"Say, Vipan. Guess we'd better draw off out o' this for a bit. There's
no call for us to help do police work just now, and we can't stand
looking on. There'll be hair-lifting here in a minute, I reckon."
Thus Smokestack Bill to his friend and boon companion as the two lounged
on the turf, a hundred yards or so from the trading store attached to
the Blue Pipestone Agency. The place was alive with Indians, gathered
there for the purpose of drawing the rations with which a paternal
Government supplied them, contingent on their good behaviour and in
consideration of their peaceably abiding on their reservation and
eschewing the fiery delights of the war-path. So Uncle Sam's red
nephews occupied the ground in crowds, indulging in much jollification
on the strength of newly-acquired beef and flour and other commodities
which should refresh and comfort both the inner and the outer man, and
while the squaws were busily packing these upon their much-enduring
ponies, their lords were lounging about, chatting, smoking,
merry-making, and having a good time generally. Meanwhile, the trading
post had been doing a brisk business.
"Police work, eh?" returned Vipan, with a glance at the detachment of
U.S. Cavalry, which, encamped in the neighbourhood of the store, showed
no sign that any serious undertaking was in contemplation. "Who are
they after nobbling?"
"See here, old pard--if I didn't know you well enough to stake my life
you'd never go back on a pardner, you and I wouldn't be here together
to-day. If they can't claw hold of their man, it mustn't be through any
meddlin' of ours."
"Who is it they want?"
"War Wolf."
"The devil they do! They gave out a different story."
"That's so. Joe Ballin, who's with them, 's an old pard of mine. We've
done many a scout together in '67 and '68. Well, he told me all about
it. This command is out after no less a chap than War Wolf. You see
the pizen young skunk has been braggin' all over the section how he
scalped Rufus Charley and Pesky Bob, them two fellers we buried down by
Burntwood Creek. It's got to the General's ears, and now they've come
to take him over to Fort Price. They've given out a lie that they're
bound down the river on the trail of a Minneconjou who ran off a lot of
Government beef last month, but that's just a red herring. As sure as
War Wolf comes along, they'll grab him--mind me."
Vipan meditatively blew out circles of smoke into the air, without
replying. This was a most untoward _contretemps_. He remembered the
scalp-dance which he had witnessed; the two scalps--including the
red-haired one--which War Wolf had so boastfully brandished during that
barbarian orgie, and it flashed across him vividly now that, were the
Indian arrested for the deed, the bulk of his clansmen and the Sioux at
large would look upon himself as having betrayed their compatriot into
the enemy's hand, or would for their own purposes affect to. Here were
the troops, and he, Vipan, on good terms and hob-nobbing with their
leaders. The capture--if it took place--would be to himself most
disastrous. It was characteristic of the man that he lost sight of the
grave peril in which he himself would be placed, alone here in the midst
of hundreds of exasperated savages. His plans of future enrichment
would be utterly broken up, and it was of this he was thinking.
Unscrupulous, self-seeking as he was, Vipan had his own code of honour,
and he would no more have dreamed of betraying his friend's confidence
than of cutting his friend's throat. But had the information reached
him through any other channel, it is more than doubtful whether Uncle
Sam's cavalry would have effected their capture that day.
"You're right, Bill," he said, at length. "There'll be an almighty
rumpus if that game's tried on. Why, there are enough reds here to chaw
up this command twice over, and they'll do it, too, I'll bet a hat. Why
the devil did they send out so few men?"
"Well, what d'you say? Hadn't we better git?"
"Not this child. You see, if we make tracks, and War Wolf gets grabbed,
the reds'll certainly think I gave him away. He's an infernal young
skunk, and I'd gladly see him hung; still, it nohow suits my book that
he should be just now. So I'll see it out, but if you'd rather be
outside it, don't stay. We can rendezvous anywhere you like
afterwards."
"Oh, well; it's no great matter. I don't care if I stay," answered the
scout, with his usual imperturbability. "Here's a big burst of rain
coming. We'd better get inside the store, anyhow."
Great drops began to plash around them; there was a steely gleam,
followed by a long, muttering roll of distant thunder. As they made
their way towards the log-house, the Indians were breaking up into
groups of twos and threes, and hurrying away in the direction of a
cluster of _teepes_ erected hard by. Failing any necessity for it, they
were no more inclined for a ducking than most people. The cavalrymen,
beyond taking precautions for keeping their arms and ammunition dry,
seemed indifferent to the weather.
"Hello, Smokestack Bill!" cried a hearty voice, as they entered. "So
that's how Nat Hardroper custodies his State prisoners, eh?"
They recognised in the speaker the officer who had arrested them in the
Black Hills. With him was Joe Ballin, the scout above referred to.
Vipan, especially, further noticed a sergeant and a dozen men posted,
apparently by accident, within the room.
"Lord, Colonel," replied the scout, "you don't want us to foot the
Henniker trail again?"
"Not I," said the other, with a laugh. "Other game afoot this journey."
Then at Vipan's suggestion, drinks were dispensed, the storekeeper--a
long, lank Eastern man--participating in the round.
Suddenly the latter exclaimed:
"Snakes! here come three reds. Your man in 'em, Colonel?"
Through the open door three Indians could be descried approaching
rapidly. It was raining hard, and their blankets were drawn over their
heads and shoulders, leaving only a part of their faces visible. The
swarthy features of Ballin the scout lit up with a momentary excitement.
"The centre one, Colonel," he whispered, hardly moving his lips. "The
centre one. He's the skunk we want, and no mistake."
The Indians continued to advance with their light, springy step. When
about a hundred yards from the store they were suddenly joined by a
large band of fully-armed and mounted warriors, clearly a band which had
just arrived upon the ground, but which had hitherto been unseen by
those inside the store, owing to the limited range of vision afforded by
the latter's doorway.
This untoward arrival placed a critical aspect on the state of affairs.
But Captain Fisher's orders--the higher rank by which that officer was
commonly addressed, was mere popular brevet--were concise. They were to
the effect that he should apprehend upon sight, and convey to Fort Price
an Ogallalla Sioux, known as War Wolf. This was sufficient. If that
Indian were not apprehended it would only be because he had made himself
remarkably scarce. As it was, however, here he stood before them,
advancing confidently into the trap. But then, he had at his back a
formidable force of his compatriots, outnumbering the cavalrymen three
to one, not reckoning the number of warriors already on the ground, and
whom the first whoop would bring upon the representatives of authority
in crowds. Clearly here was a critical situation. So thought Vipan,
who stood prepared to watch its _denouement_ with intense interest. So
thought Smokestack Bill and the storekeeper, who, however, with
characteristic phlegm, stood prepared to act as events should decide.
So, especially, thought the Captain and the dozen men disposed inside
the store to effect the capture.
The whole band, in delightful disorder, was now straggling around the
door; the three pedestrians, who had been joined by a couple of the new
arrivals, leading. All unconscious of danger, War Wolf was chattering
and laughing with his companions. Then a shadow darkened the doorway,
and the first Indian entered. Before his eyes became sufficiently
accustomed to the sudden darkness--for the windows had been purposely
shaded--the second was in the room. A rapid movement, a sudden
exclamation, and two struggling bodies--all quick as lightning. Captain
Fisher had seized the second Indian from behind, effectually pinioning
him.
It was done in a moment. The desperate struggles of the lithe and
active savage taxed all the efforts of the half-dozen men who had been
told off for the purpose, while the remainder held the entrance. In a
trice he was subdued, disarmed, and securely bound. His comrade, to
whom Ballin the scout had hurriedly explained that no harm was intended,
stood by sullen and immovable.
Then arose an indescribable hubbub. The warriors outside, who had
dismounted, rushed helter-skelter for their ponies, and the loud,
vibrating shout of the war-whoop rose above the clamour of angry and
inquiring voices. At its sound the temporary village became as a
disturbed ants' nest, Indians pouring from the _teepes_ in swarms: and
in less than a minute a crowd of excited savages--mounted and afoot--
came surging down upon the log-store, brandishing their weapons, and
fiercely clamouring for the instant release of their compatriot.
But a line of disciplined men barred their way. Drawn up in front of
the store, the troopers, some fifty strong, stood with carbines
levelled, awaiting the word of command; while Ballin, duly instructed,
went outside and informed the Indians that, should they approach twenty
paces nearer, the troops would fire.
The effect was magical. The entire mass halted dead. Then, yelling the
war-whoop, a number of young bucks darted out from the main body and,
putting their ponies at full speed, began circling round the tenement
and its defenders. But a peremptory mandate from one of the chiefs
present recalled these young-bloods, and for a moment the two rival
forces stood contemplating each other--the savages with a fierce scowl
of hatred, the troops, cool, determined, and not altogether anxious for
a peaceful solution to the difficulty.
Then the chief who had recalled the more ardent of his followers,
advanced making the peace-sign--extending his right hand above his head
with the palm outwards.
What had War Wolf done, he asked, that he should be seized like a common
thief in the white men's towns? Had he not come peaceably with the rest
to obtain his rations, and had obtained them--a clear proof that the
Government was not angry with him? He had been living on the
reservation with them all, as everybody knew; why then should the Great
Father send soldiers to take him?
Briefly Captain Fisher explained the charge against the young warrior.
The killing of two citizens in time of peace was murder--not an act of
war. The prisoner would have to answer for it before the Civil Courts
of the Territory.
The chief's face was a study in admirably feigned surprise, as the above
was interpreted to him. He was a warrior of tall, commanding aspect,
just past middle age, and looked almost gigantic beneath his nodding
eagle plumes. He was the head war-chief of the Minneconjou clan, and
had the reputation of being well-disposed towards the whites. He
rejoiced in the name of Mahto-sapa, or The Black Bear.
"What the white Captain had just told them contained sound sense," he
replied. "But would it not do as well if War Wolf were released now,
and called upon to answer to the charge against him later on, when the
Great Father should want to try him. Such a course would be most
gratifying to his countrymen, who were highly incensed that a warrior of
his standing and repute should be seized in the way he had been. It
would be best, perhaps, for all parties," the Indian explained, with
just a shadow of meaning in his uniformly courteous tone--"for his young
men were so hot-blooded and impatient, he feared they might not act with
the prudence and moderation to be looked for in men of riper years, a
contingency which would be in every way lamentable to himself and the
other chiefs of the Dahcotah nation."
If the speaker expected his veiled threat to produce any effect on
Captain Fisher, he must have been sadly disappointed. Concisely that
officer informed him that, in the matter of a grave charge of this kind,
War Wolf could not expect more lenient treatment than would be accorded
to a citizen under similar circumstances. No white man would be held to
bail if arrested for murder, and an Indian must look for precisely the
same treatment--no better and no worse. At the same time he guaranteed
that the prisoner should receive every consideration compatible with his
safe keeping until such time as the authorities should decide upon his
guilt or innocence. As for the anger of the warriors he saw before him,
greatly as he should regret any breach of the peace, that consideration
could not in any way be suffered to interfere with him in the discharge
of his duty. Were he, the speaker, the very last man left of the
command they saw before them, he should still do his best to convey his
prisoner whither he had been ordered, and would die rather than release
him.
The chief, seeing that further parley was useless, turned and rejoined
his followers. Then once more arose a wild hubbub of angry and
discordant voices, and for a moment it seemed that the crowd of
impulsive and exasperated barbarians would hurl itself forward and in
one overwhelming rush annihilate that mere handful of troops. Suddenly
a body of warriors, some hundred strong, sprang on their ponies, and,
unmindful of their leader's mandate, scoured away over the plain,
whooping and brandishing their weapons. The remainder having withdrawn
some little distance gathered into knots, or squatted in circles on the
ground, talking in eager and menacing tones.
"Thunder! Reckon that lot's gone to raise hell among the pesky varmints
camped along your return trail, Colonel," said the lank storekeeper,
pinning a fly to the wall with his quid at half-a-dozen paces. "You'll
need to keep a bright lookout on the road if you're ever going to get
this skunk to Fort Price."
And what of the captive? The first expression of rage, mingled with
amazement and mortification, having rapidly glinted across his
countenance, his features became as a mask of impassibility. Only once,
as his glance met that of Vipan, his eyes glared as he hissed in a tone
inaudible to those around:
"Golden Face! The Dahcotah's _brother_! Ha! We shall meet again!"
"War Wolf walks straight into the trap, as a silly antelope walks up to
the fluttering rag upon the hunter's wand. Who is to blame but War Wolf
himself?" replied Vipan, in the same almost inaudible tone. But the
Captain hearing it, turned sharply round. Vipan's reputation as being
on more than ordinarily friendly terms with the Sioux had already
reached him. However, he made no remark, but having disposed his
prisoner in such wise as to guard against all possibility of escape or
rescue, he prepared to start. Just then the other Indian who had
accompanied the prisoner into the store, inquired if he might go and
fetch his pony. War Wolf was his brother, and he, Burnt Shoes, did not
intend to leave him. He would go as a prisoner too.
"He's a fine, staunch fellow," said the Captain, kindly, as this request
was interpreted. "But we can't take him. Tell him so, Ballin, and also
that he can serve his brother's interests better by going back to his
people and notifying them that in the event of their making any attack
upon us either now or along the road, the prisoner will be shot dead."
This was interpreted, and at War Wolfs request the two Indians were
allowed a few moments' conversation together. Then Burnt Shoes, having
taken leave of his brother, strode away, looking straight in front of
him.
The threat and the warning were by no means superfluous. As the
troopers appeared outside with their prisoner, the bands of savages
clustered hard by sprang to their feet with an angry shout. Many of the
warriors could be seen fitting arrows to their bowstrings, and the click
of locks was audible as they handled their rifles in very suggestive
fashion.
Even the emphatic message which Burnt Shoes strove to deliver,
concerning the fate awaiting his brother in the event of a rescue, was
hardly heard. The clamour redoubled, and the attitude of the savages
became menacing to the last degree. Meanwhile the cavalry escort, with
its prisoner in the midst, had got under way, and was retiring
cautiously, and at a foot's pace. By this time, however, the authority
of Mahto-sapa, and the earnest appeals of Burnt Shoes, had availed to
quell the tumult. The crowd began to melt away. By twos and threes, or
in little groups of ten or twelve, the warriors began to disperse over
the plain in all directions, only the chief, with comparatively few
followers, remaining.
"Say, but there'll be trouble when those chaps come up with the
sodgers," said the lank storekeeper, contemplating the retreating
Indians. "They'll jump 'em in an overwhelming crowd somewheres about
Blue Forks, and I'll risk ten dollars there'll not be a scalp left in
that command."
"Well, I'm going to persuade the residue to hear reason, anyhow," said
Vipan carelessly, making a step towards the door.
"Don't risk it," urged his friend, promptly. "They're plaguy mad, and
it's puttin' your head into the alligator's jaws to go among 'em jes
now."
"Well, you see, it's this way," was the rejoinder. "They are plaguy mad
just now, as you say, but they'll be madder by-and-by. A classical
authority has said, `agree with thine adversary quickly,' and I'm going
to agree with mine."
"You're a dead man if you do," said the storekeeper.
"No fear. Mahto-sapa and I are rather friends. I reckon I'm going to
sleep in his village to-night, and I'll risk twenty dollars if you like,
Seth Davis, that I look round here again, with all my hair on, within a
month."
"Done!" said the storekeeper, shortly.
They watched him join the group of sullen and brooding savages--moving
among them, alone, absolutely fearless, as among a crowd in an English
market-town--addressing one here, another there. Then they saw him
fetch his horse and ride away with the band, which had been preparing to
take its departure.
"Gosh! I never saw such a galoot as that pard of yours," said Seth
Davis, ejecting an emphatic quid. "Takes no more account of a crowd of
Ingians a-bustin' with cussedness, nor though they were a lot o' darned
kids. Wal, wal! Reckon that wager's on, all there; hey, Smokestack
Bill?"
"That's so," was the laconic reply. "Let's liquor."