BLACK PANTHER’S HAND.
The prisoner was awakened early, and had the bonds removed from his
arms and ankles, so that his limbs might recover their natural vigor
before the hour of the dreadful ordeal appointed for him.
His friends found him utterly despondent, and Buffalo Bill, who was
first at his side, said nothing of his last interview with Running
Water, or of the promised conference of the morning. He did not wish to
arouse hopes which might be doomed to disappointment.
“I know it will be useless for me to run,” the captive said, “and I am
resolved not to attempt it, save on one condition.”
“What is that?”
“Let me have that loaded revolver,” the man whispered. “Smuggle it to
me somehow, so that none of these guards will see it.”
“What will you do with it?”
“Use it on myself in case of failure in the lines. It will save me from
the stake. Otherwise, they may as well burn me first as last, and I
will at least escape the additional torture of running the gantlet.”
The unfortunate man had begged repeatedly for the weapon before, when
his friends visited him, and they had refused to give it to him.
But, as he now seemed resolute in his present determination, Captain
Meinhold promised to give it to him, on his word of honor that he would
not make use of it except in the last extremity--not until the fagots
around him were fired, or some equivalent torture was begun.
Buffalo Bill, Meinhold, and the other men had debated long and
earnestly together as to the course they should take if things came to
the worst with Hare; and they had found it very hard to arrive at a
decision.
Their natural impulse, being all brave men, was to die in his defense,
ineffectual as a fight would undoubtedly be.
But they had to think first of the women in the party. If necessary,
Hare must be sacrificed for their sake. In the event of a fight, the
chances were a hundred to one that they would spend their lives as the
squaws of Indian braves.
Captain Meinhold exhorted Hare to do his best in running the gantlet,
reminding him that there was a chance of escape if he was vigilant and
active.
“Well, captain, I will try,” the doomed man replied. “I will do my
best, if I have this pistol as a last resort.”
“You shall have it.”
“How am I to get it?”
“It is in my pocket. I will find an opportunity, in a few minutes, to
give it to you when these men are not looking. Then you can take it up
and secrete it about you. As you have already been searched, they will
probably not trouble to look you over again.”
Hare was supplied with an early and good breakfast--a repast which he
would have enjoyed but for the doom which awaited him, and which was
now so close at hand.
As it was, he ate pretty heartily, and while he was doing so the
captain succeeded in giving him the pistol unobserved.
The rest of the white men and Congo breakfasted, as they had supped,
unobserved.
The women of the party were served, by the orders of Running Water, by
the women of the tribe.
Breakfast was over in the chief’s tepee about sunrise, and still
earlier in the other lodges, so that when Running Water and his guests
went forth, the bustle of preparations for the great event of the day
was everywhere to be seen.
The women were running in and out of each other’s lodges, clamorous and
merry. The children were playing heartily, with whoop and shout, for
they were anticipating a gala day as inspiriting to them as the Fourth
of July to our own boys. Here and there, a brave, with his war paint
on, might be seen hurrying about the village with all the important air
of a militia officer on training day.
Outside of the village, on the edge of the timber, two rows of larger
boys and girls were playing a mimic game of running the gantlet.
They rehearsed it with great accuracy, excepting that they were very
careful not to hit the seemingly frightened fugitive at whom their
blows were aimed with apparent fury.
Had not a loud laugh pealed out now and then from the two ranks, and
been echoed by the runner himself, the scene might have seemed as real
as the terrible one shortly to be enacted by the braves.
Running Water did not require to be reminded of his promise to the king
of the scouts. He called a hasty and informal council of his warriors
in front of his own lodge. They came to it rather wonderingly, and
some of them were a bit surly, for they did not wish their sport to be
deferred by talking.
He told them that their white brethren had something to say to them,
but he was interrupted by derisive cries, and by inquiries whether
the palefaces could not talk as well to them later on, when the great
business of the day was over.
A tall, sinewy brave strode forward. His face bore an expression of
courage and daring, but was savage and cruel even beyond that of any of
his fellows.
Over his head and shoulders he wore the skin of a large black panther,
with the head and its grinning teeth still preserved. He had slain the
animal in a hand-to-hand fight with a knife. This deed had won him the
respect of his comrades, more than all his other achievements in war
and hunting; for the black panther is a foe which some hunters regard
as even more terrible than the grizzly bear.
He had been named Black Panther in honor of the deed. Besides being
such a distinguished warrior, he was the orator of the tribe. He
aspired to the chieftainship of that band of the Sioux nation over
which Running Water ruled, but as he had not been able to get it he
had left the band and gone to dwell with another. He had returned on a
brief visit to his brother shortly before Congo came to the village.
Standing right in front of the chief, with his right arm upraised
impressively, Black Panther said:
“Do the palefaces wish to pay for the blood of Strong Arm? How much
will they give? The big fire canoe, that makes white the waters of the
lake when it passes by, could not carry enough silver to pay for this
great crime! The great lake itself could not wash out the sin of our
brother’s blood from our hands, if we should accept money for it and
let the paleface who slew him go free. Tell that to the palefaces.”
Running Water made no response. He recognized the force of the
argument, and knew how it must appeal to the savage warriors, who were
listening with intense eagerness to Black Panther’s words.
Black Panther went on, his voice becoming more and more passionate with
every sentence:
“What do we want of their shining silver? We cannot use it. We are
already rich in the things that we need. The forests, the lake, and the
prairies are ours. We draw from them all that we want, and more--for we
had abundance to give to the hungry palefaces who came begging to us,
and then repaid our kindness by killing one of our best warriors.
“They ought all to die, and, if Black Panther had his way, they should.
The ghost of Strong Arm is unappeased, and his widow and children weep
over his body and cry out for vengeance. They look reproachfully upon
us.
“They ask, ‘Why tarries the avenger? Why are the brethren and friends
of the murderer protected--nay, more, even feasted in our lodges?’
It is not the part of a good chief, who should be the father of his
people, to do this. Black Panther has spoken.”
Running Water looked angry at the last reference to himself, but kept
his temper. He had been thoroughly won over by Buffalo Bill, and was
determined to save Hare’s life, if he could do so. He knew very well
that a quarrel would not help matters, but would probably destroy the
last chance.
The speech of Black Panther was applauded by many of the warriors and
by all the women. The chief, who looked much disturbed, translated it
to the whites in English.
Buffalo Bill, who had been warned against making any offer of money
for Hare’s life, spoke earnestly with the chief, and told him that he
must impress on the warriors, as strongly as he could, that no such
offer had been made by any of the palefaces--that they appealed for the
release of the captive upon higher grounds.
Then he repeated what he had said on the previous night, and Running
Water translated it, as well as he could, sentence by sentence, to the
assembled ring of braves.
At first some of the men were inclined to jeer, but they were soon all
listening attentively, although it was plain that many of them strongly
disagreed with what was being said.
A long consultation ensued between the Indians, ten or twelve of them
speaking in turn, slowly and seemingly without passion. Only by an
occasional gleam in their eyes could the white men guess how powerfully
they were moved.
The chief remained silent until all who wished to speak had finished.
Doubtless he wanted to allow time for the effect of Black Panther’s
vigorous speech to abate.
At last he arose, with much dignity, and spoke for about five minutes
in a slow but earnest way, with not a little emphasis and many gestures.
There were some nods of approval at his remarks, but no other
manifestations of applause or agreement were made.
When he had finished, he turned toward Buffalo Bill and shook his head
dubiously.
“What will they do?” asked the border king and Meinhold, in the same
breath.
“Bad--bad!” replied the chief. “They must go with Black Panther. So it
look. But we see soon. They count how many one side--how many other.”