling
one.
When they finally came within bow range, White Otter was sufficiently in
the lead to foil the plan of the Pawnee. The latter, however,
immediately began to shoot his arrows, and one of them penetrated deep
behind the shoulder of the Sioux pony. Mortally wounded, the unfortunate
animal made one great bound and then crashed to its knees, and White
Otter was thrown heavily over its head.
Jarred and stunned, the Sioux staggered to his feet to find the Pawnee
almost upon him. Quick to realize his peril, White Otter dropped behind
his dying pony as the Pawnee shot his arrow. The next moment he drove
his own arrow through the body of his foe, as the latter rode at him
with his war club raised for the fatal stroke. As the Pawnee toppled to
the plain, White Otter sprang forward and seized the bewildered pony. An
instant later he was racing away through a volley of Pawnee arrows.
Enraged at the fate of their comrade, the Pawnees were risking their
necks to overtake the Sioux. White Otter feared that at any moment
either he or the captured pony would be pierced by their arrows. In
their frenzy, however, they shot wildly, and their arrows flew wide of
the mark. White Otter lashed the Pawnee pony without mercy in an effort
to place himself beyond arrow range. He was astonished at the speed and
stamina of the buckskin, and he soon realized that it was the equal of
the horse he had lost. The discovery gave him confidence. A glance
backward told him that two of his pursuers were steadily losing ground,
and he was holding his lead against the others. He was still within
arrow range, however, and he crouched low upon the buckskin, and urged
it to still greater efforts. It responded nobly, and the fierce yells
from his enemies convinced him that they were falling farther behind.
The Pawnee pony was speeding over the plain with great bounds, and White
Otter was forced to admit that his favorite war pony would have been
sorely tried to maintain the pace.
Having begun to increase his lead, White Otter took hope. The little
buckskin had won his confidence, and he had little fear of being
overtaken. The day was far spent, and he believed that he would have
little difficulty in keeping well ahead of his pursuers until darkness
came to his aid. Then he knew that it would be a simple task to shake
them from his trail. Feeling sure of escape, therefore, he sat erect and
shook his bow defiantly at the helpless Pawnees. They replied with wild
yells of rage, and White Otter laughed mockingly.
The Pawnees continued the chase until darkness finally blotted them from
sight. Then White Otter turned sharply from his course, and rode
directly toward the north. Feeling confident that the maneuver would
baffle his foes, he slackened the pace of his pony to an easy canter.
Thus he rode until the night was half gone, and then he stopped and
dismounted from the tired little buckskin.
Fearing that the Pawnees might continue to search for him, White Otter
made no attempt to sleep. He sat close beside his pony, watching and
listening for a warning of his foes. He hoped that if they failed to
find him before daylight they would abandon the pursuit rather than
venture farther into the Minneconjoux hunting grounds.
Shortly before daylight White Otter mounted his pony and rode away
toward the west. Having heard nothing from the Pawnees he felt quite
certain that he had thrown them from his trail. His confidence was
rudely shaken, however, when he suddenly heard the sharp, husky bark of
the little gray fox a short distance at his left. A few moments
afterward a horse whinnied, and before he could interfere the little
buckskin replied.
"That is bad," White Otter murmured, uneasily.
He was fearful and perplexed. The signal was a favorite one among the
Sioux, and still under the circumstances he mistrusted it. He waited,
therefore, listening anxiously to locate whoever confronted him. In a
few moments the call was repeated at his right. He knew that either
friends or foes were on both sides of him. At length he answered the
challenge. A voice sounded from the darkness.
"Ho, Dacotah."
"Ho, my brother Sun Bird," White Otter replied, joyfully, as he
recognized the voice of his friend.
Then Sun Bird and his brother Little Raven rode forward to meet him. The
three young warriors had shared many perilous adventures, and they
greeted one another with boyish enthusiasm. Then Sun Bird repeated the
call of the little gray fox three times in quick succession, and fifteen
grim Minneconjoux warriors came to join them.
"Lean Wolf told us about this thing," Sun Bird explained. "Come, Lean
Wolf, here is White Otter, tell him about it."
"Ho, my brother," said Lean Wolf, as he rode up beside White Otter.
"Ho, my brother Lean Wolf," White Otter replied, heartily.
"When I was riding back to my people I saw some Pawnee hunters,"
explained Lean Wolf. "They saw me, but I was a long ways off. They did
not come after me. I told my people about it. Sun Bird said, 'It is bad.
Those Pawnees may kill White Otter. Perhaps we can help him. Come, my
friends, who will go with me to find White Otter?' That is how we came
here."
"It is good," said White Otter. "The brave Minneconjoux are my brothers.
I believe when the Pawnees heard your ponies they ran away. But see, my
friends, I am riding one of their ponies. It is very fast. I will tell
you how I come to have it."
The Minneconjoux listened with great interest while White Otter told of
his adventure with the Pawnees. When he finished speaking there were
many exclamations of approval from the stern warriors who had gathered
about him.
"White Otter, you have done a good thing," declared Sun Bird. "See, it
is getting light. Come, we will go and tell our people how you fooled
the boastful Pawnees."
They turned their ponies toward the west, and rode away singing
boastfully of White Otter's triumph over the Pawnees.