LEAVING THE RANCH.
Now that everything was ready, Mr. Starr felt anxious about the absent
Jared Plummer. He ought to have learned of the danger before this, and
should have been almost, if not quite, as prompt as Tim Brophy in
hastening to the house. His continued absence gave ground for fear that
harm had befallen him, but his friends were powerless to give him help.
"It won't do to wait," remarked the rancher gravely, "and he will be as
able to do without as with us."
"Why not lave a missage for him?" asked Tim.
"The idea is a good one," replied Mr. Starr, who, sitting down,
hurriedly penned the following upon a slip of paper, and pinned it on
the front door of the dwelling, where it was sure to catch the eye of
the absent one in the event of his return:
TO JARED PLUMMER:
The presence of the Sioux, and the certainty that they will attack
the ranch before long, leave no choice for us but to flee at once.
I have waited as long as I dare. We shall take a south-west course
and will aim to reach Fort Meade. Follow as soon as you can, and we
will look out for each other; but give your thoughts and energies
to taking care of yourself. More than likely we shall not see each
other until we meet at the post, if it be God's will that we shall
safely arrive there.
GEORGE STARR.
Little Dot watched her father with great interest while he was fastening
this piece of paper to the door of their home.
"What's that for, papa?" she asked.
"It is something for Mr. Plummer to read when he comes back."
"Don't you want anyone else to read it?"
"Of course not," replied the parent with a smile, lovingly patting the
chubby cheek.
"But if the bad Indians you and mamma have been talking about come here,
they will read it too."
The father started. He had not thought of that. The next moment,
however, he laughed.
"The Indians don't know how to read writing or print, so it won't do
them any good."
"But Starcus can read as well as anybody."
"He has been to school and learned, and then he is a good Indian, too,
and I wouldn't care if he did read it."
"But maybe he will become bad like the other Indians," persisted the
child.
The husband looked significantly at his wife, who was also watching his
actions and listening to the conversation. She replied with a motion of
the head, which said there might be something in the words of the little
one.
Starcus was a young Indian that had been attending the Carlisle school
for a couple of years, and had acquired a fair English education, being
able to read, write, and talk intelligently. He had called at the house
several times, and interested the family by his pleasing ways and kind
words.
He remarked on his last visit, some weeks before, that he was likely to
remain some time with his people, and possibly would not return again
to the East. Many things were more unlikely than that he would be
carried away by the craze that was affecting his tribe, and become one
of the most ferocious foes of the Caucasian race.
"Tim," said Mr. Starr, turning to the Irishman, "did you notice whether
he was among the group you saw?"
"I didn't observe him, but they were fixed out in war-paint and toggery
so that I wouldn't have knowed the gintleman onless I was inthrodooced
to the same. Thin, too, he might have been one of the spalpeens who were
stampeding the cattle."
"Well, there's no use in thinking of that; we must take the chances; the
Sioux will find out what course we follow without asking anyone to
translate this message for them."
Mrs. Starr caught the arm of her husband, and as he turned he noticed
that her face was pale with emotion.
"What is it, wife?" he asked in alarm.
"Warren," she replied in a whisper.
"What about him?"
"This is the day he said he would leave the fort for home; he must be on
the way now; unless he is warned he will ride to his death without
suspecting it."
The father forgot their own danger for the moment in his alarm for his
son. It took but a few minutes to act upon the plan of which the reader
has learned long since. Another letter was pencilled and secured to the
collar of Bruno, whose instructions were so minute that they would have
been ludicrous, but for their warrant in the wonderful intelligence of
the animal. The hound sped away like an arrow from the bow, and the
faithfulness with which he did his work need not be retold.
There was no call for further delay. Mr. Starr mounted his fine animal,
armed with Winchester and revolver, after he had assisted his wife upon
another horse and placed Dot in front of her. The mother was a superior
horsewoman, and this arrangement was intended to leave the husband free
to act without hinderance, in the event of an emergency. Tim Brophy was
equally at liberty, and with the pack animal well laden the party left
the home, each oppressed by a great fear that they would not only never
look upon it again, but would probably be struck down before reaching
the nearest point of safety, many miles away, at the base of the Black
Hills.
More than one eye anxiously turned toward the elevation, beyond which
Tim Brophy had seen the bucks listening to the impassioned harangue of
their leader, and the relief was not great when they rode over another
swell in the plain, which shut them out from the sight of any of the
serpent-eyed Sioux concealed there; for there could be no certainty that
the fugitives had not been observed by them. It was not the custom of
their people to attack openly; more likely they would set some ambush
into which the whites might ride with no thought of danger.
But in one sense the Rubicon was crossed. They had turned their backs on
the ranch, and it was to be dismissed from their thoughts until they
should reach some place of safety.
There was little said by any member of the party, for the occasion was
not one to induce conversation. Even little Dot was oppressed by the
general gloom, and nestled close to her mother, whose arm lovingly
encircled and held her close to her breast, which would gladly receive
any blow intended for that precious one.
Tim Brophy remained a brief distance at the rear, with the pack animal,
on the alert for the first sign of danger, while Mr. Starr gave his
attention to the front, selecting the course, and doing all in his power
to avoid leading his companions into danger.
When, however, a half mile had been passed, during which several ridges
were crossed, a feeling of hope arose that after all they might elude
their vengeful enemies. With the coming of night, it would be impossible
for the Sioux to trail them. They must wait until the following morning,
and before that time the fugitives ought to be so near Fort Meade that
the pursuit would be in vain.
It was a striking proof of parental affection that now, when the cloud
was partly lifted from the father and mother, their anxiety should be
transferred to the absent son on his way to join them. He was in the
minds of both, and despite his exceptional skill in woodcraft, the
conviction grew upon the parents that he was in greater peril than they.
Finally, the mother uttered the thoughts in her mind.
"I agree with you, Molly," the husband replied. "Bruno will do his best,
but I believe the chances are a hundred to one that he will fail, and
Warren will ride straight to his death."
"Can't we do something, George?"
The husband turned his head, and beckoned to his employe to ride up
between them.
"Tim, you know the regular trail to the fort as well as the way to your
own bedroom. I want you to set out to meet Warren, and prevent his
running into the hands of the Sioux."
"Whin would ye like me to start?"
"Now."
"I'm riddy and waiting to ride to me death for the boy, if nade be."