"HE'S UP TO SOME MISCHIEF, I'LL WARRANT."
The instant Brinton Kingsland looked around and saw the Indian on his
pony, a short distance away, with his rifle at his shoulder and about
to fire a second time, he brought his own Winchester to a level and
aimed at the one who had attempted thus treacherously to shoot him in
the back.
The Indian was no older than himself, sitting firmly on the bare back
of his horse, with his blanket wrapped about his shoulders, and
several stained eagle feathers protruding from his hair, as black and
coarse as that of his pony's tail. His dark eyes glittered as they
glanced along the barrel of his rifle, and he aimed straight at the
breast of the youth, who instead of flinging himself over the side of
his horse in the attempt to dodge the deadly missile, sat bolt
upright and aimed in turn at the miscreant, who, as if stirred by the
same scorn of personal danger, remained firmly in his seat.
It all depended on who should fire first, and that which we have
related took place, as may be said, in the twinkling of an eye.
But with the weapons poised, the eyes of the two glancing along the
barrels and the fingers on the triggers, neither gun was discharged.
Brinton was on the point of firing, when the Indian abruptly lowered
his Winchester, with the exclamation--
"Hoof! Brinton!"
The white youth had recognised the other at the same instant when
another moment would have been too late. He, too, dropped the stock
of his gun from his shoulder and called out with a surprised
expression--
"Wolf Ear!"
The Indian touched his pony with his heel, and the animal moved
forward briskly, until the riders faced each other within arm's
length.
"How do you do?" asked the Ogalalla, extending his hand, which
Brinton took with a smile, and the reproving remark--
"I did not expect such a welcome from you, Wolf Ear."
"I did not know it was you, good friend Brinton."
"And suppose you did not; are you the sort of warrior that shoots
another in the back?"
The broad face, with its high cheek bones, coppery skin, low forehead
and Roman nose, changed from the pleasant smile which gave a glimpse
of the even white teeth, to a scowl, that told the ugly feelings that
had been stirred by the questioning remark of the white youth.
"Your people have become my enemies: they have killed Sitting Bull,
Black Bird, Catch-the-Bear, Little Assiniboine, Spotted Horse Bull,
Brave Thunder, and my friend, Crow Foot, who was the favourite son of
Sitting Bull. He was as a brother to me."
"And your people have killed Bull Head, Shave Head, Little Eagle,
Afraid-of-Soldiers, Hawk Man, and others of their own race, who were
wise enough to remain friends of our people. I know of that fight
when they set out to arrest Sitting Bull."
"They had no right to arrest him," said Wolf Ear, with a flash of his
black eyes; "he was in his own tepee (or tent), and harming no one."
"He was doing more harm to his own people as well as ours, than all
the other malcontents together. He was the plotter of mischief; he
encouraged this nonsense about the ghost dances and the coming
Messiah, and was doing all he could to bring about a great war
between my people and yours. His death is the best fortune that
could come to the Indians."
"It was murder," said Wolf Ear sullenly, and then, before the other
could frame a reply, his swarthy face lightened up.
"But you and I, Brinton, are friends; I shot at you because I thought
you were someone else; it would have grieved my heart had I done you
harm; I am glad I did not; I offer you my hand."
Young Kingsland could not refuse the proffer, though he was far from
feeling comfortable, despite his narrow escape a moment before.
"I thought you were a civilised Indian, Wolf Ear," he added, as he
relinquished the grasp, and the two once more looked in each other's
countenances; "you told me so when I last saw you."
Wolf Ear, the Ogalalla, was sent to Carlisle, when only eight years
old. Unusually bright, he had made good progress, and won the golden
opinions of his teachers by his gentle, studious deportment, and
affection for those that had been kind to him.
He spoke English as well as the whites, and was a fine scholar. He
went back to his people, when sixteen years old, and did what he
could to win them from their savagery and barbarism.
He and Brinton Kingsland met while hunting at the base of the Black
Hills, and became great friends. The young Ogalalla visited the
white youth at his home on Raccoon Creek, where he was kindly treated
by the Kingslands, and formed a deep affection for little Edith.
But nothing had been seen of Wolf Ear for several months. The home
of his people was some distance away, but that should not have
prevented him from visiting his white friends, who often wondered why
he did not show himself among them.
Rather curiously, Brinton was thinking of his dusky comrade at the
moment he was roused by the shot which nipped his coat sleeve. It
was natural that he should be disappointed, and impatient to find
that this bright Indian youth, who had lived for several years among
civilised people, was carried away by the wave of excitement that was
sweeping across the country. He knew that his twin brother and his
father were still savages, and it was easy to find excuse for them,
but not for Wolf Ear.
"You believe in the coming of One to save your people--why should not
we place faith in the coming of our Messiah?" was the pertinent
question of Wolf Ear.
"What is this revelation?" asked Brinton, who had heard many
conflicting accounts of the strange craze, and felt a natural desire
for an authoritative statement.
"The Messiah once descended to save the white race, but they rejected
and put him to death. In turn he rejects them, and will come in the
spring, when the grass is about two inches high, and save his red
children and destroy his white ones. He has enjoined upon all of us
who believe in him to wear a certain dress and to practise the ghost
dance, as often and as long as we possibly can, as a proof of our
faith. If any of us die from exhaustion, while performing this
ceremony, we will be taken direct to the Messiah, where we shall meet
those who have died, and whence we will come back to tell the living
what we have seen and heard. When the Messiah comes in the spring, a
new earth will be created, covering the present world, burying all
the whites and those red men that have not joined in the dance. The
Messiah will again bring with him the departed of our own people, and
the earth shall once more be as our forefathers knew it, except there
shall be no more death."
Brinton Kingsland listened, amazed as this expression fell from the
lips of one who had often lamented the superstition of his own race.
That he believed the words he uttered was proven by his earnestness
of manner and the glow of his countenance. The white youth
restrained his impulse to ridicule the strange faith, for that
assuredly would have given offence to the fanatic, who had the right
to believe whatever he chose.
"Well, Wolf Ear, I can only say I am sorry that you should have been
carried away by this error----"
"By what right do you call it error?" interrupted the other with a
flash of his eyes.
"We will not discuss it. It will do no good, and is likely to do
harm. I need not be told that you belong to the hostiles, and, if
trouble comes, will fight against the whites."
"Yes, you are right," calmly replied the Ogalalla, compressing his
thin lips and nodding his head a single time.
"Your father and brother, whom I have never seen, would shoot me and
my folk if they had the chance."
"Yes, and so would my mother: she is a warrior too."
"But suppose you and I or my father meet, or you have the chance to
harm my mother and little sister, Edith?"
"Wolf Ear can never raise his hand against them, no matter what harm
they may seek to do him. I do not have to tell you that you and I
will always be friends, whatever may come."
This assurance would have had more weight with young Kingsland could
he have felt certain that Wolf Ear was truthful in declaring that he
did not suspect his identity at the moment of firing at him.
"I believe he meant to take my life," was his thought, "and still
meant to do so, when he raised his Winchester a second time, but as
we looked into each other's face, he weakened. His people are
treacherous, and this pretence of goodwill will not last, or, if it
be genuine for the present, it will soon change."
Brinton said--
"You know where we live, Wolf Ear; I have set out to ride to the
reservation to learn whether it is safe to stay where we are: what is
your judgment in the matter?"
An indefinable expression passed over the broad face before him. The
Ogalalla sat gracefully on his horse, even though he had no saddle.
A bit was in the pony's mouth, the single rein looping around the
neck and resting at the base of the mane, just in front of the rider,
who allowed it to lie there, while the two hands idly held the rifle
across the back of the animal and his own thighs.
"You stayed too long," said he; "you should have left two weeks ago;
_it is too late now_."
"But you know my father is not well, Wolf Ear," replied Brinton, with
a sickening dread in his heart.
"What has that to do with this?"
"We did not wish to expose him to the severe weather, as we must in
the ride to the agency."
"Is he better and stronger now?"
"There is little improvement in his condition. He has been ailing a
long time, as you know."
"Then you have gained nothing and will lose all by your delay."
Brinton had no further wish to discuss the ghost dance and the coming
of the new Messiah with the young Ogalalla. All his thoughts were of
those dear ones, miles away, whose dreadful peril he now fully
comprehended for the first time. He saw the mistake that had been
made by the delay, and a faintness came over him at the declaration
of Wolf Ear that this delay was fatal.
His horse was facing the north-west, the direction of his home.
There was no call for longer tarrying.
"Good-bye," he said, giving the Indian a military salute; "I hope we
shall meet ha more pleasant circumstances, when you shall see, Wolf
Ear, the mistake you are making."
Trained in the ways of the white people, the dusky youth raised his
hand to his forehead, and sat motionless on his horse, without
speaking, as his friend dashed across the plain, over the trail which
he had followed to the banks of the Big Cheyenne.
It was not yet noon, and Brinton was hopeful of reaching home long
before the day drew to a close. The chilliness of the air continued,
and a few feathery flakes of snow drifted horizontally on the wind or
were whirled about the head of the young horseman. He glanced up at
the leaden sky and noted that the temperature was falling.
"Like enough we shall have one of those blizzards, when the horses
and cattle freeze to death under shelter and we can only huddle and
shiver around the fire and wait for the tempest to pass. It will be
the death of us all, if we start for the agency and are caught in one
of the blizzards, but death awaits us if we stay. Ah me, what will
become of father, ill and weak as he is?"
The words of Wolf Ear made the youth more circumspect and alert than
when riding away from his home. He continually glanced ahead, on his
right and left and to the rear. The first look in the last direction
showed him the young Ogalalla sitting like a statue on his pony and
gazing after him.
Some minutes later, when Brinton turned his head again, he saw him
riding at a rapid pace towards the north, or rather a little west of
north, so that the course of the two slightly diverged.
"He's up to some mischief, I'll warrant," was Brinton's conclusion,
"and he already recalls his profession of friendship for me. Halloa!
I don't like the look of _that_."
In the precise direction pursued by the Ogalalla, which was toward
Rapid Creek, a tributary of the Big Cheyenne, he discerned several
Indian horsemen. They were riding close, and were so mingled
together that it was impossible to tell their number. They seemed to
be about half a dozen, and were advancing as if to meet Wolf Ear, who
must have descried them before Brinton.
"They will soon unite, and when they do he will be the fiercest
warrior among them. I wonder----"
He held his breath a moment, and then only whisper--
"I wonder if they have not already visited our home?"