Sioux. Their actions showed they were hotly disputing over something,
and what more likely than that it was the question of assailing the
house and outbuildings?
But there were several facts against this theory. Red Feather held such
despotic sway over his followers that it was hard to understand what
cause could arise for any dispute with them about the disposal to be
made of the brother and sister. If he desired to leave them alone, what
was to prevent him riding off and obliging every one of his warriors to
go with him?
This was the question which Melville continually asked himself, and
which he could not answer as he wished, being unable to drive away the
belief that the chief was acting a double part.
The Sioux had reached some decision; for, on the return of the one who
failed to secure Saladin, they ceased disputing, and rode towards the
window from which Melville was watching them.
Their ponies were on a slow walk, and the expression on their forbidding
faces was plainly seen as their eyes ranged over the front of the
building. The youth had withdrawn, so as to stand out of range; but, to
end the doubt in his mind, he now stepped out in full view of every one
of the warriors.
[Illustration: "Melville had warning enough to leap back."]
The doubt was removed at once. Previous to this the lad had raised the
lower sash, so as to give him the chance to fire, and as he stood, his
waist and shoulders were in front of the upper part of the glass. It so
happened that Red Feather and one of his warriors were looking at the
very window at which he appeared. Like a flash both guns went to their
shoulders and were discharged.
[Illustration: "He pointed his own weapon outward, and fired."]
But Melville had enough warning to leap back, as the jingle and crash of
glass showed how well the miscreants had aimed. Stirred to the deepest
anger, he pointed his own weapon outward and fired into the party, doing
so with such haste that he really took no aim at all.
It is not likely that his bullet had gone anywhere near the Sioux, but
it had served the purpose of warning them that he was as much in earnest
as themselves.
Melville placed a cartridge in the breech of his rifle with as much
coolness as a veteran, and prepared himself for what he believed was to
be a desperate defence of himself and sister.
It must not be thought that he was in despair; for, when he came to look
over the situation, he found much to encourage him. In the first place,
although besieged by a half-dozen fierce Sioux, he was sure the siege
could not last long. Whatever they did must be done within a few hours.
While it was impossible to tell the hour when his parents started from
Barwell, it must have been quite early in the morning, and there was
every reason to hope they would reach the settlement by noon at the
latest. The moment they did so they would learn that Melville had left
long before for home, and therefore had taken the upper trail, since,
had he not done so, the parties would have met on the road.
True, Mr. Clarendon would feel strong hope that his son, being so well
mounted, would wheel about and follow without delay the counsel in the
letter; but he was too shrewd to rely fully on such hope. What could be
more certain than that he would instantly gather a party of friends and
set out to their relief?
The great dread of the youth was that the Sioux would set fire to the
buildings, and he wondered many times that this was not done at the time
Red Feather learned of the flight of the family.
Melville glanced at Dot, and, seeing she was asleep, he decided to go
downstairs and make a fuller examination of the means of defence.
"Everything seems to be as secure as it can be," he said, standing in
the middle of the room and looking around; "that door has already been
tried, and found not wanting. The only other means of entrance is
through the windows, and after Red Feather's experience I am sure
neither he nor any of his warriors will try _that_."
There were four windows--two at the front and two at the rear--all of
the same shape and size. There was but the single door, of which so much
has already been said, and therefore the lower portion of the building
could not be made safer.
The stone chimney, so broad at the base that it was more than half as
wide as the side of the outside wall, was built of stone, and rose a
half-dozen feet above the roof. It was almost entirely out of doors, but
was solid and strong.
"If the Indians were not such lazy people," said Melville--looking
earnestly at the broad fire-place, in front of which stood the
new-fashioned stove--"they might set to work and take down the chimney,
but I don't think there is much danger of _that_."
He had hardly given expression to the thought when he fancied he heard a
slight noise on the outside, and close to the chimney itself. He stepped
forward, and held his ear to the stones composing the walls of the
fire-place.
Still the sounds were faint, and he then touched his ear against them,
knowing that solid substances are much better conductors of sound than
air. He now detected the noise more plainly, but it was still so faint
that he could not identify it.
He was still striving hard to do so when, to his amazement, Dot called
him from above-stairs--
"Where are you, Mel? Is that you that I can hear crawling about over the
roof?"
CHAPTER FIVE
A STRANGE VISIT--OMINOUS SIGNS
Melville Clarendon went up the short stairs three steps at a time,
startled as much by the call of his sister as by anything that had taken
place since the siege of the cabin began.
As he entered the room he saw Dot sitting up in bed, and staring
wonderingly at the shivered window-glass, particles of which lay all
around.
"Oh, Mel!" said she, "papa will scold you for doing that; how came you
to do it?"
"It was the bad Indians who fired through the window at me, and I fired
at them: you were sleeping so soundly that you only half awoke; but you
must keep still a few minutes longer."
"I thought that was you on the roof," she added, in a lower voice.
That there was someone overhead was certain. The rasping sound of a
person moving carefully along the peak of the roof was audible. The lad
understood the meaning of that which puzzled him when on the lower
floor: one of the warriors was carefully climbing the chimney--a task
not difficult, because of its rough uneven formation.
The significance of such a strange act remained to be seen. It appeared
unlikely that any of the Sioux were daring enough to attempt a descent
of the chimney; but that such was really his purpose became clear within
the following minute.
The Indian, after making his way a short distance along the peak,
returned to the chimney, where, from the noises which reached the
listening ones, it was manifest that he was actually making his way
down the flue, broad enough to admit the passage of a larger body than
himself.
"I won't be caught foul _this_ time," said Melville, turning to descend
the stairs again; "Dot, stay right where you are on the bed till I come
back or call to you."
She promised to obey, and there could be no doubt that she would do so.
"They must think I'm stupid," muttered the youth, taking his position in
the middle of the room, with his rifle cocked and ready for instant use;
"but they will find out the idiot is some one else."
He had not long to wait when in the large open space at the back of the
stove appeared a pair of moccasins groping vaguely about for support.
The pipe from the stove, instead of passing directly up the chimney,
entered it by means of an elbow. Had it been otherwise, the daring
warrior would have found himself in a bad fix on arriving at the bottom.
It would have been idle for the young man standing on the watch to fire
at the feet or legs, and he waited an instant, when the Indian dropped
lightly on his feet, and, without the least hesitation, stepped forward
in the apartment and confronted Melville.
The latter was dumbfounded, for the first glance at his face showed that
he was the chieftain Red Feather, the Indian whom of all others he least
expected to see.
The act of the savage was without any possible explanation to the
astonished youth, who, recoiling a step, stared at him, and uttered the
single exclamation--
"Red Feather!"
"Howly do, broder?" was the salutation of the Sioux, whose dusky face
showed just the faintest smile.
Red Feather's descent of the chimney had not been without some
disagreeable features. His blanket and garments, never very tidy, were
covered with soot, enough of which had got on his face to suggest that
he had adopted the usual means of his people to show they were on the
war-path.
[Illustration: "A pair of moccasins groping vaguely about for support."]
His knife and tomahawk were thrust in his girdle at his waist, and
throughout this laborious task he had held his rifle fast, so that he
was fully armed.
"Howly do?" he repeated, extending his hand, which Melville was too
prudent to accept.
"No," he replied, compressing his lips, and keeping his finger on the
trigger of his gun, "Red Feather speaks with a double tongue; he is not
our friend."
"Red Feather been bad Injin--want white folks' scalp--don't want 'em
now--little pappoose pray to Great Spirit--_dat_ make Red Feather feel
bad--he hab pappoose--he lub Injin pappoose--lub white pappoose--much lub
white pappoose."
This remark shed light upon the singular incident. To Melville it was a
mystery beyond understanding that any person could look upon the sweet
innocent face of Dot without loving her. Knowing how vile an Indian Red
Feather had been, it was yet a question with the youth whether he could
find it in his heart to wish ill to his wee bit of a sister.
Was it unreasonable, therefore, to believe that this savage warrior had
been touched by the sight of the little one on her knees, with her hands
clasped in prayer, and by her eagerness to keep away all harm from him?
This theory helped to explain what took place after the release of Red
Feather from his odd imprisonment. The five warriors whom he had brought
with him upon his raid must have combated his proposal to leave the
children unharmed. In the face of his savage overbearing disposition
they had fought his wish to keep the pledge to them, while he as firmly
insisted upon its fulfilment.
But if such were the fact, how could his descent of the chimney be
explained?
Melville did not try to explain it, for he had no time just then to
speculate upon it; the explanation would come shortly.
The youth, however, was too wise to act upon that which he hoped was the
truth. He had retreated nearly to the other side of the room, where he
maintained the same defiant attitude as at first.
Red Feather read the distrust in his face and manner. With a
deliberation that was not lacking in dignity, he walked slowly to the
corner of the apartment, Melville closely following him with his eye,
and leaned his gun against the logs. Then he drew his knife and
tomahawk from his girdle, and threw them on the floor beside the more
valuable weapon. That done, he moved back to the fire-place, folded his
arms, and, fixing his black eyes on the countenance of the lad,
repeated--"Red Feather friend of white folk."
"I believe you," responded Melville, carefully letting down the hammer
of his rifle and resting the stock on the floor; "now I am glad to shake
hands with you."
A broader smile than before lit up the dusky face as the chief warmly
pressed the hand of the youth, who felt just a little trepidation when
their palms met.
"Where pappoose?" asked Red Feather, looking suggestively at the steps
leading to the upper story.
"Dot!" called Melville, "come down here; someone wants to see you."
The patter of feet was heard, and the next instant the little one came
tripping downstairs, with her doll clasped by one arm to her breast.
"Red Feather is a good Indian now, and he wants to shake hands with
you."
With a faint blush and a sweet smile Dot ran across the floor and held
out her tiny hand. The chieftain stooped, and not only took the palm of
the little girl, but placed each of his own under her shoulders and
lifted her from the floor. Straightening up, he touched his dusky lips
to those of the innocent one, murmuring, with a depth of emotion which
cannot be described--
"Red Feather lub white pappoose--she make him good Injin--he be her
friend always."
The chieftain touched his lips but once to those of the little one, who
showed no hesitation in accepting the salute. Pure, innocent, and good
herself, she had not yet learned how evil the human heart may become.
Not only did she receive the salute willingly, but threw her free arm
around the neck of the Indian and gave him a kiss.
"Red Feather, what made you come down the chimney?" questioned Melville
when the Indian had released his sister.
"Can't come oder way," was the instant response.
"True; but why do you want to enter this house?"
"Be friend of white folk--come tell 'em."
"I am sure of that; but what can you do for us?"
Red Feather gave no direct answer to this question, but walked upstairs.
As he did so he left every one of his weapons on the lower floor, and by
a glance cast over his shoulder expressed the wish that the brother and
sister should follow him. They did so, Dot tripping ahead, while
Melville retained his weapons.
Reaching the upper floor, the Sioux walked directly to the window
through which the shots had come that shattered the two panes of glass.
There was a curious smile on his swarthy face as he pointed at the pane
on the left, and said--
"Red Feather fire _dat!_"
The explanation of his remark was that had Melville kept his place in
front of the window at the moment the rifles were discharged, only one
of the bullets would have hit him, and that would have been the one
which Red Feather did not fire.
[Illustration: "'She make him good Injin--he be her friend
always.'"--Page 51]
The shot which he sent into the apartment, and which filled the youth
with so much indignation, had been fired for the purpose of making the
other warriors believe the chieftain was as bitter an enemy of the
brother and sister as he was of all white people.
Having convinced his followers on this point, he made his position still
stronger with them by declaring his purpose of descending the chimney,
and having it out with them, or rather with the lad, within the
building.
Red Feather peered out of the window, taking care that none of his
warriors saw him, though they must have felt a strong curiosity to learn
the result of his strange effort to overcome the little garrison.
Melville supposed that he had arranged to communicate with them by
signal, for the result of the attempt must be settled quickly.
The youth took the liberty of peeping forth from the other window on the
same side of the house.
Only two of the Sioux were in their field of vision, and their actions
did not show that they felt much concern for their chief. They were
mounted on their horses, and riding at a walk towards the elevations
from which Red Feather had waved his blanket to the brother and sister
when on the other side of the stream.
Melville's first thought was that they had decided to leave the place,
but that hope was quickly dispelled by the action of the warriors. At
the highest point of the hill they checked their ponies, and sat for a
minute gazing fixedly to the northward in the direction of the
settlement.
"They are looking for our friends," thought the youth, "but I am afraid
they will not be in sight for a good while to come."
At this juncture one of the warriors deliberately rose to a standing
position on the back of his pony, and turned his gaze to the westward.
"Now they are looking for _their_ friends," was the correct conclusion
of Melville, "and I am afraid they see them; yes, there is no doubt of
it."
The warrior, in assuming his delicate position, passed his rifle to his
companion, whose horse was beside him. Then, with his two hands free, he
drew his blanket from around his shoulders and began waving it, as Red
Feather had done earlier in the day.
Melville glanced across at Red Feather, who was attentively watching the
performance. He saw the countenance grow more forbidding, while a scowl
settled on his brow.
It was easy to translate all this. The Sioux had caught sight of some of
their friends, and signalled them. This would not have been done had
there not been some person or persons to observe it.
The party which the chieftain had described as being in the Muddy Creek
country must have changed their course and hastened to join Red Feather
and the smaller party. If such were the fact, they would arrive on the
spot within a brief space of time.
The interesting question arose whether, in the event of such arrival,
and the attack that was sure to follow, Red Feather would come out as
open defender of the children against his own people. Had there been
only the five original warriors, he might have played a part something
akin to neutrality, on the ground that his descent of the chimney had
turned out ill for him, and, being caught at disadvantage he was held
idle under the threat of instant death. Still further, it might have
been his province to assume the character of hostage, and thus to defeat
the overthrow of the couple by the Sioux.
But the arrival of the larger party would change everything. Among the
Muddy Creek band were several who disliked Red Feather intensely enough
to be glad of a chance to help his discomfiture.
He had agreed that, in the event of his surprising the lad who was
making such a brave defence, he would immediately appear at the front
window and announce it, after which he would unbar the door and admit
the warriors to the "last scene of all."
[Illustration: "'Let the Sioux send more of his warriors down the
chimney!'"]
Several minutes had now passed, and no such announcement was made. The
other three Sioux were lingering near the building, awaiting the signal
which came not.
While the two were engaged on the crest of the hill the others suddenly
came round in front of the house. They were on foot, and looked
inquiringly at the windows, as if at a loss to understand the cause of
the silence. Red Feather instantly drew back, and said in a low voice to
Melville--
"Speak to Injin--dem tink Red Feather lose scalp."
Grasping the situation, the youth showed himself at the window, where
the Sioux were sure to see him, and uttered a tantalizing shout.
"Let the Sioux send more of their warriors down the chimney!" he called
out; "the white youth is waiting for them, that he may take their
scalps."
This was followed by another shout, as the lad withdrew beyond reach of
a rifle-ball, that left no doubt of its meaning on the minds of the
astounded warriors.
CHAPTER SIX
THE MUDDY CREEK BAND--THE TORCH
It was easy for any spectator to interpret the actions and signals of
the Sioux warrior who was standing erect on his pony and waving his
blanket at some party invisible to the others.
After a minute or two he rested, with the blanket trailing beside him,
while he still held his erect position, and continued gazing earnestly
over the prairie. This showed that he was waiting for an answer to his
signal. Either there was none, or that which was given was not
satisfactory, for up went the blanket once more, and he swung it more
vigorously than before, stopping and gazing away again.
This time the reply was what was desired, for the warrior dropped as
suddenly astride of his horse as though his feet had been knocked from
under him, and, wheeling about, he and his companion galloped down the
hill to where the others were viewing the cabin.
The taunting words which Melville had called through the front window
must have convinced the Sioux that the pitcher had gone once too often
to the fountain. Red Feather had escaped by a wonderful piece of good
fortune when wedged in the window, and had been encouraged to another
attempt, which ended in his ruin.
"Red Feather," said Melville, stepping close to the chieftain, who was
still peering through one of the windows, "the other Sioux will soon be
here."
"Dat so--dat so," replied the Indian, looking around at him and nodding
his head several times.
"What will they do?"
[Illustration: "Standing erect and waving his blanket."]
Instead of replying to this question the chief seemed to be plunged in
thought. He gazed fixedly in the face of the youth, as if uncertain what
he ought to answer, and then he walked to the head of the stairs.
"Wait here--don't come."
And, without anything more, he went down the steps slowly, and without
the slightest noise. Melville listened, but could hear nothing of his
footfalls, though certain that he was moving across the floor.
"I don't like this," muttered the lad, compressing his lips and shaking
his head; "it makes me uneasy."
He was now in the lower story, where he left his rifle, knife, and
tomahawk. He was therefore more fully armed than the youth, and, if he
chose to play the traitor, there was nothing to prevent it.
It seemed to Melville that the coming of the larger party was likely to
change whatever plans Red Feather might have formed for befriending him
and his sister. What more probable than that he had decided to return to
his first love?
But speculation could go on this way for ever, and without reaching any
result.
"I'll do as I have done all along," he muttered; "I'll trust in Heaven
and do the best I can. I'm sure of one thing," he added; "whatever
comes, Red Feather won't hurt Dot: he has spared me on her account: and
if he turns against me now, he will do what he can to save her.
Therefore I'll make use of the little one."
Dot had held her peace through these trying moments, but he now called
her to him and explained what he wished her to do. It was that she
should place herself at the head of the stairs and watch Red Feather. In
case he started to open the door, or to come up the stairs, she was to
tell him. Dot was beginning to understand more clearly than before the
situation in which she was placed. The belief that she could be of some
use to her brother made her more anxious than ever to do her part. She
walked to the head of the stairs and sat down where she could see what
went on below.
Returning to his place at the window, Melville found enough to interest
him without thinking of Red Feather.
[Illustration: "The whole party broke out in a series of
yells."--Page 63]
The band from the Muddy Creek country had just arrived, and as nearly
as he could judge, there were fully a score--all wild, ugly-looking
fellows, eager for mischief. They had just galloped up the hill, where
they gathered round the man that had first signalled them, he having
ridden forward to meet them. They talked for several minutes, evidently
to learn what had taken place in and around the Clarendon cabin.
This was soon made clear to them, and then the whole party broke into a
series of yells enough to startle the bravest man. At the same time they
began riding rapidly back and forth, swinging their rifles over their
heads, swaying their bodies first on one side and then on another, and
apparently growing more excited every minute.
At first they described short circles on the prairie, and then suddenly
extended them so as to pass entirely around the house.
The Sioux, as they came in sight in front of the cabin, were in such a
fire range that the youth felt sure he could bring down a warrior at
every shot. He was tempted to do so, but restrained himself.
He reflected that, though several shots had been fired, no one, so far
as he knew, had been hurt on either side. He had brought his own rifle
to his shoulder more than once, and but a feather's weight more pressure
on the trigger would have discharged it, but he was glad he had not done
so.
"I shall not shoot any one," he said, determinedly, "until I see it must
be done for the sake of Dot or myself. I wonder what Red Feather is at?"
Dot was still sitting at the head of the stairs, dividing her attention
between Susie her doll and the chieftain. Stepping softly toward her,
Melville asked--
"What is he doing, Dot?"
"Nothing."
"Where is he standing?"
"Beside the front window, looking out just like you did a minute ago."
This was reassuring information, and helped to drive away the fear that
had troubled the youth ever since the Sioux passed below stairs.
"Mel," called his sister the next minute, "I'm awful hungry; ain't it
past dinner-time?"
"I'm afraid there is nothing to eat in the house."
"I'm awful thirsty, too."