THE FRIEND IN NEED.
While these lively scenes were taking place, Warren Starr was not idle.
The report of his gun was plainly heard by the other Sioux and the
captive, but the former took it for granted that it was fired by their
comrade, and calmly awaited his return with the news of the death of the
fugitive.
But as the reader has learned the boot was on the other leg. The youth
was unharmed, and his enemy was of no further account.
Actuated by the chivalrous wish to help Tim, he began cautiously picking
his way along the slope, at a considerable distance from the base,
peering forward and listening intently for sights and sounds that could
tell him how his companion had fared.
He had better fortune than he dared expect. The flickering of something
among the trees warned him that he was in a delicate position, and his
farther advance was with the utmost care, accompanied by glances on
every hand, to guard against walking into a trap.
Very soon he reached a point from which he saw all that was going on.
Tim was standing defiantly among the Sioux, who appeared to be
discussing the question of what to do with him. He identified Starcus,
and recognized also the hapless state of affairs.
Much as he regretted the conclusion, Warren Starr was forced, in spite
of himself, to see that it was out of his power to raise a finger to
help his friend. For one moment he meditated bringing his Winchester to
his shoulder and opening fire, but at the best he could not hope to
bring down more than two or three before the others would be upon him.
With no possible way of escape open, the situation of Tim would be worse
than before, for one of the first things done by the Sioux would be to
slay him on the spot, whereas they were now likely to spare him for a
time, and so long as he had life, so long did hope remain.
Warren would have been as eager to befriend the brave fellow as the
latter would have been to aid him; but, as we have said, there was no
dodging the fact that it was out of his power. What, therefore, should
he do for himself and the other loved ones for whom all this danger had
been incurred?
Where were that father, mother, and little sister? They might be in
equally sore distress, and longer delay on his part perhaps would decide
the question of life or death.
Stealthily withdrawing again, until well beyond sight of the group, he
began carefully descending the side of the ridge toward the open
prairie. In doing so, he avoided doubling on his own trail, for at any
moment some of the Sioux were liable to start out on a tour of
investigation, which would bring them face to face with him.
With all his senses on the alert, he threaded his way among the trees
and around the rocks and bowlders, until he stood on the base of the
elevation, with the broad plain, across which he and his friend had fled
in such desperate haste, stretching out before him for many miles.
But another sight interested him. Along the foot of the ridge were
scattered nearly a dozen Indian ponies, cropping as best they could the
grass, whose tops faintly showed above the thin coating of snow. Their
owners had abandoned them in their haste, without thought of securing
them to any of the limbs, confident that they would be found within
reach when wanted.
They were tough little animals, without saddle or bridle. The majority
had a blanket roughly secured over the back, with a thong about the
upper part of the neck, which was all that was needed to guide them
wherever their masters willed.
But there was one animal worth all the rest for whom the eyes of the
youth eagerly searched among the group, scattered at varying distances.
He would have given anything for a sight of his own Jack at that moment.
To his astonishment, he saw nothing of him. Through some unaccountable
cause, he had vanished as utterly as if he had never existed.
In the vain hope of discovering him, Warren glanced from one to the
other, until he had surveyed each one several times over. But there was
no mistake; Jack was invisible.
The fact caused him keen regret, but it would not do to tarry, with the
certainty that the Sioux would soon learn the truth and be after him
like a whirlwind. One or two of their ponies were almost as fleet as
Jack, and Warren was a good enough horseman to ride them as well as
their masters could without saddle.
Fixing his attention on the best looking animal, which happened also to
be the nearest, he moved briskly toward him, with the purpose of
bounding upon his back and dashing away; but his abruptness defeated his
intention. It frightened the pony, who with a snort threw up his head,
trotted several rods out on the prairie, and then turned and looked at
him.
The alarm of this animal communicated itself to the others, who also
hurriedly trotted beyond his reach.
The situation was critical. The action of the ponies was almost certain
to be heard by their owners a short distance off, and they would be
quickly on the spot. If they caught sight of the youth on foot trying to
steal one, his position would be far more hopeless than when among the
rocks and trees.
Seeing his mistake, Warren tried to right matters by a less abrupt
approach. He dropped to a slow walk, holding out his hand and uttering
soothing words. Had he done this at the beginning, he would have had no
trouble in capturing any horse he desired, but the animals identified
him as a stranger, and continued shy.
The finest, which he had sought first to catch, closely watched him as
he slowly approached, but at the very moment the heart of the youth was
beating high with hope, he swung his head around and trotted beyond
reach. Warren turned his attention to the one that was nearest, and by a
sudden dash aimed to catch his halter, one end of which was dangling in
the snow.
As he stooped to grasp the thong, it was whisked from under his hand,
and the pony galloped beyond his reach.
The bitter disappointment made Warren desperate. He had undertaken an
impossible task. He might succeed had more time been at his command, but
the Sioux were liable to appear any minute. It would not do for him to
be caught in this situation. He must abandon the attempt and get back
among the trees and rocks, where there remained the bare possibility of
eluding the red men.
"What the mischief has become of Jack?" he muttered, facing about and
breaking into a lope for the ridge. "If he were only in sight, he would
come to me at once. Hello! just what I feared!"
At that juncture he detected something moving among the trees. It was
not clearly seen, but not doubting that the Sioux were coming, he broke
into a run for cover, not daring to risk a shot until partial shelter
was secured.
In his affright he did not dare glance to the left even, and held his
breath in thrilling expectancy, certain that with every leap he took he
would be greeted by a volley, or that the Sioux would throw themselves
across his track to shut off all chance of escape.
That they did not do so was not only unaccountable to him, but gave him
the hope that possibly he might still elude them. Bending his head, he
ran with might and main. The distance was not great, but it seemed
tenfold greater than it was, and a slip of the foot, which came near
bringing him to his knees, filled his heart with despair and made him
certain that he would soon join Tim Brophy.
He heard his pursuers at his heels. Despite his own fleetness, they were
outspeeding him. Nothing could save him from being overtaken before
reaching the ridge.
Suddenly a peculiarity in the sound made by those at his rear caused him
abruptly to halt and look around.
Then, to his unbounded delight and amazement, he recognized his own
pony, Jack, striving hard to keep him company.