SILE'S VICTORY
There had been no anxiety at the mine on account of the absent hunters.
Judge Parks and Yellow Pine had their hands very full of an inspection
of the cargoes of the two wagons. The men toiled vigorously at the stone
wall and at the shingle riving. Ha-ha-pah-no and Na-tee-kah were as busy
as bees over the lengthening list of marvels put before their eyes. It
seemed to Na-tee-kah as if Judge Parks must be a kind of magician, or
else that he had a whole lodge full of "medicine-men" of a rare breed at
home, who could conjure up for him almost anything he might chose to
call for. It was no use to try to understand such things as he and
Yellow Pine were examining. They belonged to the great mystery of
pale-face life, and a Nez Perce girl could not be expected to guess very
nearly at their uses. She could comb her hair more carefully, however,
and discover a new way of doing it up, and she did not know how closely
she was imitating many pale-face young ladies of about her age, not to
speak of older ones.
Noon came and went, and there were no signs of returning hunters or of
game of any sort, but there was no danger of famine in that camp for
days and days to come.
Judge Parks would hardly have unpacked mining-tools and "fixings," as
Pine called them, so composedly if he could have known what was going
forward farther down the valley and on the other side of the little
river.
On, on rode Two Arrows and his companion, and it almost seemed as if
both were growing older. It was no sort of boy-play to ride like that,
with such tremendous consequences depending upon them. Sile's merry face
put on a tremendously sober and earnest expression, while Two Arrows
looked as if he were already a chief in command of a war-party. So he
was, only that the party was a very small one.
Mile after mile went by, and the horses held out capitally; but at last
Two Arrows slackened his gait, seemed to make a silent calculation, and
halted.
"Pale-face camp there," he said, emphatically, pointing across towards
the mountain range at their left. "Red-head cross water. Tell his
people. Two Arrows ride. Tell Nez Perce. Red-head go straight, find
camp. Ugh!"
"I can find it," said Sile. "I was thinking we'd gone up river about far
enough. We must have got away ahead of the Apaches. Hope I sha'n't meet
any."
"Shoot quick," said Two Arrows. "Kill. Take 'calp. Be great brave. Two
Arrows kill grisly. Kill 'Pache some day. How!"
He held out his hand, and Sile shook it hard in token of good-bye, and
the two boys separated, each to carry his own tidings and face his own
dangers. Two Arrows rode on in a straight line up the valley, and Sile
wheeled towards the line of forest which bordered the river. It struck
him that he was yet a little below the precise neighborhood of the mine,
and he was correct, but as yet it was all guess-work. At all events, he
was sure that his remaining ride could not be a long one; it could not
fail to be intensely exciting. Again he saw plenty of game, and he was
strangely tempted to try a shot at a deer until the idea came to him,
"I can't say what ears might hear the report of my rifle."
Deer did not seem to be of any account after that idea took form, and he
galloped on. In a few minutes more his horse's feet were in the water,
and he was almost immediately aware that he had not chosen a good ford.
It grew deep too fast, and he had to ride out again.
"I won't go into another pool," he said to himself. "I'll hunt for a
wide place where it ripples well."
He had not the experience and the quick eyes of Two Arrows, but he was
learning fast, and it was easy to find a better crossing. Once over, he
felt that the forest was itself a sort of protection, and there came a
great thrill all over him at the thought of riding out from under it.
What if the Apaches should be already there, and what if they had found
the camp and destroyed it?
"They haven't done that," said Sile, "unless they managed to take it by
surprise. Guess they couldn't do that in broad daylight. Our men are all
old hands, and Yellow Pine keeps his eyes about him. I'll get in a good
while before dark--that is, if I make out to get in. I wish there was
good cover all the way."
He drew rein for a moment under the last line of trees, and he looked
earnestly in all directions, but even his spy-glass could not reveal to
him a sign of danger. He had never seen anything more absolutely quiet
and peaceful than was that stretch of open valley, with its grass and
its bushes, and its clusters of grand old trees. It encouraged him a
good deal to see a buck and two does feeding within a quarter of a mile
of him, and he at once rode watchfully onward. His horse was beginning
to show signs of hard riding, and he noted it regretfully. There might
yet be a race to run, for all he knew.
There was to be something very different from a race, and the notice of
it came to him very suddenly. Just as he rode out through a patch of
willows in a long hollow, walking his horse because of their being in
his way a little, his heart seemed to stop beating and stand still.
Then it beat again, and like a trip-hammer, for a moment. The bridle
fell from his hand, and he made ready his rifle as if by an instinctive
movement.
Right before him and hardly a hundred yards away, on the rising ground,
sat an Indian brave, in his war-paint, upon a very fine looking horse,
and Sile was sure at a glance that he could not be one of his Nez Perce
friends. They had no such horses as that among all that he and Two
Arrows had found for them. The warrior was looking in the opposite
direction at the instant, but he was also wheeling his horse, and in a
second or so more he caught sight of Sile. He had a lance, but it was
slung behind him, and in his hands was as good a repeating-rifle as
Sile's own, and he raised it like a flash.
It was as if he lifted two, for Sile's rifle also came up with precisely
the same quick, ready-handed motion.
It was an awful moment for Sile. He had never before done as much real
thinking in one hour as he did between his first glimpse of that redskin
and the rising of the dark, threatening line of that rifle-barrel.
He had thought of the men at the mine, and of their need of warning, and
therefore of the necessity that he should protect himself and get to
them alive. He had thought of his father and his mother, and of some
other people, and he had also thought what a dreadful thing it was to
shoot straight at a man, and perhaps to kill him. He had just said to
himself,
"I might just kill his horse, and then I could get away from him."
At that very instant the two rifles came to a level, whether he would or
not. He felt no symptoms of "buck ague" this time, for every nerve and
muscle of his body was stiffening, while his tired horse stood as still
as a stone. That was where he had a priceless advantage. The spirited
animal ridden by his enemy was a trifle restive for some reason, and
caused a shade of delay that was just enough to give Sile his only
remaining chance.
"If I hit his horse in the head," he was thinking as he pulled the
trigger: but that would have been close shooting at a hundred yards, and
just beyond the head of the horse was the naked breast of the warrior.
There were two reports close together, and Sile felt something prick him
sharply on the left arm near the shoulder. At the same moment he saw the
red man reel to and fro upon his horse, and then pitch off head foremost
into the grass.
"Oh, dear me, I've shot him!" he exclaimed, and his first impulse was to
ride away as fast as he could.
Then came a suggestion that the brave might be only wounded, and that it
was his duty to go and see if he could do anything for him. With that,
too, there came a great gush of curiosity and a fierce and feverish
sense of triumph. He had fought a duel on horseback with an Indian
warrior, with rifles, and there were no other white boys who could say
that they had done that. He sat still upon his horse for a moment, and
his breath came and went very quickly, and then he somewhat cautiously
rode forward. The Indian's horse had bounded away for a little distance
when his master fell, but was now standing and looking at him, as if in
doubt as to what he ought to do next. Not another human being of any
kind was to be seen, but Sile looked around him anxiously enough to make
sure that he was alone. Not one sound disturbed the peaceful silence of
the valley after those two rifles had spoken.
All irresolution passed out of Sile's mind as he rode forward, for he
felt that he had behaved rightly, and had done nothing for which he
could blame himself. He watched the fallen man narrowly as he drew near
him, but there was no motion or any other sign of life.
"I must have killed him outright!" He sprang from his horse and bent
over the prostrate form, but he did not have to look more than once.
"That hole--that's where the bullet went in. It must have gone right
through his heart. Well, he would have killed me if I had not killed
him. I would not have hurt him if I could have helped it."
It seemed to Sile a matter of course that he should pick up the red
warrior's rifle, unbuckle and take off the bead-worked belt that carried
his knife and revolver, take his lance, catch his horse, and then ride
onward, carrying with him all as "spoils of war." He did it coolly and
steadily but rapidly, and without any idea how very fast he was growing.
He was learning lessons in a great school, but any wise old man could
have told him that no two boys learn the same lessons anywhere. A good
deal more depends upon the boy himself than upon the school or the
teacher.
That tall, brawny Apache warrior had been a distinguished brave, and he
had been sent upon a scouting trip away in advance of the rest merely as
a customary precaution. There had been no expectation that he would
discover anything remarkable. In meeting a solitary pale-face, he had
undertaken to kill him very much as a matter of course, for he was just
then at war with all white men. Sile had made the better shot of the
two, and that was about all that could be said. As for Sile, he was in a
greater hurry than ever to get to the mine, and again and again he
wondered whether Two Arrows had met any Apaches.
"I do hope he hasn't," he said to himself, "with only a bow and arrows.
I wish he had a rifle."