Before they left their hiding-place, Tatanka tied some small poplar
twigs to his head and climbed the highest tree in the grove.
"I can see not a man nor horse," he reported. "Our enemies have left.
Even if the men were hiding in the grass, I would be able to see their
wagon and horses."
"The nearest places of safety are Fort Ridgely and New Ulm," declared
the trapper. "Should we not try to reach one or the other?"
"They are not safe now," objected Tatanka, after a brief silence. "I
have heard the young warriors brag that a thousand of them could easily
rush both of these places. We could surely not get into either place on
horseback. We might crawl into them at night. If you try to go there on
horseback, I shall not go with you."
"Perhaps you are right," granted the trapper. "I do not wish to lose my
two fine horses. Let us try to reach the small lake and timber north of
here. We can water our horses there and the patch of timber is large
enough so that a small party can not surround us. And if the worst
should happen, we can abandon our horses and slip away on foot after
dark."
When they were ready to move, Bill found little Tim hunting about
anxiously through the brush.
"I can't find the coon," he cried. "He was there before we sat down to
eat our cornbread, but now he has chewed off the string I tied him with
and he is gone."
The men laughed, but together with Bill they began to beat the brush and
the weeds for the lost raccoon.
"Little gray Meetcha will be hard to find," commented Tatanka. "He may
have gone back to the woods near the river. His kind does not love the
prairie like Hoka, the badger, who digs the striped gophers out of their
holes."
After some more searching Bill called out:
"Oh, come here, Tim. Here's your fool coon. He's washing a frog in my
well."
By the time Tim arrived, Meetcha had not only washed but also eaten his
frog.
"You little fool," Tim cried, as he gently boxed Meetcha's ears, "the
Sioux will cut off your tail and boil you in the pot if you run away
from us. Haven't you heard that war has begun?"
Meetcha snarled and struck at Tim with his short fore-paws, but Tim
placed his pet in front of him on the saddle and men and boys started
slowly for the small lake.
However, before they entered the woods, they halted the horses in an
isolated thicket and Tatanka alone crept slowly through the grass and
tall weeds into the woods.
"Where is he?" asked Bill, when Tatanka had gone a few rods. "I can't
even see the grass move, except by the little puffs of wind."
"Of course you can't." Barker laughed. "Tatanka would not be a good
scout if he could not vanish in the tall grass."
Black Buffalo was gone a long time and Bill and Tim began to think that
he would not come back or that he had been killed. But the trapper only
smiled and said: "You boys don't know what patience is. A good scout or
a good hunter must be able to wait a long time, sometimes a whole day."
When Tatanka did return he came into the thicket from the other side and
was standing before them without either of the boys having seen him
approach.
"Where did he come from?" Tim asked, his big blue eyes showing his
surprise, but the trapper only smiled and said, "He's our scout, lads."
The scout reported that he had gone carefully through the whole patch of
timber, and that neither in the timber nor on the lake shore had he seen
any fresh sign of Indians or horses. "But I did see fresh deer sign," he
concluded. "A buck lives in those woods, but I did not see him."
Feeling sure now that they would not fall into an ambush, the four
friends rode into the woods to find a suitable spot, where they might
conceal themselves till nightfall.
They first watered their horses, taking care to conceal them behind some
overhanging linden branches, so that they might not be seen from the
other side of the lake. Both the trapper and Tatanka agreed that it was
not at all likely that any Indians would be in hiding on the shore of
this small lake.
"They are scattered in all directions, killing people and making booty,"
Barker gave as his opinion. "But it would not surprise me if toward
evening some of those marauding parties would come along to stop here
for the night."
The afternoon furnished again a great trial of patience for the boys.
For a while, the care of their horses and catching frogs for Meetcha
occupied them. Then they picked a few choke-cherries, but these did not
allay their growing hunger, and the trapper would not let them pick the
laden bushes on the outside of the timber.
"It would be gross carelessness," he said, "to betray our presence in
that way. The man who wishes to carry his scalp out of an Indian war
must not take chances. I'm also afraid that you boys would get sick if
you filled up on choke-cherries; you had better starve awhile."
As the heat of the day decreased, the mosquitoes became very annoying.
Both lads were tired and sleepy from the excitement of the day, but
there could be no thought of sleeping. They had to keep off the hungry
insects with pieces of green brush.
The Indian and Barker had each gone to one end of the timber to watch
for unbidden guests, while the boys were on guard in the middle of the
margin of the timber.
When at last the sun was approaching the horizon, it seemed to the lads
that it was several days since Mr. Barker had told them to roll up their
blankets and come away.
When the sun was turning red, Tatanka came back from his watch and gave
the call of Bob-White. The boys at once forgot all fatigue and ran to
their horses.
"Indians, from the east," Tatanka whispered. "We must get away. I will
take Mehunka's horse to him."
The trapper, although nearly sixty years old, sprang into the saddle
like a young man, when his three friends met him at the western point of
the timber.
Before they doubled a low hill, which would hide the lake from their
view, Tatanka stopped behind some box-elder bushes.
"Look," he said as he pointed eastward, "there they are."
A dozen Indians, some on horseback and others on a stolen farm-wagon,
were just stopping to make camp at the eastern end of the timber, a
quarter of a mile away.
"Won't they follow us!" asked Bill. "They might easily find our trail."
"No," grunted Tatanka, with plain contempt. "See what they are doing."
One of the men was pouring something out of a jug and each took a drink
out of a tin cup.
"See," continued the scout--"they have found a jug of whiskey. They
won't see any trail. If they were in the Chippewa country, they would be
scalped."
"Have they any white captives?" asked Barker.
"No, let the dogs alone," and with those words, he led the way around a
low hill.
The four travelers rode slowly and silently over the prairie. The sounds
of the summer night began to fill the air. Overhead a pair of
night-hawks, swooping with a loud whirr close by the heads of the horses
and uttering their harsh "Paint, paint," followed the riders. In the
scattered groves which they passed, some little tree-frogs piped their
monotonous trill, while the undefinable songs of crickets and
grasshoppers filled the air, seemingly coming from everywhere and
nowhere.
An hour they had been riding almost in silence, when there was a thud
and a sprawl on the grass. Little Tim's eyes had closed in sleep and he
had fallen off his horse.
"We must find a place to spend the night," said the trapper. "The little
fellow is all in."
"No, I'm awake now," piped up little Tim, as he picked up Meetcha and
climbed back in the saddle. "I can ride all right now, Mr. Barker."
The first house they reached had been burnt and the ruins were still
smoldering.
Tatanka dismounted and examined the place for wounded or hidden
fugitives, but there was only the silence of death and desolation.
A few miles farther, they came to a cabin in a small natural grove.
"That's Dickman's place," the trapper told his companions. "He has a
fine field of corn and his wife is a good housekeeper. Let us see what
we can find."
The door stood open and most of the windows in the two-room cabin were
broken.
"Ugh," grunted the Indian, "the thieves have been here. We shall find
nothing to eat."
"Wait a minute," said Barker. "Let me look in the smoke-house in the
hollow; perhaps the robbers didn't find it. Here, boys," he laughed, as
he returned with a ham and a side of bacon, "this will help us out.
"Now, Tim, get some green corn and, Bill, you go and milk the two cows
in the yard. They must have been in the woods when the Sioux raided the
place. Tatanka may listen for bad sounds, but I think we are safe here
and we shall soon have a real supper."
In a few minutes Barker had closed the door, hung a blanket over the two
windows, lit a candle and started a fire in the kitchen stove. Soon the
corn was boiling and slices of bacon sizzled in the pan. Bill came in
with a pail of milk and Tatanka came in and reported, "No Dakotahs
here."
No supper ever tasted so good to Bill and Tim, and the trapper-cook kept
putting slices of bacon in the pan, while his hungry guests helped
themselves as quick as the white slices curled and browned.
After supper the lads spread their blankets on the floor, tied Meetcha
in the small woodshed and found a gunny-sack for him to sleep on.
After the two men had watered the horses at a near-by pond, tied them in
the straw-shed, and provided them with plenty of hay, they sat down on
the grass to smoke.
"The boys are asleep," remarked Tatanka, as he filled his pipe a second
time with a mixture of killikinnick and tobacco.
"They are my boys now," replied Barker, "and I shall look after them. I
can't understand that man Hicks. I declare if I don't almost believe he
wanted the lads to get killed. I'd like to break his crooked old bones."
"He is a bad man," Tatanka assented. "He hides some evil plan in his
heart, but I cannot tell what it is."
"He does have some evil plan," exclaimed the trapper as he struck the
ground with his fist. "I reckon he will try to take the boys away from
me, if he can find us."
"He is a coward," continued the Indian; "he will not come alone, he will
bring other bad men to help him. We must be on our guard."
"Tatanka," said Barker, "I don't know yet what I shall do, but Hicks
will not get these lads unless he can take them from me. Will you stand
by me?"
"Tatanka never deserted a friend," the Indian replied.
"We must sleep now," said the trapper after a long silence. "We may have
another fight to-morrow."
"I sleep in the shed with the horses," remarked the Indian, as he bade
his friend good-night. "The Dakotahs might come and steal them, if we do
not watch."
The trapper went into the house, set a strong pole against the door and
spread his blanket near the boys.