THE CAMP ON THE BIG WATER
"THERE is the big water, Dick!" said Roger, in the ear of his cousin,
as he chanced to peer through a narrow opening in the dense woods
beyond.
"And the chief has called a halt, which looks as though we were not to
go any further just now," Dick added.
They could catch a glimpse of what looked like an inland sea. The wind
was raising whitecaps on the tops of the waves, as they rolled past
toward the south. As far as the eye could reach the same broad expanse
of clear crystal water lay. The Indians did well to call it the "big
water," though to-day it is marked on the map as Yellowstone Lake.
A spy was sent out while the remainder of the party remained in hiding.
This was about an hour from sundown. He came back as the last glow was
fading in the western sky, and there was a consultation between the
chief and his leading warriors.
"Try to find out how the land lies, and what the plan of campaign will
be," Dick told Mayhew.
The guide returned presently with all the information they required.
"As near as I can tell," he explained to the boys, "the spy brings in
the news that the Blackfeet have mostly departed, and only the four
Frenchmen are left in the camp."
"But I hope they have left Jasper behind also," exclaimed Roger, taking
fresh alarm. "You remember we were told by Lascelles that he meant to
try to get the Indians to carry him far away to their village, and
either adopt him into the tribe, or else burn him at the stake."
"Make your mind easy on that score," Mayhew assured him.
"Then he is still in the camp?" asked the boy.
"Yes, the spy saw him there, tied to a tree," Mayhew continued. "One of
the Frenchmen gave him a kick in passing, like the coward that he is. I
used to believe the French were gentlemen, but my opinion has changed."
"Oh! you must not judge all Frenchmen by these rascals," said Dick.
"They are of the bad kind. Perhaps Jasper will be glad of a chance to
return that kick with interest before sun-up."
"And if he doesn't, I will!" asserted Roger, impulsively, for he hated
a coward and a bully above all things.
"What does Beaver Tail mean to do?" Dick asked.
"I think his first act will be to send the spy back again, so as to
keep track of what is going on in the French camp," Mayhew told him.
"Then at a later hour all of us will creep over and surround the place.
Any Blackfeet who may be found are apt to be given a short shrift,
because they are the mortal foes of the Sioux; but I do not believe the
traders will be harmed, unless they should be unwise enough to shoot
one of Beaver Tail's warriors."
Shortly afterwards Dick saw the same skillful scout go forth, and he
knew that Mayhew had guessed the truth when he said a close watch was
to be kept over the camp on the lake shore.
In good time the signal would be given for the general advance. Until
then, all of them must possess their souls in patience. As the cold of
the night increased it was likely to prove no laughing matter, since
they were unprovided with blankets, and dared not build a fire. Still,
with success so close to their hands, the pioneer boys felt that they
could put up with almost anything.
How slowly the time passed, in spite of all these brave resolutions!
Roger found it necessary several times to get up and, as noiselessly
as possible, thresh his arms around him, so as to start his stagnant
blood into renewed circulation. Had it not been for this expedient he
believed he would be unable to respond when finally the signal was
given to move on.
When it appeared to Roger that many hours must have passed, he was
elated to discover that the chief, Beaver Tail, had begun to show signs
of life. He had been sitting like a block of stone, simply casting a
look up at the stars occasionally, as though one of the heavenly bodies
must reach a certain altitude before the time could be reckoned as up.
This must have been a signal to the others, for immediately each
warrior was on his moccasined feet, and on every side bows could be
seen being strung in readiness for twanging, while quivers of arrows
were fastened over the left shoulder of each soft-footed brave.
Once the expedition was in motion, the chill soon left Roger's body. In
its place he experienced a gratifying warmth that must have started
through the increased pumping of his youthful heart due to excitement.
The boys found as they advanced that the crafty Sioux chief had made
as complete arrangements as any war captain could have done. He had
divided his force into three sections of about equal numbers. One of
these was sent ahead, and it was easy to surmise that the duty of these
warriors was to proceed to the further extremity of the Frenchmen's
camp, so as to cut off escape from that quarter.
A second lot could come up from the rear, while those with whom the
palefaces and Beaver Tail himself were associated advanced along the
shore of the lake, and expected to reach the vicinity of the camp in
that way.
The boys had never gazed upon a body of water anything like the size of
that lake, though accustomed to the big Missouri River in flood-time,
when it was miles from shore to shore. Once they had cruised down to
the Mississippi in company with Roger's father, Sandy Armstrong, who
had built a big canoe and wanted to revisit the place where, as a lad,
he had had a temporary home.
Seen in the sheen of the starlight, the lake looked as though it might
be an ocean in itself, for no further shore was visible. Roger wondered
if this was what the sea resembled, and if he and Dick would really be
permitted to continue on with the explorers, cross the rocky range of
mountains, and finally bring up on the golden strand of the Pacific
Ocean.
But there was a glimmering light close by, which he surmised was a
smoldering fire in the French traders' camp. Carefully they continued
to creep forward. It gave Roger a thrill to realize that he was in the
company of savages such as his father and grandfather had fought in the
years gone by; but who were now their best of friends. What wonderful
stories he and Dick would have to tell should they live through all
these manifold perils to return safely home, and resume their old
places at the domestic fireside.
Both boys were secretly hoping that Lascelles and his compatriots would
not be so foolhardy as to attempt to resist. Bad as these men were,
the boys did not wish to see them butchered, as they undoubtedly would
be should they fire on the Sioux, or even wound one of Beaver Tail's
warriors.
As for any stray Blackfeet who may have remained in camp while the
main body was off somewhere, if they got in the way of the Sioux arrows
or tomahawks that was their lookout; the boys could not be expected to
include them in the scheme of general amnesty.
The attack was not to be started until certain signals announced that
all the detachments had reached the positions assigned to them by the
chief. When he heard the howl of a wolf given with a certain little
twist at the finish, and then also caught the cry of the screech-owl,
he would feel assured that nothing remained to be done but order a
concerted assault.
Indians have always had a certain set plan for their surprises. No
matter how slyly they crept up on blockhouse or camp or border fort,
when a certain time arrived they felt it was absolutely necessary to
break out in ferocious yells. No doubt this was done partly to give
freedom to their pent-up feelings, and, at the same time, add to the
alarm of those whom they were attacking.
Dick and Roger knew this fact. They had had some little experience
themselves in connection with Indians. Besides this, they had heard
innumerable stories from Grandfather David concerning those days along
the Ohio, when the tribes from the Great Lakes to the southern border
of Kentucky were all on the warpath, and seeking day and night to
destroy the hardy pioneers.
This being the case, neither of the lads felt any surprise when there
arose a series of the most dreadful yells. The warriors whom they
accompanied added to the din with all their might, at the same time
springing forward and running in the direction of the near by camp.
From every quarter arose that deafening clamor. It must have struck
terror to the hearts of the Frenchmen, even though they may have
fancied that they were friendly with all the tribes of the far
Northwest, because of their dealings in the matter of buying the stores
of pelts collected by the red men.
There was nothing for the boys to do but keep company with the braves
as they thus closed in on the surrounded camp. Already they could see
signs of tremendous excitement in that quarter, as the inmates, alarmed
by the clamor of many tongues, turned this way and that, hardly knowing
whether to run, or else raise up their hands in token of submission.
Several dusky figures were discovered by the light of the fire darting
into the thickets close to the camp. These must be the few Blackfoot
braves who, for some reason, had been left behind. They knew there
would be no mercy for them at the hands of their mortal foes, the
Sioux, and on that account they preferred taking their chances in the
brush and half-darkness.
Had it not been for that horrid din, perhaps the boys might have caught
the sharp twang of bowstrings; they might also have heard the death
cries of those who met the flight of those swiftly-driven arrows, with
their tips of jagged flint.
Just then it mattered nothing to Dick and Roger whether any of the
Blackfeet managed to run the gauntlet and escape or not; their thoughts
were all taken up with the hope and expectation of finding that one
for whom they had long sought, Jasper Williams, whose signature at the
bottom of a new document would mean so much to the folks at home.
As they entered the camp they saw a cluster of figures standing with
fear-blanched faces. The flickering firelight showed the boys that
Lascelles was there, and the smooth-faced young man, cowering at his
side, must be his son, Alexis, whom accounts reported as being as
great a rascal as his father. Besides, there were two more of the
traders.
At sight of the boys whom he had so greatly wronged Lascelles cried out
something. Neither of them could exactly understand its nature; but
Dick fancied the cowardly Frenchman must be pleading with them to have
his life spared.
"Hold up your hands, and they may not harm you; but under no conditions
try to run away or you are dead men!" was what he flung out at them as
he ran past.
Roger was at his heels. The guide, with wonderful good sense, gave the
fire a little kick in passing, which had the effect of starting up
quite a bright blaze. By the aid of this light they could see what was
going on.
Already a number of the Sioux had entered the camp. Their appearance,
with flourishing hatchets and knives, doubtless chilled the blood of
the Frenchmen, knowing as they now did that these braves of Running Elk
must be on the most friendly terms with Dick and Roger Armstrong.
Dick looked further. It was, however, the keen-eyed Roger who chanced
to be the first to discover what they were searching for.
"This way, Dick; here he is, tied to this tree!" he cried.
As Dick leaped after him he saw that there was indeed some one bound
fast to a tree, a white man at that; and the firelight disclosed the
fact that it was Jasper Williams.