AN APACHE COURTSHIP.
The trapper pointed toward a pile of wooded hills, in which direction
every eye was immediately drawn, without discovering, however, the
“signs” to which he alluded.
“They’re there,” he added, “and I’ve had a half a dozen glimpses of ’em
since we started. It won’t be long before you all see ’em.”
In confirmation of the hunter’s words, at this moment a couple of
mounted Indians were seen to come forth from the wood and undergrowth,
ride to the bottom of the hill, where they halted as if waiting for
something. The next moment a half a dozen followed them until ten were
gathered together upon their gaudily-caparisoned mustangs.
The next moment, they commenced riding at an easy gallop toward the
expectant train.
“By jingo! they’re going to tackle us!” exclaimed Leonidas Swipes in
considerable excitement, and with the hope of alarming those around him.
“Hardly,” replied Fred, “Apaches don’t do things in that style; they
generally take the night time and steal upon their enemies unawares.”
“But what does it all mean?”
“Such an approach in broad day generally means peace.”
“But—but—” persisted Swipes, as if unable to comprehend what it all
meant; “the Apaches are not on friendly terms with us.”
“When it suits their purpose it may be so.”
The emigrants understood, as a matter of course, that the approach of
the redskins meant nothing hostile, although more than one of them
quietly examined his rifle to make sure it was loaded and ready for
instant use.
A few moments later, the war party came to a dead halt about a hundred
yards distant, and the leader or chief made a gesture of friendship,
which was answered in pantomimes by Lancaster, who muttered at the same
time to those near him.
“Two of them dogs is Comanches.”
“Wonder if they aint the ones that stole my sheep!” exclaimed Leonidas,
sagely.
The preliminaries being arranged the chief now rode forward, his
warriors following at a distance of a dozen yards or so. The emigrants
reassured them by signs that they were welcome, whereupon the whole ten
slid lightly from their horses, and, leaving them stand without any
fastening or guardianship, came forward, until it may be said, they
mingled in with the whites, at which point they laid their arms upon the
ground, and waited for their white friends to do the same.
“Put down your guns,” said the trapper, “that’s what they’re waiting
for, but if you can hang on to your pistols at the same time without
their noticing you, why I haint any ’bjection.”
“I swan, if I let go of my revolver,” muttered Swipes, as he shoved the
weapon as far as possible down his pantaloons pocket.
The Apaches now came forward, and seated themselves upon the ground,
placing themselves in a semi-circle, while the circle was completed by a
dozen of the emigrants, including the hunters, Swipes taking good care
to occupy the centre of the Caucasian line, so as to be as far away as
possible from the American.
At this juncture, Mr. Bonfield whispered to Lancaster, who was sitting
next to him, that the chief or leader was the same fellow who had
visited their camp alone, about a week before. He was now painted and
bedaubed, with the evident intention of concealing his identity, but Mr.
Bonfield was sure he recognized him. When finally he opened his mouth,
and spoke, the last atom of doubt was removed.
Lancaster nodded his head to signify that he understood what it all
meant.
At this point, the chief uttered an exclamation, spoke several words,
and lit a large ornamented pipe. The trapper immediately replied.
“Can you understand him?” inquired Mr. Bonfield.
“Yes; he speaks the Apache tongue.”
“What did he say?”
“He announced himself as Cherouka, mighty chief of the Apaches, and that
he was our friend, which you know is the thunderingest lie ever told.”
Cherouka took a few whiffs at the pipe, passed it to his neighbor, who
imitated him, and in this manner it passed the entire circuit, including
the white men. This was an official declaration of friendship, but it
deceived no one.
The way being now opened, Cherouka recognizing Lancaster, as his “man,”
addressed his words to him, while the trapper responded promptly and
unmistakably. The language, as a matter of course was all “Greek” to the
emigrants, who could only gain a knowledge of its meaning, when their
guide chose to enlighten them.
The first remark of the Apache was a repetition of his friendship, and
his best wishes for the safe advance of the party “toward the setting
sun.” This was “chaff” and was so understood by him who comprehended the
words, who replied in the usual diplomatic manner, returning the
hypocritical professions, and seeking to draw the real meaning from the
crafty Apache.
But it seemed impossible to get any word from Cherouka, explanatory of
his true object in thus visiting a camp of people, between whom and his
own kindred it was generally understood, the most implacable enmity
existed. This fact convinced the shrewd guide, that the whole thing was
a ruse to cover some hidden design.
As Lancaster looked the painted redskin in the face his own wits were
busy, and his keen eyes constantly wandered hither, and to make sure
that he should not be surprised by any sudden _coup-d’etat_ of the
enemy. Finally the presence of the two Comanches in the party, gave him
as he believed the correct clew.
Undoubtedly these two gentlemen were concerned in the theft of Leonidas
Swipe’s sheep; and, fully impressed with the value of their prize, they
were resorting to every means to delay pursuit. They had known or
suspected of the union of the unfortunate sheep dealers, with emigrants,
and fearful that they might thus organize a vigorous and dangerous
campaign against them, they had adopted this artifice of keeping them
and their friends off the scent, until the plunder was beyond their
reach.
Five thousand and odd sheep are not a very mobile organization in a
precipitous country; and if any one thinks they are, we advise him to
try the experiment and undeceive himself.
Consequently the Comanches only displayed ordinary sagacity in
attempting the stratagem to which we have referred.
“All well, if it’s no more,” was the reflection of the trapper, as these
thoughts passed through his mind, “but these dusky scamps may have
something behind all this.”
As the interview progressed, the emigrants gradually gathered around the
parties. The curiosity, naturally enough affected the women; and, when
they saw the Indians, in their war-paint and war-dress seated upon the
ground, gravely chaffering with the whites, they too approached until
they were within a few feet of the parties.
As Fred Wainwright sat looking upon the face of the Apache chief, during
the interview, he noticed that he kept gazing to his left as though
something in that direction attracted his attention. His looks became so
fixed at last, that he turned his head, and then discovered that the all
absorbing object which had caught the dusky scamp’s eye was no less a
personage than Miss Florence Brandon, who, occupied in the scene itself
was unconscious of the attention which she had attracted.
“By jingo! he’s smitten!” whispered Swipes to the young hunter.
“The old dog is struck with her,” was the reply, “and if we aint
careful, there’ll trouble come from this. Just watch him!”
“I never shall give my consent to his taking Miss Brandon away; you see
it would be a severe loss for the Fort Mifflin Institute.”
“Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open,” was the somewhat strong hint
that Mr. Swipes received to remain quiet during the progress of the
interview. He looked at the young hunter a moment as if he were about to
resent this insult to his dignity; but he finally concluded to remain
silent and look on.
Cherouka hadn’t sense enough to conceal his admiration of Miss Brandon
or he didn’t care if it was observed. Fixing his sharp black eye upon
the girl, he suddenly arose to his feet and walked toward her. Alarmed
at the movement, she started back with a slight exclamation, and the
Apache chief found his progress suddenly checked by Fred Wainwright the
young hunter, who strode across his path and waved him back.
This occurrence created some little excitement, and for a moment
threatened serious consequences. The brow of the chief darkened and he
placed his hand upon his knife handle; but, his second thought evidently
prevailed, and he sank back again, addressing Lancaster the interpreter.
The latter laughed,
“What do you s’pose he says?” he asked turning to his friends.
No one could possibly imagine.
“He says he loves that gal, begging her pardon, that lady, and he wants
her to go to his wigwam with him.”
This caused a smile, but, as it was plain that the chief was in earnest,
all felt the propriety of hearing his ridiculous passion, as if it were
entitled to serious consideration. Lancaster was therefore directed to
inform the dusky dog that his compliment was duly appreciated, but that
the “White Plume” could not accept his offer.
This being duly communicated to Cherouka served only to make him eager
to secure the coy prize. He instantly offered a large belt of wampum and
two horses for her. This was courteously but firmly refused as before,
whereupon he made still more extravagant offers.
These meeting with the same fate as the others, he demanded the reasons
why his offers were refused.
“What shall I tell him?” asked Lancaster, looking at the blushing girl.
“Hanged if I know what excuse to give him.”
“Tell him she’s engaged!” called out Swipes in a husky whisper.
“Shall I tell him you’ve got another feller?” asked the trapper, with
all the simplicity imaginable.
“_No; tell him no such thing for I have not!_”
Little did Florence Brandon dream of the vast happiness produced by that
declaration in the breast of a certain young hunter standing near her,
with his eyes fixed upon her face with almost the keen eagerness of the
Apache lover himself.
The latter was made to believe, at length there was no hope for his
suit; and mounting his horse, he and his followers rode away sullen,
lowering and vengeful, while the whites breathed freer, when the
troublesome visitors were fairly out of the range of the camp.