chimney by the chief had marked the end of his career. Among all the
warriors there was not one who believed the truth--that he had been
changed from the fiercest enemy into the most beloved friend of the boy
and girl.
The tantalizing shout of Melville from the window was proof to the
warriors that Red Feather had been slain by the boy, though, as I have
said, no report of a gun was heard from within the building.
The chieftain's course, after proving himself a friend of the brother
and sister, showed his desire to keep his presence in the house
unsuspected by his own people. He took care that no glimpse of him was
caught through the windows, and he refrained from firing when he had any
number of chances to bring down an Indian.
Doubtless there were several reasons for this forbearance. Such a shot
would be credited to Melville, and might excite the Sioux to an attack
too furious to be resisted. At the same time, it is hardly to be
supposed that Red Feather's feelings had so changed, because of his wish
to save Dot and her brother, that he was ready to turn about and begin
shooting at the very ones whom he had led on this raid.
It cannot be said that Tall Bear grieved any more over the loss of his
rival leader than did most of the warriors. He prudently uttered some
words of sympathy, but they hardly deceived those who heard them. They
agreed with him, however, in declaring that his fall must be avenged,
and that the boy who had caused his death, as well as his little sister,
must suffer torture-punishment for the deed.
Several circuits around the building proved that it could hardly be
carried by the most determined assault in their power. All the windows
were too narrow to be used as a means of entrance, even if any one was
brave enough to repeat the disastrous experiment of the other chief. The
single door had already resisted the strongest shock they could give it,
and no weak point was visible.
True, the path used by Red Feather when he finally succeeded in gaining
the interior was open to the rest; but it is no reflection on their
courage to say that among the whole party there was not one willing to
head the procession down the chimney, even though but a solitary boy and
a single rifle stood in the way.
Clearly there was one means at the command of Tall Bear and his Sioux
which was not only terrible, but effective. They could set fire to the
building and reduce it to ashes.
The lookout on the hill reported the horizon clear in every direction;
and, since his wide sweep of vision extended toward every point of the
compass, he was able to discover the approach of hostile horsemen a good
while before they could reach the spot. He knew that if help came it
would be from the northward, where Barwell lay, whither Mr. Clarendon
and his wife had hurried on the first alarm. The prairie for a couple of
miles was under a scrutiny that would let nothing escape.
The circumstances were so favorable that Tall Bear and his party decided
to indulge in a feast. Enough poultry were wandering about the premises
to afford a fine meal for a larger band than he had with him, and it
took only a short time to wring the necks of more than a score of ducks
and chickens.
The Sioux gathered to the westward of the barn and ate like so many wild
animals until all were satisfied. The meal finished, they gave their
attention to the serious business before them. Had the incidents I am
relating taken place half a century ago, the red men would have been
obliged to resort to the old-fashioned flint and steel with which our
forefathers used to start a fire; but they were abreast of these modern
times to that extent that nearly every one carried more or less
lucifer-matches.
The favoring wind led to the barn being fired, under the belief that the
flames would quickly communicate with the house but a short distance
off; but, as you have learned, Providence favored the threatened ones to
that extent that the breeze changed its course, and for a time Dot and
Melville were saved.
[Illustration: "His attention was drawn to the sentinel on the
hill."--Page 86]
Tall Bear and the Sioux waited till, to their disappointment and
surprise, they saw the barn sink into blazing ruins and leave the house
intact.
The next proceeding was to gather what embers they could and pile them
against the dwelling, where they speedily burst into flames. It now
looked certain that the structure was doomed; but the heavy logs,
although dry on the outside, were damp within. It takes such timber a
long time to part with its natural moisture, and, fortunately for our
friends, a driving rain-storm less than a week previous had so soaked
the wood that only an intense and long-continued heat could set it
aflame. The logs were charred and scorched, and more than once appeared
to be on the point of breaking into a roaring blaze; but the brands
piled against the end of the house finally sank down to embers and
ashes, and though considerable smoke arose, the house stood really as
firm and as strong as at the first.
This was a keener disappointment than Tall Bear had yet met, for it
looked as though the most potent if not the only means at his command
was powerless to bring the boy to terms.
The chieftain himself examined the logs which had been subjected to the
fire. He dug his hunting-knife into them, and soon discovered why they
resisted the fire so effectually. Then he tested other parts of the
house in the same manner and with the same result.
For the first time since his arrival on the spot he was forced to see
the probability of another failure. His career from the hour he bounded
upon his pony and entered so eagerly on the raid had been a continual
disappointment. He was angered and resentful toward the supposed dead
Red Feather, because he allowed himself to be baffled at the beginning
by a solitary boy.
Tall Bear's pride was stirred, and he was unwilling to confess himself
beaten after openly blaming his predecessor for failing to capture the
place with less than one-third of his force.
But there seemed to be no help for it, unless he should persevere with
the fire until the logs of the house were forced into combustion. They
must yield in time, if the effort was kept up; and he was on the point
of renewing the attempt on a larger scale than before when his attention
was drawn to the sentinel on the hill, who uttered the startling cry
that horsemen were in sight to the northward.
[Illustration: "More Sioux comin'--open door quick."--Page 90]
The chief and the warriors who were not already on the spot hurried
thither to learn what it meant.
As I have explained elsewhere, this discovery did not take place until
near nightfall, when darkness was beginning to render surrounding
objects indistinct. The long delay in the arrival of help for the
children of the pioneer led Tall Bear to believe it was not likely to
come before morning; but once more it looked as if Providence was about
to interfere to bring his wicked schemes to naught.
The gloom overspreading stream and prairie prevented the Sioux from
seeing the horsemen clearly enough to identify them. The forms were so
shadowy and vague that nothing more could be learned than that there
were about a dozen men mounted on horses, and riding toward the cabin on
a slow walk, as if not without some misgiving.
It was certain that while the sentinel on the hill commanded an
unusually wide sweep of vision, he himself was conspicuous, and the
others had been as quick to discover him as he was to detect them. Both
parties, therefore, were aware of the presence of the other, and neither
was likely to make a mistake at this critical juncture.
But neither Tall Bear nor any of his warriors could tell of a surety
whether the approaching horsemen were white or red men. The Sioux
grouped around the house were not the only ones by any means that were
engaged on this memorable raid in Southern Minnesota, and it was not
impossible that a party of friends were in sight.
It was somewhat curious that the majority of the Sioux believed a party
of their own people at hand. Tall Bear himself was inclined to think the
same; but to guard against any fatal mistake, he directed his warriors
to ride down the hill on the east, so as to interpose between them and
the strangers, who could now be barely distinguished.
Two other Sioux were to wait until the horsemen came near enough to
settle the question, when they would make it known by signal, after
which the course of the band would be open. If the new-comers proved to
be enemies, a sharp fight was likely to follow, in which serious damage
was certain to be inflicted on both sides.
The directions of the leader were promptly followed, the warriors
galloping off and quickly disappearing in the direction of the upper
trail, along which Melville and Dot had ridden on their way from the
settlement.
[Illustration: "The door swung inward."]
While they were thus engaged, Tall Bear cantered to the front of the
cabin and leaped to the ground. He had determined to attempt a trick.
Striking his fist against the door, he called out--
"More Sioux comin'--open door quick--Tall Bear won't hurt--don't wait."
He hoped the actions of himself and warriors had made known the former
fact before he announced it in words. He counted upon a panic that would
show the lad his situation was hopeless, and induce him to surrender
while there was hope of mercy.
There was no reply to his summons, and he raised his fist to strike the
door again, when he discovered the latch-string on the outside. With no
suspicion of what it meant, he gave it a twitch.
To his amazement, the door swung inward of its own weight, and, before
he could check himself, he had to take a step within to escape falling.
With a vague suspicion of the truth, he called to the lad again, and
groped about the lower room.
He quickly discovered that it was empty, and then, with little personal
fear, he hurried up the stairs.
Two minutes were enough to make clear the truth.
He was the only living person in the cabin!
CHAPTER NINE
NAT TRUMBULL AND HIS MEN--OUT IN THE NIGHT
The American Indian rarely shows any emotion that may be stirring his
heart. I am sure, however, that if one could have had a look at the face
of Tall Bear when he made the discovery that neither the brother nor
sister was in the cabin he would have seen a picture of as blank
amazement as ever held a person speechless.
This was not caused so much by what the children had done as by the
course of the Sioux themselves, for nothing was plainer to the chieftain
than the manner in which Melville and Dot had escaped.
They had been on the alert, and when the warriors hastened to the top of
the hill Melville Clarendon was bright enough to seize the opportunity
thus given. He had quietly stepped out of the front door, where, in the
gloom and the absorbing interest of the red men in another direction,
neither he nor the little girl attracted notice. The two were doubtless
making all haste from the endangered spot.
But the chieftain was astounded over another discovery: in order to make
his search absolutely thorough he had caught up a smouldering brand,
quickly fanned it into a flame, and then explored the upper and lower
storys. Not a nook or corner was left unvisited, and a hiding cat would
have been brought to light.
That which almost knocked Tall Bear breathless was the fact that he
found nothing of the remains of Red Feather, who had entered the chimney
before the eyes of five of his own warriors.
[Illustration: "Explored the upper and lower storys."]
The inference was certain: Red Feather had not been killed, but had gone
out of the front door just as the children had done.
Tall Bear was still far from suspecting the whole truth, though, had he
been left with nothing else on his mind for a short time only, he must
have divined, or at least suspected, what actually took place.
But a party of horsemen were approaching, and must already be close at
hand. They required attention, for if they should prove to be enemies,
the chief would have his hands full. His position, with a lighted torch
within the building, was not the most prudent he could take, and as he
came outside he flung the light to the ground where it sputtered out in
the darkness.
Tall Bear's pony was standing where he had left him, and vaulting
lightly upon his back, he sent him on a gallop to the top of the hill,
to learn something about the new-comers.
The main party of warriors were some distance off, awaiting the signal
to know whether they were to fight or to join the parties whose identity
was still in doubt. The couple whom Tall Bear had despatched to
reconnoitre were still absent, so that he found himself alone on the
elevation.
It is at such times that the American Indian displays a wonderful
keenness of sight and hearing. The chief sat motionless, peering into
the gloom and listening. None could know better than he that he had
taken a most dangerous position.
If the horsemen, who could not be far off, were hostile, they would
surround the hill whereon they last saw the Sioux, and unless Tall Bear
kept his wits about him he was likely to be shut in on every hand.
But it would have been hard for the most skilful Indian scout to take
him unawares. He was certain to see and hear the approach of any one as
soon as the latter could see or hear him, and the chieftain was not the
one to fall asleep under such circumstances.
Darting his penetrating glances here, there, and everywhere, he suddenly
fixed them upon a point directly ahead. Something was vaguely assuming
form in the gloom, and a minute later he observed a man walking toward
him.
Tall Bear leaned forward over the neck of his pony, that he might not
lose the advantage of an inch of space. The stranger was advancing
without any more noise than if he was a shadow, and he was alone, or, if
he had any companions, they were so far behind when he was in full view
as to be invisible.
The man on foot came to a halt while still too far off to be more than
faintly visible, and emitted a low tremulous whistle. Tall Bear promptly
answered in the same manner, and then the other ran forward to his side.
He was one of the two scouts the chief had sent out, and he brought
important tidings.
The party of horsemen which caused the Sioux such concern were white
men--every one--under the leadership of the famous frontier scout Nat
Trumbull. The warrior had ventured near enough to the company to
recognize his voice when he gave the order for his men to move around to
the south and approach the house from that direction.
Trumbull was a veteran who had done good service during the lurid summer
of 1862, when the Sioux desolated a large portion of the Minnesota
frontier, and Tall Bear feared him more than any white man living. He
knew that if Trumbull and his rangers got a chance at the Sioux they
would force matters without mercy. No sooner, therefore, did the Sioux
scout tell what he had learned than Tall Bear made up his mind that the
best place for him and his warriors was somewhere else. When he asked
after the other scout who accompanied the one that returned, the
chieftain was told that he had ventured so near the white men that he
narrowly escaped capture, and was forced to dodge off in another
direction.
That was enough. Tall Bear wheeled his pony like a flash, and galloped
toward the point where he knew his warriors were awaiting the news with
as much anxiety as his own.
Such tidings travel fast, and within five minutes after the return of
the scout with his message Tall Bear and his warriors were riding as if
for life from the neighborhood.
It may as well be explained how it was that the relief which Melville
Clarendon expected hours before was so delayed that, but for an
unexpected occurrence, it would have arrived too late.
You have learned that Mr. Clarendon and his wife left their home early
that morning and hurried northward over the ten miles between them and
Barwell.
All went well until they had passed half the distance, when the sudden
appearance of three mounted Indians showed that they were not likely to
get through without trouble. The settler at once came to a halt and
prepared to make the best defence possible. The animals were gathered
near the wagon, where Mr. Clarendon made his wife crouch down to escape
the flying bullets, and, loaded gun in hand, he waited the attack that
was sure to come.
A skilful marksman in the situation of Mr. Clarendon generally considers
himself the equal of three mounted men on the open plain, and the
conduct of the warriors showed that they held the settler in respect.
Keeping beyond easy range, they circled about the wagon and its inmates
as if looking for an opening, and finally all three brought their guns
to their shoulders and let fly.
The volley killed one of the horses, which dropped dead as he stood near
the wagon.
The settler instantly returned the shot, and--rather curiously--though
the distance was considerable, he brought down the pony of the nearest
Indian, which made such a frenzied leap that his rider was thrown. Mr.
Clarendon at first thought it was he who had been struck; but he
quickly sprang to his feet and vaulted upon another pony behind one of
his comrades.
The Sioux continued circling around the settler at a still greater
distance, and sent in another volley, which did no harm. At last they
concluded the risk of a charge and attack too great, and drew off,
finally disappearing in the distance.
[Illustration: "He brought down the pony of the nearest Indian."]
Mr. Clarendon waited an hour or more, expecting them to return, but they
did not, and he resumed his journey to the settlement.
Having but a single horse, he was obliged to leave part of his load
behind, and such slow progress was made in his crippled condition that
the day was well gone before he reached Barwell.
There he was startled to learn that his children had started homeward
early in the day, and were still absent. He set about organizing a
rescue party at once. Fortunately, Nat Trumbull and several of his
rangers were present, and they eagerly gave their help. Within half an
hour after the father received the alarming tidings Trumbull was
cantering southward with a dozen tried men and true, and among them was
Archibald Clarendon himself.
Although the escape of the three parties from the beleaguered cabin may
strike you as wonderful, yet, after all, there was nothing very
remarkable in it.
Red Feather would have forgotten his lifelong training, had he failed to
see and take instant advantage of the providential diversion when the
Sioux, in the gathering darkness, made all haste to the top of the hill
to learn about the horsemen approaching from the north.
Had the Sioux suspected that the brain of one of their shrewdest chiefs
was helping the boy and girl, they would have been far more vigilant;
but, as it was, they must have believed that nothing could draw the lad
outside of his shelter until the appearance of his friends.
Red Feather was standing as before at one of the upper windows when the
stampede took place to the crest of the hill. He read its meaning, and
saw his golden opportunity.
"Now we go," he said in an undertone; "me carry pappoose (child)--you
come 'long--put blanket round--den look like Indian."
There was another reason for using the blanket; the air was cold enough
to require it.
Melville was quick to catch the idea, and, whipping a quilt from the
bed, he gathered it about his shoulders, so that it came almost to his
crown. His straw hat would have been too conspicuous, and he held that
in front of his breast, under the blanket, to be put in its proper place
again when it should become safe to do so.
"I'm ready," he said, standing erect, and looking at Red Feather as well
as he could in the gloom.
"Me too."
The chief had lifted Dot in his arms, and he covered her with his thick
blanket, doing so with such skill that hardly any one would have
suspected the nature of the precious burden he carried next to his
heart.
Not a minute was lost. Red Feather passed down the steps, paused in
front of the door, and waited for Melville to unfasten it. The youth
donned his hat, flung aside his blanket, and set his gun down to give
his arms play. The heavy bar was lifted from its place, and then, in
obedience to an odd whim, he thrust the end of the leathern string
through the orifice above the latch.
He gathered his blanket about his shoulders and head as before, doffing
his hat and returning it to its hiding-place, and paused for the
chieftain to precede him.
Red Feather stood a minute on the threshold, peering out in the
darkness. Everything looked favorable, and he stepped forward. Melville
was directly behind him, and softly closed the door as he left the
cabin.
The Sioux, instead of walking straight away from the building, moved
stealthily along the front, passed around the corner, and started
southward. By this means he interposed the cabin between himself and the
party on the hill.
[Illustration: "The youth was almost on his heels. His heart beat fast,
and he was eager to break into a run."--Page 98]
The youth was almost on his heels. His heart beat fast, and he was eager
to break into a run that would quickly increase the distance between
him and the war-party. He was about to suggest that they should hasten,
when, to his surprise, he perceived that his friend was moving so much
faster than he that he threatened to leave him out of sight altogether.
Red Feather had struck a peculiar gait. It looked as if he was walking,
but his pace was a loping trot, in which the feet were lifted only
slightly from the ground. The movement was as smooth as that of a pacing
horse, and he adopted it in order to save Dot from jolting.
The Sioux, on emerging from the building, had glanced sharply about him,
in the hope of catching sight of his own pony, or one belonging to a
warrior; but there was none convenient, and he dared not wait.
"Saladin must be hovering somewhere in the neighborhood," thought his
young owner, "and it would be mighty fine if I could run against him,
but it doesn't look as if there is much chance."
Red Feather continued his loping gait for two or three hundred yards,
when he once more dropped to a walk; but his steps were so lengthy and
rapid that the lad had to trot most of the time to hold his own.
Melville fancied his leader was changing his course, but he could only
guess its direction. Looking back, nothing was visible of the cabin left
a few minutes before. Everything was dark, the country being an
undulating prairie. Mr. Clarendon used no fences, and the ground
travelled by the fugitives had not been broken.
It seemed to the youth that the most natural thing for Red Feather to do
was to make directly for the settlement, ten miles to the northward. It
was a long tramp, but the two were capable of doing much more without
special fatigue.
The chieftain did not speak as he hurried forward; and the boy asked
him no questions, content to wait until he chose to tell his plans. His
pace grew more moderate, and soon became easy for Melville to keep his
place beside him.
It need not be said that both made good use of their eyes and ears.
Although beyond sight of the house, it was too soon to think themselves
safe. If a collision took place between Tall Bear and the new-comers,
some of the Indians were likely to be skurrying backwards and forwards
on their ponies, and it was probable they would come upon the fugitives.
Whenever Red Feather should meet his fellows there would be a sensation,
but he was not the warrior to shrink the test, though he wished it to be
deferred until the brother and sister were beyond the resentment of
every one of his tribe.
CHAPTER TEN
AN OLD FRIEND--SEPARATED
Suddenly Red Feather stopped. Melville did the same, wondering what the
cause could be.
The youth stood so near that he saw the chief was looking to the right,
as though he had heard a suspicious sound or saw something in that
direction. The lad gave close attention, since he could detect nothing.
The Indian resumed his walk more slowly than before, but did not utter a
word. His glances, however, to one side showed he was not free from
misgiving, and by-and-by he stopped walking and listened intently as
before.
"What is it?" asked Melville, giving way to his curiosity.
"Me hear something," was the reply, the Indian going still slower.