THE HALF-BREED DIES GAME.
Kidd was spending the night without any rest. Besides the tumultuous
emotions excited by the proximity of the treasure land, the
uncontrolability of his forces worried him exceedingly. He was
confident that on finding gold, admitting that they penetrated the
Firehole country unimpeded, it would be each man for himself. Even
now he felt lonely enough. Dan Steelder had determinedly set off on
a scouting expedition to see what had befallen Doña Rosario. He had
expressly charged his associate to watch Leon well; but lo! That
youth had slipped away as well as Lottery Paul, whether in company or
separately was unsettled. As for Joe, he was left behind to guard the
women and goods. And the departure of Dearborn increased Kidd's misery
at being abandoned, for the guide had shown him the promised goal and
departed.
"If only in cutting our way through these unknown enemies we lose the
bulk of this riffraff," he muttered, "I shall perhaps have a choice few
whom I can govern. All may yet be for the best, and Joe and me can set
up a hotel for summer tourists, with the richest gold mine in our wine
cellar, right there in the heart of the Yellowstone."
Leon had not gone away with the Frenchman, but the latter's departure
was directly the cause of his. The Drudge, angered at being divided
from the Carcajieu, was only awaiting an opportunity to leave the
captain. As payment for his long unremunerated services, he took a
horse from Foxface and arms and equipment, passing the outposts with
the truth seeming plea that he was sent on a special mission by the
leader.
"It's stuck him up high," muttered the outer guard. "The boy is quite
handsome all of a sudden!"
In fact, Leon was transformed, for, being of an eagle race, the
more doleful he was in captivity, the more haughty and noble he was
unfettered.
Long hours of meditation over the wilderness had "soaked" knowledge
into him of wood and desert craft almost unawares.
He rode at once into the high grass and canebrake in the wet pits at
the bottom of the canyon, for it was so high that he was hidden on the
horse's back.
He mocked at the night, confident that he could guide himself by
the stars. He ate in the saddle, and though he did not ride fast,
kept on ceaselessly till he had gone by the Medicine Rock, where the
Half-breeds were showing a fire in their ceremonies, pious perhaps, but
assuredly imprudent.
Here he halted. From all Dearborn and Joe had imparted to him, he knew
that friends were approaching and from the west. But should he proceed
thitherward on the chance of crossing the trail of their outliers, or
climb the other side of the giant defile and join Corky Joe, with whom
he could be comparatively at ease, and if anything befell Kidd, as free
as now?
His brooding was almost tragically put an end to by a gunshot above
him, and whilst he instinctively looked up, his poor horse leaped and
fell sidewise to the ground. In the flash he had recognised the face of
the Frenchman. He threw himself off the dying horse, and none too soon,
for a second shot, from a large pistol this time, carried away his hat,
and with a fragment of the bullet laid the flesh open on his cheekbone.
He stumbled at the shock, and rolled on the grass beside the stiffening
horse.
"Aha!" cried Paul, who could be heard descending in the brushwood, "So
I have served out my spy this time. Our dear captain, he does so hate
to lose a man, that he sends after him. Who is it, anyhow, that I've
peppered?"
Leon remained prone, but slewed his gun round ready. As he lay, the
dead steed formed a rampart: he was well posted.
"He's my meat," muttered the Frenchman, holding on by a bush and
peering down through the gloom.
"Not precisely!" interrupted another voice, on the same level; "It is
you, dog, who shall die!"
On this threat from an unexpected quarter, Paul dropped to the next
ledge and jumped behind a tree. Leon rose slowly and cautiously, and
looked up. By the stranger's voice he had, he believed, recognised
Dearborn.
He and the bandit were at the limits of a comparatively clear space.
The youth stole off obliquely to the right so as to left flank the
Frenchman. He aimed his rifle, and, leaving shelter, cried so loudly
that the Englishman could also know him by his voice:
"You are all wrong. Mr. Paul, it is you who must die."
Lottery Paul looked at him steadily and replied:
"Maybe--two to one is odds--but you shall lead the way to Kingdom come."
But before he had time to change the direction of his piece, bearing on
the Englishman, Leon fired, knowing what kind of murderous fellow he
was.
Over he rolled, clawing up the moss, with a fractured skull.
Dearborn ran up. But at the same time there was a noise in the thicket,
and several men appeared. Nothing was more impressive than this
peopling of the solitude in such obscurity.
"Drop your guns!" shouted one of the newcomers, authoritatively; "We're
all friends here, I reckon."
"Bill Williams!"
It was the Cherokee and Filditch, and his eight or ten men besides.
"What's the meaning of all this?" said Filditch, as there was a group
formed around the dead robber and the guide and the servant of Captain
Kidd.
"In the first place," said the hunter, "there's your son in that young
man. It is a sufficient card of introduction that he has rubbed out one
of the vermin anyway, though we are lucky if their confounded rattle of
shots does not spoil the scheme."
"My son!"
"Yes, Rosa's brother," went on the hunter. "We won't mind you two.
Well, Mr. Dearborn, out of the trap?"
"Yes. I was looking for some of you, when I found there was a horseman
below, and, on descending, was in time to see him overturned by a
couple of shots from that ruffian. But the boy did not require my
intervention. He avenged himself."
"Good boy! Well, now, all your information."
As soon as the hunter learnt details of the arrangement of the enemy,
he formed a fresh variation, or rather supplement to the plan.
"Gentlemen," said Bill, thereupon, "over there, across the canyon, are
the women and children. We will go straight to their camp. The guard
know Leon and Mr. Dearborn, and, anyhow, Joe, their lieutenant, will
accept them and remove any doubts. They will say they came back from
the captain, who requites every spare hand, and decoy them into the
bushes, where they must roaster them. The remainder should be but a
gulp and they're gone, to us."
All is fair in war as in love. Dearborn accepted the task.
"Can you spare your son?" asked Jim of Filditch, beside whom stood Leon.
"I would like to go with him, Jim. I want a good deal to see this young
lady who was such a comfort to Rosa."
"Go along, then."
Into the fog dived the detachment--Dearborn, Filditch, and Leon;
Cherokee Bill as conductor, and a few men.
The others concluded all preparations for the desperate fight.
But it was not till half after ten that the stubborn fog, torn and
drifted away by the sun and one of those strong gales which sweep up a
canyon so lofty at the sides, melted away like a playhouse gauze and
unmasked the sunny landscape.
Spite of this theatrical discovery, no one betrayed himself. Never had
the desert seemed more untroubled. An undisturbed calm soothed the
majestic solitude, and yet many men, strangers to one another, were
straining to fly at the throat with ferocious rage fur gains vaguely
defined.
At this moment, a red scout leaped up among the hunters' pickets, with
the sign of friendliness and that he was a Blood Indian.
"Well, brother?" demanded Ridge.
"The Half-breeds slipped us during the fog, and have joined the gold
robbers though not intermixing."
"They had some suspicion."
"The chiefs conjecture that something evil before them in the mad root
swamp appalled them."
"Maybe Ahnemekee is heading them off there."
The scout shook his head as if he did not believe the Crows would
venture so near the hallowed ground.
"In any case, we are ready. Return to your comrades and begin the
battle. We shall also advance if we are not attacked."
"Good!" and the grinning demon bounded away along the hillside.
Very soon the scream of the grey eagle arose, shrill and prolonged.
Firing was opened with that absence of unison betokening that both
sides were irregulars. The sound seemed to approach. All at once the
war whoops of the savage union resounded like a cannon shot. The
gunfire became more intense, and painful cries were tempering cheers
and yells of triumph.
Kidd had indeed found the Crows in the dwarf wood, and feared to
cross a mad root (Indian turnip) marsh in their teeth. He began a
feigned retreat and enticed them into the mouth of the canyon where
the Bois-Brulés fell on them, running down the slopes and almost
annihilating them in the charge. The few survivors were carried by the
impetus in among the rocks and pools of the bottomland, where they were
slaughtered almost to a man. But even as the Canadians raised a cry
of victory, the Piegans and their allies were rushing upon the white
men in much the same manner. The Half-breeds hastened to coalesce with
their confederates, and strengthen them against this onset. There was
an obstinate struggle, the Indians seeking to detain the whole whilst
they encircled them. Kidd, on the contrary, endeavoured to retire
up the canyon and regain the tableland on high, where Joe and the
rearguard were posted. It was a natural fort.
But suddenly, out of the most innocent bushes, but which had not been
planted there across the way when they passed along, a deadly fire
gushed from rifles far more potent than the Indians.
The bandits and the Manitobans were caught between two fires.
Nevertheless, whilst the red men seemed the more numerous, the firing
elsewhere allowed a sanguine man to believe that these new assailants
were so limited in force that they were obliged to ambush themselves.
Kidd flourished his Spanish rapier, rallied his men, and shouted:
"Over them! Through them! It's our only chance. Come on, boys, where
we have comrades!" and the column ran into the hunters' fire. At the
same time, common enough when an enemy falter, the Indians whooped
diabolically and charged the Half-breeds.
They and Kidd had not only the flank but the front fire to sustain, and
nearly every second man seemed to fall.
However, those who escaped death, if not wounds, scrambled into the
bushes. They were ungarrisoned, being merely a line beyond the real
entrenchment, moat, and brushwood _chevaux de frize_.
The conflict became horrible when the bandits and Half-breeds, now
serried together with little order, were brought up, all standing,
against the barricades. They gave up hope, and so furiously fought that
none dreamt of asking quarter. Forming a rampart of their own dead, and
of those of the redskins who had rushed on the guns too rashly, the
determined remnant held out, dumb, calm, and gloomy, like men of stone,
certain of death, but bravely selling their lives.
Overcome with horror and pity for such a sublime resolution, Jim Ridge
unexpectedly sprang over the breastwork, followed by Leon, who knew
most of the sufferers, and shouted in a voice everybody heard:
"Quit of shooting! It's too all-fired mean to butcher them when they
stand out so well."
On both sides he was obeyed; so much authority was in the voice of one
for whom the reds and whites felt a profound respect, and to whom they
knew they owed so much of success.
Without any weapons, the Yager, still accompanied by the generous boys,
advanced up to the resistants till near enough to pull hair. At the
wall of dead men they stopped.
Kidd was binding up a wound; Dagard was the ostensible leader.
"What do you want?" he asked, lowering his rifle and pistol, both hands
being thus occupied.
"We come to offer you life. Injins like 'sand' in a man, and your grit
is first brand."
"We asked no quarter," was the proud reply. "We would have given none,
I daresay. We are not plumb played out, and we mean to die pulling
trigger."
"Yes, we are 'on' that," chorused the others.
"Now, don't be silly. I grant you are not used up, and our spoiling
your hopes must 'stubborn' ye. But, by the Great Star! You have mighty
little to go on with. Look at the slope, full of Injins as a book of
letters; not the kind loud on a whoop and singing small when they have
revolvers and scalpers to meet. You had better hear my offers, for I am
'white' on this thing, and I am about the only man who can snatch ye
out of the burning."
"I'm thankful, old hunter, but your words now are like wheels of the
thistledown--they sail away on the wind. You have cut too deep for
balsam. You have allied yourself with those reds agin' your colour, and
all we want is revenge for your slaughtering our mates."
"Vengeance!" cried his men, and Kidd's.
"But, let me straighten out things," persisted Ridge, "in Heaven's
name! I offer you life and freedom too."
"You may straighten out our corpses if you like. Meanwhile, we attach
no faith in your words, and pledges, and good-for-nothing advice. Back
with you! We are going to hold our end of this unequal combat up to the
last."
He lifted his firearms so threateningly that the others interpreted
the action as a signal for resumed hostilities. A rattling discharge
ensued. Leon threw himself frantically before his granduncle, and
received at least one bullet which would not otherwise have missed him.
The youth fell, and the Yager dropped also, but this time to shield him
and out of prudence. Over their heads a double volley crossed. Upon
this sudden aggression, reasonably regarded as treachery, the battle
renewed itself with unequalled bloodthirstiness on the confederates'
part, and constant resolve on that of the foes.
Meanwhile, though under fire, Jim's first act was to see how his nephew
was hurt. He uttered an outcry in joy amid the whizzing bullets,
hurtling arrows, and falling boughs severed by the missiles: Leon was
pale, but unwounded. The ball had flattened itself on the buckle of
his belt, dented it, but not penetrated. The blow was a smart one, and
knocked all the breath out of his body; but in a few minutes he came
round, and was delighted to find that he had saved the old man's life.
During this the defenders had been hemmed in closely, fairly pushed out
of their little fort, and were being mowed down. It was no fight, but
carnage--a massacre which gives a name to the spot to this day.
Leon saw that the French Half-breed was literally pulled down, like a
bull on whom the dogs cluster, by several of the Piegans and trappers.
"Oh! I must save that brave fellow," cried he.
Springing like a panther into the medley, he pulled off and pushed off
the assailants, and embraced the Manitoban with both arms.
"My prisoner!" he shouted.
"His meat!" added Jim Ridge, who had closely followed.
"Back!" said Filditch, running up and repulsing the baffled men, who,
however, betook themselves to other game.
Dagard looked sadly about him. Of his own race, hardly another save
Margottet was upright anywhere near him. He shook his head despairingly.
"My poor children," said he in French, stifling a sob.
"Come out of this," cried Leon, offering to draw him away.
"I thank you, generous boy," was the answer with a noble courtesy,
repulsing him gently, "and you, too, brave old hunter," he subjoined,
addressing Ridge, "but your interference is useless. I am catching the
hot soup deservedly for having linked myself with a chain gang. Look
round! All the boys from Red River are dead, or gasping their last,
under our feet. I am not seeking to escape the massacre. But, anyhow,
here goes to save my top hair!"
And before anybody could thrust out a hand, he drew one of those pocket
pistols, loaded to the muzzle, which frontier men often carry expressly
to blow off the skull pan, in order to rend the scalp to shreds and
remove the suicide from the tortures. He clapped the muzzle to his
forehead, pulled the trigger, and fell headlong in the smoke, uttering
one word:
"My country!"
Ridge and the youth recoiled, and even the Piegans were stupefied into
inaction.
"Good notion, boys!" cried Captain Kidd in his sarcastic voice, "Let us
save our topknots same fashion!"
Half a dozen pistol shots cracked, and as many of the bandits dropped
to the earth. But what was the amazement, though only temporary, of the
savages, on rushing forward, to find that the supposed suicides had
crawled away in the smoke!
With marvellous presence of mind, Kidd, under pretence of imitating the
Half-breed's heroism, had turned the act into a "dodge." They heard the
laughing, taunting whoop of his little band of survivors as they raced
down the slope and glided among the boulders.
Some of the reds took up the chase, and others remained, hewing and
hacking the corpses with spite and pitiless malignity.
Ridge collected a few of his immediate followers and hastened after
the fugitive gold robber. The whole of the bottomland rang with the
yells of the pursuers, the red men delighting in the ruse of Kidd, whom
now they believed a foeman worthy of their fiendish ingenuity at the
torture stake.