DANGER
The Apaches, in their encampment away down the river, cooked fish for
breakfast at about the same hour that the miners did, but their trout
had not been caught anything like so rapidly. It had required the work
of several men, up and down the bank, for hours of the previous evening
and for all the time since daylight, with their imperfect tackle, to get
in enough for such a war-party. Nor had they cleaned or cooked so
perfectly, and the fish had been eaten without pepper or salt. There was
not a plate or a fork in the band, and there was not even a wish for
coffee.
It was a hasty meal, greedily devoured, and then the marauders were once
more in the saddle, or riding barebacked, as the case might be. All the
while that the miners were so enthusiastically raising their stone lodge
a peril they hardly thought of was pushing nearer and nearer. They knew
well enough that they were in an Indian country, but were well assured
that as yet no hostile red men could be aware of their arrival. It was
also pretty sure that every stroke of work they did added to their
security, for neither arrow nor bullet will go through a wall of quartz
and granite two feet in thickness. Judge Parks had ideas of his own as
to the future protection of the "notch," but the time had not yet come
to say anything about them.
It was not many hours after the Apaches got in motion before they came
to the forks of the stream, and here they halted for a general
consultation. They already had well-mounted scouts ahead in both
directions, and neither side had yet sent in any suggestion of danger
discovered. They were evidently familiarly acquainted with the whole
region, and there were arguments in favor of both lines of advance, but
a gray-headed old warrior at last settled the question. He had been
sitting quietly and listening to what others said until his turn seemed
to come, but now he arose, and all seemed willing to listen. Pointing
with his long, naked arm up the right fork of the river, he said, in his
own harsh, gutteral tongue,
"Mountains. When blue-coats come, lose horses. Caught in big trap."
Turning and pointing up the other fork, he said,
"Morning. Hole in mountains. Blue-coats come. Go through hole. Get away.
Come back some day, when blue-coats go home sick. Ugh!"
It was not a long speech, and it could hardly be described as "eloquent"
but all the wiser and more influential braves said "Ugh!" and the road
to the left was decided upon without any more discussion. That also
decided in advance the course to be followed by Captain Grover and his
cavalry, when they in their turn should reach the same point. Hour by
hour they were slowly gaining upon the dangerous horse-thieves they were
pursuing, and in due time they would surely learn whether or not they
had a right to rejoice upon catching up with them. They were acting as
the police and constables of a very disorderly community.
As for Long Bear and his Nez Perces, they had a very good reason for
lazily hunting and fishing around their present camp until the return of
the party which had gone for the hidden lodges, and so forth. Very few
Indians need anything better than an excuse for not doing anything.
Two Arrows was not one of those Indians. Na-tee-kah continually called
his attention to something new which she had discovered in the ways or
in the possessions of those pale-faces. She was greatly interested in a
curious wire "broiler." It opened, and a fish or a steak was put in, and
it shut up and was put upon the coals, and when the cooking was
finished, the long handles enabled you to take it off and not burn your
fingers. There were twenty other things as wonderful as the broiler; and
the judge had shown her how to wash her hands with soap, and had given
her a pair of ear-rings and a silver buckle for her new blanket. She
hardly knew what would come next, but she entirely sympathized with her
brother in his own dream when he told her what it was.
"Ask pale-face chief," she said.
"Ugh! Laugh. Bow and arrows good enough for boy."
He said it almost bitterly, and Na-tee-kah stamped on the ground sharply
as she responded,
"Two Arrows is a young chief. Big brave. Not a boy any more. Kill
grisly. Kill cougar and big-horn. Bring back pony. Great chief in a
little while. Give him rifle."
Two Arrows had a good enough opinion of himself, but he perfectly
understood the easy good-nature with which he was treated by Yellow Pine
and the rest. They regarded Sile as one bright boy and him as another,
and had no idea of wasting costly rifles and such things upon him. He
grew almost sullen over it, and was glad to get away from the camp when
Sile came and asked him to go on a hunt with him.
This time there was a little pride as well as good-sense in his positive
refusal to borrow a rifle. He was determined to shoot with his own
weapons or none, and he rode away with no better ones than had been used
by his tribe before they had ever heard of white men, and long before
gunpowder had been invented. They were pretty good weapons yet, but
there was one thing Two Arrows did not dream of. That was that it was
not such a great number of years since the ancestors of these very
pale-faces had gone to war and to hunt with bows and arrows vastly
better than any ever carried by any red Indian in the world. The English
race were bowmen once, just as they are riflemen now, shooting closer to
the bull's-eye than any other.
Two Arrows felt that there was a sort of fever upon him. It made him hot
and restless, and his eyes wandered searchingly in all directions,
longing for an opportunity to do something which would bring him nearer
to the prizes he coveted. Sile also was watching keenly the tops and
branches of every clump of bushes they came to, but it almost seemed as
if the game had suddenly migrated. It was natural that none should
linger near the smoke and smell of camp-fires and cookery, but it was
queer that the two young hunters should canter quietly on for mile after
mile, and not so much as get a shot at a deer.
"We won't go back without something," said Sile. "I told father so. I
mean to go right along. We can camp in the woods by ourselves if we
don't kill anything early enough to get back to-night."
He had some trouble in making his meaning clear to Two Arrows, and the
ambitious young Nez Perce was in precisely the frame of mind to agree
with him. They even rode a little faster, and were hardly aware of the
distance they had travelled. Sile was beginning to grow nervous about
his reputation as a hunter and to remember that the camp had only a
three days' supply of fresh meat, in spite of the fish. He believed that
he had seen everything there was to be seen, but he was mistaken.
Suddenly Two Arrows uttered a loud, astonished "Ugh!" sprang from his
pony, and beckoned Sile to do the same, leading him hurriedly towards
the nearest bushes.
Sile imitated his friend, without any idea of a reason for it, until Two
Arrows took him by the arm and pointed away to the right towards the
mountain range. They were on the crest of a high roll of ground, and
could see for miles in some directions, except as the view was cut off
by patches and strips of forest.
"Look! 'Pache!"
All that at first appeared to Sile's eyes were some moving black spots;
but now he was able to show Two Arrows another of the advantages of a
civilized man over a savage. Slung from his left shoulder was a small
leathern case, and Two Arrows watched him closely while he opened it,
took out something silver-mounted and handsome and put it to his eyes.
Such things had been much discussed in his hearing, and he knew it was
the "long eye of the pale-faces;" but he had no faith in it until Sile
made him try it.
"There they are; six of 'em," said Sile. "Then look away down yonder and
you'll see some more."
"No see us," said Two Arrows. "Come! Heap bad."
So it was, for the dreaded strangers were between them and the
mountains. For all they knew, they might have ridden past others unseen,
and these might intercept their return. Sile was only a white boy, and
in an instant he understood that the young chief was the "captain" of
their squad of two.
Two Arrows seemed to have the same notion instinctively, for anybody
could read the look of blank uncertainty upon Sile's face. His binocular
spy-glass could help him see farther and more accurately than the best
pair of Indian eyes in the world, but it could not tell him what to do
next.
"Come!" said Two Arrows, as he led his pony back down the slope and
towards the forest that skirted the river. This was less than half a
mile away, but the horses were not mounted until both were well under
cover of it. It struck Sile that they might safely ride homeward along
the stream, but Nez Perce training and caution forbade any such risk as
that. Even the operation of reaching the bank might be full of peril,
for nobody could guess at what moment they might stumble upon Apache
warriors, and no others were at all likely to be there. It was most
unlikely, however, that their enemies were advancing upon both sides of
the water, and as soon as Two Arrows reached it he rode in. It was a
wide and therefore shallow place, easily forded, and Sile breathed more
freely as soon as he was under the shade of the woods beyond. His guide
and captain pushed right on until they were out in a comparatively open
reach of country, and then he turned to Sile, his whole face gleaming
with uncontrollable excitement, and exclaimed,
"Ugh! Ride now. Kill hoss. Save pale-face. Save Nez Perce. Get there
before Apache. All scalp gone if 'Pache come first."
He suppressed a whoop, but the next bound of his pony explained his
meaning, and Sile galloped, stride by stride, with him. It was a race
for life and for the lives of many others; for Two Arrows had briefly
read that problem when he said to Sile, as he handed him back his glass,
"No squaw. Braves on war-path. No hunt. Kill. Take scalp."
Both were well mounted, and Sile rode well, although by no means so
completely at home on horseback as was his red friend. His rifle, too,
was more tiresome to carry than was a light lance, and the bow and
arrows were now tightly "slung," and required no handling. It would not
do to wear out their horses in one rush, but they kept on at the highest
speed at all consistent with a long ride. It was much faster, at all
events, than the Apaches were likely to travel, unless something new
should stir them up. By keeping well away from the stream, they were not
compelled to follow its windings, and could ride more nearly in a
straight line, only turning out for clumps of trees and similar
obstructions and paying no attention to game, although they now saw gang
after gang of deer and a respectable party of bisons.