THE LONE HORSEMAN.
The young rancher had calculated matters closely, for hardly was he in
the saddle when the foremost of the running Sioux halted, raised his
gun, and fired. He was nigh enough to make his shot dangerous, though
providentially it did no ill.
It was an inviting chance for Warren to return the fire with the best
prospect of doing so effectively. But he had no disposition to slay any
one of the hostiles. His singular experience with Starcus had a
softening effect, and he was resolved to attempt no injury against the
men unless compelled to do it in actual self-defence.
Jack, being put to his best paces, quickly carried him beyond any
further peril, and when far enough to feel safe he checked the pony and
looked back.
He saw half a dozen Sioux gathered around the wounded Starcus,
evidently in conversation. Being strong in his lower limbs, and with his
wounded arm bandaged as well as it could be, he required no attention or
help from them. After all, knowing the buck had been a close friend of
the young rancher, they must have seen nothing remarkable in the mercy
that had been shown to him. White men are as capable of meanness and
cruelty as the Indians, but few of them disregard the laws of honorable
warfare, and still fewer are deaf to the cry of a hapless foe.
A few minutes later the group moved slowly back in the direction of the
ridge. A couple, however, drew off, and began a more systematic hunt of
the ponies that had shown such a fondness for their freedom. They
managed matters with such skill that they soon coaxed a couple of the
fleetest back to captivity. With the aid of these they soon corralled
the others, and the party gathered with their animals at the base of the
ridge.
Warren Starr remained at a safe distance for the greater part of an
hour, in the hope of learning something of the intentions of the Sioux.
But they gave no sign that he could understand. The ponies were in plain
sight near the trees, and he caught glimpses of their owners moving back
and forth, but nothing could be learned as to what it all meant.
He now debated what he should next do. He was free, well mounted, and at
liberty to follow his own judgment.
His immediate anxiety was concerning Tim Brophy. He knew he was in the
most perilous strait of his life; Warren's parents might be as badly
situated, but he had no knowledge of the fact. He therefore hoped for
the best concerning them. But if there was any way of helping his friend
it was beyond his power to discover it. He was a prisoner in the hands
of a dozen watchful and treacherous Sioux, who were not likely to give
him the least chance of escape, and any attempt on the part of Warren to
befriend him would not only be utterly useless, but would imperil his
own life.
He had appealed to Starcus to make the effort, but Warren saw the force
of the Indian's declaration that it was beyond his power. He was
wounded himself, and at the first move to interfere in behalf of the
captive, who had killed one of their best warriors and badly bruised a
couple, would be likely to bring down their vengeance upon his own head.
Distressing as was the conclusion, there was no escaping it--he must
turn his back on his devoted comrade. Warren accepted the situation like
a martyr, and had decided to continue his search for his folks, of whose
whereabouts he had only the vaguest idea.
Two lines of action presented themselves, and there was much to be said
in favor of and against both. By sharp riding he could reach Fort Meade
before sunset, and there whatever help he might need would be cheerfully
given by the commandant. Under the guidance of the friendly Indian
scouts, they could search for the rancher and his family; and their
knowledge of the people, as well as the country, would render such
search far more effective than any by the youth, without taking into
account the force that would insure safety instantly on such discovery.
But this plan involved considerable time, with the certainty that his
folks must spend another night in imminent peril--a night that he could
not help believing was to prove the decisive one.
Knowing nothing of the death of Jared Plummer, Warren hoped that he was
with his father, despite the gloomy prophecy of Tim Brophy. If the young
rancher could join them, the party would be considerable, and ought to
hold its own against any band of Indians such as were roaming through
the country. Besides, all would be well mounted and prepared for flight
whenever advisable.
These and other considerations, which it is not necessary to name,
decided the youth to make further search for his folks before riding to
Fort Meade.
One fact caused him no little speculation. It will be remembered that
the approach of himself and Tim to the ridge was caused by the discovery
of a thin column of smoke climbing into the sky from a more elevated
portion than that attained by themselves or the Sioux with whom they had
had the stirring encounter.
He did not forget, either, that the red men with whom they had exchanged
shots, and from whom he had escaped by the narrowest chance conceivable,
appeared from the opposite direction. Neither then, nor at any time
since, had anything occurred to explain the meaning of the vapor that
had arrested their attention when miles away.
If it had been kindled by Sioux or brother hostiles, why had they not
appeared and taken a hand in the lively proceedings? Abundant time was
given, and if they were there they ought to have met the fugitives at
the close of their desperate chase, when they sprang from the back of
Jack and dashed among the trees on foot.
It was these questions which caused the youth to suspect that the fire
might have been started by his father. True, he had expressed a
disbelief in this view when given by Tim, but that was before the later
phase had dawned upon him.
It looked like a rash act on the part of the rancher, if he had
performed it, but there might be excuse for his appealing to the signal
that he had employed in a former instance to apprise his son of his
location.
Speculation and guessing, however, could go on forever without result.
There was but one way of learning the truth, and that was to investigate
for himself.
Prudence demanded that the Sioux at the base of the ridge should be
given no inkling of his intention; and, in order to prevent it, a long
detour was necessary to take him out of their field of vision.
Accordingly he turned so as to follow a course parallel to the ridge,
and breaking into a swift canter kept it up until, when he turned in the
saddle and looked back, not the first sign of the hostiles was visible.
He was now miles distant, too far to return on foot, even had he felt
inclined to abandon Jack and try it alone. He rode close to the base of
the ridge, whose curving course was favorable, and facing about started
back toward the point he had left after his survey of the party that
held Tim Brophy a prisoner.
He did not believe there was any special danger in this, for he had only
to maintain a sharp lookout to detect the Sioux, if they happened to be
journeying in that direction. The broad stretch of open plain gave him
every chance he could ask to turn the fleetness of Jack to the best
account: and he feared no pursuit that could be made, where he was
granted anything like a chance.
His purpose was to approach as near the spot as was prudent, provided
they remained where he last saw them, and then, dismounting, penetrate
nigh enough to learn the meaning of the smoke which was such an
interesting fact to him. The task was a difficult one, for it was more
than probable that by the time he reached the neighborhood of the signal
fire it would be extinguished; for certainly his father would not
continue the display after it had failed in its purpose, and the
appearance of the hostiles showed him that it was liable to do more harm
than good.