to eat or drink. You know, father and mother didn't expect us to stay
here, or they would have left something for us."
"Can't I go downstairs and look?"
"Yes, if you will keep away from the windows, and tell Red Feather what
you are doing."
"Hasn't he got eyes that he can see for himself?" asked the little one
as she hurried down the steps.
The chief looked around when he heard the dainty steps, wondering what
errand brought her downstairs.
"Red Feather," said the young lady, "I'm hungry; ain't you?"
"No--me no hungry," he answered, his dark face lighting up with pleasure
at sight of the picture of innocence.
"Then you must have eaten an awful big breakfast this morning," remarked
Dot, walking straight to the cupboard in the farther corner of the room,
into which Melville had glanced when he first entered the house; "I know
where mother keeps her jam and nice things."
That she knew where the delicacies were stored Dot proved the next
minute, when, to her delight, she found everything that heart, or rather
appetite, could wish.
There were a jar of currant jam, a pan of cool milk, on which a thick
crust of yellow cream had formed, three-fourths of a loaf of bread, and
an abundance of butter. Good Mrs. Clarendon left them behind because she
had an abundance without them. Little did she dream of the good service
they were destined to do.
Dot uttered such a cry of delight that the chief walked toward her, and
Melville seized the excuse to hurry below.
The first thing that struck him was that Red Feather's tomahawk and
knife still lay in the corner where he had placed them. He simply held
his rifle which most likely he was ready to use against his own people
whenever the necessity arose.
"Well, Dot, you _have_ found a prize," said her brother, following the
chief, who was looking over her shoulder; "I had no idea that mother had
left anything behind; there's enough for all."
She insisted that the others should partake while she waited, but
neither would permit it. No matter how a-hungered either might have
been, he enjoyed the sight of seeing her eat tenfold more than in
partaking himself.
And you may be sure that Dot did ample justice to the rich find.
Melville cut a thick slice for her, and spread the butter and jam on it,
while a portion of the milk was poured into a cup.
I never heard of a little girl who could eat a piece of bread well
covered with jam or preserves without failing to get most of it on her
mouth. Dot Clarendon was no exception to the rule; and before she was
through a goodly part of it, the sticky sweet stuff was on her cheeks
and nose. When she looked up at the two who were watching her, the sight
was so comical that Red Feather did that which I do not believe he had
done a dozen times in all his life--he threw back his head and laughed
loud. Melville caught the contagion and gave way to his mirth, which was
increased by the naive remark of Dot that she couldn't see anything to
laugh at.
[Illustration: "He threw back his head and laughed loud."]
The appetite of the young queen having been satisfied, Melville insisted
on Red Feather sharing what was left with him. The Sioux declined at
first, but yielded, and the remaining bread and milk furnished them a
grateful and nourishing repast. They did not use all, but saved enough
to supply another meal for Dot, whose appetite was sure to make itself
felt before many hours passed by.
Like most boys of his age in these later days, Melville Clarendon
carried a watch, which showed that it was past three o'clock in the
afternoon. This was considerably later than he supposed, and proved that
in the rush of incidents time had passed faster than he had suspected.
"What shall I do?" asked the youth, turning to the chief.
"Go--up up," he replied, pointing up the steps; "watch out. Red
Feather--he watch out here."
"Do you want Dot to stay with you?" asked Melville, pausing on his way
to the steps.
"Leave wid Red Feather--he take heap care ob pappoose."
"There can be no doubt of _that_," remarked the brother, as he bounded
up the stairs, resuming his former station near the window.
Looking out with the same care he had shown from the first, he found the
Sioux had grown tired of galloping round the house and buildings, or
they were plotting some other kind of mischief, for only one of them was
in sight.
He was seated on his pony on the crest of the hill from which the
signals were made to the Muddy Creek warriors. A moment's study of the
red men showed that his attention was directed not toward the west but
the north, in the direction of the settlement.
"He is now looking for enemies instead of friends," was the conclusion
of Melville.
The truth was, the youth was beginning to wonder why the settlers did
not come. If no accident had befallen his parents, they ought to have
reached Barwell several hours before, and a gallop of ten miles was only
a moderate ride for a party of horsemen eager to strike the marauders a
blow.
But the fact that they were not yet in sight set the youth speculating
as to what the result was likely to be if they did not come at all, or
rather, if their coming should be delayed until nightfall, for it was
not to be supposed that relief would not be sent sooner or later.
"There is only a faint moon to-night," he reflected; "and I'm afraid
that's against us."
The American Indian prefers to do his mischief in the dark, and, since
it would be impossible for the horsemen to conceal their approach, they
would be likely to suffer in the first collision with the red men.
But, on the other hand, would not the gloom be of help to Red Feather in
some scheme doubtless formed to help the children whose friend he had so
suddenly become?
What the nature of this scheme was (if such existed) Melville could not
guess; it might be that it required a bright moon for its success.
It may be said that the Sioux chieftain, as he stood beside one of the
narrow windows on the lower floor, racked his brain until he hit upon a
way of aiding the brother and sister--especially the latter--in their
desperate peril. It was a strange plan, indeed, and, with all his
adroitness, he knew the chances were ten to one against its success.
But the chief gave no hint to Melville of what was going on in his mind,
and the latter could only wait, and hope and pray that the same Heavenly
Father who had protected and preserved them thus far would keep them to
the end.
The youth was in the midst of his speculations over the matter when he
fancied he detected a peculiar odor from the outside. He could not tell
its nature, though he snuffed the air repeatedly. He was alarmed, for he
connected it with the silence of the war-party outside.
He was on the point of appealing to Red Feather downstairs, when its
nature flashed upon him. _It was smoke!_
He had hardly reached the decision when a mass of thick vapor rolled in
front of the house, so dense and blinding that for the moment it shut
from his sight the mounted sentinel on the hill.
What was dreaded by the besieged had come at last. The Sioux, aware of
the great value of the minutes, had resorted to the torch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"A LITTLE CHILD SHALL LEAD THEM."--SURROUNDED BY PERIL
Within a distance of a dozen yards of the house of Archibald Clarendon
stood his barn. It was what might be called a nondescript building,
being open at the bottom to an extent sufficient to admit his wagons,
ploughs, farming implements, harnesses, and indeed about everything used
in the cultivation of the fertile land.
In the upper portion were stowed his hay and grain, and in the rear of
the lower part were the stables for his horses and cows. The latter,
with his principal wagon, had been removed that morning, when the
settler started with his family on their hasty flight northward to the
settlement of Barwell; but the timber was dry, and enough hay was stored
in the loft to render the building very combustible.
It was to this structure that the Sioux had applied the torch, and at
the moment the smoke rolled in front of the house the whole building was
in flames. Unfortunately, there was a gentle breeze blowing from the
barn directly toward the house, and it was because of this favoring fact
that the former was fired. The marauders had every reason to believe the
flames would soon communicate with the dwelling and burn it to the
ground.
The barn faced the end with the broad stone chimney, through which Red
Feather made his singular entrance. It was therefore out of the field of
vision of the inmates, since there was not a single window up or down
stairs with an outlook in that direction.
Melville started to run down the steps on making the startling
discovery, but met Red Feather coming up with one hand grasping that of
Dot.
"My gracious!" exclaimed the youth; "what can be done now, Red Feather?
We shall all be burned alive."
"Oogh! not yet--house ain't afire!" replied the chieftain, without any
evidence of excitement.
"But the wind is blowing this way, and the house is sure to go."
"Mebbe go--mebbe won't go," was the reply with the same stolidity of
manner; "wait--see bimeby."
It would seem that, since the Sioux had such a good chance to do
mischief, they would have applied the fire to the house itself. But,
though the logs were dry enough to burn readily when the flames were
fairly started, it was still a task requiring considerable time and
work. It was necessary to pile the fuel against the logs, and to nurse
the flames until they set the heavy material going. The barn was so
inflammable that a tiny match would ignite it, and, should the fire
reach the house, the task would be equally effective, and far more
enjoyable to the cruel spectators.
[Illustration: "It was to this structure that the Sioux had applied the
torch."--Page 69]
While Red Feather and Melville stood near each other on the upper
floor, talking in low tones, Dot slipped her hand from the grasp of
the chieftain, and walking to the side of the bed on which she had been
lying, knelt down, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands, just as she
had been accustomed to do at her mother's knee ever since she was old
enough to form the words after her parent.
"She is praying," whispered her brother.
After repeating a simple prayer for their safety the child opened her
eyes, and, seeing her friends looking at her, she sprang nimbly up and
ran to them.
"Don't be scared, brother and Red Feather; I prayed that we might all be
taken care of, and I'm not afraid one bit now, are you?"
Melville tried to speak, but his voice choked him. His eyes filled, and,
lifting the precious one in his arms, he pressed her to his breast and
kissed her again and again.
The chieftain said nothing, but he too raised the child in his arms and
touched his lips to hers. Not only that, but he filled her with delight
by saluting Susie in the same manner.
Who shall try to make known the emotions which stirred that savage
heart? He had often turned in scorn from the words of the good
missionaries who had come to his country; but there was something in the
faith of the sweet child which touched his nature as it had never been
touched before.
Having set the little one on her feet, the Sioux stepped across the main
room to the window from which most of their observations had been made
on that floor. Melville followed him, and noticed that the smoke had
vanished, so that the sentinel on the hill was in sight again.
Red Feather thrust his hand through the windows, so that his fingers
projected slightly beyond. This was done to ascertain the direction of
the wind.
"Oogh!" he muttered, with a curious expression on his countenance "_wind
blow oder way!_ Great Spirit hear what pappoose say."
"Can it be possible?" asked the awed Melville.
There was no doubt of it; the slight breeze, which had been coming
directly from the barn toward the house had changed, and was now blowing
in exactly the opposite direction.
The chief and the youth passed into the smaller apartment which was
nearest the chimney. The former pressed his ear against the logs to help
his hearing. Had they caught the flames from the barn, which was still
burning furiously, he could not have failed to detect the fact. A
moment's attention told him that up to the present the building was
safe.
But it was not in the nature of things that the Sioux should refrain
because their first effort failed. They were not the ones to give up on
a single trial.
Several noteworthy things took place during the latter part of this
eventful afternoon. First of all, there was such a decided lowering of
the temperature that a fire would have felt comfortable to the occupants
of the building. It looked indeed to Melville as though one of those
fearful storms known in the west as "blizzards" was approaching.
This was hardly possible, for it was summer-time, but the plains of
Texas and many portions of the west are often swept by what are termed
"northers" during the warm season. These winds are accompanied by such
cutting cold that people and animals often perish, the suddenness of
the visitation shutting them out from securing refuge.
Red Feather offered his blanket to Dot, but she shook her head. "It's
too dirty," she said, noticing the soot which the owner did not seem to
mind; "I can use a blanket from the bed, for mamma did not take them all
with her."
Had Melville suspected the thought in the mind of his little sister, he
would have checked its utterance through fear of offending the
chieftain, but there was no need of that: one of the impossibilities was
for Dot to hurt his feelings.
The next most interesting event was the second failure of the Sioux to
set fire to the house. This was singular, for there seemed no reason why
they should not have succeeded with such facilities at command.
The barn burned so readily that long before dusk it was reduced to a
mass of smoking ruins.
From these, it would have appeared, enough brands could have been
collected to make a bonfire of the structure.
Several of the Sioux gathered fuel at one corner of the building, and
made an attempt to fire it. The sounds which reached those within left
no doubt of what was going on, and you may be sure they listened with
anxiety.
It was while matters were in this critical shape that Melville put the
direct question to Red Feather as to what he would do in the event of
the house being fired. The chieftain replied that, when he saw there was
no saving the building, he intended to take Dot in his arms and walk out
of the door among his own warriors. The lad was to follow immediately,
and he would insist that the lives of the children should be spared
because of the promise made by him to them.
Pressed further, the chief admitted that the plan was likely to be only
partially successful. He was confident he could save Dot, because of her
sex and years; but there was little hope for Melville. Unless prevented
by the care of the little girl, Red Feather was willing to join in the
fight which the youth would have to make for his life with scarcely an
earthly prospect of winning.
But the attempt to fire the log structure came to naught, and, strangest
of all, the Sioux gave it up--at least for a time, for it would have
been contrary to Indian nature had they abandoned the effort to destroy
their enemies so long as there was a chance of success.
Thus matters stood until the shadows of night began closing over the
prairie. During the interval, many glimpses of the Sioux had been
caught, as they moved backward and forward at will, sometimes mounted
and often on foot. The sentinel kept his place on the crest of the hill,
or rather, he exchanged it with one of his brother warriors, who walked
about, sat down, smoked his pipe, and used every means at his command to
cause the time to pass comfortably to him.
The failure of the arrival of help caused not only surprise but distress
to Melville Clarendon; for there was but one way of interpreting it:
something had befallen his parents by which they were prevented from
reaching the settlement.
The youth had tried all through the afternoon to drive away the
misgivings which had troubled him on this score; but he could do so no
longer. It was in keeping with the tactics of the Indians that, after
arranging to attack the home of Clarendons, they should circle to the
northward, so as to approach it from the direction of the settlement.
Had they done this, with a view of shutting off all escape to Barwell,
it was more than likely they did it early enough in the day to meet the
pioneer and his wife hurrying from the place of danger.
Had this meeting taken place, nothing could have saved the couple.
Melville secured some consolation from the belief that, if such an awful
calamity had overtaken his parents, the Sioux would give evidence of the
fact. That is to say, they would have taken possession of the horses and
enough of the property for the lad to see them on the first survey of
the assailants.
The fact that he did not detect anything of the kind might be accepted
as proof that no meeting had taken place with the particular party under
the leadership of Red Feather.
But that question was easily answered by Red Feather himself. He assured
Melville that he and his warriors had come from the south, arriving on
the spot only a short time before the appearance of the brother and
sister on the other bank of the stream. He had waved his blanket at the
children as a taunt, not supposing they would come any closer after
seeing him; but, riding over the hill, he peeped cautiously back, and
learned that Melville, not catching the meaning of the gesture, was
approaching his home. Thereupon the chief called back his men who were
riding off, and arranged to secure the young birds returning to the nest
from which the parents had flown.
All the comfort that the youth might have got from this story was
spoiled by the declaration of the chief that he believed an encounter
had taken place between Mr. Clarendon and the other party of Sioux which
reached the spot later in the afternoon. These were under the lead of
Tall Bear, a rival of Red Feather, between whom a jealousy amounting to
bitter enmity existed.
Had Red Feather not seen Tall Bear among the group he would have
adopted a course which the presence of that rival prevented. He would
have gone out among his own warriors, and insisted on his rights with a
vigor that could hardly have failed of success. Though his men were not
afraid of dispute with him, yet they were not likely to invite violence.
When they saw he was fully resolved they would yield. The conclusion to
be reached from this statement is that Red Feather after all did not
make half as determined an argument in behalf of his friends as he
appeared to have done. Melville, therefore, was right in his first
suspicion, though he was too thoughtful to say so.
[Illustration: "Something unusual was going on among the Sioux
outside."]
Darkness had not fully come when it became clear to the watchers within
the building that something unusual was going on among the Sioux
outside. Nearly the entire party came together on the crest of the hill,
where they were only dimly visible in the gathering gloom. They could be
seen walking back and forth, making many gestures, and talking so loud
that their voices were clearly heard.
[Illustration: "Red Feather strained his hearing to catch some words."]
Leaning against the side of the window, Red Feather strained his hearing
to catch some words that would give him an inkling of what it all meant.
The heart of the youth throbbed with the hope that the long-expected
help was in sight at last. It seemed to him the Sioux were acting just
as they would do in case they detected the approach of hostile horsemen.
But the sorely-tried lad could only wait until Red Feather should answer
the question on his tongue, or until it should be answered by the events
themselves.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TALL BEAR AND HIS WARRIORS--A SURPRISING DISCOVERY
You will recall that when Red Feather wedged himself in the narrow
window he said, in answer to the sharp questioning of Melville
Clarendon, that the Muddy Creek band of Sioux were so far off that
nothing was to be feared from them.
The original band of marauders numbered over a score, and were under the
joint leadership of Tall Bear and Red Feather, both of whom were eager
to sweep along the thin line of settlements like a cyclone, scattering
death and destruction in their path. It may strike you that so small a
force was hardly equal to the task of such a raid; but I have only to
remind you that the famous Geronimo and his Apaches, who made their home
among the alkali deserts and mountain fastnesses of Arizona and New
Mexico, numbered few warriors at times, and yet they baffled for years a
regiment of United States cavalry. It was only when the chieftain chose
to come in and surrender himself under the pledge of good treatment that
hostilities ended.
The twenty-odd horsemen under the leadership of Red Feather and Tall
Bear were fitting types of that savage horde which in the early summer
of 1876 blotted out General Custer and his troops. It so happened,
however, with the smaller party that they found no such favoring
circumstances to help them. At the first settler's cabin assailed they
discovered the inmates ready for them. In some way or other, several
families had learned of their danger in time to prepare for their
assailants.
It was clear to the Indians that the settlers in that section had taken
the alarm, and Red Feather proposed they should abandon their first plan
and push northward towards Barwell, attacking the isolated homes to the
south of that settlement. Tall Bear opposed so warmly, and with such
slurs on his rival, that a personal conflict was narrowly averted.
The end of the quarrel was that Red Feather, with five of his followers,
drew off from the rest and rode northward. The result of this separation
was unsatisfactory to both parties.
The friendly Indian who had hastened toward Barwell to warn the pioneers
of their danger did his work so well that hardly one was neglected. The
inmates of the first cabin attacked by Red Feather were awaiting him.
Only a few shots were exchanged, when the wrathful chieftain withdrew,
and, pushing to the northward, next swooped down on the dwelling of
Archibald Clarendon.
No resistance was encountered there, for, as you know, the inmates had
left some time before. For some reason never fully explained, Red
Feather did not fire the buildings at once. Shortly after, Melville
Clarendon and his sister appeared on the scene, and the incidents which
followed have already been told.
Meanwhile, Tall Bear and his warriors met with no better success than
the smaller party. The proof became so strong that the whole district
was on the alert that he abruptly changed his mind and led his warriors
at a sweeping gallop to the northward over the trail of Red Feather and
his warriors.
When he arrived on the scene he heard the curious story the five
warriors had to tell. A dwelling at last had been found in which the
occupants were not fully prepared, or rather, were so insignificant in
strength that no company of Sioux, however small, could consent to a
repulse.
But there stood the cabin defying them. Red Feather had forced his way
partly through the window and then was caught so fast that, but for the
mercy of the sturdy youth within, he would have been killed without
being able to use a finger to defend himself.
Among the whole party who heard the remarkable narrative, there was not
one who would have thought of keeping a promise made under such
circumstances as was that of the chief. No pledge could have been more
solemn, and yet those are the very ones that are first repudiated by the
red man.
To Tall Bear and his band the action of Red Feather in descending the
chimney was natural. The bitterest enemy of the chieftain never
questioned his courage, and, knowing how chagrined he must feel over his
mishap, they could understand the desperate feeling that prompted the
deed, the like of which was seldom if ever known before.
There was little said about Red Feather's wish to keep his agreement
with Melville, for the reason I have already hinted--his proposal to do
so was not earnest enough to mislead them.