THE STAMPEDE
"What is this, brother?" whispered Tawannears beside me.
I explained, and Kachina and Peter rolled closer to listen.
"Wah!" gasped the girl, when I had finished. "This god Hawenneyu is
a great god! He has sent the horse to aid us to escape."
"How can that be?" I answered her peevishly. "We lie here bound and
helpless. If the whole herd came and waited next the stallion we
could not use them."
"Nevertheless, it is good medicine," insisted Tawannears. "My heart
grows strong again."
"_Ja_," agreed Peter with more interest than he usually exhibited.
"We hafe der middle of an egscape. If we get der first part----"
Sunkawakan-kedeshka's silken ears shot forward across my face. I
heard the padding of moccasined feet.
"The herd-guard!" I exclaimed. "Remember, I am crying out in fear.
The stallion is biting me."
And straightway I gave vent to a series of fearsome shrieks, at which
the spotted stallion drew back in amazement, unable to understand the
antics of the man he considered his friend. The youthful herdsman
broke into a run, and Tawannears hailed him in a mixture of Dakota
and Comanche phrases:
"Come quickly! Is this the way to treat captives? The horse is
biting my white brother!"
The Comanche laughed, peering through the starlit darkness, and I
noted with interest that as soon as he identified the horse he
approached with marked caution.
"The spotted horse will give him an easier death than our warriors at
the torture-stake," he exulted. "What are teeth and hoofs to the
knife and fire? If I leave the horse he will soon make an end of the
Taivo.* But to-morrow will tell another story. The Taivo will
linger for hours, begging for the hatchet."
* White man.
"They say your father would dress you in women's garb and beat you
with switches if any harm came to the Taivo before the Council
decided his fate," said Tawannears sternly. "Mount the horse and
ride him away."
"Mount the spotted horse!" returned the boy with derision. "Never!
Not one of our warriors has been able to back him since we raided him
from the Teton."
"No, for they are Comanches," sneered Tawannears.
The boy dealt him a lusty kick in the ribs, and drove off the
stallion with thrusts of the light lance he carried. Hoofs sawing
and teeth flashing, Sunkawakan-kedeshka gave me one look of regret,
emitted a whinny of hurt inquiry and faded into the darkness.
"What do you mean, Peter, by the middle of an escape?" I whispered
curiously as soon as the herd-guard was out of hearing.
"Der first part," answered the Dutchman, "is getting off der thongs.
Dot we hafe to do. Der middle part is finding a way to leafe der
village. Dot we hafe in der horse----"
"How?" demanded Tawannears.
"He is a king of horses," returned Peter placidly. "Hafe you forgot
der lidtle band of mares he ledt at Nadoweiswe's village? What he
does, der herd will do."
"'Tis true," I assented eagerly. "With him to aid us we could
stampede the herd."
"But why talk of such things when we are helpless?" was Tawannears'
gloomy comment.
"We are not helpless," interrupted Kachina.
She rolled herself over and over until she lay on her stomach close
to Tawannears.
"The warrior who bound my wrists did not tie them so tight as yours,"
she explained. "I smiled at him, and I think he means to ask the
Comanche chief to let him take me into his teepee--the ant! If he
did I would kill him with his own knife. If your teeth are sharp as
mine you can gnaw the knots loose. Then I will free the rest of you."
And as Tawannears hesitated in bewilderment at her suggestion, she
continued:
"Hurry! The eagles are singing of victory in the sky. They say we
shall defy the Comanche."
"Yes, yes," I pleaded. "Make haste, brother. The herd-guards may
come again."
So Tawannears rolled himself into a position where he could bring his
strong teeth--the teeth of a barbarian, exempt from white man's
ills--to bear upon the girl's knotted wrists, triced in the small of
her back just above the hips. And whilst he labored at the tough
hide thongs, Peter and I kept watch for the return of the adolescent.
Had he come we planned to give warning, and Kachina and Tawannears
would have resumed their customary attitudes but we saw no more of
him. I think he and his friends were taking turns sneaking into the
village to listen outside the Council teepee to the debate of the
warriors on our fate, and this meant more work for those watching the
grazing horses. For twice I heard the distant whinny of
Sunkawakan-kedeshka, evidently challenging my attention, and I
suspect it required one boy's vigilance to restrict his wanderings,
alone.
Time dragged slowly, and the Seneca's lips became slippery with blood
from his torn gums. I took his place, and when I was worn out,
Peter's heavy jaws assumed the burden. 'Twas he wrenched the last
knot loose; but several moments passed before Kachina was able to
restore the circulation in her hands. Then she unbound her ankles,
and without waiting to rub her feet back to life, fell to upon our
lashings. In ten minutes we were all four free, crawling--we could
not have walked had we tried--toward the herd.
Our plan was simple. It had to be. We advanced until we could
descry the figures of two of the herd-guards against the faint
starlight, unkempt, naked striplings, lances wandlike in their right
hands. On this, the village side, the task was easier, and so most
of the guards were on the flanks and opposite to our position.
Beyond the two guards was the restless mass of horses, some hundreds
of them, grazing, fighting, rolling, sleeping.
Tawannears and I stripped off our shirts and breeches, and so assumed
the general aspect of Comanche warriors, crawled back a short
distance and then ran forward openly, as though we were carrying a
message from the village. The two guards heard the patter of our
moccasins and rode in to meet us, quite guileless, probably taking us
for certain of their comrades. When they called to us, we answered
with grunts, puffing mightily. They never suspected us. I was
beside my man, had one hand on his thigh, before he guessed aught was
wrong, and as he opened his mouth to cry a warning I had him by the
throat and throttled the life out of him. His cry was no more than a
gurgle in the night. Tawannears was even more expeditious.
To our left we heard another pair of guards talking together. They
may have detected the choked cry of the one I killed. At any rate,
we could not afford to pause to establish a plan for meeting them.
Tawannears softly called up Kachina and Peter, and I rode into the
herd, whistling for Sunkawakan-kedeshka. He answered me at once. A
long-drawn-out whinny of delight, and he battered his way to my side
with flying hoofs. I swung from the herd-guard's horse to his back,
and trotted over to my friends.
"Quick, brother!" hissed Tawannears.
He pointed at two mounted figures that loomed perilously close. One
of them hailed at that moment, mistaking me for a brother guard. I
growled something indistinct in my throat, and heaved Kachina up in
front of me, holding her in my arms and twisting my fingers in the
stallion's mane in place of reins. He did not tremble under the
extra weight, only tossed his head and wickered--much to my
gratitude, for I was by no means sure how he would regard a double
load, and I could not leave the girl by herself, considering she had
never ridden before, nor to one of the others who were scarcely less
ignorant of horsemanship.
Tawannears and Peter climbed gingerly on the horses of the slain
guards, and we plunged into the center of the herd.
"_Ha-yah-yah-yaaaa-aaa-aa-ah-hhh-yeeee-eee-ee!_"
The war-whoop of the Long House split the silence of the night. I
excited Sunkawakan-kedeshka to a frenzy. Tawannears and Peter thrust
right and left with their captured lances. Half-tamed at best, these
horses were restless of all restraint, and they reacted immediately
to the turmoil. A shrill scream from the spotted stallion produced a
chorus of responses. Mares fought to reach his side. Other
stallions fought to keep them away. The herd went wild. Kicking,
biting, neighing, screaming, it smashed aside the efforts of the herd
guards to stop it and pelted southeast into the open prairie.
And in the midst of it my comrades swayed in their seats, in danger
at any instant of being knocked to the ground. And Kachina and I
clung desperately to the bare back of the stallion, his great muscles
lifting him along at a stride which soon placed him in the fore of
the stampede.
I saw one boy go down in the path of the mad rush, he and his mount
trampled to a pulp. Others rode wide, shouting the alarm. The
village behind us rocked to the thunder of hoofs; a cry of dismay
rose to the stars that blinked in the dim vault overhead. Then
teepees, herd-guards, warriors, trees and river were gone in the
darkness. We were alone with our plunder on the prairie, all around
us tossing heads and manes, flirting hoofs, lean barrels stretched
close to the ground, tails flicking the grass-tips.
Mile after mile, the cavalcade pounded on, and I knew the discomforts
my comrades must be suffering. But I could not stop. Nobody could
have stopped that wild flight. I doubt if I could have stopped the
spotted stallion in the first hour. All I could do was to grip him
tight with my knees, cling to Kachina and pray he and his fellows
would pick fair ground in the darkness.
It was near dawn when I judged there was a chance of success to stay
the herd. I began with the stallion, calming him, soothing his
nerves, and gradually, my influence extended to the horses
surrounding him, mostly his attendant mares, as well as a few colts.
No foals could have kept up with our rush. In fact, we had been
dropping horses by the way for three hours or more. Those that were
left were the hardiest, and their eyes were bloodshot, their flanks
wet with foam, their lungs bursting. I slowed the troop to a canter,
to a trot, Tawannears and Peters seconding me as well as they could.
Finally, we pulled them to a walk, and induced them to graze.
I felt safe enough. We had traveled at a terrible pace, and the
Comanche had no means of keeping up with us. Also, we were all
exhausted, and I had designs for making use of our plunder which made
me unwilling to founder the herd. So we sought shelter in a grove of
trees, driving in there the stallion's immediate following, and
permitting the other horses to graze at will, whilst we four slept
through the forenoon.
Upon awaking, we killed a colt for food, taking pains to dispatch him
in a part of the wood down-wind from his kind, and after eating I put
into effect the plan I had designed to cover our future trail.
Tawannears, Peter and I cut out of the ruck of the herd a score of
the choicest ponies, which we drove into the wood to join
Sunkawakan-kedeshka's cohort, guarded for the time being by Kachina.
And this being done, we chased the remainder south, frightening them
with bunches of burning grass. If the Comanches or others picked up
our trail now they would be much more likely to follow the larger
body, as was evidenced by the area of hoof-prints, and we might
continue undisturbed upon our eastward journey, with a quantity of
superfluous horseflesh to trade for weapons or food, besides a
provision of mounts for ourselves to expedite our progress.
We left the grove at sunset and rode at a leisurely pace until the
stars told us it was midnight, camping in the open close to a rivulet
where there was ample grass and water for the horses. The next day
we traveled as far as a second grove of trees on the banks of a
considerable stream, which we concluded was the river we had followed
eastward from the base of the Sky Mountains, and we made a halt of
two days here to rest the herd and determine in our minds what our
next step should be. I was all for continuing as we were, but
Tawannears and Peter held that our wisest course was to cross the
river and head north to the Dakota country, where we should be among
friends and might be able to rely upon an escort to the Mississippi.
But, as usual, fate intervened, and relieved us of the burden of the
decision.
We were arguing back and forth on the afternoon of the second day,
the horses grazing in the confines of the grove under the supervision
of Kachina, who, with a little practice, had become as skilled a
herd-guard as a shepherdess of turkeys, when we were disturbed by a
call from her. She beckoned us to the bluff above the river.
"Strange people over there," she said, pointing.
The stream here was not more than a hundred or two hundred yards wide
and in the clear air we could see the newcomers distinctly. They
were plainly a returning war-party, travel-stained, badly cut-up, the
worse for their adventures. Of sixty or more warriors within view
ten or a dozen bore evidence of wounds. Their lances were broken.
Their buffalo-hide shields were cut and hacked. But their horses
were in the saddest plight of all. One lay down and died as we
looked. Others could never move from where they stood.
Tawannears' eyes gleamed.
"Here is fresh favor from Hawenneyu," he exclaimed.
"How so!" I demanded.
"These people need horses. We need arms. We will make a trade with
them."
"They look like very bad people," objected Kachina.
And in all truth, they were an evil group of swart, thick-set,
cruel-visaged savages.
"No matter," asserted the Seneca. "They are on the far side of the
stream from us. We will see that they stay there until we have
finished our business with them. Otetiani and Tawannears will ride
across and talk to their chief, and Gahano and Peter must move
briskly about the wood to appear a numerous band. Lead the horses
around where they can be seen. Call to one another. Walk about
where they can see a part of you. We shall fool them. Their need is
bitter."
None of us was disposed to argue with him, for if the need of the
strange savages was bitter, ours was no less so. We had two lances
wherewith to hunt and to defend ourselves, not even a knife amongst
the four of us. Weapons we must have to dare traverse this
tremendous sweep of open country, roamed by the most predacious
Indians on the continent.
I whistled up the spotted stallion and one of his mares, and
Tawannears and I mounted and rose forth from the trees, making a
great play as we came into the open on the river bank of handing over
our lances and other dummy weapons to Peter, who straightway marched
back into the wood. We also pretended to shout orders to different
points along the bank, and the Dutchman and Kachina whooped the
answers to us or responded with whistle-signals. The band on the
opposite bank had dragged themselves to their feet, and stared
sullenly at us as we splashed into the shallows, and with upraised
arms signaling peace.
"They look much stouter than any tribe we have seen," I remarked.
"Why, they wear body-armor, cuirasses of buffalo-hide. There is one
who has an arrow still sticking under his arm."
Tawannears frowned.
"Kachina was right," he said. "These are bad people. I remember
now. They are the Tonkawa."*
* Literal meaning--"They-all-stay-together."
"Who are they!" I asked.
We were not yet within earshot of them as they clustered on the bank.
"Chatanskah often told Tawannears of them when I first dwelt with
Corlaer in his teepee years ago. They are the scourge of the plains.
They have no home, but go wherever they please, hunting and killing.
Their hands are raised against all other people's. They have no
allies, no brothers. They make no treaties. They never receive
ambassadors. They are ravaging one year in the Spanish countries in
the South, or matching lances with the Apache; and the year after
they strike the Dakota or the Cheyenne. They are like the wolf-pack.
They never abandon their prey, and you must kill all before they
abandon an attack. Their favorite food is human flesh."
I shuddered, eying askance the bestial visages lowering on the bank,
faces as depraved, if more intelligent, than those of the Awataba.
"And we are to bargain with these!" I exclaimed.
"We must, brother. They are great warriors. If we yield to them
they will think we fear them, and they will pursue us. Our horses
would be bait enough. No, we have come so far, and we cannot draw
back. We must carry it with a high hand. Be bold. Scowl at them.
Show contempt. We have them at our mercy, but it is not convenient
for us to attack. That is our position."
We kicked our horses up the slope of the bank, and drew rein in the
midst of the half-circle of Tonkawa warriors. Not a weapon was
displayed, for that would have been a gross violation of Indian
etiquette, and even these freebooters respected the fundamental
precepts of the race to some extent. But we were subtly made to feel
that every man there itched to twist his knife in our hearts.
I found myself drawing back my lips from my teeth in an animalistic
snarl of reciprocal hatred as Tawannears thrust out his two hands
with the forefingers crossed at right angles, the figure in the
universal sign-language for the desire to trade. When a young
warrior tried to crowd his horse closer I touched Sunkawakan-kedeshka
with my heel, and the spotted stallion shoved the offender off the
bank. The youngster scrambled up again, a murderous look on his
face, but the Tonkawa chief, a broad-shouldered giant of a man,
wearing the hide cuirass and a feathered helmet, spat out a guttural
order which curbed the tide of hatred.
"What do you want?" he demanded roughly in the broken jargon of
Comanche, which passed for the trade language of the plains.