WHEN STOUT HEARTS WERE NECESSARY
"WE have covered a good many miles since starting, Dick, and I hope
they soon show signs of stopping for the night."
The afternoon was getting well along when Roger made this remark to his
cousin. His tone had a vein of complaint in it, for, although Roger
could tramp through the woods all day and feel it but little, he did
not like being forced to do the walking against his will.
Another thing that fretted the boy was the fact that every furlong
passed over carried them further away from their friends of the
expedition, the only whites, saving the French traders, within hundreds
of miles.
Dick had begun to notice this growing feeling of irritation on the
part of his comrade. He himself could look trouble in the face without
flinching, and he now concluded it was time to cheer up Roger's
drooping spirits.
"No question but that they intend to pull up pretty soon, Roger," he
said, as he trudged along close to the other's elbow. "In fact, I've
noticed some of them looking about as if they expected to reach a good
camp-ground at any minute. They were tired at the time they lay in wait
for us, and must have come a long way."
"Of course you noticed, Dick, that two of the braves stayed behind
when we left the river, though they did catch up with us several hours
afterwards?"
"Yes, and it is not difficult to guess what their part in the retreat
was," replied Dick. "They remained to conceal every trace of moccasined
feet, so that it would have to be a mighty good tracker who could tell
what had happened there on the bank of the small stream."
"Yes, and of course they've blinded our trail in the bargain every now
and then on the way," continued Roger, ruefully. "Three separate times
did we walk for half a mile in shallow water, and leave the creek on
the stones, so there would be no sign left after the sun and wind dried
the wet marks. It was the old Indian trick that we know so well."
"I tried my best to leave a plain track," added Dick, "but the braves
coming behind must have seen me do it, and made sure to cover it."
"What do you believe Captain Lewis will do about it?" asked Roger, he
himself having pondered on this subject without coming to a conclusion.
"When we fail to return to the camp of course they will send some of
the men up to look the ground over," Dick answered, thoughtfully. "The
disappearance of the friendly Indian will give them a clew. Then they
are apt to find some of the trout that were left behind fastened to the
willow withes."
"I hope they enjoy them," muttered Roger, with a grimace, for he could
not help remembering how his mouth had fairly watered with anticipation
of the treat he had expected to have that evening.
"I've been wondering, myself, how it came that the Indians overlooked
taking the fish," continued Dick, "and the only thing I can see is that
they were so anxious to get on the move before any of the white men
came along with those terrible 'fire-shooting-sticks,' that they forgot
about it."
"Yes," Roger added, "and that treacherous chap who guided us into the
trap was so taken up looking over your gun, which Waller had turned
over to him, that he forgot all about the fish, too. Well, I hope they
are found, and will make a fine supper for the men."
"It has clouded up, and looks a little as if we might have a storm of
some kind before morning breaks," went on Dick.
"More trouble if that happens," grumbled the other, glancing up at the
heavens to verify his comrade's statement.
"Don't be too sure of that," Dick told him. "It may turn out to be a
great help to us, for all we know, and give us a chance to make our
escape."
"What, do you think that, after all, some of the trailers among our
friends will be able to follow us, and take these Indians by surprise?"
asked Roger.
Dick, however, shook his head at this.
"To tell you the truth, Roger," he observed, "I'm afraid we can count
on no such help from our friends, even if they could discover our
trail, which is much in doubt."
"But why not?" demanded the other. "Captain Lewis thinks a lot of us,
and he is hardly the man to desert a friend, Dick."
"Every word of that is true," his chum assured him. "There never could
be a finer man than Captain Lewis; but stop and think, Roger; he
is not on business of his own now, but bent on carrying out a great
exploring expedition that was sanctioned by Congress, and backed by
President Jefferson himself. Every day counts in the spelling of
success; a delay here might ruin all their plans."
Roger nodded his head, as though he grasped the idea.
"Yes, I can see what you mean, Dick," he admitted, slowly and
regretfully, "and I guess you are right. Much as Captain Lewis himself
might want to lay over and send a party of his men out in search of us,
his duty binds him the other way. He will have to go on, and leave us
to our fate."
"Well, we have been able to take care of ourselves lots of times before
now, Roger, and why not again?"
Somehow his last words seemed to arouse the dormant spirit of
confidence in the other. Roger gritted his teeth, while his eyes
flashed defiantly.
"You're right, Dick, we have done plenty of things before, and can
again," he declared with a ring in his voice that Dick liked to hear.
"Our fathers never showed the white feather when they faced troubles
just as bad, and why should we? How many times have we listened to
them tell how they followed that band of Iroquois Indians ever so far
into the North, and rescued their sister Kate, who had been carried
away.[3] I'm done with repining, Dick; from now on you'll find me
different."
"Then to-night, when we are in camp, we must try to outwit these red
rascals. Even now I have something of a plan in my mind. And you may
be sure that every mile we covered I kept tally of the direction, so I
know just how to go in order to reach the Missouri again."
"You shame me, Dick," frankly admitted the other boy; "to know that,
while I've been fretting and complaining, thinking only of our
troubles, you were keeping track of such things as would help us get
back to our friends."
A little later on, Dick, who seemed to keep his eyes constantly on the
alert, once more spoke to his comrade.
"There's something brewing, as sure as you live, Roger," he said; "for
the Indians are consulting together in hushed tones, and examining the
ground as if they had run across some tracks there that excited them."
"Can it be game, and they are being tempted to start on a hunt?" asked
Roger.
"Two-footed game, then," replied the other boy, "for I can see there
are moccasin tracks all around. Of course, as the different tribes make
moccasins after their tribal way, it's easy for these Dacotahs to know
the others are not of their kind."
"They certainly do act as if they suspected there might be a breath
of danger hanging around, Dick. Do you know whether the Sioux and the
Dacotahs are enemies or not?"
"They have been in the past," acknowledged Dick; "but I know the print
of a Sioux moccasin, and these are different, Roger."
"Perhaps Shoshones. You remember Captain Lewis told us we were likely
to run upon some of that warlike tribe at any time now. Yes, and he
remarked that, as a rule, they were enemies to the Blackfeet, Crows,
Flat Heads, Dacotahs, and nearly every other tribe up in the Northwest."
"I shouldn't be surprised if you have hit on the truth, Roger, and
that this war party turns out to be fierce Shoshones. Our good friend,
Captain Lewis, said he hoped to make friends of them, since we must
pass through their country before striking the great mountains."
"There, we are going on again, Dick, but notice how the braves keep
looking to the right and to the left, as if they feared an ambush. The
Shoshones must be a fierce lot of fighters, or else be in overpowering
numbers."
"I think, if I can read an Indian's mind," said Dick presently, "these
braves will make an early camp. If they start a fire at all it will be
only a small one without smoke, and hidden in a hole, so that its light
will not betray them."
"Then there's a poor chance for supper, I take it," grumbled Roger,
who, having a splendid appetite, did not fancy going hungry, or chewing
on a tough piece of pemmican, or jerked venison.
"You often complain of things being dull, Roger; but I am sure you must
admit there's no lack of excitement for us now. We are prisoners in the
hands of the hostile Indians; there is a storm threatening; and now
comes a chance that, before morning, the camp may be attacked by these
Shoshones who are out looking for plunder and scalps."
"If they should come, Dick, what do you suppose would happen to us?"
Roger felt rather anxious, for he had heard it said that among Indians
it was the custom to kill their prisoners rather than have them
rescued, or taken away by a rival tribe.
"If I can carry out my plans," Dick assured him, "I don't mean to wait
until the camp is attacked. I'd like to be miles on the way back to the
river before that comes to pass, if it really does."
"There, I think we are going to pull up at last," ventured Roger, as
he saw the leading Indians halt, and begin to look around as though to
make sure that no enemy lurked in the neighboring woods.
It was a well-chosen spot for a concealed camp. A shallow depression,
very like a large bowl, offered them a chance to build a small fire
without any risk of the blaze being seen; and, so far as smoke was
concerned, those dusky sons of the forest could be counted on to select
such wood that there would not be sent up the slightest column of vapor
to betray them.
Roger, still watching, soon uttered a low cry of satisfaction.
"See, Dick, they do mean to have a little cooking-fire!" he exclaimed;
"and that means we may get some supper after all. So far they have
shown us no particular ill will, and treated us half-way decently."
"That comes of being taken for the sons of the Great White Father
at Washington," remarked Dick, with a chuckle that told that his
spirits had not been crushed even though the future looked so dark
and forbidding. "It is a high honor that has come to us, Roger, to be
reckoned President Jefferson's own boys!"
Roger, however, was more interested in what was going on about the
little fire than anything else. He observed just how the expert braves
formed a small pyramid, and then used the flint and steel to start a
tiny blaze.
"Yes, one of them is unwrapping that bundle he carries, Dick," the boy
went on to say, "and, just as I expected, it contains some freshly
killed venison. Oh! it's going to be all right, and we are due for some
supper, I reckon."
But Dick was thinking of other things than eating just then. He
surveyed with a critical eye the lowering sky, and wondered if a storm
was about to break upon them before morning came.
FOOTNOTE:
[3] See "The Pioneer Boys on the Great Lakes."