Trumbull. Knowing it was useless to try to surprise the dusky rogues, he
brought his men together and rode rapidly toward the Clarendon cabin. He
hoped to arrive before the raiders could get away, and to administer
sharp punishment to them.
Trumbull approached the house and smoking ruins with care, for there was
abundant chance for their enemies to hide themselves and give the white
men a rattling volley before they could escape the peril. It required
considerable time for the rangers to learn that none of their enemies
were there, and then Mr. Clarendon himself discovered the door of his
house open. Still uncertain of the truth, he and his friends waited some
time before daring to venture within.
The conclusion of this examination was the natural one, that the Sioux
had fled, taking the children with them. But, as it was clear they could
not have gone far, Trumbull galloped with most of his men to the
crossing, in the hope of coming upon the marauders there.
He had no more than fairly convinced himself that he was in error again
when Melville Clarendon rode up on Saladin, his father making his
appearance shortly after.
The light in the south-east had attracted the notice of the scouts some
time before, and the story told by the youth led Trumbull to believe
the main body was near the Upper Crossing, where doubtless they had made
Red Feather prisoner.
Accordingly, the dozen horsemen set their faces in that direction and
struck into a rapid gallop. The leader was hopeful that, if the slippery
scamps were located, he could reach them. He believed his men were as
well mounted as they, and, if only a fair chance were given, they would
compel the others to fight.
Nat rode at the head, with Mr. Clarendon and Melville just behind him.
The keen eyes of the ranger peered through the darkness into which he
was plunging so swiftly, on the alert for the first sign of an enemy. As
he drew near the Upper Crossing he slackened his pace slightly, those
behind doing the same, with the exception of the settler and his son,
who found themselves at the side of the leader.
"Helloa! there's one of 'em!" exclaimed Nat.
The three saw the figure of an Indian running over the ground with great
swiftness. Knowing his danger, he flung aside his blankets, so that his
flight was unimpeded, and his exhibition of speed excited the admiration
of his pursuers.
"Let him alone," added Trumbull; "I don't want any one else to
interfere--he belongs to _me_."
And then, to the astonishment of every one, the scout made a flying leap
from the saddle, and bounded after the fugitive on foot.
It was an odd chivalrous feeling which led him to do this. Inasmuch as
the warrior had no pony, Trumbull meant that the contest between them
should be without any unfair advantage to either party.
The Sioux was running like a deer, but the white man beat him. Nat
Trumbull is to-day one of the fleetest runners in the north-west, and
no doubt he felt a natural wish to show this Indian, as well as his own
friends, what he could do in that line.
It may be said that from the first the fugitive was doomed; for if
Trumbull should prove unequal to the task of running him down, the
cavalry would do it, and if his strangely absent comrades should rally
to his help, they would be fiercely attacked in turn. Since the white
man quickly proved his superiority, it must be admitted that the outlook
for the fleeing warrior was discouraging from the beginning.
Steadily and rapidly Nat gained on the desperate fugitive, until, in
less time than would be supposed, he was almost at his elbow.
"Surrender, pard!" called out the scout; "for you don't know how to run,
and I've got you, dead sure."
Realizing that there was no escape by flight, the Sioux dropped his
rifle, and, whipping out his hunting-knife while still fleeing at the
highest bent of his speed, he stopped short, wheeled about, and struck
viciously at his pursuer with the weapon.
But the veteran scout was expecting that very thing, and parrying the
blow with admirable skill, he sent the knife spinning a dozen feet to
one side. Dropping his own gun, Trumbull then dashed in and seized the
warrior around the waist.
"It's you, Tall Bear, is it?" said he, recognizing his old antagonist;
"we'll settle this again by a wrestling-match. If you can throw me,
we'll let you go without a scratch; but if I fling you, then you're
mine. Keep back boys, and may the best man win!"
It was a curious scene, but the contest could not have been fairer.
Trumbull waited till his opponent had secured his best hold, for Tall
Bear was as quick to identify his rival as the latter was to recognize
him.
The scout waited till the chief said he was ready. Then, like a flash,
he dropped to a low stooping posture, seized each leg of the other below
the knee in a grip of iron, and straightening up with marvelous
quickness and power sent Tall Bear sprawling like a frog through the
air, and over his head.
[Illustration: "Sent Tall Bear sprawling like a frog through the air."]
Despite the remarkable agility of the Sioux, he could not save himself,
but alighted on his crown with tremendous force.
Not the least amusing part of this contest was that, at the instant Tall
Bear started on his ærial flight, he called out--
"Me surrender! Tall Bear good Injin--he lub white----"
The crash of his head against the solid ground checked his words, and
left for ever uncertain what the chieftain meant to say. He quickly
recovered from the shock, for possibly, it may be said, he was becoming
accustomed to such rough treatment and could stand it better than at
first.
In the course of a minute or two Tall Bear staggered uncertainly to his
feet, and looking up in the faces of the horsemen who were on every side
of him, was compelled to admit that he was their prisoner.
So it proved that the last essay of the chieftain who was on a little
scout for himself was the greatest failure of them all, and in the end
it was fortunate that such was the fact; for when the strong arm of the
authorities was laid upon the raiders the chief had no trouble in
proving that he had inflicted no serious harm to the settlers. True, he
had destroyed some property, and tried hard to do greater damage; but,
as I have said, he failed utterly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CONCLUSION
But for his solicitude for Dot Clarendon, Red Feather never would have
made the error he did, when waiting on the southern bank of the Upper
Crossing for the return of the pony which was to carry them across to
the waiting Melville on the other side.
The weather was still crisp and chilly, and, when he found himself
alone, he began carefully gathering the blanket around the precious
form, so, as to keep away all cold from her body. No mother could have
handled her more gently. His left arm remained immovable, while his
right fingered about her. He was quick to discover that she was in a
sound slumber--a pleasant proof of the success of the grim warrior in
the _role_ of a soothing friend to the imperilled little one.
Softly raising a corner of the blanket, he looked down in the sweet
face, which, though seen dimly, was as the face of an angel. Pure and
holy emotions were stirred in that dark heart as never before that
evening. He had parted his lips to utter something in his own language,
when he was sharply reminded of his remissness by the clamp of horse's
feet. Quickly replacing the blanket, he looked behind him, and saw
outlined against the glare of the burning buildings the figures of six
or eight horsemen, so close that it was useless for him to think of
hiding or getting away.
Red Feather made no attempt to do either; for, like most of his people,
he had a strong sense of dignity, which would have been disturbed by
such action. His chief regret was that the horsemen had come upon him so
suddenly that his action with the blanket must have betrayed, or at
least raised a suspicion of, the truth. Had he but a minute's time, he
would have gathered the covering about the form in such a way that in
the darkness he might have kept secret the fact that he carried a small
child in his arms.
His supposition was that these Indians were his own warriors; and a
curious meeting must follow between them and the chief whom they thought
dead, unless they had learned of his flight from the house, in which
event a troublesome explanation must be made to them.
But the chief was pleased to observe that the men belonged to still
another band, that had come from the south-east on their way to the
Lower Crossing, in the hope of intercepting the settlers and their
families fleeing in the direction of Barwell.
To use a common expression, Red Feather decided to "take the bull by
the horns." He was well known and held in fear by all the warriors. He
said he had captured a small child, stepping forward and parting the
blanket enough for them to see her in his arms, and adding that he meant
to take her home to his own wigwam as a present to his squaw. If the
latter did not want her, he would put her out of the way, or hold her
for ransom.
Had the new-comers possessed the courage, they might have asked Red
Feather some troublesome questions, but they feared to rouse his anger.
He tried to keep their attention away from the other shore; but just
then the glare from the burning buildings became so bright that he
failed, and not only was Saladin observed making his way to that bank,
but Melville was discovered as he rose to his feet.
Red Feather affected great surprise at the discovery, and offered no
objection when the three Sioux set out to capture the lad and his
valuable animal.
In the presence of these warriors Red Feather was his old, domineering,
ugly self. He spoke sharply, and finally ordered one of the horsemen to
dismount and give up his animal. He offered no theory to account for the
appearance of the boy on the other shore, or for the singular fact that
he was on foot himself.
The promptness with which his order was obeyed would have been amusing
under other circumstances. Red Feather took possession of his property
secured in this rather questionable manner, and then calmly awaited the
return of the three who had set out to capture Melville and Saladin.
His fear was that the main party under Tall Bear might arrive and
complicate matters; for the chief had formed the conclusion that the
strange horsemen whose appearance allowed him to escape so easily from
the cabin were white men, and that the main band of Sioux therefore had
withdrawn.
By-and-by the warriors returned from the other side, with the
announcement that the lad had escaped, and it was useless to follow him
farther.
There was no chief with the smaller company, and Red Feather told them
that, since there was no chance of finding any settlers in the
neighborhood, they would ride back to their own villages, which lay to
the south-east.
The start was made, and the horsemen passed fully a mile in grim
silence. At the end of the mile he ordered them to keep the course they
were following, while he alone turned to the right in quest of Tall Bear
and his band of Muddy Creek Sioux.
Left to himself, Red Feather rode a short distance to the right, and
then, changing his course due north, struck the pony into a gallop.
He was now heading toward the home of the Clarendons, where he had met
so many singular experiences during the earlier part of the evening. He
held Dot with such care that she continued sleeping as sweetly as if
lying in her own bed at home.
Never was Red Feather more cautious and skilful. Thoroughly trained in
woodcraft, and an adept in all the cunning of his people, he used those
gifts with success, and, though he approached close to the party of
Sioux which were hurrying away from the vengeance of the white men, they
never suspected the fact, and the meeting was avoided.
Within the succeeding half-hour his listening ear caught the neigh of a
horse which had detected his own while the two were invisible. Instantly
the chieftain brought the pony to a standstill, and peered and listened
with all the acuteness he possessed.
The horsemen were coming that way, and would soon be in sight. At the
very moment their figures were beginning to outline themselves he
emitted a whistle, precisely the same as that used by Melville Clarendon
when he signaled to him from the Upper Crossing.
[Illustration: "The horseman were coming that way."]
As he did so he held his pony ready to send him flying over the prairie
at break-neck speed.
But his heart was thrilled almost in the same second by a reply, which
he knew came from no lips except those of the boy himself.
Yes; Melville had recognized the call, and sending back the reply, he
shouted--
"That's Red Feather! Come, father; I know he's got Dot!"
In a twinkling, as may be said, the chief found himself in the middle
of the band of Nat Trumbull and his rangers, where he was overwhelmed
with congratulations. Although Dot was asleep, her father could not be
restrained, and caught her in his arms and pressed her to his heart
with tears of joy and thanks to Heaven for its mercy in restoring her
to him unharmed.
It must be said that Dot was disposed to be cross at being awakened in
this summary fashion; but when her little brain came to understand all
that had taken place, and she saw that it was her own father who was
caressing her, she laughed and shouted, and wanted to kiss and embrace
every one of the party, who were just as much pleased to fondle the
child as though each had a proprietary interest in her.
Since it was evident the Sioux could not be brought to book, Nat
Trumbull turned about and headed for Barwell, which the whole party
reached before the morning sun appeared. Red Feather kept them company,
and I must say that I doubt whether the President of the United States
himself could have received a warmer welcome when the whole truth became
known to the pioneers.
The outbreak of the Sioux was repressed before it had time to assume
serious proportions, and, inasmuch as every one who had taken any part
in it was anxious to clear himself, the leaders envied the position of
Red Feather, who had faced about so early that no suspicion could attach
to him. He was re-established in the good graces of his people, and
since that time has acted in such a manner that no one will question his
right to be considered a good Indian.