IN THE FRINGE OF THE WOODS.
Fully realizing the mistake he had made in waiting, the rancher now did
his best to improve the precious time at his disposal.
His own pony had remained obediently near his companion, while the brush
was going on between his master and the Sioux on the other side of the
stream. The former hastily climbed into the saddle, and taking the reins
in hand, looked at his wife.
"Are you ready, Molly?"
"I have been for a long time."
"Come on; keep close to me."
He spoke briskly to his horse, who broke into a swift gallop, which was
imitated so promptly by the other that the couple advanced abreast
toward the wooded section. It was no time for conversation, and the
progress continued in silence.
The snow was now falling thick and fast, and the gloom had deepened to
that extent that they could not see objects more than a hundred feet
away. Both wife and husband continually glanced behind them, for they
were almost certain that the red men were in the act of crossing the
stream at the moment the start was made, and could not be far to the
rear.
True, the fugitives had much in their favor. The keen eyes of the
pursuers could detect their trail in the snowy ground, but not for long.
By and by they might trace it only by dropping down from their ponies
and using the sense of feeling. This would compel them to proceed
carefully, and hold them well to the rear while the whites were using
the occasion to the utmost, and continually gaining ground. Had the
route to Fort Meade been level and unobstructed, they could have asked
nothing more favorable. They would have forced their ponies to the
utmost, and by the time the sun rose the vengeful red men would be
placed hopelessly behind.
The straining vision saw nothing but the darkness and snow in the
direction of the stream already crossed, but they could never feel
relieved of the dreadful fear until safely within the military post of
the Black Hills.
"Oh, papa, I see a horse!" was the startling exclamation of Dot, whom
her mother had supposed, because of her stillness and immobility, to be
asleep.
"Where?" demanded her father, grasping his Winchester and looking
affrightedly around.
"Not there," replied the child with a laugh, working her arm out of its
environments, and pointing ahead.
A solitary animal was observed standing as motionless as a statue a
short distance in advance. Apprehensive of some trap by the Indians, the
father brought his pony to a sudden stop, his wife instantly imitating
him, and both peered ahead at the strange form.
They could see no rider, though there was something on the animal's
back, which might have been a warrior lying flat, so as to protect his
body from the rifle of the white man, or, what was equally probable, the
owner was standing on the ground hidden by the horse, and awaiting his
chance to send in a fatal shot.
"What's the matter?" asked Dot, puzzled by the action of her parents.
"S-h! We are afraid a bad Indian is there."
"Why, can't you see that's Jerry?"
Jerry was the name of the pack pony.
"Of course it is. Why didn't we think of it?" asked the father the next
moment, relieved beyond measure by the discovery.
Jerry seemed to be of the opinion that it was the place of his friends
to make the advances, for he did not stir until they rode up beside him.
The lazy fellow was found with his load intact. He had been given all
the time he could ask for his journey to this point, and evidently was a
little sulky over the treatment received at the hands, or rather the
foot, of his master, for his head had to be jerked several times before
he faced about, and then it required more vigorous treatment to force
him into a lazy gallop.
Luckily, the greater part of the plain had been crossed before this
reunion took place, and the party had not gone far when the rancher
allowed the animals to drop to a walk. In front loomed a dark mass,
which he recognized as the fringe of the wood observed from the bank of
the stream behind them. Through this it was necessary to thread their
way with extreme care, owing to the darkness and their unfamiliarity
with the ground.
Upon reaching the edge of the wood the fugitives came to a stand-still.
Slipping from his saddle, the rancher brushed away the snow at his feet
and pressed his ear against the ground.
"I can hear nothing of them," he remarked, resuming the upright posture;
"I am quite hopeful that that party will molest us no more."
"It won't do to count on it," were the wise words of his wife.
"I think you had better dismount and lead your pony," said the rancher;
"we can mount again when through the wood; there will be less danger
from the trees and limbs, and you and Dot must be cramped from sitting
so long."
He helped them to the ground. It was a relief indeed to both, for they
had kept their places on the back of the horse for a number of hours.
Dot yawned, stretched her limbs, and felt as though nothing would
delight her so much as a frolic in the snow. The thoughtful mother had
provided her not only with thick, strong shoes, but with heavy
stockings, leggings, and warm clothing, with which she was well
protected against the storm that was impending when they left their
home.
Nothing could have better shown the childish innocence of her nature
than her action in slyly removing her mittens, stooping down, packing a
wad of snow with her hands and flinging it against her father's face,
with a merry laugh.
"Gracious, Dot! how you startled me!" he said, looking around at her.
"Did I hurt you?"
"No; but don't speak or laugh so loud, for some of the bad Indians may
be near."
"I forgot about that, but I'm going to hit Jerry, for he is so lazy he
needs it."
And the indolent animal received a tiny whack from the snowy missile
projected by the chubby hand of the child. He seemed to think, however,
that it was no more than a snowflake, for he did not give even an extra
wink of the eye.
The delay was only momentary, when the rancher, with one hand grasping
the bridle-rein and the other parting the limbs and bushes in front,
began groping his way through the growth of timber, where it was so dark
that everyone's eyes were practically useless.
Directly behind the horse walked Dot, with her mother next, leading her
pony, and the pack-horse bringing up the rear.
Ten minutes of this cautious progress and the leader checked himself
with an impatient expression.
"What is it?" called the wife, in a guarded voice.
"Another stream of water."
"Do you know anything about it?"
"Nothing; I came near tumbling into it, with Dick on top of me; if he
hadn't scented it first I would have done so."
"What is to be done?" asked Mrs. Starr, as grievously disappointed as
her husband.
"I'm blessed if I know; it may be half a mile deep and ten miles across,
with a perpendicular bluff a thousand feet high on the other side."
Leaving her pony, the wife took the hand of Dot and joined him where he
had halted on the edge of the unknown stream.
"I've made up my mind that we shall do one thing right away," he
remarked decisively.
"What's that?"
"Eat supper while we have the chance; Jerry is on hand with the
provisions, and he may be somewhere else in the morning."
"I'm glad of that," said the happy Dot, "for I'm awfuller hungry than I
ever was in all my life."
"Then supper it is."