I-RON-YAH-TEK-HA
"It beats human natur', Burning Cloud," said Wash Lawton, the scout,
as he lay concealed in a deep crevice of the rocks, craftily covered
by bushes and dirt and stones so as to resemble the natural surface
of the hill, and at but a little distance from the spot where he had
fallen--"it beats human natur' how yer could hev got me out of ther
scrape, and it war jest the tightest I war ever in durin' all my days."
"The daughter of the red-man," replied the Indian girl, who was his
companion, "has never forgotten his kindness when his pale-faced
brother--but not in heart, for one is white as the snow, and the other
as black and treacherous as a thunder-cloud--would have buried his
tomahawk in her head, and she with one arm broken and useless."
"It was er mean, cowardly trick, that am er fact, but I hain't half as
well able to pertect myself as you war. I feel jest as ef I had been
run through er boom full of logs in er spring freshet, and as ef every
drop of blood in my carcass had settled inter my brains."
And so indeed he looked. His eyes were still so much bloodshot that the
iris could not be distinguished, while the skin of his face was swollen
as if blood had been forced through every pore, despite the constant
bathing with cool water by the gentle hands of his savior and nurse.
"The pale-face would soon have gone to the land of spirits," she
continued, "had he not been released."
"But how did yer manage it? Sartinly yer could never have climbed down
ther face of ther rocks."
"A bird could scarcely have found footing."
"Then how in ther name of common sense did yer do it?"
"I-ron-yah-tek-ha (using her uncouth Indian name, though the scout
always did the interpretation of "Burning Cloud," or more commonly,
"Cloud,") was watching the pale-face who had been kind to her--followed
as he ran--saw him when he fell, and as soon as the braves disappeared,
she made a strong line of deer-skin, looped it about a tree above,
clambered down and drew it after her."
"It was bravely done, Cloud--bravely done."
"Then she fastened him so that he would not fall, cut away the limb
that held him like a wolf in a trap, lowered him down and dragged him
to this spot, thanking the Manitou that he was not dead."
"But most mighty near to it, I kin tell yer. And I must have had a hard
time on it, fer my huntin'-shirt and leggins am clean tore off."
"They are hanging still in the tree-top," replied the squaw, with a low
and musical laugh.
"Hangin' in the tree-top! What in thunder am they thar fer, I'd like
ter know?"
"The eyes of the red-man are like those of the lynx, and his cunning
that of the serpent."
"Oho!" and the laugh that followed, even though the ever-cautious one
of a trapper, made him fairly groan with pain, so sore was he in every
muscle. "Ha! ha! I see it all now. Yer knew ef yer didn't fool 'em in
that manner, they would bin erlookin' eround ter see what had become of
me, fer it wasn't likely I'd rot and fall ter pieces so soon."
The girl nodded, and the smile upon her face, in connection with her
kindness, made her very beautiful, and he continued:
"So yer jest took ther buck-skins and stuffed them and fixed on ther
cap and hung them up, and it was so fa'r that even ther sharp eyes of
ther warriors couldn't tell whether it was er dead man or not."
"And snared a rabbit and placed it where the head of the pale-face
should have been."
"What in thunderation was that fer?"
The rest he could see through plainly, but that troubled him--was a
puzzle he could not understand, experienced as he was in all manner of
woodland subterfuges.
"That the birds would gather around and pick at it."
"As they would have done at my poor head and eyes ef they had bin thar!
Give me a woman fer cunnin, arter all!" and he rolled backward and
forward over the soft, thick bed she had prepared, in the excess of his
merriment at the manner in which the crafty warriors had been deceived.
"The red-men knew well what would follow if the pale-face had
remained," she answered, with a gratified look at his praises,
and proceeded to describe more at length the difficulties she had
encountered.
"Yes, yer must have had a hard time on it gittin' me heah. I ain't none
of ther lightest or you none ther strongest, and you couldn't well have
carried me."
"The daughter of the red-man raised the body in her arms, and though
his moccasins left a trail she easily covered it up."
"And yer took all this trouble jest because I happened tew do what any
good man would have done?"
"The Sioux never forget."
If he had not been so entirely intent upon his own thoughts and the
skill she had displayed, he would have noticed her softly-beaming eyes,
and that the hot blood surged up from her heart and flushed even the
olive of her cheeks--that his stalwart frame and kindness had wakened
the most powerful passion in her heart, notwithstanding,
"She had struggled hard and long
Against her love, and reasoned with her heart,
As simple Indian maiden might."
But he was not yet in a situation--was far too much shaken to give a
single thought to any thing but himself and his wonderful escape, and
went recklessly on.
"I know, Cloud, yer people remember er good deed as well as er bad one,
and never forgit revenge, and I only hope I kin make it even with yer
some time, and I will ef I live."
"The pale-face is safe from the dark Manitou of death."
"Yes, for the present, I reckon, though I wouldn't be good fer much in
a foot-race or a fight."
"There are barks and roots in the forest that will make him well again."
"The sooner the better."
"I will go gather and steep them, for I dare not build a fire here."
"Yer right, Cloud. Thar'll be sharp eyes on ther valley fer er long
time and any thin' out of ther common would draw er crowd of warriors.
But will yer not be in danger yerself?"
"I would do much more for the pale chief," she replied, in a trembling
voice, and quickly left his side that her feelings might not betray her.
The time she was away appeared very long to the scout, and when she
returned he saw from her agitated manner that something uncommon had
happened, and taking her hand kindly, he asked, with far more of
tenderness than he was aware of:
"What's ther matter, Cloud? Has anybody bin erbusin' yer? Ef so, jest
tell me and when I git on my feet ag'in I'll thresh ther ground with
him."
"A young brave--"
"Ha! er lover!" he interrupted, and the sound of the word though
uttered by his own lips grated harshly upon his ears.
"A young brave sought her side as the buck does that of the doe and
would have remained there."
"Then yer drove him erway, Cloud?"
"Had it not been for the pale chief I would have done so forever."
"What had I tew do with it?"
"If I had made him an enemy he might have followed and found you."
"That's jest as true as gospil and I hain't in no condition tew take my
own part ner yours nuther, jest now."
"I wear a knife."
"Yes, and hain't got no use of but one arm. But what did ther painted
raskil want?"
She busied herself with bathing his swollen neck, kept her face bowed
and pretended not to hear, and he continued:
"War he er lover, Cloud?"
"He has often told me he loved me," she responded in a low voice, being
thus compelled to answer.
"And don't yer love him? Ef he am er likely young feller, and will git
ter be er warrior some day, I don't see why you shouldn't do so."
"She loves but one."
"Wal," he replied, with a laugh, and not even then penetrating through
her disguise, "I never knew er woman ter take er likin' ter two men at
the same time."
"Let the pale-face drink and try to sleep," she said. "The child of the
red-man will stay and watch him as long as she dares. Then she will
pray the Great Spirit to keep guard over him until she comes and brings
him food in the morning."
"Yes. I do feel kinder sleepy, but I know I hain't more'n half thanked
yer fer what yer've done. Howsomever I will do so when I get better.
But can't yer git me er drink of cool water fust? I'm dry as er stump
that has been dead for forty years."
"The spring is not distant," she replied, going quickly to comply with
the request.
"I can't understand the actions of ther red-skinned critter at all,"
he muttered to himself under his breath. "She am ther pootiest squaw I
ever sot my eyes on, and has saved my life and bin very good ter me.
I wonder ef she kin have taken er fancy ter me? Here she comes ergin,
and ef I hain't er fool, I'll find out what it all means, and ef she
would consent ter take pot-luck with er poor trapper like me, I shan't
be backward, fer ter tell ther truth I never saw er woman I sot so much
store by."
After the water had been drank and a brief conversation followed, the
scout stretched himself out for slumber, her last words being:
"I will watch until the pale chief sleeps soundly. Then I will go to
my wigwam, for I must not be missed from there. Should he wake he must
drink of this (pointing to a muckuc of birch bark) and when she comes
again all pain will have left him and he will be fit to take the trail."
"Wal Cloud, yer ther dearest and best Medicine I ever knew. Good-night."
She sat motionless for a long time, watching his face as intently as
a fond mother might have done a child. Then his heavy and regular
breathing convinced her that he was asleep. But she must be certain
beyond the shadow of a doubt before she could give way to the
promptings of her heart, and lighting a little strip of inflammable
bark she held it close to his eyes. No flinching of muscles or winking
of lids betray consciousness, and bending over him she breathed in the
softest of whispers as her lips touched his:
"Ne-ne-moosha, sweetheart, how much I love you!"
"And so do I you, Cloud!" replied the scout, who had been watching
her--"playin' 'possum," as he would have said--as he sprung up suddenly
and clasped her in his arms and returned her caresses with usurious
interest.
She tried to escape, but could not, had been fairly caught, and yielded
gracefully while the hunter continued in his rough but honest and warm,
great-hearted way to tell her of his affection.
"I knew I kinder liked yer," he said, as he twined his arm around and
drew her close to his side, "ther very fust time I ever sot my eyes on
yer, but I didn't know how much ontil I heard yer talkin' erbout ther
young brave. Then it all come ter me in er minit. Howsomever, it am
all right now, and jest as soon as I kin git out of this ar' infernal
scrape we'll travel to whar we kin build er wigwam and live in peace."
"The pale-face is a great chief, brave and handsome," she replied,
looking into his face with bashful confusion, though making no effort
to conceal either her great admiration or love.
"Wal, I don't know erbout ther handsome part," he replied with a laugh,
"but I do know you have become very dear ter me. And do yer love me so
much?"
"He has become the Manitou of her heart."
"That's lovin' most mighty well, Cloud. Give me ernuther kiss. I hain't
had er single one before since my poor mother kissed me, and that's
many er long year ergo."
"If any thing should happen to him she would die," she replied, with
tears gathering in her eyes as she reluctantly tore herself away and
prepared for departure.
But yet she lingered for a long time. She, both of them were learning
for the first time what bliss there was in loving, and it was not until
after the squaw had soothed her white lover into real slumber that
she turned her reluctant feet home. But once having started her speed
almost rivaled that of a deer.
Yet broken would have been her slumbers and her dreams far other than
the heaven of lovers, could she have been aware that the moment after
she had started, a dark, painted form crept out from the concealment of
the bushes, where every word must have been audible to him, and took
her place by the side of the sleeper.
It was the young brave who had sought to gain her love!
But his face told of another and far more deadly passion now, and
more than once his knife was raised to find a bloody sheath. Yet he
refrained from striking. His subtly-working brain was devising a far
more terrible vengeance--one that would strike terror into the heart of
the Burning Cloud as well. And yet the leaving of a scalp so easily to
be obtained, and one that would bring him so much of renown, was hard
for his nature--the most severe trial of his life thus far.
But might it not be that he could force the squaw to become his
wife--or at least bribe her to do so--the bribe being her lover's life?
It was as he conceived a brilliant idea, and drawing back without
staining his soul or his hands with murder, he left the sleeper to his
rest, and followed the girl to the wigwam--saw her--related what he had
seen, and attempted to carry out his plans.
But she laughed at him and his threats, and when he told the story to
the warriors, dared him to the proof.
"The morning will decide," he said, sullenly.
And decide it did. The warriors and the spy and the girl went to the
spot he designated, and found nothing of any such place of concealment
as he had described, but a torrent foaming through the rocky gorge that
bore no impress of ever having been in another place since creation!