Vipan, left alone, felt drowsy, and kicking up the lodge fire into a
blaze, rolled himself in a blanket and lay down in the long wicker
basket which did duty as his bed. But sleep refused to come. This
strange meeting had something weird about it. That this woman, whose
selfish reticence had ruined his life, to screen whom he had sacrificed
his prospects up to blighting point, as to whose whereabouts he had long
ceased to speculate, should appear before him alone in the camp of the
hostile Sioux--living there as one of themselves--struck him as little
short of miraculous, and a superstitious feeling seemed to warn him,
eagerly as he strove to dismiss it, that an occurrence so startling, so
entirely out of all reckoning, portended some grave crisis to himself.
Was her appearance after all these years destined to herald some other
turning-point in his life? Thus musing, sleep at length overcame him,
and still his dreams were haunted by the sad face of the ex-society
belle, doomed to spend her life among savages, even resigned to that
deplorable destiny.
A stealthy form wormed itself quickly through the opening of the
_teepe_. Vipan, who slept with one eye open, never moved, but his hand
tightened on the stock of the pistol in his breast. Only for a moment,
though; for he recognised the hideous lineaments and beady eyes of the
Shoshone slave girl.
"Rise quickly, Golden Face," whispered the latter. "The Sun Queen sends
for you. Come at once."
Prepared for any emergency, he obeyed without a word. It was already
dusk, and at the other end of the village were signs of a gathering of
some sort which was about to take place. Unobserved, he entered Isabel
D'Arcy's tent.
Enjoining caution by a sign, she beckoned him to a seat. The firelight
glinted on her shining hair, and he noticed that her still handsome face
was clouded with anxiety. The _teepe_ was furnished in quasi-civilised
style. There was a camp bedstead instead of the Indian wicker basket, a
table, two trunks, and even a few books.
"I have just learned something," she began, "that renders it necessary
for you to make the attempt at once. Listen. Time is short, and we
must lose none of it. There is to be a big scalp-dance to-night in the
Ogallalla camp. Hark! They are beginning now. Afterwards you are to
be seized and put to the torture. I know the plot--never mind how.
Nothing can save you. The Ogallallas have fourteen hundred warriors in
the village, and are all-powerful. The whole of our band, except about
fifty, are away with Mahto-sapa, and even he could hardly protect you if
he were here. Mountain Cat, War Wolf, Long Bull, and a dozen others are
all in the plot. Now, quick--quick, I say!" stamping her foot. "Obey
me or you are lost. Take as much as you can carry of this," handing him
a _parfleche_ half full of dried meat. "And this is the only weapon I
can find."
With a thrill of satisfaction he found himself in possession of a large
navy revolver, loaded in every chamber.
"But," he objected, "if I get clear will they not visit it upon you?"
"No. They dare not. Quick. You have only an hour's start, with the
best of luck. You may not have ten minutes. Roll your blanket round
your chin, so as to hide your beard, and put on this."
She handed him an Indian head-dress of beadwork and cloth, from whose
summit rose a tall eagle-feather. Fixing it on, he stood there
transformed into a stalwart savage.
"Now, my plan is simple--in fact, ridiculous. You must personate an
Indian larking with my slave girl here. She will pretend to run away,
and you must pursue her. She will lead you to the nearest herd of
ponies; you must catch one and trust to luck. Now, good-bye. God speed
you!"
He thought he detected a quaver in her voice as she grasped his hands,
and would have lingered. She stamped her foot angrily.
"Go, go! You are endangering both of us, and the plan will fall
through." And she almost pushed him from the lodge.
A mischievous cackle, and the dark form of the Shoshone girl glided
round the outside of the _teepe_. Vipan, entering thoroughly into his
_role_, started boldly in pursuit. So well did he act up to it that a
group of squaws whom he passed within ten yards screamed with laughter
at the sight of a stalwart buck larking after the Sun Queen's hideous
slave, no less than at the broad jests which he was gruffly hurling
after her as she ran.
The dark figure still glided on between the _teepes_, hardly visible in
the falling gloom. To those who did see it the sight was an everyday
one, so that beyond a shout of mirth and a boisterous wish for his
success, no notice was taken of it.
The last line of _teepes_ was passed. In front lay the timber belt,
then a subdued "crunch, crunch," betokened the proximity of a group of
ponies. The dark figure of the Shoshone girl had disappeared. "The
nearest," his deliverer had said. His lariat rope was ready. Gently,
soothingly, he approached the one he reckoned the best. Up went the
perverse brute's head with a resentful snort, as it sidled and backed
away. He tried another, with the same result. His heart was in his
mouth. The ponies had stopped feeding, and were gazing at him in alarm.
The least thing might stampede the herd and arouse the attention of its
owners. There was no time to lose. Whirling the noose around his head
he let fly. The coils tautened out. The affrighted animal thus noosed,
plunged, and fell heavily. He was upon it like lightning. Avoiding the
kicking hoofs, he wrenched a bight of the rope into its mouth, jerked
the trembling and terrified steed to its feet, and was on its back like
a circus-rider. The rest of the herd trotted away, snorting and
throwing up their heels.
Suddenly a wild, shrill whoop went up from the village. Ah! now for the
race for life; but what were the odds in his favour? They had
discovered his flight.
On, through the darkness, the fugitive urged his unwilling steed, whose
bucking and plunging would have unseated any less skilful horseman. And
as he fled, carefully picking his ground with the instinct of a
consummate plainsman, he strained his ears through the darkness to catch
the first sounds of pursuers behind, of a possible manoeuvre to outflank
and head him in front. But the discovery had not, in fact, been made.
The wild shouts were the yells of the scalp-dance just beginning.
Fainter and fainter behind him sounded the savage chorus, then died
away, and amid the solitude of the grim mountain waste only the soft
hoof-beats of his steed, and the occasional scream of a panther among
the craggy heights, broke upon the dead and ghostly silence of the
night.