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THE STORY OF RED FEATHER
A Tale of the American Frontier
by
EDWARD S. ELLIS
Illustrated
[Illustration]
McLoughlin Brothers, Inc.
Made in U. S. A.
McLoughlin Bros. Inc.
Springfield Mass.
Publishers
1828
[Illustration: "To-wika talked soothingly to him."--Page 118]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
Brother and Sister--The Signal 3
CHAPTER TWO
An Important Letter--Shut in 14
CHAPTER THREE
Caught Fast--A Friend in Need 25
CHAPTER FOUR
The Consultation--On the Roof 36
CHAPTER FIVE
A Strange Visit--Ominous Signs 47
CHAPTER SIX
The Muddy Creek Band--The Torch 58
CHAPTER SEVEN
"A Little Child Shall Lead Them"--Surrounded by Peril 69
CHAPTER EIGHT
Tall Bear and his Warriors--A Surprising Discovery 80
CHAPTER NINE
Nat Trumbull and his Men--Out in the Night 91
CHAPTER TEN
An Old Friend--Separated 102
CHAPTER ELEVEN
At the Lower Crossing--Tall Bear's Last Failure 114
CHAPTER TWELVE
Conclusion 127
THE STORY OF RED FEATHER
CHAPTER ONE
BROTHER AND SISTER--THE SIGNAL
It is within my memory that Melville Clarendon, a lad of sixteen years,
was riding through Southern Minnesota, in company with his sister
Dorothy, a sweet little miss not quite half his own age.
They were mounted on Saladin, a high-spirited, fleet, and good-tempered
pony of coal-black color. Melville, who claimed the steed as his own
special property, had given him his Arabian name because he fancied
there were many points of resemblance between him and the winged
coursers of the East, made famous as long ago as the time of the
Crusades.
The lad sat his horse like a skilled equestrian, and indeed it would be
hard to find his superior in that respect throughout that broad stretch
of sparsely settled country. Those who live on the American frontier are
trained from their earliest youth in the management of quadrupeds, and
often display a proficiency that cannot fail to excite admiration.
Melville's fine breech-loading rifle was slung over his shoulder, and
held in place by a strap that passed in front. It could be quickly drawn
from its position whenever needed. It was not of the repeating pattern,
but the youth was so handy with the weapon that he could put the
cartridges in place, aim, and fire not only with great accuracy, but
with marked rapidity.
In addition, he carried a good revolver, though he did not expect to use
either weapon on the short journey he was making. He followed, however,
the law of the border, which teaches the pioneer never to venture beyond
sight of his home unprepared for every emergency that is likely to
arise.
It was quite early in the forenoon, Melville having made an early start
from the border-town of Barwell, and he was well on his way to his home,
which lay ten miles to the south. "Dot," as his little sister was called
by her friends, had been on a week's visit to her uncle's at the
settlement, the agreement all round being that she should stay there for
a fortnight at least; but her parents and her big brother rebelled at
the end of the week. They missed the prattle and sunshine which only Dot
could bring into their home, and Melville's heart was delighted when his
father told him to mount Saladin and bring her home.
And when, on the seventh day of her visit, Dot found her handsome
brother had come after her, and was to take her home the following
morning, she leaped into his arms with a cry of happiness; for though
her relatives had never suspected it, she was dreadfully home-sick and
anxious to get back to her own people.
In riding northward to the settlement, young Clarendon followed the
regular trail, over which he had passed scores of times. Not far from
the house he crossed a broad stream at a point where the current (except
when there was rain) was less than two feet deep. Its shallowness led to
its use by all the settlers within a large radius to the southward, so
that the faintly marked trails converged at this point something like
the spokes of a large wheel, and became one from that point northward to
the settlement.
A mile to the east was another crossing which was formerly used. It was
not only broader, but there were one or two deep holes into which a
horse was likely to plunge unless much care was used. Several unpleasant
accidents of this nature led to its practical abandonment.
The ten miles between the home of the Clarendons and the little town of
Barwell consisted of prairie, stream, and woodland. A ride over the
trail, therefore, during pleasant weather afforded a most pleasing
variety of scenery, this being especially the case in spring and summer.
The eastern trail was more marked in this respect and it did not unite
with the other until within about two miles of the settlement. Southward
from the point of union the divergence was such that parties separating
were quickly lost to view of each other, remaining thus until the stream
of which I have spoken was crossed. There the country became so open
that on a clear day the vision covered all the space between.
I have been thus particular in explaining the "lay of the land," as it
is called, because it is necessary in order to understand the incidents
that follow.
Melville laughed at the prattle of Dot, who sat in front of him, one of
his arms encircling her chubby form, while Saladin was allowed to walk
and occasionally gallop, as the mood prompted him.
There was no end of her chatter; and he asked her questions about her
week's experience at Uncle Jack's, and told her in turn how much he and
her father and mother had missed her, and what jolly times they would
have when she got back.
Melville hesitated for a minute on reaching the diverging point of the
paths. He was anxious to get home; but his wish to give his loved sister
all the enjoyment possible in the ride led him to take the abandoned
trail, and it proved a most unfortunate thing that he did so.
Just here I must tell you that Melville and Dot Clarendon were dressed
very much as boys and girls of their age are dressed to-day in the more
settled parts of my native country. Remember that the incidents I have
set out to tell you took place only a very few years ago.
Instead of the coon-skin cap, buckskin suit, leggings and moccasins, of
the early frontier, Melville wore a straw hat, a thick flannel shirt,
and, since the weather was quite warm, he was without coat or vest. His
trousers, of the ordinary pattern, were clasped at the waist by his
cartridge belt, and his shapely feet were encased in strong well-made
shoes. His revolver was thrust in his hip-pocket, and the broad collar
of his shirt was clasped at the neck by a twisted silk handkerchief.
As for Dot, her clustering curls rippled from under a jaunty straw hat,
and fluttered about her pretty shoulders, while the rest of her visible
attire consisted of a simple dress, shoes, and stockings. The extra
clothing taken with her on her visit was tied in a neat small bundle,
fastened to the saddle behind Melville. Should they encounter any sudden
change in the weather, they were within easy reach, while the lad looked
upon himself as strong enough to make useless any such care for him.
Once or twice Melville stopped Saladin and let Dot down to the ground,
that she might gather some of the bright flowers growing by the wayside;
and at a spring of bubbling icy-cold water both halted and quaffed their
fill, after which Saladin was allowed to push his nose into the clear
fluid and do the same.
Once more they mounted, and without any occurrence worth the telling,
reached the bank of the stream at the Upper Crossing. He halted a minute
or two to look around before entering the water, for, as you will bear
in mind, he had now reached a spot which gave him a more extended view
than any yet passed.
Their own home was in plain sight, and naturally the eyes of the brother
and sister were first turned in that direction. It appeared just as they
expected. Moderate in size, built of logs somewhat after the fashion on
the frontier at an earlier date, with outbuildings and abundant signs of
thrift, it was an excellent type of the home of the sturdy American
settler of the present.
"Oh, Mel!" suddenly exclaimed Dot, calling her brother by the name she
always used, "who is that on horseback?"
Dot pointed to a slight eminence between their house and the stream;
and, shifting his glance, Melville saw an Indian horseman standing as
motionless as if he and his animal were carved in stone. He seemed to
have reined up on the crest of the elevation, and, coming to a halt, was
doing the same as the brother and sister--surveying his surroundings.
His position was midway between Melville and his house, and his horse
faced the brother and sister. The distance was too great to distinguish
the features of the red man clearly, but the two believed he was looking
at them.
Now, there was nothing to cause special alarm in this sight, for it was
a common thing to meet Indians in that part of the country, where indeed
many of them may be seen to-day; but the lad suddenly remembered that
when looking in the direction of his home he had failed to see any signs
of life, and he was at once filled with a misgiving which caused him to
swallow a lump in his throat before answering the question--
"Who is it, Mel?"
"Some Indian; he is too far off for me to tell who he is, and likely
enough we have never seen him before."
"What's he looking at us so sharply for?"
"I'm not sure that he is looking at us; his face seems to be turned this
way, but he may have his eyes on something else."
"Watch him! See what he is doing!"
No need to tell the lad to watch, for his attention was fixed upon the
warrior. Just as Dot spoke he made a signal which the intelligent youth
could not comprehend. He flung one end of a blanket in the air slightly
above and in front of him, and, holding the other part in his hand,
waved it vigorously several times.
That it was intended for the eyes of the brother and sister seemed
beyond all question; but, as I have said, they did not know what it
meant, for it might have signified a number of things. It is a practice
with many Indians to use such means as a taunt to their enemies, but
they generally utter shouts and defiant cries, and nothing of the kind
was now heard.
Besides this, it was not to be supposed that a Sioux warrior (that, no
doubt, being the tribe of the red man before them) would indulge in any
such action in the presence of a single white youth and small girl.
"I don't understand it," said Melville, "but I'll be as polite as he."
With which, he took off his hat and swung it above his head. Then,
seeing that the Indian had ceased waving his blanket, he replaced his
hat, still watching his movements.
[Illustration: "The distance was too great to distinguish the features
of the red man."--Page 7]
The next moment the Sioux wheeled his horse, and heading westward,
galloped off with such speed that he almost instantly vanished.
The Indian had been gone less than a minute when Melville spoke to
Saladin, and he stepped into the water.
The instant his hoof rested on dry land the youth struck him into a
swift canter, which was not checked until he arrived at the house. While
yet some distance, the lad's fears were deepened by what he saw, or
rather by what he failed to see. Not a horse or cow was in sight; only
the ducks and chickens were there, the former waddling to the water.
When Archie Clarendon made his home on that spot, a few years before,
one of the questions he had to meet was as to the best way of guarding
against attacks from Indians, for there were plenty of them in that part
of the country. There are very few red men who will not steal; and they
are so fond of "firewater," or intoxicating drink, that they are likely
to commit worse crimes.
The pioneer, therefore, built his house much stronger than he would have
done had he waited several years before putting it up.
It was made of logs, strongly put together, and the windows were so
narrow that no person, unless very slim, could push his way through
them. Of course the door was heavy, and it could be fastened in its
place so firmly that it would have resisted the assault of a strong body
of men.
By this time Melville, who had galloped up to the front and brought his
horse to a halt, was almost sure that something dreadful had happened,
and he hesitated a moment before dismounting or lowering Dot to the
ground. She began twisting about in his grasp, saying plaintively--
"Let me down, Mel; I want to see papa and mamma."
"I don't think they are there," he said, again swallowing a lump in his
throat.
She turned her head around and looked wonderingly up in his face, not
knowing what he meant. He could not explain, and he allowed her to drop
lightly on her feet.
"Wait a minute," he called, "till I take a look inside."
In imagination he saw an awful sight. It was that of his beloved parents
slain by the cruel red men--one of whom had waved his blanket tauntingly
at him only a few minutes before.
He could not bear that Dot should look upon the scene that would haunt
her, as it would haunt him, to her dying day. He meant to hold her back
until he could take a look inside; but her nimble feet carried her
ahead, and she was on the porch before he could check her.
Saladin was a horse that would stand without tying; and, paying no heed
to him, the youth hurried after his sister, seizing her hand as it was
raised to draw the string hanging outside the door.
"Dot," he said, "why do you not obey me? You must wait till I first go
in."
It was not often her big brother spoke so sternly, and there came a tear
into each of the bright eyes, as she stepped back and poutingly waited
for him to do as he thought best.
Melville raised his hand to draw the latch, but his heart failed.
Stepping to one side, he peered through the narrow window that helped to
light up the lower floor.
The muslin curtain was partly drawn, but he was able to see most of the
interior. Table, chairs, and furniture were all in place, but not a
glimpse of a living person was visible.
[Illustration: "He peered through the narrow window."]
The emotions of childhood are as changeable as the shadows of the
flitting clouds.
Dot was pouting while Mel stood irresolute on the small porch, and was
sure she would never, never speak to the mean fellow again; but the
instant he peeped through the narrow window she forgot everything else,
and darted forward to take her place at his side, and find out what it
was that made him act so queerly.
Before she reached him she stopped short with the exclamation--
"Oh, Mel! here's a letter for you!"
CHAPTER TWO
AN IMPORTANT LETTER--SHUT IN
Astonished by the cry, young Clarendon turned his head and looked at his
sister, who landed at his side that moment like a fairy. She was holding
a sheet of paper in her hand. It was folded in the form of an envelope,
and pencilled on the outside in bold letters were the words--
"Melville Clarendon.
"In haste; read instantly."
He took the letter from his sister and trembled, as if from a chill, as
he hurriedly unfolded the paper and read--
"MY DEAR MEL,--Leave at once! The Sioux have taken the war-path,
and a party of their worst warriors from the Muddy Creek country
have started out on a raid. They are sure to come this way, and
I suppose the house will be burned, and everything on which they
can lay hands destroyed. They are under the lead of the
desperate Red Feather, and will spare nothing. A friendly Sioux
stopped this morning before daylight and warned me. I gathered
the animals together, and your mother and I set out for Barwell
in all haste, driving the beasts before us.
"I feel certain of either finding you and Dot at my brother's in
the settlement or of meeting you on the way, for I suppose, of
course, you will follow the regular trail; but, at the moment of
starting, your mother suggests the possibility that you may take
the upper route. To make sure, I write this letter. If the
Indians reach the building before you, they will leave such
traces of their presence that you will take the alarm. If you
arrive first and see this note, re-mount Saladin, turn
northward, and lose not a minute in galloping to the settlement.
None of them can overtake you. Avoid the upper trail, where it
is much easier for them to ambush you; keep as much on the open
prairie as possible; see that your weapons are loaded; make
Saladin do his best; and God be with you and Darling Dot.--
Your Father."
[Illustration: "He hurriedly unfolded the paper and read."]
The youth read this important message aloud to Dot, who stood at his
side, looking wistfully up in his face. She was too young to comprehend
fully its meaning, but she knew that her parents had left for the
settlement, and that her father had ordered Melville to follow at once
with her.
"The bad Indians are coming," he added, "and if we stay here they will
shoot us. I don't think," he said, glancing around, "that they are
anywhere near; but they are likely to come any minute, so we won't
wait."
"Oh, Mel!" suddenly spoke up Dot, "you know I forgot to take Susie with
me when I went away; can't I get her now?"
Susie was Dot's pet doll, and the fact that she left it behind when
making her visit to Uncle Jack's had a great deal more to do with her
home-sickness than her friends suspected. The thought of leaving it
behind again almost broke her heart.
"I am sure mother took it with her when she went off this morning,"
replied Melville, feeling a little uneasy over the request.
"I'll soon find out," said she, stepping hastily towards the door.
He could not refuse her wish, for he understood the depth of the
affection she felt for the doll, whose dress was somewhat torn, and
whose face was not always as clean as her own. Besides, it could take
only a minute or two to get the plaything, if it had been left in the
house. Although his situation prevented his seeing anything in the rear
of the building, he was sure the dreaded Indians were not yet in sight,
and he desired to make a hasty survey of the interior of the house
himself.
How familiar everything looked! There were the chairs placed against the
wall, and the deal table in the middle of the room. Melville noticed
that the pictures which had hung so long on the walls had been taken
away. They were portraits of the members of the family, and the mother
looked upon them as too precious to be allowed to run any risk of loss.
A few other valuables, including the old Bible, had been removed; but
the parents were too wise to increase their own danger by loading
themselves with goods, however much they regretted leaving them behind.
Although there was an old-fashioned fire-place, the Clarendons used a
large stove standing near it. Curiosity led Melville to examine it, and
he smiled to find it still warm. The ashes within, when stirred, showed
some embers glowing beneath. There was something in the fact which made
the youth feel as though the distance between him and his parents had
become less than a short time before.
"Strange that I took the upper trail," he said to himself, resuming his
standing position, "and thereby missed them. It's the first time I have
been over that course for a long while, and it beats me that to-day when
I shouldn't have done so I must do it; but fortunately no harm was
done."
It struck him that Dot was taking an unusually long time in the search
for her doll. Walking to the foot of the stairs, he called to her--
"It won't do to wait any longer, Dot; we must be off. If you can't find
your doll, it's because mother took it with her."
"I've found it! I've found it!" she exclaimed, dancing with delight; "I
had hid it in the bed, where mother didn't see it; bless your soul,
Susie!"
And Melville laughed as he heard a number of vigorous smacks which told
how much the child loved her pet.
"I suppose you are happy now," remarked Melville, taking her hand, while
he held his gun in the other, as they walked towards the door.
"Indeed I am," she replied, with that emphatic shake of the head by
which children of her years often give force to their words.
Melville placed his hand on the latch of the door, and, raising it, drew
the structure inward. He had lowered his arm and once more taken the
hand of his sister, and was in the act of stepping outside, when the
sharp report of a rifle broke the stillness, and he felt the whiz of the
bullet, which grazed his face and buried itself in the wall behind him.
The lad was quick-witted enough to know on the instant what it meant;
and, leaping back, he hastily closed the door, drew in the latch-string,
and, leaning his rifle against the side of the room, slipped the bar in
place.
He had hardly done so when there was a shock, as if some heavy body were
flung violently against it. Such was the fact, a Sioux warrior having
turned himself sideways at the moment of leaping, so that his shoulder
struck it with a force sufficient to carry a door off its hinges.
"What's the matter?" asked the frightened Dot; "why do you fasten the
door, Mel?"
"The bad Indians have come; they are trying to get into the house so as
to hurt us."
"And do they want Susie?" she asked Melville, hugging her doll very
closely to her breast.
"Yes, but we won't let them have her. Keep away from the window!" he
added, catching her arm, and drawing her back from the dangerous
position into which her curiosity was leading her. "Sit down there," he
said, pointing to one of the chairs which was beyond reach of any bullet
that could be fired through a window; "don't stir unless I tell you to,
or the bad Indians will take you and dolly, and you will never see
father or mother or me again."
This was terrible enough to scare the little one into the most implicit
obedience of her brother. She meekly took her seat, with Susie still
clasped in her arms, willing to do anything to save the precious one
from danger, and content to leave everything to her brother.
The youth had not time to explain matters more fully to his sister, nor
would it have been wise to do so; she had been told enough already to
distress and render her obedient to his wishes.
Following the startling shock against the door came a voice from the
outside. The words were in broken English, and were uttered by the Sioux
warrior that had made the vain effort to drive the structure inward.
"Open door--open door, brudder."
"I will not open the door," called back Melville.
"Open door--Injin won't hurt pale-face--come in--eat wid him."
"You cannot come in; we want no visitors. Go away, or I will shoot you!"
This was a brave threat, but it did not do all that the lad hoped.
Whether the assailants knew how weak the force was within the house the
youth could not say. He was not without belief that they might think
there were several armed defenders who would make an attack or siege on
the part of the Sioux too costly for them to continue it long.
The first purpose of Melville, therefore, was to learn how strong the
force was that had made such a sudden attack. It was too perilous to
attempt to look through one of the four narrow windows lighting the
large room where he stood, and which covered the entire lower part of
the building, and he decided, therefore, to got upstairs.
Before doing so, he made Dot repeat her promise to sit still where she
was. She assured him that he need have no fear whatever, and he
hurriedly made his way to the rooms above.
Advancing to one of the windows at the front, he peered out with the
utmost caution.
The first Indian whom he saw was the very one he dreaded above all
others. He recognized him at the first glance by the cluster of
eagle-feathers stuck in his crown. There were stained of a crimson red,
several of the longer ones drooping behind, so as to mingle with his
coarse black hair which streamed over his shoulders.
This was Red Feather, one of the most desperate Sioux known in the
history of the border. Years before he was a chief noted for his daring
and detestation of the white men. As the country became partly settled
he acquired most of the vices and few of the virtues of the white race.
He was fond of "firewater," was an inveterate thief, sullen and
revengeful, quarrelsome at all times; and, when under the influence of
drink, was feared almost as much by his own people as by the whites.
Red Feather was mounted on a fine-looking horse, which there is little
doubt had been stolen from some of the settlers in that part of the
country. He had brought him to a stand about a hundred yards from the
building, he and the animal facing the house.
As the Sioux chieftain held this position the lad was struck by his
resemblance to the horseman whom he and Dot noticed at the time they
halted on the other bank of the stream.
[Illustration: "Red Feather, one of the most desperate Sioux."--Page 20]
This discovery of young Clarendon suggested an explanation of the sight
which so puzzled him and his sister. The chief had descried them at the
same moment, if not before they saw him. Inasmuch as the occupants of
the building were absent, he must have thought they had gone off
together, and he could not have believed that, if such were the case,
any members of the company would return--the boy, therefore, had
ridden part way back to learn what was to be fate of the cabin and
property left behind. Red Feather had waved his blanket as a taunt, and
then rode off for his warriors, encamped near by, with the purpose of
directing them in an attack on the house.
It was a most unfortunate oversight that Melville did not make a survey
of the surrounding country before entering his own home, for had he done
so, he would have learned of his peril; but you will remember that his
first purpose was not to enter his house, and in truth it was Susie, the
little doll, that brought all the trouble.
The dismay caused by his unexpected imprisonment was not without
something in the nature of relief.
In the first place, a careful survey of his surroundings showed there
were only six Sioux warriors in the attacking party. All were mounted,
as a matter of course, fully armed, and eager to massacre the settler
and his family. You will say these were enough to frighten any lad,
however brave; but you must remember that Melville held a strong
position in the house.
Such a fine horse as Saladin could not fail to catch the eye of the
dusky scamps, and at the moment Red Feather fired his well-nigh fatal
shot at the youth three warriors were putting forth their utmost efforts
to capture the prize.
But the wise Saladin showed no liking for the red men, and would not
permit any of them to lay hands on him. It was an easy matter to do
this, for among them all there was not one that could approach him in
fleetness. He suffered them to come quite near, and then, flinging up
his head with a defiant neigh, sped beyond their reach like an arrow
darting from the bow.
Melville's eyes kindled.
"I am proud of you, Saladin," he said, "and if I dared, I would give
you a hurrah."
He watched the performance for several minutes, the rapid movement of
the horses causing him to shift his position once or twice from one side
of the house to the other. Finally, one of the Sioux saw how idle their
pursuit was, and, angered at being baffled, deliberately raised his
rifle and fired at Saladin.
[Illustration: "Saladin showed no liking for the red men."]
Whether he hit the horse or not Melville could not say, though the
animal showed no signs of being hurt: but the lad was so indignant that
he levelled his own weapon, and, pointing the muzzle out of the narrow
window, muttered--
"If you want to try that kind of business, I'm willing, and I think I
can make a better shot than you did."
Before, however, he could be sure of his aim, he was startled by a cry
from Dot--
"Come down here quick, Mel! A great big Indian is getting in the house
by the window!"
CHAPTER THREE
CAUGHT FAST--A FRIEND IN NEED
Melville Clarendon was so interested in the efforts of the three Sioux
to capture his horse, that for a minute or two he forgot that Dot was
below-stairs. Her cry, however, roused him to the situation and truth,
and he flew down the steps.
In fact, the little girl had had a stirring time. While she was too
young to realize the full danger of herself and brother, she knew there
were bad Indians trying to get into the house, and the best thing for
her to do was to obey every instruction Melville gave to her.
It will be recalled that Melville had a few words of conversation with
one of the Sioux outside the door, who asked to be admitted. After the
youth's refusal, there was silence for a minute or two, and, supposing
the Indian was gone, the lad hurried to the upper story to gain a survey
of his surroundings.
But the warrior had not left. After the departure of Melville he resumed
his knocking on the door, but so gently that no one heard him except
Dot. In her innocence she forgot the warnings given to her, and, sliding
off her chair, stepped forward, and began shoving the end of the
leathern string through, so that the Indian could raise the latch. She
had tried to raise it herself, but the pressure from the outside was so
strong that the friction prevented.
[Illustration: "Pull the string, and the door will open."]
"There!" said the little girl; "all you've got to do is to pull the
string, and the door will open."
When the Indian saw the head of the string groping its way through the
little hole in the door like a tiny serpent, he grasped the end, and
gave it such a smart jerk that the latch flew up.
But, fortunately, it was necessary to do more than draw the latch to
open the door. The massive bar was in place, and the Sioux, most likely
with a suspicion of the truth, made no effort to force the structure.
But while he was thus employed Red Feather had slipped from the back of
his pony and approached the house. He took the side opposite to that
from which Melville was looking forth, so that the youth did not notice
his action. He saw the idleness of trying to make his way through the
door, and formed another plan.
With little effort he raised the sash in the narrow window on the
right. About half-way to the top was a wooden button to hold the lower
sash in place when raised. The occupants of the house used no care in
securing the windows, since, as I have explained, they were too narrow
to allow any person, unless very thin of figure, to force his way
through them.
Red Feather seemed to forget that he had tried to take the life of one
of the white persons only a few minutes before; but, since no return
shot had come from within the building, he must have concluded the
defenders were panic-stricken, or else he showed a daring that amounted
to recklessness; for, after raising the sash, he pushed the curtain
aside, and began carefully shoving his head through the opening.
Now, the house being of logs, it was necessary for the chieftain to
force his shoulders a slight distance to allow his head fairly to enter
the room. This required great care and labor, and more risk on the part
of the Sioux than he suspected--since he should have known that it is
easier to advance under such circumstances than to retreat, and,
inasmuch as it was so hard to push on, it was likely to be still harder
to retreat.
Dot Clarendon, like her brother, was so interested in another direction
that she failed for the time to note that which was of far more
importance.
But the feeling that she and her brother were in a situation of great
danger became so strong that she felt there was only One who could save
them, and, just as she had been taught from earliest infancy, she now
asked that One to take care of them.
Sinking on her chubby knees, she folded her hands, shut her eyes and
poured out the simple prayer of faith and love to Him whose ear is
never closed to the appeal of the most helpless. Her eyes were still
closed, and her lips moving, when the noise made by Red Feather in
forcing himself through the narrow opening caused her to stop suddenly
and look around.
The sight which met her gaze was enough to startle the bravest man. The
head and shoulders of a hideous Sioux warrior were within six feet of
where she was kneeling. The Indian was still struggling but he could get
no farther, and, as it was, he was wedged very closely.
It must have caused strange feelings in the heart of the wicked savage
when he observed the tiny figure kneeling on the floor, with clasped
hands, closed eyes, upturned face, and murmuring lips. It is hard to
think there could be any one untouched by the sight, though Red Feather
gave no sign of such emotion at the time.
The face of the Sioux was not painted, though it is the fashion of his
people to do so when upon the war-trail. It could not have looked more
frightful had it been daubed with streaks and spots, and Dot was
terrified. Springing to her feet, she recoiled with a gasp, and stared
at the dreadful countenance.
Red Feather beckoned as best he could for the little one to come nigh
him.
It was at this juncture that Dot uttered the cry which brought Melville
in such haste from the room above. He rushed down, loaded gun in hand,
and it is stating the matter mildly to say that he effected a change in
the situation. Startled by the sound of the steps on the stairs, Red
Feather glanced up and saw the lad, his face white with anger, and a
very dangerous-looking rifle in his hand.
"I'll teach you manners!" called out Melville, halting on reaching the
floor, and bringing his weapon to a level; "such a rogue as you ain't
fit to live."
[Illustration: "Poured out the simple prayer of faith and love."]
As you may suppose, Red Feather was satisfied that the best thing for
him to do was to leave that place as quickly as he knew how. He began
struggling fiercely to back out, and he must have been surprised when he
found he was fast, and that the more he strove to free himself the more
firmly he became wedged in.
Seeing his predicament, Melville advanced a couple of steps, holding his
weapon so that its muzzle was within arm's length of the terrified
visage of the chieftain.
"I've got you, Red Feather!" said the exultant youth; "and the best
thing I can do is to shoot you."
"Oh, Mel!" called Dot, running towards her brother, "don't hurt him,
for that would be wicked."
I must do Melville Clarendon the justice to state that he had no
intention of shooting the Sioux chieftain who was caught fast in such a
curious way. Such an act would have been cruel, though many persons
would say it was right, because Red Feather was trying to slay both
Melville and his little sister.
But the youth could not help enjoying the strange fix in which the
Indian was caught, and he meant to make the best use of it. It is not
often that an American Indian loses his wits when in danger, but Red
Feather, for a few minutes, was under the control of a feeling such as a
soldier shows when stricken by panic.
Had he kept cool, and carefully turned and twisted about as required,
while slowly drawing backward, he could have released himself from the
snare without trouble; but it was his frantic effort which defeated his
own purpose, and forced him to stop, panting and despairing, with his
head still within the room, and at the mercy of the youth, who seemed to
lower his gun only at the earnest pleading of his little sister.
It was no more than natural that the Sioux should have felt certain that
his head and shoulders were beginning to swell, and that, even if the
lad spared him, he would never be able to get himself out of the scrape,
unless the side of the house should be first taken down.
It was a time to sue for mercy, and the desperate, ugly-tempered Red
Feather was prompt to do so. Ceasing his efforts, and turning his face,
all aglow with cold perspiration, towards the boy, who had just lowered
the muzzle of his gun, he tried to smile, though the expression of his
countenance was anything but smiling, and said--
"Red Feather love white boy--love white girl!"
It is hard to restrain one's pity for another when in actual distress,
and Melville's heart was touched the instant the words were uttered.
"Sit down in your chair," he said gently to Dot, "and don't disobey me
again by leaving it until I tell you."
"But you won't hurt him, will you?" she pleaded, half obeying, and yet
hesitating until she could receive his answer.
Not wishing Red Feather to know his decision, he stooped over and
whispered in her ear--
"No, Dot, I will not hurt him; but don't say anything, for I don't want
him to know it just yet."
It is more than likely that the distressed Sioux saw enough in the
bright face to awaken hope, for he renewed his begging for mercy.
"Red Feather love white folks--he been bad Injin--he be good Injin
now--'cause he love white folks."
"Red Feather," said he, lowering his voice so as not to reach the ears
of the other Sioux, drawn to the spot by the strange occurrence; "you do
not deserve mercy, for you came to kill me and all my folk. There! don't
deny it, for you speak with a double tongue. But _she_ has asked me to
spare you, and perhaps I will. If I keep away all harm from you, what
will you do for us?"
"Love white folks--Red Feather go away--won't hurt--bring game to his
brother."
Having rested a few minutes, the Sioux began wriggling desperately
again, hoping to free himself by sheer strength; but he could not budge
his head and shoulders from their vice-like imprisonment, and something
like despair must have settled over him when all doubt that he was
swelling fast was removed.
It was at the same instant that two of the warriors on the outside,
seeing the hapless position of their chief, seized his feet, and began
tugging with all their power.
They quickly let go, however; for the impatient sachem delivered such a
vigorous kick that both went over backward, with their feet pointed
towards the clouds.
"Red Feather," said Melville, standing close enough to the hapless
prisoner to touch him with his hand, "if I help you out of that place
and do not hurt you, will you and your warriors go away?"
The Sioux nodded so vigorously that he struck his chin against the wood
hard enough to cause him some pain.
"Me go away--all Sioux go away--neber come here 'gin--don't hurt
nuffin--hurry way."
"And you will not come back to harm us?"
"Neber come back--stay way--love white folks."
"I don't believe you will ever love them, and I don't ask you to do so;
but you know that my father and mother and I have always treated your
people kindly, and they have no reason to hurt us."
"Dat so--dat so--Red Feather love fader, love moder, love son, love
pappoose of white folks."
"You see how easy it would be for me to shoot you where you are now
without any risk to myself, but I shall not hurt you. I will help to get
your head and shoulders loose; but I am afraid that when you mount your
horse again and ride out on the prairie you will forget all you promised
me."
"Neber, neber, neber!" replied the chieftain, with all the energy at his
command.
[Illustration: "Oh, Mel!" called Dot "don't hurt him."--Page 30]
"You will think that you know enough never to run your head into that
window again, and you will want to set fire to the house and tomahawk
us."
The Sioux looked as if he was deeply pained at this distrust of his
honorable intentions, and he seemed at a loss to know what to say to
restore himself to the good graces of his youthful master.
"You are sure you won't forget your promise, Red Feather?"
"Red Feather Sioux chief--he neber tell lie--he speak wid single
tongue--he love white folks."
"I counted five warriors with you; are they all you have?"
"Dey all--hab no more."
Melville believed the Indian spoke the truth.
"Where are the rest?"
"Go down oder side Muddy Riber--won't come here."
Melville was inclined to credit this statement also. If Red Feather
spoke the truth, the rest of his band, numbering fully a score, were
twenty miles distant, and were not likely to appear in that part of the
country. Such raids as that on which they were engaged must of necessity
be pushed hard and fast. Even if the settlers do not instantly rally,
the American cavalry are quite sure to follow them, and the Indians have
no time to loiter. The rest of the band, if a score of miles away, were
likely to have their hands full without riding thus far out of their
course.
"Well," said Melville, after a moment's thought, as if still in doubt as
to what he ought to do, "I shall not hurt you--more than that, I will
help you to free yourself."
He leaned his gun against the table near him, and stepped forward and
placed his hands on the head and shoulders of the suffering prisoner.
"Oogh!" grunted Red Feather; "grow bigger--swell up fast--bimeby Red
Feather get so big, he die."
"I don't think it is as bad as _that_," remarked Melville, unable to
repress a smile, "but it will take some work to get you loose."
CHAPTER FOUR
THE CONSULTATION--ON THE ROOF
Melville now examined the fix of the chieftain more closely. His
struggles had hurt the skin about his neck and shoulders, and there
could be no doubt he was suffering considerably.
Clasping the dusky head with his hands, the youth turned it gently, so
that it offered the least possible resistance. Then he asked him to move
his shoulder slightly to the left, and, while Melville pushed carefully
but strongly, told him to exert himself, not hastily but slowly, and
with all the power at his command.
Resting a minute or two, the attempt was renewed and this time Red
Feather succeeded in withdrawing for an inch or two, though the effort
plainly caused him pain.
"That's right," added Melville, encouragingly; "we shall succeed--try it
again."
There was a vigorous scraping, tugging, and pulling, and all at once the
head and shoulders vanished through the window. Red Feather was released
from the vice.
"There, I knew you would be all right!" called the lad through the
opening. "Good-bye, Red Feather."
The chief must have been not only confused and bewildered, but
chagrined by the exhibition made before the lad and his own warriors,
who, had they possessed any sense of humor, would have laughed at the
sorry plight of their leader.
Stepping back from the window, so as not to tempt any shot from the
other Sioux, all of whom had gathered about the chief, Melville found
himself in a dilemma.
"Shall I take Red Feather at his word?" he asked himself; "shall I open
the door and walk out with Dot, mount Saladin and gallop off to Barwell,
or--wait?"
There is little doubt, from what followed, that the former would have
been the wiser course of the youth. Despite the treacherous character of
the Sioux leader, he was so relieved by his release from what he felt at
the time was a fatal snare, and by the kindness received from the boy,
that his heart was stirred by something akin to gratitude, and he would
have restrained his warriors from violence.
Had Melville been alone, he would not have hesitated; but he was
irresolute on account of Dot. Looking down in her sweet trustful face,
his heart misgave him; he felt that, so long as she was with him, he
could assume no risks. He was comparatively safe for a time in the
building, while there was no saying what would follow if he should place
himself and Dot in the power of Indians that had set out to destroy and
slay.
Besides, if Red Feather meant to keep his promise he could do so without
involving the brother and sister in the least danger. He had only to
ride off with his warriors, when Melville would walk forth, call Saladin
to him, mount, and ride away.
"If he is honest," was his decision, "he will do that; I will wait
until they are only a short distance off, and then will gallop to the
settlement."
"Come," said he, taking the hand of Dot, "let's go upstairs."
"Why don't you stay down here, Mel?"
"Well, I am afraid to leave you alone because you are so apt to forget
your promises to me; and since I want to go upstairs I must take you
with me."
She made no objection, and holding Susie clasped by one arm, she placed
the other hand in her brother's, and, side by side, the two walked up
the steps to the larger room, occupied by their parents when at home.
"Now," said Melville, speaking with great seriousness, "you must do just
as I tell you, Dot; for it you don't the bad Indians will surely hurt
you, and you will never see Susie again."
She gave her pledge with such earnestness that he could depend upon her
from that time forward.
"You must not go near the window unless I tell you to do so: the reason
for that is that some of the Indians will see you, and they will fire
their guns at you. If the bullet does not strike Dot and kill her, it
will hit Susie, and that will be the last of _her_. The best thing you
can do is to lie down on the bed and rest."
Dot obeyed cheerfully, reclining on the couch, with her round plump face
against the pillow, where a few minutes later she sank into a sweet
sleep. Poor child! little did she dream of what was yet to come.
She was safe so long as she remained thus, since, though a bullet fired
through any one of the windows must cross the room, it would pass above
the bed, missing her by several feet.
[Illustration: "The chief and his five followers had re-mounted their
ponies."--Page 41]
Relieved of all present anxiety concerning her, Melville now gave his
attention to Red Feather and his warriors. That which he saw was not
calculated to add to his peace of mind.
The chief and his five followers had re-mounted their ponies, and ridden
to a point some two hundred yards distant on the prairie, where they
halted, as if for consultation.
"Just what I feared," said the youth, feeling it safe to stand before
the upper window and watch every movement; "Red Feather has already
begun to repent of his pledge to me, and his warriors are trying to
persuade him to break his promise. I don't believe they will find it
hard work to change his mind."
But whatever was said, it was plain that the Sioux were much in earnest.
All were talking, and their arms swung about their heads, and they
nodded with a vigor that left no doubt all were taking part in the
dispute, and each one meant what he said.
"Where there is so much wrangling, it looks as if some were in favor of
letting us alone," thought Melville, who added the next minute--"I don't
know that that follows, for it may be they are quarrelling over the best
plan of slaying us, with no thought on the part of any one that they are
bound in honor to spare us."
By-and-by the ponies, which kept moving uneasily about, took position so
that the heads of all were turned fully or partly towards the building,
from which the lad was attentively watching their movements.
During these exciting moments Melville did not forget Saladin. The
sagacious animal, being no longer troubled by those that were so anxious
to steal him, had halted at a distance of an eighth of a mile, where he
was eating the grass as though there was nothing unusual in his
surroundings.
"I hope you will be wise enough, old fellow," muttered his young
master, "to keep them at a distance; that shot couldn't have hit you,
or, if it did, it caused nothing more than a scratch."
The horse's wisdom was tested the next minute. One of the warriors
withdrew from the group, and began riding at a gallop towards Saladin.
As he drew near he brought his pony down to a walk, and evidently hoped
to calm the other's fears sufficiently to permit a still closer
approach.
Melville's heart throbbed painfully as the distance lessened, and he
began to believe he was to lose his priceless animal after all.
"Why didn't I think of it?" he asked himself, placing his finger in his
mouth, and emitting a shrill whistle that could have been heard a mile
distant.
It was a signal with which Saladin was familiar. He instantly raised his
head and looked towards the house. As he did so he saw one of his
mounted enemies slowly approaching, and within a dozen rods. It was
enough, and breaking into a gallop, he quickly ended all hope of his
capture by _that_ Sioux brave.
That signal of Melville Clarendon had also been heard by all the Sioux,
who must have thought it was due to that alone that the warrior failed
to secure the valuable animal. The youth saw the group looking
inquiringly at the house, as if to learn from what point the sound came,
and the expression on the dark faces was anything but pleasing to him.