It was afternoon, and quiet had settled down upon the emigrants' camp
once more. While its inmates were despatching their much-needed
breakfasts Vipan and Oregon Dave had sallied forth upon a scout. They
soon returned, reporting the whole party of Indians to be retiring over
a distant range of hills some twelve miles to the eastward. So, pickets
being posted to give warning should they think better of it and return,
the cattle were driven down to the water and were now enjoying a graze
under the watchful supervision of half-a-dozen men.
It was afternoon. Most of the inmates of the camp were recruiting
themselves after their night of watching and the exciting events of the
morning's conflict. A few drowsy snores, or now and then the puling cry
of some child within the waggons, or perchance the clatter of pots and
pans, as one or two of the women were cleaning up the culinary
implements which had served for the morning meal; these were the only
sounds which broke the slumbrous stillness.
Stretched upon the turf about fifty yards outside the corral, puffing
lazily at an Indian pipe, lay Vipan. He alone of all there present
seemed to feel no need of slumber. The dash and excitement of the
conflict over, a strange reaction had set in. There was a look upon his
face as of a man who, turning back upon the chapters of his own history,
finds the reminiscences therein recorded the reverse of pleasant. It
was also the look of one who is undergoing a new experience, and a
disquieting one.
A light step on the grass behind him.
"Are you really made of cast-iron, Mr Vipan?"
"H'm, why so, Miss Santorex?"
"Because everyone else is snoring like the Seven Sleepers, and you, who
have had as trying a time of it as any three of the rest put together,
are still wide awake."
"I might say the same of you. You, too, have been awake all night."
"Oh, dear no; nothing like it. And now--and now we are alone, I want
really to thank you as I ought, but--but--I don't know how," broke off
the girl, with a comic ruefulness that was inexpressibly bewitching.
"Really, though, I never was further from joking in my life. Now that I
have seen what those dreadful savages are like, I seem to realise what a
frightful fate you saved me from," she added earnestly, with a lovely
flush.
"Let us talk of something else," he answered, somewhat abruptly. "You
showed extraordinary grit during the recent little unpleasantness
between us and our red brothers. May I ask where, when, and how you
served your apprenticeship as an Indian fighter?"
She laughed and gave a slight shiver. Now that they were over, the
appalling experiences of the early morning could not but tell upon her.
She was rather pale, and dark circles round her eyes told of an
apprehensive and restless night.
"Poor Mrs Winthrop is quite ill this morning, and no wonder. I hope we
shall have no more of those frightful experiences. And yet, to look
round the camp no one would suspect that anything out of the way had
happened."
Vipan followed her glance. He was glad that all traces of the bloody
struggle had been removed--the dead bodies, including that of the
unfortunate emigrant who had been scalped, had been buried while the
terrified and worn-out women were sleeping the slumber of exhaustion.
"No, it was all horrible--horrible," Yseulte went on, speaking gravely
and sadly. "If I was not half-dead with fear it was thanks to my
father's teaching. He always used to say that panic was fatal to
self-respect, and still more fatal to self-preservation. Child as I
was, the idea took root, and I was able to conquer my fears of bulls or
savage dogs, or mysterious noises at night, or at any rate very nearly
so."
"Quite, I should say. Your father must be a somewhat rare type of man."
"He is. Wait till you see him. Then you will think so."
"Is he coming out here, then?"
"Coming out here!" she echoed, wonderingly. "Oh, no. I am going back
in a few months' time. I mean when you come to see us and give him the
opportunity of thanking you as I never can."
Vipan looked curiously at her. They had been strolling all this while,
and were now well out of earshot of the camp.
"When I come and see you," he repeated. "To begin with, it is extremely
unlikely I shall ever leave these festive plains, let alone go back to
England."
"Ah, you _are_ English. I guessed that much from the very first. But I
thought--we all thought--you were only out here on a trip."
He did not even smile.
"Do you think, Miss Santorex, that a man out here `on a trip' would be
up to every move of a Sioux war-party? No; I have been out here a good
many years. There are those in the settlements who speak of me as the
white Indian, who have more than once attempted my life because I happen
to feel more respect for the savage as he is than for that vilest of all
scum of humanity the `mean white.' Why, not many weeks ago I was in a
far tighter place than this last little shindy of ours, and narrowly
escaped with my life at the hands of the latter."
"Bang!"
The picket posted on an eminence a mile distant had discharged his
piece.
"We must cut short our walk," went on the adventurer. "That shot means
Indians in sight."
A few minutes and the pickets could be seen riding in. As arranged, the
cattle, which had been brought near on the first alarm, were now quickly
driven into the corral.
The man who had fired the shot reported a large party of warriors
approaching rapidly from the direction in which the assailants had
retired. He reckoned it was the same lot coming back.
"Hoorar! Guess we'll lick 'em into pounded snakes again," drawled the
long Kentuckian, on hearing this news.
"They don't want to fight," said Vipan, "or they wouldn't have drawn off
so kindly to let us water and graze the stock. This time they're coming
to talk."
"Well, that's better, anyhow," said the Major. A sentiment which his
wife, who was standing at his side looking very pale and scared,
thoroughly echoed.
Mounted figures now began to appear on the ridge about a mile away, and
presently the entire band was halted upon the eminence. Then a couple
of warriors rode out from the main body, and advancing a little
distance, made the peace-sign. By way of answer a white towel was run
up on a pole and waved above the waggon corral.
"I want you to see this, Miss Santorex," said Vipan. "It's a sight you
may not see again in a lifetime."
The band had now left its halting place and was riding slowly down
towards the camp. If in the wild fury of their swooping charge the
Indians had worn a savagely picturesque aspect, with their waving
plumes, and flowing tags and scalp-locks on weapon and garment, none the
less now was the appearance of the warrior phalanx stately and striking
to the last degree. So thought Yseulte Santorex, as she gazed with more
admiration than fear upon this array of the barbaric chivalry of the
Western plains.
The Indians approached in crescent formation, some half-dozen chiefs
riding a little in advance. All were in their war-paint--the dresses of
some being, moreover, exceeding rich with colour and embroidery--the
eagle-plumed crest of many a noted brave streaming to the ground as he
rode. Not a warrior but showed some bit of gorgeous colour. Even the
ponies' manes were adorned with feathers and vermilion, and the
lance-heads and floating pennants gleaming above the sea of fierce stern
faces put the finishing touch to a battle array as martial and
gallant-looking as it was redoubtable and ruthlessly unsparing.
"It is magnificent!" said Yseulte, as from the coign of vantage which
the other had secured for her she surveyed the approaching band. "What
tribe are they, Mr Vipan?"
"Sioux. There may be a few Cheyennes among them, but the war-party is a
Sioux one. Take the glass, and I'll tell you who some of them are. The
chief there most to the right is Crow-Scalper, of the Uncpapa clan, a
record of whose atrocities would keep you awake at night for a week."
"He's a splendid-looking fellow," commented the girl, gazing withal at
the gigantic warrior who had led the last and most persistent charge
upon the camp.
"Oh, yes; I know him well. Many's the hour I've spent in his lodge
making him talk. Now, look again. The middle one is Mountain Cat--the
trappers call him Catamount, but the other's the real rendering of his
name. He hates the whites more than any Indian on this continent, and
would willingly put a bullet into me if he got the chance. He's an
Ogallalla, and a good big chief too."
"He looks an awful savage," answered Yseulte, with the glass still at
her eyes. "I never saw a more diabolical expression. Who is the man
who has just joined them?"
"Lone Panther--a half-bred Cheyenne--a small chief in standing, but a
fiend when he heads a war-party. And now I must leave you for a little,
and go and hear what they have to say. It may interest you to watch the
progress of our conference through the glass."
"That it will. But, oh, Mr Vipan, do try and persuade them to leave us
in peace. You know them so well, I am sure you can."
"I'll try, anyhow, if only for your sake," he answered, with a queer
smile.
The three chiefs named had halted their band, and, attended by a couple
of warriors displaying dingy white rags on their lance-points, were
cantering down towards the corral. Arrived within two hundred yards,
they halted. There went forth to meet them Vipan, Major Winthrop, and
one of the latter's cowboys, who rejoiced in the name of Sam Sharp; also
two of the teamsters to hold their horses.
When within a hundred yards of each other, both parties dismounted. The
three chiefs, giving their horses to their attendants, advanced with
slow and stately gait to where the three white men awaited them.
"Do we meet in peace, or do we meet in war?" began Vipan, as both
parties having surveyed each other for a few moments the Indians showed
no inclination to break the silence. No answer followed this straight
question. Then Lone Panther, breaking into a broad grin, said:
"Injun brother Goddam hungry. White Colonel gib him heap `chuck.'"
[Food.]
Of this flippant remark Winthrop, to whom it was addressed, took no
notice beyond a signal to Vipan to carry the negotiations further.
The latter explained to the chiefs that the "white Colonel" entertained
his friends, not his enemies. They had attacked his outfit, tried to
run off his stock, and had made themselves a dangerous nuisance. But
that the camp had been vigorously defended they would have killed every
one in it. They could not do this, and now they came and asked to be
feasted as if they were friends.
To this Crow-Scalper, putting on his most jovial smile and manner,
replied that the whole affair had been a mistake. Young men, especially
when on the war-path, would not always be restrained; that being so, the
chiefs were obliged to humour them. Beside, the warriors had no idea
that these whites were among the friends of Golden Face, or that Golden
Face was in the camp at all. Otherwise they would never have attempted
to run off even a single hoof.
Vipan could hardly keep from roaring with laughter at the twinkle which
lurked in the speaker's eye, as he delivered himself of this statement.
Both he and the red man knew each other well--knew the futility of
trying to humbug each other. Hence the joke underlying the whole thing.
What himself and his warriors most ardently desired now, went on
Crow-Scalper, was to show themselves friends of the friends of Golden
Face. To this end they proposed to accompany the waggon train as an
escort. There were, he feared, bands of very bad Indians roaming the
country, who would leave them unmolested if they had for escort a
Dahcotah war-party. This course would wipe out all bad blood between
them, and atone for the mistake they had made in attacking their dear
friends the whites. So having settled this to his own satisfaction,
Crow-Scalper suggested that a proper and most harmonious way of
cementing their new friendship would be for the white men to join camp
with their red brothers and to invite the latter to participate in a
feast.
Vipan managed to preserve his gravity while translating these proposals
for the benefit of his companions. The chiefs meanwhile watched every
expression of their faces with steady and scrutinising gaze.
"They must take us for born idiots," said Winthrop.
"Thunder! I guess there's no end to the sass of a redskin," said Sam
Sharp, the cowboy. "Travel with a war-party of pesky Sioux!
Haw-haw-haw!"
"Better conciliate them to a small extent, though I never did believe in
buying off your Danes," said Winthrop. "I'll give them an order for
coffee and sugar and tobacco on the post we last quitted; but I'll see
them hanged before they'll get anything out of us here."
This resolve Vipan communicated to the chiefs. The white Colonel felt
quite strong enough to protect his own camp and did not need the escort
so kindly offered. At the same time his red brothers could best show
their friendship by retiring altogether and leaving him quite alone.
The chiefs had admitted their inability to control their young men under
all circumstances, and this being so, it would be best to part good
friends. They could proceed to Fort Jervis and obtain the supplies, for
which he would give them an order.
The emissaries saw that the game was up. They might eventually wear out
the patience and watchfulness of the whites, and obtain the scalps and
plunder they so ardently desired, but they would have to fight. No safe
and easy way of treachery lay open to the coveted spoil, and this they
recognised.
Then Mountain Cat, who up till now had preserved a stern and
contemptuous silence, said:
"Golden Face, the friend and brother of the Dahcotah! Should he not
rather be called Double Face?"
The sneering and vindictive tone was not lost upon the other two whites,
although they understood not a word of its burden. Glancing at Vipan,
they noticed that he was as unconcerned as though the other had never
spoken.
"Does one friend kill another?" went on the savage, his eyes flashing
with hatred. "Ha! More than one of our young men has been shot this
day. Who was their slayer? Golden Face--the friend and brother of the
Dahcotah nation!"
"What were my words to the great Council at Dog Creek?" was the calm
rejoinder. "`Those who strike my friends strike me, and turn me into an
enemy.' Were there not enough whites abroad upon the plains for your
war-party to strike without attacking my friends whom I accompany?
Enough. My words stand. I never go back from them."
For a moment things seemed to have come to a crisis. The chief made a
step backward and cast a half-involuntary glance in the direction of his
party. A threatening scowl came over his grim countenance, and his hand
made a movement towards the revolver in his belt. But Vipan never moved
a muscle, beyond carelessly dropping his rifle so as to cover the Indian
in a manner apparently accidental.
"The Dahcotah have entertained a false friend in their midst," went on
Mountain Cat, darting forth his hand with a menacing gesture, "one who
smokes in their council and then betrays them. Where is War Wolf?"
"Is War Wolf my horse or my dog that it is my business to take care of
him?" was the coldly contemptuous reply.
"Who witnessed the scalp-dance in our village at Dog Creek, when War
Wolf showed his scalps? Who delivered him into the hands of the
soldiers?" said the other, meaningly.
"I know who did not--and that was myself. We may as well speak plainly.
War Wolf appears to have gone about the country bragging how he took
the scalps of two white men, when he ought to have kept his mouth shut.
If he was seized by the soldiers he has himself to thank for it, and
nobody else--certainly not me, any more than yourself. I would even
have warned him if I had been able, but it was impossible. That is
enough about the matter."
"Good," repeated the savage chieftain, in a tone full of grim meaning.
"Golden Face talks well, but in future our war-parties will know an
enemy from a friend."
"So be it," replied Vipan, wholly unmoved by the threat. "If your party
attacks our outfit again, we shall fight, as we did before."
"Excuse me," put in Winthrop, who was waxing impatient during this
protracted conversation. "Excuse me--but our friend there does not seem
to enter into the situation in a right spirit. Here is the order. It
is made available only up till three days hence. So if you will kindly
inform him accordingly, no doubt we shall get rid of the whole crew."
On the principle of "half a loaf," the other two chiefs grasped the bit
of paper eagerly. They were beaming with smiles, and brimming over with
affection for their dear white brothers. Only Mountain Cat held
scowlingly aloof. Then they returned to their men.
It was uncertain now how matters would turn. Watching them, the
occupants of the corral could see that an animated conference was being
held. Would there be another battle? Even if not, a large war-party
like this, determined to annoy them, could soon reduce their position to
one of imminent peril. By closely investing the camp they could render
it nearly an impossibility for the stock to obtain proper grazing--let
alone bringing all progress forward to an utter standstill. They could
even make it a matter of extreme difficulty to replenish the water
supply--and then, too, there would be the constant strain and fatigue of
ever being on the watch against surprise--whether by day or night. So
that when their conference ended, the whole party mounted their ponies
and retreated in the same way as they had come, the feeling evoked in
the minds of the spectators was one of entire and undiluted relief.