ALLIES WITH COPPER-COLORED SKINS
WHEN Mayhew made that dire announcement it sent a foreboding of coming
trouble straight to the hearts of his young companions.
If the wily red men had succeeded in surrounding them, so that there
was no chance of escape, they might as well give up all hope of
saving themselves from capture. Poor Roger, who had so recently been
brimming over with confidence concerning the ultimate success of their
expedition to the camp of the Frenchmen, now found himself sinking once
more into a pit of despair.
"What had we better do, Mayhew?" asked Dick, grimly.
"That is for you to decide," replied the scout. "Each one will have to
follow his own bent. As for myself, I know well that capture would mean
death at the stake for me. So I shall fight to the last gasp, and, if
the chance comes, try to make my escape as I did before. A man can die
but once, and better in battle than by fire."
Dick hardly knew what to say or do. He had a charge in his gun, it is
true, and with ordinary luck that might account for a single Indian;
but would it be the part of wisdom to enrage the savages by this rash
act?
He turned to the right and to the left. Yes, even as Mayhew had said,
there were enemies concealed everywhere, for he could see feathered
heads rising from behind various sheltering bushes.
Flight seemed impossible, and, while the thought of surrender chilled
his blood, it began to look as though there might be no other course.
Then all at once Roger heard his cousin give a low cry. It was not
alarm that rang in that utterance, but rather sudden surprise, even
hope. Roger could not guess what it meant, but turning toward his
comrade, he seized hold of his arm and stared in the other's face.
To his amazement Roger saw what looked like an expanding smile
beginning to appear there. He feared Dick must be going out of his
mind when he could show signs of pleasure upon facing such a terrible
condition as that by which they were now confronted.
"Mayhew, look again!" cried Dick. "Pay closer attention to the feathers
in their scalp-locks! Tell me if they are not different from the
feathers the Blackfeet wear!"
It was the frontiersman now who uttered a cry.
"Yes, yes, you are right, boy! These are not Blackfoot braves!"
"They are Sioux warriors, and, it may be, fresh from the village of our
friend, the chief, Running Elk!" said Dick.
Roger found his voice at hearing that glorious news.
"Try them, Dick!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Give them the sign the
chief taught us! Let them know we are friends, and not enemies! Yes, I
can tell the feathers are those of our friends, the Sioux. It is going
to be all right after all!"
Dick meanwhile took out a piece of white linen he had with him and
started to wave it.
At the same time he made certain gesticulations with his other hand
that would have a meaning in the eyes of Sioux braves, if, as they
hoped, these hidden red men proved to be such.
At first no notice was taken of his signals. Perhaps the wily warriors
suspected that it might be some sort of trap to catch them unawares;
but, as Dick continued his motions, they presently met with a response.
Several Indians cautiously arose to their feet, making responsive
gestures. Then they started to advance toward the spot where the three
palefaces stood.
"Why," exploded Roger, "look at every bush giving up a brave! There
must be twenty of them, all told. How lucky for us they are Sioux, and
not Blackfeet, the allies of Lascelles."
From every quarter the Indians now advanced, forming a complete cordon
around Dick and his friends, who awaited their coming calmly, confident
as to the result of the meeting.
"Dick," said Roger, "I am sure I know that man in the lead, with the
feathers of a chief in his long black hair, and the bears' claws around
his neck."
"Yes," the other remarked, "I was just going to say the same thing. He
is a sub-chief by the name of Beaver Tail. Surely he should remember
us, and what we did to make his chief our friend."
"Will he remember us, do you think?" continued Roger, apprehensively.
"Have no fear," Dick assured him; "all will be well. An Indian, once
a friend, can be depended on forever. I am only too glad now I held my
fire."
As the first of the Indians came up, the boys waited anxiously to
see whether they would be recognized by the sub-chief. To their
satisfaction Beaver Tail immediately greeted them as friends, after the
manner of his tribe.
Others of the warriors must also have discovered that they had seen two
of the palefaces among the lodges in their home village, for there were
numerous grunts and friendly nods among them.
"How can we let Beaver Tail know what we are here for, and beg him to
help us save Williams from the Frenchmen?" Dick now asked. "The chances
are that not one of the braves or the chief himself can speak a word of
English. Shall we make signs in the snow, and tell him that way?"
"Leave it to me, lad," Mayhew told him. "I have a little smattering of
the Sioux tongue, for once upon a time I was a prisoner among their
wigwams for months. With the aid of signs I shall be able to tell him
the story of how we seek Williams, the man who was in your company at
the time their chief set you free. And they will, I feel sure, help us
carry out our plan."
Both the pioneer boys watched Mayhew with intense eagerness as he faced
Beaver Tail and commenced to speak to him in his own language. The
chief looked astonished and pleased as well, for he had never dreamed
that a paleface could talk in the Dacotah tongue. (Note 10.)
While Mayhew was talking Dick watched the face of Beaver Tail. He could
see that by degrees the chief was catching the drift of what the guide
tried to explain. Of course this consisted in the main of their desire
to overtake Williams, who had set off on a hunting trip, and more to
the effect of how he had been unlucky enough to fall into the hands
of the Blackfeet, who were acting in conjunction with certain French
traders.
It was a clever idea on the part of the guide to bring in the
Blackfeet, because, as he very well knew, there was never-ending war
between that tribe and the Sioux. This would make Beaver Tail all the
more willing, even eager, to lend his aid in effecting the rescue of
Williams.
Step by step Mayhew advanced. When his limited stock of words failed
him, the guide resorted to crude drawings on the snow, at which device
he seemed to be quite adept, if the boys could judge from the chorus
of "how-how" that broke from the crowd of braves after each effort in
this line, and which they judged meant appreciation on the part of the
interested onlookers.
Finally the guide had reached the conclusion. He must have asked Beaver
Tail to help the paleface friends of the great chief, Running Elk, to
rescue their companion from the hated enemy, because the Indian was
nodding his head as though the proposition struck him favorably.
Then he commenced talking in return. When he saw from the puzzled
expression on the face of Mayhew that the frontiersman failed to
catch the idea he was trying to express, the chief turned to the sign
language, upon which his race have always relied when communicating
with each other, or to commemorate great events such as glorious
victories.
"What does he say, Mayhew?" asked Roger.
"He knows where the Frenchmen have their camp, and it is, as we
believed, over on the big water," replied the guide.
"Good! And will he take us there, and help us rescue Jasper?" continued
Roger.
"He says he will," Mayhew announced, with a happy smile on his
weatherbeaten face, for things had taken a decided turn in their
favor, and he began to imagine himself back in the main camp, ready to
make another attempt at taking that message down to the mouth of the
Missouri River.
"When?" continued the impatient Roger.
"We can be heading over that way as soon as we feel like it," the guide
explained. "The lake is about seven miles from here, as near as I can
make him out from his sign drawing. Once we get close by we must wait
for night to come. It is against Injun nature to ever make an attack in
broad daylight, when it can be avoided."
"So long as they do not injure Jasper it will not matter much," Roger
admitted.
"If they have not hurt him up to now I do not think anything is going
to happen before night comes around," Dick told him.
As there was nothing more to be arranged Mayhew managed to tell the
chief that they gladly accepted his offer of assistance, and placed
themselves wholly in his hands. Perhaps the artful frontiersman,
knowing the nature of all Indians, managed to convey more or less
flattery in his speech. At any rate Beaver Tail gave evidences of
being greatly pleased by it, and even went around shaking hands with
the three palefaces, in the same way he had seen the head chief,
Running Elk, do on a former occasion.
It was a fortunate thing for the exploring expedition that members
of their party had been able to make friends with this tribe of the
powerful Sioux nation so early in their invasion of the hunting grounds
of these Western Indians.
Dick and Roger had shot a savage panther that was about to leap from
the limb of a tree upon an old Indian squaw and a little girl. Later
on, when the boys found themselves prisoners of the Sioux, this squaw,
who turned out to be a sister of the great chief, Running Elk, and the
child Dove Eye his own daughter, saved their lives; and from that time
on the Sioux, at least that particular tribe, were on friendly terms
with the explorers.
Accompanied by that host of fighting warriors, Dick and his party
pushed on into the east for several hours, not trying to make any fast
time, however, since they were in no particular hurry to arrive before
evening.
"If you have been taking notice of the fact, Dick," Mayhew remarked,
as he drew alongside the others, "we have our backs full on the
westering sun."
"Yes," Dick returned, "I did take note of that, and it tells us you
were right; the lake, and the camp of the Frenchmen as well, lie
straight to the east."
"Look up, Roger; what do you see?" demanded the guide.
"Our old friends, the crows, flying in flocks, all in a straight line,
and heading into the sun. Listen to them cawing; but somehow or other
the sound doesn't 'rile' me as it did before. In fact, I rather like
to hear it, because I can fancy they are saying: 'You are on the right
track, the camp is only a little way ahead, and good luck to you!'"
Dick laughed softly.
"That is only because you are happy now, while before you had a heavy
load on your mind. As none of us can understand crow talk we must let
it go by. See how they rise in the air when they glimpse us. Wary old
rascals that they are, they scent danger a mile off."
"And, as we must be getting near the big water now," interposed Mayhew,
"it may be just as well that we forego talking except in whispers.
There can be no telling about those crafty Blackfeet; some of them may
be roving around, on the lookout for meat, and spy us. Leave it all to
the chief, and let us copy everything they do, so as to show Beaver
Tail we have handed the whole job over to him."
After that not a word passed between the three comrades above their
breath, as they moved along in company with the dusky crew.