BREAD CAST UPON THE WATERS.
When the Sioux who had rushed out on the open plain to the help of the
wounded Starcus gathered around him they were quick to perceive that his
life was due to the mercy of his conqueror, but their hostility toward
the latter was not diminished one whit by the discovery; they were as
eager for his life as ever, and proved it by firing several shots after
him as he rode away.
The wounded arm was bandaged in a piece of the lining of Warren Starr's
coat. The crimson stain showed through the cloth, though the flow of
blood was checked. Sound and unhurt as was Starcus in all other
respects, he was unable to use the injured limb, and was therefore as
useless in any impending hostilities as if out of existence.
As the party moved back toward the base of the ridge there was a
consultation among them as to what was best to do. Starcus expressed a
more venomous rancor than ever against the white people, and especially
against the one that had brought him low. He regretted that he was to be
helpless for weeks to come, with a permanent injury for life.
When the leader of the band suggested that he should return to the
nearest village and remain until able to take the warpath again, he
vehemently opposed it. He was not willing to retire in such a
humiliating manner, but the leader insisted, and after sulking a while
the "civilized" Indian consented.
Being a capital horseman, he leaped unassisted upon his pony, and
unwilling in his anger so much as to bid the warriors good-by, he struck
the animal into a swift gallop, heading toward the village, where he was
expected to stay until fully recovered.
The action of the warrior was singular. After riding some distance he
glanced behind him at the ridge he had left. He seemed to be in an
irritable mood, for he uttered an impatient exclamation and urged his
beast to a faster gait. His wound pained him, but the agitation of his
mind and his own stoical nature caused him to pay no heed to it. Indeed
nothing more could be done for the hurt.
When he looked back the second time he had reached a point for which he
had been making since his departure. He was out of sight of any of his
people who might be watching him.
An abrupt change in the course of his pony was instantly made, and he
sent him flying at the height of his speed. Strange as it may seem, he
was aiming for the same point toward which Warren Starr started some
time later.
He did not spare his animal. He went like a whirlwind, and as though his
life depended upon reaching his destination without delay. Warren Starr
read the trail aright when he interpreted it as meaning that the pony
before him was going as fast as he could.
Starcus was picking his way, still mounted, over the rough section where
the youth had expected to meet great difficulty with his animal, when
he suddenly discovered that white people were immediately in his front.
He drew up, and was in doubt for a minute whether to flee or hold his
ground.
A squad of cavalry from Fort Meade confronted him. They numbered nearly
twenty, under the command of a young lieutenant, a recent graduate of
West Point. They were accompanied by a couple of Indian scouts familiar
with the country.
Starcus was quick to make a signal of friendship, and then rode forward
to meet the soldiers, who had halted upon seeing him.
The Sioux was well known to the two Indians, the officer, and several of
the cavalry. They knew he had joined the hostiles, and were therefore
suspicious of him. This fact rendered his self-imposed task one of
considerable difficulty. But after a while he convinced them of his
honesty.
The lieutenant had been sent out by the commandant at Fort Meade to
bring in the rancher and his family, their scouts having reported them
in imminent danger. Starcus explained that the parties for whom they
were looking were at no great distance, having left the ranch the night
before to hasten to the fort. One of the ranchmen had been killed, and
the rest were in great peril. Starcus said he had started to ride to the
fort for help, and it was most fortunate that he encountered it so near,
when the passing moments were beyond importance.
The young officer was sagacious. He could have asked some very
embarrassing questions relating to the wound of the messenger, but he
wisely forbore. It is not best at all times to let a person know how
much is plain to you and how much you suspect. Evidently Starcus was
earnest in his desire to befriend the imperilled ones; the fact that he
was journeying alone in the direction of the fort constituting the
strongest evidence.
He explained that the ridge where he believed the whites were doing
their best to escape the Sioux was much more approachable from the other
side. He described the ground minutely, and the two scouts present
confirmed the accuracy of his statements.
When the lieutenant proposed that Starcus should act as their guide the
truth could no longer be kept back. He made a clean breast of
everything.
He had been with the hostiles. He was among the fiercest. He had tried
to shoot young Starr, who, more fortunate than he, brought him wounded
from his horse. When he lay on the ground, at his mercy, the young man
rode up, spoke words of kindness, and bandaged his wound.
And in doing this the youth proved more of a conqueror than he had done
by his excellent marksmanship. He won the heart of the Indian, who was
now eager to prove his gratitude by any act in his power. He
unhesitatingly answered that he would serve as the guide to the cavalry.
But once again the officer displayed rare tact. If Starcus was sincere
in his newly awakened friendship for the whites, it might be in his
power to accomplish a great deal of good by going among his people and
using persuasion and argument; but if he should appear as an active ally
of the whites such power would be gone, and it would be unsafe at any
time in the future to trust himself among them.
"No," replied the lieutenant; "return to your own people; do what you
can to show them the mistake they are making in taking the warpath; you
may effect much good. My guides will do as well as you to direct us to
the spot where the whites are in urgent need of our help. You say it is
not far, and I am hopeful that we shall be in time to save them."
Accordingly Starcus parted from the cavalry, and was on his return to
join his people and to attempt to carry out the wise suggestion of the
officer, when he encountered the young rancher making all haste on foot
to secure the help which was much nearer than he had dared to hope.
After exchanging friendly greetings, Starcus told the story which the
reader has just learned.
Warren listened with amazement and delight. He had, indeed, heaped coals
of fire upon his enemy's head by his forbearance, and the bread cast
upon the waters had returned before many days.
"You have acted nobly," was the comment of the youth.
"Can it undo the harm of the last few days?" asked the Indian, with a
troubled expression.
"Far more, for I am sure the timely news given to the lieutenant will
save my people."
"And yet I was their enemy."
"And are now their friend. You lost your head in the frenzy that is
spreading like a prairie fire among your people; your footsteps were
guided by Providence, otherwise you would have missed the cavalry; they
would have ridden to the ranch, and my folks would have been left as
much without their help as though the soldiers had stayed at the fort.
Besides," added the young rancher, "you can do as the officer
suggested--show your own people the right course for them to follow."
"I will try," replied Starcus firmly; "I cannot understand how it was my
senses forsook me, but they have come back, and," he said, with a
meaning smile, "I think they will stay."
"I am sure of that, and you will do much good."
"Well, good-by," said Starcus, reaching down his unwounded arm. "I hope
we shall meet again under pleasanter conditions."
Warren warmly pressed the hand and stood for a minute gazing after the
strange fellow, who rode toward the nearest Indian village with the
determination to carry out his new intentions.
It may as well be said that he honestly did so, and there is little
doubt that his work was effective in more than one respect, and did much
to ameliorate many phases of the sad incidents that speedily followed.
Left alone once more, the young rancher stood for some minutes in doubt
as to his right course. It was idle to push on to the fort on foot, and
he was at much disadvantage, now that he had no animal at command. He
decided to follow the cavalry.
He had forgotten to ask Starcus how far off they were, but judged the
distance was not great. The trail of the Indian's horse gave him the
necessary guidance, and he broke once more into his loping trot,
despite the rough nature of the ground.
A half-hour sufficed to take him to the scene of meeting, when he turned
and began following the footprints of the horses at a faster gait than
before.
Inasmuch as he was now a goodly number of miles from the bowlders where
his friends were at bay before the attacking Sioux, he hardly expected
to reach the place in time to take a hand in the decisive scenes or even
to witness them. Starcus had left such accurate directions, and the
Indian guides were so familiar with everything, that little delay was
probable.
The distant sound of firing spurred him to still greater speed, and he
ran so fast and hard that ere long he was compelled to drop to a walk to
regain his breath.
Great as was his hope, he felt much misgiving. The cavalry might arrive
in time, but in the flurry sad mishaps were probable. It might be that
his father or mother or Dot or Tim had fallen before the vigilance of
the assailants. He could not feel any real happiness until he learned
beyond peradventure that all was well.
The shot fired by Tim Brophy the instant he caught sight of the warrior
hurrying along the trail, with no thought that he was so close to the
whites, was the best thing in every way that could have happened, for it
not only wiped out the rash miscreant, but told those immediately behind
him that the fugitives were at bay and ready to fight to the bitter end.
There was an instant withdrawal beyond reach of the rifles, of whose
effectiveness they had received more than one striking example that
night.
It took a considerable while for the Sioux to learn the whole truth. The
fugitives had intrenched themselves in what was undoubtedly the most
secure position near, and were on the watch. Gradually working round so
as to enclose them against flight, the trail of the young rancher was
discovered. A little investigation made known that he had mounted his
pony and started off for assistance.
But help was no nearer than Fort Meade, and, as the Indians naturally
thought, it could not possibly arrive before the morrow. If this were
so, abundant time remained in which to encompass the destruction of the
defenders. The Sioux decided to maintain watch, but to defer the
decisive assault until late at night.
And it was this decision that saved the little party. Within the
following two hours the friendly scouts reported the situation to the
lieutenant of cavalry, who began his arrangements for an immediate
attack upon the hostiles.
The latter, however, were as watchful as their enemies, and were quick
to learn their new danger. They withdrew and disappeared after the
exchange of a few shots, fired under such circumstances that no harm was
done on either side.
The rescued whites were conducted to the foot of the ridge on the other
side, where they were so disposed among their friends that all were
furnished with transportation, and the journey to Fort Meade was begun,
or rather resumed so far as they were concerned.
Not far away they met the young rancher, breathless and in an agony of
distress. His joy may be imagined upon learning the happy truth. All
were saved without so much as a hair of their heads being harmed.
The next day Warren returned for his pony, and found him so much better
that he was able to walk with little trouble. The youth was too
considerate to ask him to carry any load, and the two made the journey
with the rider on foot.
And so it came about that Providence mercifully extricated our friends
from the danger which threatened more than once the ruin of all.
THE END.