A WRESTLING MATCH
The moon was to come up late that night, and all the first part of it
would be lighted only by stars and camp-fires. The mining party had but
two of these latter burning low, and the Nez Perce band had not any,
after they had done their cooking, but the stars sent down enough light
to make things visible at short distances. The two camps were not over
four miles apart.
The only really wide-awake watchman in one of them was One-eye, and he
patrolled in all directions as if he had an idea that matters must be
less secure in the absence of his wonderful young master. Only one dog
to do the barking for a whole village was something very uncommon in
Indian history, but it was well to have the great duty given to an
entirely competent dog.
The boy whom One-eye considered the greatest personage in all that
valley had now crept near enough to the mining camp to get a fair idea
of what it contained. He saw a wealth of horse-flesh and mule-flesh,
every quadruped of it worth half a dozen Indian ponies, and his
ambition almost lifted him up from the grass. It stirred any amount of
reckless daring, and it made him remember all the stories he had ever
heard of famous chiefs who stole into camps and then stripped them clean
of everything. He was already that kind of chief in his own estimation,
and did not know that within a hundred yards of him there sat a white
boy, of about his own age, not so tall but broader in the shoulders, who
was at that moment recalling a long list of just such stories.
Sile had fairly read up on Indian fiction before he left home, and his
ideas of the way some things could be done were a little misty. He could
hardly sit still for one moment, and preferred to stroll around among
the horses to make sure no red man's hand was reaching out for one of
them. Old Pine smiled grimly now and then, for he felt perfectly safe on
the Indian question, but at last he heard an unaccountable rustling at
one end of the corral, and then a loud hurrah from Sile.
The idea had been in Sile's head that his proper course was to go about
very much as if he were himself about to steal the horses, and his
noiseless movements carried him to the outer edge of the corral at
exactly the right moment. He was standing at the side of a tall mule, in
the shadow of it and completely hidden, when he saw something darker
than a shadow glide out from between two tall weeds and swiftly writhe
its way forward. His heart beat like a trip-hammer. His first thought
was to use his rifle, but it was a new and dreadful thing to take a
human life, and he could not lift his weapon. His eyes said, "Not a
large Indian," and his hands let go of the rifle. The next instant, and
just as Two Arrows rose to his feet, Sile sprang forward and grappled
with him.
It was a most perilous thing to do, considering that Two Arrows carried
a knife; but the young Nez Perce had also been thinking, and had made up
his mind that "war" was no part of his errand. His tribe was at peace
with the pale-faces, except as to horse-flesh, and that fact saved
Sile's life. He had been accounted the best wrestler in his set, at home
and at school, and his muscles were in capital order. It was not by any
means an uneven match, therefore, and Two Arrows would have been glad
enough to get away. He had no clothing for Sile to hold him by, and
there was more and more danger of losing him every moment, but the shout
of warning had hardly begun to rouse the general camp before a pair of
long, sinewy arms wound around poor Two Arrows from behind.
"I've got him," said Yellow Pine. "Run for a rope. You're jest the
luckiest youngster I ever knowed."
By the time the rope was there, every man in camp was up and out, and
the grass and weeds within sight had rifle muzzles pointed at
everything among them as big as a human head.
"No whoopin' sounded," said Yellow Pine. "This cub was alone. I say, you
young coyote, you jest answer my questions now, or I'll tan the hide
clean off ye."
Two Arrows drew himself up proudly and looked at him in silence, but
Pine led his captive on into the fire-light and picked up a heavy
"black-snake" whip, for he was justly angry.
It was a terrible come-down for the ambition of a young chief. Captured
on his first raid and threatened with a horsewhipping. He felt ready to
burst, but it was not with vanity this time.
"Where's yer band? Where's their camp?" asked Pine, with a significant
flourish of the black-snake, but the Indian boy looked him unflinchingly
in the face without a sound or a motion.
"Speak, now," began Pine; but Sile had finished answering some hurried
questions from his father, and he now asked one for himself.
"I say, Yellow Pine, didn't I grab him first? Isn't he my prisoner as
much as he is yours?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, now, I don't want him flogged. He didn't use his knife. You
always said it was best to be friends with 'em."
"I'd call it---- Jedge, it's jest so. Sile's right. I'd kinder lost my
head. Look a-here, redskin, next time you come for hosses you won't get
off so easy. I'll unhitch ye now, and let ye up. There now, Sile, shake
hands with him."
"How?" said Sile, as he held out his hand to the loosened captive.
"How?" said Two Arrows, and he said it a little sullenly, but he had
been glancing from Pine's face to Sile's and understood pretty well that
the latter had stopped the proposed work of the black-snake.
"Make him a present of something, Sile," said his father. "Here--give
him this."
It was a small round pocket-mirror, worth twenty-five cents, but there
was no telling what it was worth in the estimation of such a boy as Two
Arrows--perhaps a pound or so of gold nuggets, if he had them, or the
skin of his grisly bear, after the glory of killing it had worn a little
thin. At all events, he was a most astonished Indian. Evidently these
monsters in human form were disposed to be friends with
him--particularly this red-headed young chief who had proved himself so
good a wrestler. All he had ever heard of pale-faces was against
believing it, but there was no chance of escaping from the ring of
riflemen now gathered around him, and he gave it up. He answered Yellow
Pine's questions by signs only, until something he said brought an
exclamation from the old miner Jonas.
"Nez Perce! He's a Nez Perce, Pine. I know their lingo. He can talk
some English, too. He needn't play 'possum any longer."
Two Arrows felt that he was completely beaten, and even pride failed to
carry him any farther. It came to his mind, also, with a peculiar force,
that he was by no means sure of the approval of Long Bear and his
warriors. They had not sent him out to kill pale-faces and bring upon
them the vengeance of the terrible "brass-button men" he had heard of.
He had seen a few of them, and had wondered at their great knives, twice
as long as his arm. He decided to speak out now, and in a few moments
Jonas had pumped him thoroughly.
"He isn't on any war-path," said Yellow Pine to Judge Parks; "he's jest
a fool of a boy. We'll keep him till mornin' and carry him over to his
own camp. It's the best way in the world to make friends with 'em."
"All right," replied the judge; "we must get out some presents. See that
he doesn't get away."
"I'll look out for that--you bet I will."
So he did, and Two Arrows had now no knife with which to cut the rope
whereby he was tied to Yellow Pine's elbow when that "big brave" lay
down again. Sile rolled himself up in a blanket, only a few feet from
them, and hardly slept a wink. He had captured a wild red Indian and it
beat all the novels he had ever seen. He did not hear his father chuckle
to himself, nor could he read the thoughts of the old judge. Long Bear
himself was not prouder of Two Arrows and his grisly than was Sile's
father of the manner in which his own boy had met and grappled with a
sudden peril.
"He'll be at the head of something or other some day," he muttered, as
he was dropping asleep.
Not even Na-tee-kah knew anything of the movements or whereabouts of Two
Arrows this time, and her father questioned her in vain. His absence was
"irregular," and when the hours went by and he did not return, the Long
Bear's face put on an expression of stern displeasure.
"Boy too big," he said; "grow too fast. Brave too soon. Young chief,
though. Great warrior by-and-by, like father. Come back. Talk hard to
him."
Na-tee-kah's thoughts followed her hero brother so long as her eyes were
open. She had no doubt whatever that he would quickly turn up again with
a great heap of new glory. She dreamed of his performing all sorts of
marvellous things. All the other boys in camp were planning to catch up
and get ahead of him, she knew, for she had heard some of them say so.
The Big Tongue had told her of a large number of bears belonging to his
record, and he was going on to tell of more when Ha-ha-pah-no overheard
and asked him,
"Kill bear all with tongue? Shoot big lie right through? Catch old bear
and talk to him; bear die!"
Her tongue was sharp enough, and she strongly sympathized with
Na-tee-kah's enthusiasm for Two Arrows. The Big Tongue got away from her
and the camp grew more and more quiet.
The spot chosen for it, in a curve of the stream, was one of rare
beauty, and the loop formed by the long sweep of the rippling water
would have been just the place for a secure corral, if that band of Nez
Perces had had any four-footed property to be anxious about. It was not
needful to keep a guard over their hope of stealing some thereafter.