We had advanced about a mile farther, when our scouts--who, as usual,
had gone forward to reconnoitre--having ascended a swell of the prairie,
were observed crouching behind some bushes that grew upon its crest.
We all drew bridle to await the result of their reconnoissance. The
peculiar attitude in which they had placed themselves, and the apparent
earnestness with which they glanced over the bushes, led us to believe
that some object was before their eyes of more than common interest.
So it proved. We had scarcely halted, when they were seen to retire
suddenly from the cover, and rising erect, run at full speed back down
the hill--at the same time making signals to us to conceal ourselves in
the timber.
Fortunately, there was timber near; and in a few seconds we had all
ridden into it, taking the horses of the trappers along with us.
The declivity of the hill enabled the scouts to run with swiftness; and
they were among the trees almost as soon as we.
"What is it?" inquired several in the same breath.
"Injun on the back-track," replied the panting trappers.
"Indians!--how many of them?" naturally asked one of the rangers.
"Who slayed Injuns? We saved a Injun," sharply retorted Rube. "Damn
yur palaver! thur's no time for jaw-waggin'. Git yur rope ready, Bill.
'Ee durned greenhorns! keep down yur guns--shootin' won't do hyur--yu'd
hev the hul gang back in the flappin' o' a beaver's tail. You, Bill,
rope the redskin, an let the young fellur help--he knows how; an ef both
shed miss 'im, I ain't agwine. 'Ee hear me, fellurs? Don't ne'er a one
o' ye fire: ef a gun ur wanted, Targuts 'll be surfficient, I guess.
For yur lives don't a fire them ur blunderboxes o' yourn till ees see me
miss--they'd be heerd ten mile off. Ready wi' yur rope, Billee? You,
young fellur? All right; mind yur eyes both an snare the durned niggur
like a swamp-rabbit. Yanner he comes, right inter the trap, by the
jumpin Geehosophat!"
The pithy chapter of instructions above detailed was delivered in far
less time than it takes to read it. The speaker never paused till he
had uttered the final emphatic expression, which was one of his
favourite phrases of embellishment.
At the same instant I saw, just appearing above the crest of the ridge,
the head and shoulders of a savage. In a few seconds more, the body
rose in sight; and then the thighs and legs, with a large piebald
mustang between them. I need scarcely add that the horse was going at a
gallop; it is a rare sight when a horse-Indian rides any other gait.
There was only one. The scouts were sure of this. Beyond the swell
stretched an open prairie, and if the Indian had had companions or
followers, they would have been seen. He was alone.
What had brought him back on the trail? Was he upon the scout?
No; he was riding without thought, and without precaution. A scout
would have acted otherwise.
He might have been a messenger; but whither bound? Surely the Indians
had left no party in our rear?
Quickly these inquiries passed among us, and quick conjectures were
offered in answer. The voyageur gave the most probable solution.
"Pe gar! he go back for ze sheel."
"Shield! what shield?"
"Ah, you no see 'im. I see 'im wiz me eye; he vas cache dans les
herbes--von larzge sheel--bouclier tres gros--fabrique from ze peau of
de buffle--ze parfleche--et garnie avec les scalps--frais et sanglants--
scalps Mexicaines. Mon Dieu!"
The explanation was understood. Le Blanc had observed a shield among
the bushes where we had halted--like enough left behind by some of the
braves. It was garnished with scalps, fresh Mexican scalps--like
enough. The Indian had forgotten both his armour and his trophies; he
was on his way to recover them--like enough.
There was no time either for further talk or conjecture; the red
horseman had reached the bottom of the hill; in ten seconds more, he
would be lazoed or shot!
Garey and I placed ourselves on opposite sides of the path, both with
our lazoes coiled and ready. The trapper was an adept in the use of
this singular weapon, and I too understood something of its management.
The trees were in our way, and would have prevented the proper winding
of it; but it was our intention to spur clear of the timber--the moment
the Indian came within range--and "rope" him on the run.
Rube crouched behind Garey, rifle in hand, and the rangers were also
ready, in case both the lazoes and Rube's rifle should miss.
It would not do to let the Indian either go on or go back; in either
case he would _report_ us. Should he pass the spot where we were, he
would observe our tracks in a minute's time--even amidst the thousands
of others--and would be certain to return by another route. Should he
escape from us, and gallop away, still worse. He must not be permitted
either to go on or go back; he must be captured or killed!
For my part, I desired that the former should be his destiny. I had no
feeling of revenge to gratify by taking the life of this red man; and
had his capture not been absolutely necessary to our own safety, I
should willingly have let him come and go as he listed.
Some of my comrades were actuated by very different motives. Killing a
Comanche Indian was, by their creed, no greater crime than killing a
wolf, a panther, or a grizzly bear; and it was not from any motives of
mercy that the trapper had cautioned the others to hold their fire;
prudence alone dictated the advice--he had given his reason--the reports
of our guns might be heard.
Through the leaves, I looked upon the horseman as he advanced. A
fine-looking fellow he was--no doubt one of the distinguished warriors
of his tribe. What his face was I could not see, for the war-paint
disfigured it with a hideous mask; but his body was large, his chest
broad and full, his limbs symmetrical, and well turned to the very toes.
He sat his horse like a centaur.
I had no opportunity for prolonged observation. Without hesitating, the
Indian galloped up.
I sprang my horse clear of the timber. I wound the lazo around my head,
and hurled it towards him; I saw the noose settling over his shoulders,
and falling down to his hips.
I spurred in the opposite direction; I felt the quick jerk, and the taut
rope told me I had secured the victim.
I turned in my saddle, and glanced back; I saw the rope of Garey around
the neck of the Indian's mustang, tightened, and holding him fast.
Horse and horseman--both were ours!