THE DREADFUL NIGHT
When Will came out of the lodge he witnessed such a scene as one might
have looked upon ten thousand years ago. The cold was bitter, but there
were many fires. Vast icicles hung from the slopes of the mountains,
glittering in the sun like gigantic spears. The trees were sheathed in
ice, and, when the wind shook the boughs, pieces fell like silver mail.
It was an icy world, narrow and enclosed, but it was a cheerful world
just the same.
The squaws were pounding the bear meat, much as the white housewife
would pound a steak, but with more vigor. Grizzly or any other kind of
big bear was exceedingly tough, even after treatment, but, in the last
resort, the Indians would eat it, and, despite their great stores of
ordinary food, Xingudan feared they would not last through the long and
bitter winter now promised.
The huge skins which had all the quality of fur were welcome. Will
believed the bears were not grizzlies, and later, when he heard of the
mighty Alaskan bears, he was sure of it. Great portions of the animals
could not be used, and, as Xingudan knew that the odor would draw the
fierce carnivora at night, he ordered it all carried to a point far up
the valley and dumped there. Then the night was filled with howlings as
the big wolves came down again and fought and ate.
Will listened with many a shudder as, heavily clothed and armed, he
helped to keep the guard about the village and the corral, and, as he
listened, he reverted by another great stage back into the primitive. He
was with his friends, those who had fought beside him, those who cared
for him, and those who looked upon him as a leader. For the present, at
least, he was content. His hours were full of useful labor, of
excitement, and of rewards. He knew that another of the great bearskins
would be placed in the lodge that belonged to himself and Inmutanka, and
that the best of the food would always be theirs if they were willing to
take it.
The most difficult of their tasks was to procure enough food for the
ponies, and they were continually turning up the snow in secluded
alcoves in search of it. Once the weather moderated considerably for a
week, and the snow melting in vast volume freshened all the grass and
foliage. Heavy and continuous rains for several days renewed much
vegetation, apparently dead in this secluded valley, and the ponies,
which were permitted to graze freely in the course of the day, although
they were driven back to the corral at night, regained much of their
lost flesh. The Indians also used this interval to gather and store much
forage for them.
With the cessation of the rain however, the fierce cold returned.
Everything froze up tight and fast again, and once more at night they
heard the fierce howlings of the wild beasts. The fires around the
corral were renewed and were never permitted to die, and it was
necessary also to keep them burning continually about the village. A
wolf stole in between the lodges, killed and carried off a little child.
He was trailed by Will, Roka, now his fast friend, and a young warrior
named Pehansan, the Crane, because of his extreme height and thinness.
But Pehansan's figure, despite its slenderness, was so tough that he
seemed able to endure anything, and on this expedition he was the
leader. They tracked the wolf up the mountain side, slew it with arrows
and recovered the body of the child, to which they gave proper burial,
thus making sure of the immortality of its soul.
The danger from the wild beasts remained. It was the theory of the old
and wise Xingudan that the pony herd drew them. The fierce winter made
the hunting bad, but the word had been passed on by wolves, mountain
lions and bears that a certain valley was filled with fine, toothsome
horses, little able to protect themselves, and all of the fierce
meat-eaters were coming to claim their share.
"We shall have to fight them until the spring," said the wise old chief,
"and since we have neither cartridges nor powder and lead, we must make
hundreds and hundreds of arrows."
This was hard and tedious labor, but nearly all in the village, who were
able, devoted most of their time to it. They used various kinds of
wood, scraping the shafts until they were perfectly round, and making on
every one three fine grooves which kept them from warping. The arrows
were of two different kinds, those for hunting and those for war. The
barb of the war arrow was short, and it was not fastened very tightly to
the shaft. When it struck the enemy, it would become detached and remain
in the wound, while the shaft fell away. A cruel device, but not worse
than has since been shown by highly civilized people in a universal war.
The head of the hunting arrow was longer, more tapering and it was
fastened securely. The people of the village made these in much greater
numbers than the war arrows, as they certainly expected no fighting with
men before the spring, and then they would procure ammunition for their
rifles. The Sioux were not good marksmen at long range, but they shot
their arrows with amazing swiftness. Will noted that a man holding a
dozen arrows in his left hand could fire them all in as many seconds,
and they could be discharged with such power that at very close range
one would pass entirely through the body of a buffalo.
While Will did not learn to shoot the arrows as fast as the Indians, he
was soon a better marksman at long range than anybody else in the
village. Then Xingudan gave him the most beautiful bow he had ever seen.
It was made of pieces of elkhorn that had been wrapped minutely and as
tightly as possible with the fresh intestines of a deer. When the
intestines dried the bow became to all purposes a single piece of
powerful horn, yet with the flexibility and elasticity that one horn did
not have. It was unbreakable, it did not suffer from weather, and it had
among the Sioux the same value that a jewel of great price has among
white people. Will knew that old Xingudan considered it a full
equivalent for his repeating rifle, revolver and field glasses that the
old chief kept in his lodge.
Will and the Crane, otherwise Pehansan, formed a warm friendship, and he
found a similar friend in Roka, the stalwart warrior who had come with
the order for his death by torture. Soon after he received the gift of
the great bow the three decided on a hunting expedition toward the upper
end of the valley, all traveling on snowshoes.
"Beware of the wild beasts, my son," said Inmutanka.
"We have heard nothing of them for a week past," said Will.
"The greater reason to expect them, because the word has been sent over
a thousand miles of snow fields that we are here to be eaten. I know you
are brave, watchful and quick, but take many arrows and see that Roka
and Pehansan do the same."
Will was gay and light of heart, but he obeyed the injunction of
Inmutanka and filled the quiver. He saw that Roka and Pehansan had an
abundance, also, and the three, wrapped in furs, departed on their
snowshoes. The Indians had not gone much toward the upper end of the
valley. The slopes were less precipitous there and the forest heavier,
giving better hiding for the great wild beasts, and hence making them
much more dangerous. But with his magnificent new bow on his shoulder
and his stout comrades beside him Will was not afraid.
The cold was less intense than it had been for some time and the
exercise of walking with the snowshoes gave them plenty of warmth. The
snow itself, which had now begun to soften at the surface, lay to a
depth of about three feet, hiding the river save where the Indians had
cut holes through ice and snow to capture fish.
Pehansan, an inveterate hunter who would willingly have passed a
thousand years of good life in such pursuits, had an idea that elk might
be found in some of the secluded alcoves to the north. His mind was full
of such thoughts, but Will, exhilarated by motion, was looking at the
mountain tops which, like vast white pillars, were supporting a sky of
glittering blue. He swept his hand in a wide gesture.
"It's a fit place up there for Manitou to live," he said.
"Beyond the blue the hunting grounds go on forever," said Pehansan.
"I can understand and appreciate your belief," said Will in his
enthusiasm. "Think of it, Pehansan, to be strong and young forever and
forever; never to know wounds or weariness; to hunt the game over
thousands and tens of thousands of miles; to find buffaloes and bears
and elk and moose twice, yes, three times as big as any here on earth;
to discover and cross rivers and lakes and seas and always to come back
safe! To sleep well every night and to wake every morning as keen for
the chase as ever! to have your friends with you always, and to strive
with them in the hunt in generous emulation! Aye, Pehansan, that would
be the life!"
"Some day I shall find the life of which you speak so well, Waditaka! A
happy death on the battlefield and lo! I have it!"
"Think you that the snow is now too soft to bear the weight of the
wolves?" asked Roka, breaking into plain prose.
"Not yet," replied Pehansan, the mighty hunter, "but it may be soon.
Hark to their howling on the slopes among the dwarf trees!"
Will heard a long, weird moaning sound, but he only laughed. It was the
voice of the great wolves, but they and the bears had been defeated so
often that he did not fear them. He swung the magnificent bow jauntily
and was more than willing to put it to deadly use.
As the bird flies, the valley might have had a length of twenty miles,
but following its curves it was nearer forty, and as the three had no
reason for haste they took their time, traveling over the river bed,
because it was free from obstruction. At noon they ate pemmican, and,
after a rest of a half hour, pushed on again. The valley at this point
was not more than two miles wide, and Pehansan had his eyes set on a
deep gorge to the left, where the cedars and pines sheltered from the
winds seemed to have grown to an uncommon size.
"May find elk in here, where snow is not deep. Best place to look. Don't
you think?" he said.
"I agree with you," replied Will.
"Pehansan speaks well," said Roka.
Then they left the river bed and, bearing away toward the west,
approached the gorge which Will could now see was very deep, and with a
comparatively easy slope. He had an idea that many of the great
carnivora came into the valley by this road, but he did not speak of it
to the other two.
About an hour after noon they came to the edge of the forest and
Pehansan, searching in the snow, found large tracks which were evidently
those of hoofs.
"Elk?" said Will, "and a big one, too, I suppose."
"No," replied Pehansan, "not elk. Something bigger."
"What can it be? Moose, then?"
"No, not moose. Bigger still!"
"I give it up. What is it?"
"A mountain buffalo, a bigger beast than those we find in the great
herds on the plains, which you know, Waditaka, are very big, too."
"Then this giant is ours. He has come in here for food and shelter, and
we ought not to have much trouble in finding him. Lead on, Pehansan, and
I'll get a chance to use this grand bow sooner than I had thought."
The tracks were deep sunken in the snow, but he was not yet expert
enough to tell their probable age.
"How old would you say they are, Pehansan?" he asked.
"Made to-day," replied the Indian, bending his glowing eyes upon the
trail. "Two, three hour ago. He not far away."
"Then he's ours. A big mountain buffalo fresh on the hoof will be
welcome in the village."
"Be careful about the snowshoes," said Roka. "The buffalo will be among
the trees and bushes and when we wound him he will charge. The snowshoes
must not become entangled."
Will knew that it was excellent advice and he resolved to be exceedingly
cautious. He could walk well on the snowshoes though he was not as
expert as the Indians, but he held himself steady and made no noise
among the bushes as they advanced, Pehansan leading, with Roka next.
"Very near now," whispered Pehansan, looking at the deep tracks, his
eyes still glowing. It was a great triumph to kill a mountain buffalo,
above all at such a time, and it was he, Pehansan, who led the way. If
the other two shared in the triumph so much the better. There was no
jealous streak in the Crane.
Pehansan knew also that the quest was not without danger. Wounded, the
buffalo could become very dangerous and on snowshoes, among the thick
bushes, it would be difficult for the hunters to evade the crashing
charges of that mighty beast.
He came to a wide and deep depression in the snow.
"He lie down here and rest a while," he said. "Just beyond he dig in the
snow for bunches of the sweet grass that grow here in summer and that
keep alive under the snow."
"Then he is not a half hour away," said Roka.
"Not more than that," said Pehansan. "We barely creep now."
Will began to feel excitement. He had killed big buffaloes before, but
then he had his repeating rifle, now he was to meet a monster of the
mountains only with the bow and arrow. Even in that moment he remembered
that man did not always have the bow and arrow. His primitive ancestors
were compelled to face not only buffaloes but the fierce carnivora with
the stone axe and nothing more.
The great trail rapidly grew fresher. Among the pines and cedars, the
snow was not more than a foot deep and the three hunters had much
difficulty in making their way noiselessly where the brush was so dense.
But the footprints were monstrous. The great hoofs had crushed down
through the snow, and had even bitten into the earth. Will had a curious
idea that it might not be a mountain buffalo, large as they grew, but
some primordial beast, a survivor of a prehistoric time, a mammoth or
mastodon, the pictures of which he recalled in his youthful geography.
If America itself had so long passed unknown to the white man, why could
not these vast animals also be still living, hidden in the secluded
valleys of the great Northwest?
Pehansan paused and turned upon the other two eyes that glowed from
internal fires. He, too, had been impressed by the enormous size of the
hoof prints, the largest that he had ever seen, but there was no fear,
nor even apprehension in his valiant soul.
"It is the king of them all," he said. "Pteha (the buffalo) in these
mountains has grown to twice the usual size, and attacked by cold and
hunger he has the temper of the grizzly bear. He is but a little
distance away, and we need rifles to go against him, but we do not turn
back! Do we, Roka? Do we, Waditaka?"
"We do not," whispered Roka.
"Not thinking of such a thing," whispered Will.
They pushed their way farther, crossed a small ravine and, resting a
moment or two on the other side, heard a puffing, a low sound but of
great volume.
"Pteha," whispered Pehansan.
"Among the cedars, scarce fifty yards away," said Roka. "Now suppose we
separate and approach from three points. It will give us a better chance
to plant our arrows in him, and he cannot charge more than one at a
time."
"Good tactics, Roka," whispered Will.
Roka, as the oldest, took the center, Pehansan turned to the right and
Will to the left. The white youth held his great elkhorn bow ready and
the quiver of arrows was over his shoulder, but, after the Sioux
fashion, he carried five or six also in his left hand that he might fire
them as quickly as one pulls the trigger of a repeating rifle. The
figures of Roka and Pehansan were hidden from him almost instantly by
the bushes and he went forward slowly, picking his dangerous way on the
snowshoes, his heart beating hard. He still had the feeling that he was
creeping upon a mammoth or mastodon, and the low puffing and blowing
increased in volume, indicating very clearly that it came from mighty
lungs.
The feeling that he had been thrown back into a distant past grew upon
Will. He was in the deep snow, armed only with bow and arrows, around
him were the huge, frozen mountains, desolate and awful in their
majesty, and before him, only a few yards away, was the great beast, the
puffings and blowings of which filled his ears. He fingered the elkhorn
bow and then recalled his steadiness and courage. A few steps farther
and he caught a glimpse of a vast hairy back. Evidently the animal was
lying down and it would give the hunters an advantage, as they could
fire at least one arrow apiece before it rose to its feet.
Another long, sliding step on the snowshoes and he saw more clearly the
beast, on its side in a great hollow it had made for itself in the snow.
But as he looked the huge bull lurched upward and charged toward the
right, from which point Pehansan was coming. Evidently a shift of the
wind had brought it the odor of the Crane, and it attacked at once with
all the ferocity of a mad elephant.
Will had a clear view of a vast body, great humped shoulders, and sharp,
crooked horns. But now that the danger had come his pulses ceased to
leap and hand and heart were steady. The arrow sang from the bow and
buried itself deep in the great bull's neck. Another and another
followed until a full dozen were gone, every one sunk to the feather in
the animal's body. Roka and Pehansan were firing at the same time,
sending in arrows with powerful arms and at such close range that not
one missed. They stood out all over his body and he streamed with
blood.
But the bull did not fall. No arrow had yet touched a vital spot.
Bellowing with pain and rage, he whirled, and catching sight of Will,
who was only a few yards away, charged. Pehansan and Roka uttered
warning shouts, and the youth, who in his enthusiasm had gone too near,
made a convulsive leap to one side. Had he been on hard ground and in
his moccasins he might easily have escaped that maddened rush, but the
long and delicate snowshoes caught in a bush, and he fell at full length
on his side. Then it was the very completeness of his fall that saved
him. The infuriated beast charged directly over him, trampling on the
point of one snowshoe and breaking it, but missing the foot. Will was
conscious of a huge black shape passing above him and of blood dripping
down on his body, but he was not hurt and he remembered to cling to his
bow.
The raging bull, feeling that he had missed his prey, turned and was
about to charge again. Will would not have been missed by him a second
time. The youth would have been cut to pieces as he struggled for his
balance, but Pehansan did a deed worthy of the bravest of the brave. Far
more agile on the snowshoes than Will, he thrust himself in front of the
animal, waved his bow and shouted to attract his attention. The bull,
uttering a mighty bellow, charged, but the brave Crane half leaped, half
glided aside, and his arrows thudded in the great rough neck as the
beast rushed by.
When the monster turned again, Will, although he was compelled to lean
against a bush for support, had drawn a fresh sheaf of arrows from the
quiver, and he sent them home in a stream. Roka from another point was
doing the same and Pehansan from a third place was discharging a volley.
The great beast, encircled by stinging death, threw up his head, uttered
a tremendous bellow of agony and despair and crashed to the earth, where
he breathed out his life.
Will, trembling from his exertions and limping from the broken snowshoe
approached cautiously, still viewing that huge, hairy form with wonder
and some apprehension. Nor were Roka and Pehansan free from the same
nervous strain and awe.
"What is it?" asked Will, "a mammoth or a mastodon?"
"Don't know mammoth and don't know mastodon," replied Pehansan, shaking
his head, "but do know it is the biggest of all animals my eyes have
ever seen."
"It is a woods or mountain buffalo that has far outgrown its kind, just
as there are giants among men," said Roka.
"If this were a man and he bore the same relation to his species he
would be thirteen or fourteen feet tall," said Will, his voice still
shaking a little. "Why, he'd make most elephants ashamed to be so puny
and small."
"He, too, like the bears, came out of the far North," said Pehansan.
"Maybe there is not another in the world like him."
"That hide of his is thick with arrows," said Will, "but in so big a
skin I don't think the arrow holes will amount to much. We ought to have
it. We must carry so grand a trophy back to the village to-night."
Roka shook his head.
"Not to-night," he said. "We three be strong, but we cannot move the
body of this mighty beast, and so we cannot take off the skin."
"I will go to the village and bring many people," said Pehansan.
Again the wise Roka shook his head.
"No," he said, "we three will stay by the bull. You are fast on your
snowshoes, Pehansan, and you can shoot your arrows swift, hard and true,
but you would never reach the village, which is many miles from here.
The fierce wild animals would devour you. We must clear the snow away as
fast as we can and build fires all about us. The beasts have already
scented the dead bull, and will come to eat him and us."
The shadows of the twilight were falling already, and they heard the
faint howls of the meat-eaters on the slopes. Will and his comrades,
taking off their snowshoes, worked with frantic energy, clearing away
the snow with their mittened hands, bringing vast quantities of the dead
wood, lighting several fires in a circle about the bull, and keeping
themselves, with the surplus wood, inside the circle. Then, while Will
fed the fires, Roka and Pehansan carefully cut the arrows out of the
body.
"We may need them all before morning," said Roka.
"It is so, if the growling be a true sign," said Pehansan.
The two warriors partly skinned the body and cut off great chunks of
meat, which they broiled over the fires, and all three ate. Meanwhile,
Will, bow and arrows ready, watched the bushes beyond the circle of
flame. If his situation had been nearly primitive in the day it was
wholly primitive at night. The mighty bull buffalo was to him truly a
mammoth, and beyond the circle of fire, which they dreaded most of all
things, the fierce carnivora were waiting to devour the hunters and
their giant prize alike. When a pair of green eyes came unusually near
Will fired an arrow at a point midway between them, and a terrific
howling and shrieking followed.
"It was one of the great wolves, I think," said Roka, "and your arrow
sped true. The others are devouring him now. Listen, you can hear his
big bones cracking!"
Will shuddered and threw more wood on the fires. What a blessed thing
fire was! It saved them from the freezing night and it saved them from
the teeth of the wild beasts, which he knew were gathering in a great
circle, mad with hunger. The flames leaped higher, and he caught
glimpses of dusky figures hovering among the bushes, wolves, bears and
he knew not what, because imagination was very lively within him then
and he had traveled back to a primordial time.
The night became very dark and the snow hardened again under the cold
that came with it. Will, crouched by one of the fires with his bow and
arrows ever ready in his hands, heard the sounds of heavy bodies, either
sinking into the snow or crushing their way through it. The wind rose
and cut like a knife. Despite his heavy buffalo robe overcoat he moved a
little closer to the fire, and Pehansan and Roka almost unconsciously
did the same. They were all sitting, and the great body of the slain
bull towered above them. The sound of the wind, as it swept through the
gorges, was ferocious like the growling of the beasts with which it
mingled.
"The spirits of evil are abroad to-night," said Roka. "The air is full
of them and they rush to destroy us, but Manitou has given us the fire
with which to defend us."
A long yell like that of a cat, but many times louder, came from a point
beyond and above them, where a tree of good size grew about fifty yards
away. Roka seized a piece of burning wood and held it aloft.
"It's a monstrous mountain lion stretched along a bough," he said. "Look
closely, Waditaka, and you will see. At a long distance you are the best
bowman of us all. Can you not reach him with an arrow from your great
elkhorn bow?"
"I think so," replied Will, concentrating his gaze until he could make
out clearly the outlines of the giant cat. "He's a monster of his kind.
All the animals in this region seem to be about twice the size of
ordinary types."
"But if the arrow touches the heart the big as well as the little will
fall."
"True, Roka, and while you hold that torch aloft I can mark the spot on
his yellowish hide beneath which his heart lies. Steady, now, don't let
the light waver and I think I can reach the place."
He fitted the arrow to the string, bent the great bow and let fly. The
arrow sang a moment through the air, and then it stood out, buried to
the feathers in the body of the lion. The wounded beast uttered a scream
so fierce that all three shuddered and drew a little closer together,
and then launched itself through the air like a projectile. It struck in
the snow somewhere, disappeared from their sight, and they heard
terrible sounds of growling and fighting.
"Your arrow went straight to its heart," said Roka. "The spring was its
last convulsion of the muscles and now the other beasts are fighting
over its body as they eat it."
"I don't care how soon this night is over," said Will. "All the
meat-eating wild beasts in the mountains must be gathering about us."
"It is not a time for sleep," said Roka gravely. "While Manitou has
given us the fire to serve as a wall around us, he tells us also that we
must watch every minute of the night with the bows and arrows always in
our hands, or we die."
"Aye," said Pehansan, "there is one that comes too near now!"
He sent an arrow slithering at a bulky figure dimly outlined not more
than ten yards away. At so short a distance a Sioux could shoot an arrow
with tremendous force, and there followed at once a roar of pain, a rush
of heavy feet, and a wild threshing among the bushes.
"I know not what beast it was," said Pehansan proudly, "but like the
other it will soon find a grave in the stomachs of the great wolves."
They did not see any more figures for an hour or two, but a dreadful
howling came from the great beasts, from every point in the complete
circle about them. The three watched closely, eager to speed more
arrows, but evidently the carnivora had taken temporary alarm and would
not come too near lest the flying death reach them again. Roka cut fresh
pieces from the buffalo and roasted them over one of the fires.
"Eat," he said to his comrades. "It is as wearing to watch and wait as
it is to march and fight. Eat, even if you are not hungry, that your
strength may be preserved."
Will, who at any other time would have found the meat of the bull too
tough before pounding, ate, and he ate, too, with an appetite, Roka and
Pehansan joining with vigor.
The odor of the cooking steak penetrated the darkness about them and
they heard the fierce growling of bears and the screaming of great cats.
Will was growing so much used to these terrible noises, he felt so much
confidence in their ring of fire that he laughed, and his laugh had a
light trace of mockery.
"Wouldn't they be glad to get at us?" he said, "and wouldn't they like
to sink their teeth in the giant bull here? Why, there's enough of him
to feed a whole gang of 'em!"
"But he'll feed our people down in the village," said Pehansan, who was
also in good spirits. "Still the wild beasts are coming nearer. It is
great luck that we have so much wood for the fires."
He and Will built the fires higher, while Roka sent two or three arrows
at the green or yellow eyes in the dark. The roars or fierce yells
showed that he had hit, and they heard the sound of heavy bodies being
threshed about in the dusk.
"We are not eaten but some of our enemies are," said Will. "It would be
a good plan, wouldn't it, to slay them whenever we can in order that
they may be food for one another?"
"It is wisely spoken," said Roka. "We will shoot whenever we see a
target, but we will never neglect the fires because they are more
important even than the arrows."
All through that dark, primordial night, in which they were carried
back, in effect, at least ten thousand years, they never relaxed the
watch for a moment. Now and then they sent arrows into the dusk,
sometimes missing and sometimes hitting, and the growling of the bears
and wolves and the screaming of the great cats was almost continuous.
The darkness seemed eternal, but at length, with infinite joy, they saw
the first pale streak of dawn over the eastern mountains.
"Now the fierce animals will withdraw farther into the forest," said
Roka. "Beyond the reach of our arrows they will be, but they will not
depart wholly."
"Someone must go to the village for help," said Will, "help not only for
us, but to take away two or three tons of this good meat. Why, the bull
looks even bigger this morning than he did last night. One of my
snowshoes is broken, but, if Pehansan will lend me his, I'll make the
trip."
"You will not," said Roka. "Despite your skill with the bow and arrow
you would be devoured before you had gone a mile. The fierce beasts
would be in waiting for you and you would no longer have a ring of fire
to protect you."
"Then what are we to do, Roka? We can't stay here forever within the
ring of fire, living on steaks cut from the bull."
"Waditaka has become a great young warrior and he thinks much. Few as
young as he is think as much as he does."
"I don't grasp your meaning, Roka."
"Perhaps it would be better to say that no one thinks of everything."
"I'm still astray."
"We'll call the people of the village to us."
"If you had the voice of old Stentor himself, of whom you never heard,
you couldn't reach the village, which you know is more than twenty miles
away."
"We will not call with our voices, Waditaka. Behold how clear the
morning comes! It is the light of bright winter and there is no light
brighter. The sun is rising over the mountains in a circle of burning
gold and all the heavens are filled with its rays."
"You're a poet, Roka. The spell has fallen upon you."
"Against the shining blaze of the sky the smallest object will show, and
a large object will be seen at a vast distance. Bring our blankets,
Pehansan, and we will spread them over the little fire here."
Will laughed at himself.
"The smoke signals!" he exclaimed. "How simple the plan and how foolish
I was not to think of it!"
"As I told you," said Roka, "one young warrior, no matter how wise,
cannot think of everything. We will talk not with our mouths but with
the blankets."
In this case the signals were quite simple. Pehansan passed the blanket
twice rapidly over the fire, allowing two great coils of smoke to ascend
high in the air, and then dissipate themselves there. After five minutes
he sent up the two smoky circles again. The signal meant "Come."
"We will soon see the answer," said Roka, "because they are anxious
about us and will be looking for a sign."
All three gazed in the direction of the village, the only point from
which the reply could be sent, and presently a circle of smoke, then
two, then three, rose there. Pehansan, in order to be sure, sent up the
two circles again, and the three promptly replied.
"It is enough," said Roka joyfully. "Now they will come in great force
on their snowshoes, and we will be saved with our huge prize."
They waited in the utmost confidence and at times Pehansan sent up the
two rings again to guide the relief band. But the people from the
village had a long distance to travel, and it was noon when they saw the
dark figures among the undergrowth and hailed them with joyous cries. At
least thirty had come, a few young warriors--there were few in the
village--but mostly old men, and the dauntless, wiry old squaws.
They exclaimed in wonder and admiration over the mighty beast the three
had killed, and among the bushes about the campfire they found great
skeletons, all eaten clean by the huge mountain wolves.
"Truly you were saved by fire," said old Xingudan, who had himself
headed the relieving party.
With so many to lift and pull they were able to remove the entire robe
from the giant buffalo, the finest skin that many of them had ever seen.
It was so vast that it was a cause of great wonder and admiration.
"It belongs," said Xingudan, "to Waditaka, Pehansan and Roka, the three
brave warriors who slew the buffalo."
"The three live in different lodges and they will have to pass it one to
another for use," said Inmutanka.
Will glanced at Roka, who understood him, and then he glanced at
Pehansan, who also understood him.
"It is the wish of the three of us," said the youth, "that this great
skin be accepted by the brave and wise Xingudan, whose knowledge and
skill have kept the village unhurt and happy under conditions that might
well have overcome any man."
A look of gratification, swift but deep, passed over the face of
Xingudan, but he declined the magnificent offer. Nevertheless the three
insisted, and old Inmutanka observed wisely that the skin should go only
in the lodge of the head chief. At last Xingudan accepted, and Will,
although he had not made the offer for that purpose, had a friend for
life.
The band began to cut up the vast body, which, when the flesh was well
pounded and softened by the squaws, would alone feed the village for
quite a period. The task could not be finished that day, but they built
such a ring of great fires for the night that the fierce carnivora did
not dare to come near. The next day they reached the village with the
great bull, carried in many sections.
Will's nerves had been attuned so highly during the terrible siege that
he collapsed to a certain extent after his return to the village, but he
suffered no loss of prestige because of it, as everybody believed that
he and his comrades had been besieged by evil spirits, and Pehansan and
Roka as well were compelled to take a long rest. He remained in the
lodge a whole day, and Inmutanka brought him the tenderest of food and
the juices of medicinal herbs to drink, telling him it was said on every
side that the prophecy had come true, and his craft and skill had saved
the village in the terrible winter.
The second day he was in the village, where the women and old men were
pounding and drying the flesh of the buffalo, but only the most skilful
were permitted to scrape the vast skin, which, when it was finally
cured, would make such an ornament as was never before seen in the lodge
of a Sioux chief. But Will, Pehansan and Roka were not allowed to have a
share in any work for a long time. They were three heroes who had fought
with demons and who had triumphed, and for a space they were looked upon
as demi-gods.
Nevertheless, they had their full share in the hunt. The wise old
Xingudan, backed by the equally wise old Inmutanka, forbade any
expeditions far from the village unless they were made in great force,
and their judgment was soon proved by the fact that many bears, wolves
and mountain lions of the greatest size were slain. Numerous fires,
however, made the region immediately about the lodges safe, and as the
river flowed almost at their feet the women could break the thick ice
and catch fish, without fear of the wild beasts.
It was during this interval that Will began to think again very much of
the faithful white friends whom he had lost, the redoubtable scout, the
whistling and cheerful Little Giant, and the brave and serious Brady.
Heraka had told him that they were dead, but he could not believe it. He
began to feel that he would see them again, and that they would renew
the great quest. He had preserved the map with care, but he had not
looked at it for a long time. Yet he remembered the lines upon it as
well as ever. As he had reflected before, if it were destroyed, he could
easily reproduce it from memory.
Then his three lost friends became vague again. The months that had
passed since his capture seemed years, and he was so far away from all
the paths of civilization that it was like being on another planet. He
had never yet learned exactly where he was, but he knew it must be in
the high mountains of the far north, and therefore toward the Pacific
coast.
Then all these memories and mental questions faded, as the life of the
village became absorbing again. Frightened herds of elk and moose,
evidently chased by the great carnivora or in search of food, came into
the valley and the Indians killed as many as they needed. They might
have killed more, but Xingudan forbade them.
"Let them take shelter here," he said, "and grow more numerous. It is
not to the interest of our people that the big deer should decrease in
numbers, and if we are wise we will let live that which we do not need
to eat."
They saw the wisdom of Xingudan's words and obeyed him. Perhaps there
was not another Indian village in all North America which had greater
plenty than Xingudan's in that winter, so long and terrible, in the
northern mountains. Big game was abundant, and fish could always be
obtained through holes in the thick ice that invariably covered the
river. Their greatest difficulty was in keeping the horses, but they met
the emergency. Not only did the horses dig under the snow with their
sharp feet, but the Indians themselves, with Will at their head,
uncovered or brought much forage for them.
Will understood why such sedulous care was bestowed upon the ponies,
which could be of little use among the great mountains. When spring was
fully come they would go eastward out of the mountains, and upon the
vast plains, where they would hunt the buffalo. Then he must escape.
Although he was an adopted Sioux, the son of Inmutanka, and had adapted
himself to the life of the village, where he was not unhappy, he felt at
times the call of his own people.
The call was especially strong when he was alone in the lodge, and the
snow was driving heavily outside. Then the faces of the scout, the
Little Giant and the beaver hunter appeared very clearly before him. His
place was with them, if they were still alive, and in the spring, when
the doors of ice that closed the valley were opened, he would go, if he
could.
But the spring was long in coming. Xingudan himself could not recall
when it had ever before been so late. But come at last it did, with
mighty rains, the sliding of avalanches, the breaking up of the ice,
floods in the river and countless torrents. When the waters subsided and
the slopes were clear of snow Xingudan talked of moving. The lodges were
struck and the whole village passed out of the valley. The tall youth,
dressed like the others and almost as brown as they, who had been known
among white people as Will Clarke, but whom the Indians called Waditaka,
wondered what the spring was going to bring to him, and he awaited the
future with intense curiosity and eagerness.
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| Transcriber's Note: |
| |
| Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the |
| original document have been preserved. |
| |
| Typographical errors corrected in the text: |
| |
| Page 14 hutner changed to hunter |
| Page 55 commisariat changed to commissariat |
| Page 166 wondered changed to wandered |
| Page 181 double-barrelled changed to double-barreled |
| Page 191 which added after "weapon with" |
| Page 266 Wll changed to Will |
| Page 325 Pahansan changed to Pehansan |
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End of Project Gutenberg's The Great Sioux Trail, by Joseph Altsheler