"THERE ARE FIFTY HOSTILES."
To the westward the Black Hills thrust their vast rugged summits
against the wintry sky; to the south, a spur of the same mountains
put out toward the frontier town of Buffalo Gap; to the north-east
wound the Big Cheyenne, on its way to the Missouri, and marking
through a part of its course the southern boundary of the Cheyenne
Reservation, while creek, stream, and river crossed the rolling plain
that intervened, and over all stretched the sunless sky, from which
the snow-flakes were eddying and whirling to the frozen earth below.
But Brinton Kingsland had no eye for any of these things, upon which
he had looked many a time and oft. His thoughts were with those
loved ones in the humble cabin, still miles away, toward the towering
mountains, while his immediate anxiety was about the hostiles that
had appeared in his front and were now circling to the northward as
if to meet Wolf Ear, the young Ogalalla, who was galloping in the
face of the biting gale and rapidly drawing toward them.
Brinton's expectation that they would lose no time in coming together
was not precisely fulfilled, for while the horsemen were yet a long
way off, they swerved sharply, as though they identified the youth
for the first time.
"They intend to give me some attention," was his thought, "without
waiting for Wolf Ear to join them. They know that I belong to the
white race, and that is enough."
The youth did not feel any special alarm for himself, for he was
confident that Jack was as fleet-footed as any of the animals
bestrode by the hostiles, and would leave them behind in a fair race.
He noticed that the Ogalalla was mounted on a superior beast, but he
did not believe he could outspeed Jack.
But it would never do to meet those half-dozen horsemen that had
faced toward him, and were approaching at the same swinging gallop.
Brinton diverged more to the left, thus leaving the trail, and they
also changed their course, as if to head him off.
"If it is to be a race, I am throwing away my chances by helping to
shorten the distance between us."
The fugitive now headed directly away from the horsemen, so that both
parties were pursuing the same line. The youth looked back, at the
moment that several blue puffs of smoke showed over the backs of the
horses. The thudding reports came through the chilly air, and a
peculiar whistling sound overhead left no doubt that the hostiles,
great as was the separating space, had fired at the fugitive, who
turned to take a look at Wolf Ear.
That individual discharged his gun the next moment. Brinton heard
nothing of the bullet, but smiled grimly--
"He has changed his mind soon, but they have got to come closer
before they hurt me. He is no great marksman anyway, or he would not
have missed me a little while ago."
It was singular that it did not occur to young Kingsland that it was
possible the Ogalalla had not fired at him at all. Not even when the
horsemen checked their pursuit, and reining up their animals awaited
the coming of the buck, who was riding like a hurricane, could he
bring himself to think of Wolf Ear except as a bitter enemy, who for
some subtle purpose of his own had declared a temporary truce.
"I suppose they think I shall be along this way again pretty soon,
and they can afford to wait till I run into their trap," was the
conclusion of Brinton, who headed his pony once more toward his home,
and put him to his best paces.
"Come, Jack, there's no time to throw away; hard work is before you,
and you must struggle as never before."
The snowfall which seemed for ever impending did not come. The few
scattering flakes still circled and eddied through the air, as if
reluctant to touch the earth, but no perceptible increase appeared in
their number. The nipping air seemed to have become too cold to
permit a snow-storm.
Brinton had set out fully prepared for such change of temperature.
He wore a thick woollen cap, whose flaps were drawn down to his ears,
while they were more than met by the heavy coat collar that was
turned up, the garment itself being closely buttoned around his body.
His rifle rested across the pommel of his saddle in front, and his
gloved hands scarcely ever touched the rein which lay loose on his
pony's neck. He was a capital horseman, and, with the understanding
between him and his intelligent beast, could have got along without
any bit at all.
Strapped behind him was a substantial lunch, and his keen appetite
would have made it enjoyable, but he did not disturb it. It could
wait until he learned the truth about the folk at home, which he was
now rapidly drawing near.
Over a swell in the prairie, across a small creek, whose icy waters
hardly came above Jack's fetlocks, up a second rise, and then Brinton
Kingsland uttered an exclamation of amazement and sharply checked his
animal.
"My gracious! what is the meaning of that?"
Over another swell, and only a few hundred yards away, two other
horses rode to view, coming directly toward him. Each sustained a
heavily muffled figure, and they were moving at a rapid walk.
Suspecting their identity, he waited a minute, and then started his
horse forward again. A few paces, and despite the arctic
temperature, he raised his cap from his head and called out--
"Hurrah! thank Heaven, you are alive, and have started for the
agency."
His father sat on one horse, swathed in heavy clothing, and a blanket
which the faithful wife had fastened around his emaciated and weak
form, while she, with Edith in front, and both also protected against
the severe weather, were on the other animal. He had a rifle across
his saddle front, like the son, and they had brought with them
nothing but a small amount of food, barely enough to last them until
they could reach the agency, provided there was no unexpected delay
on the road.
The discovery that they were alive and secure for the time, though
the shadow of a great peril was over all, so delighted the son that
he could not repress the shout of joy, as he rode forward and greeted
them, little more than their eyes and noses showing through the thick
coverings.
"What made you leave before I got back?" was the first inquiry of
Brinton, after a few congratulatory words.
"We concluded it was high time to do so," replied the father, showing
more vigour in his voice than the son expected.
"How did you find it out?"
"A half-dozen hostiles fired several times at the house, and then, as
if they feared they were not strong enough to capture us and burn the
cabin, rode off for help."
"They are hardly out of sight now; they gave me half a dozen shots,
and I had a short chase with them. But you are off the trail."
"And so are you," said his father.
"Which is a mighty good thing for us both. You had to abandon
everything?"
"Of course; I have no doubt though," added the father grimly, "that
the Indians will look after the live stock for us."
"Whom do you suppose I saw?" asked Brinton, turning to his mother and
sister.
"A big bear?" ventured Edith from the depths of her wrappings.
"No; he was an old friend of yours--Wolf Ear, who used to come to our
house and have such good times with you."
The excited child flung her arms about in the effort to free herself
of the encumbering wrappings.
"Oh, where is he? Why didn't he come with you? Didn't he want to
see me? I am so sorry; isn't he with you?"
And she peered around, as if she suspected the young Ogalalla was
hiding behind the saddle of her brother.
Brinton smiled, and then gravely shook his head. He said, addressing
his parents more than the little one--
"I was never more astonished than to find that Wolf Ear, despite the
training he has had at Carlisle, has joined the hostiles, and is now
an enemy of those who were such good friends of his."
The youth did not think it wise to tell, in the presence of his
sister, the particulars of their first meeting.
"You grieve me more than I can express," replied the father; "are you
sure you are not mistaken?"
"Not when he told me so himself."
"But you must have met as friends."
"He said he would not harm any one of us, if the fortunes of war
should give him the chance; but he declares himself the enemy of all
others of our race. He has a twin brother, and he and his father and
mother, as Wolf Ear coolly told me, would be pleased to scalp us. I
have no more faith in _him_ than in _them_. We parted as friends,
but he has joined that very party which fired on you, and will go
back to the house with them."
"And finding us gone, what then?"
"He will lead them on our trail and be among the foremost to shoot us
down, every one of us."
"I don't believe it!" called Edith from her wraps, which her mother
had put around her again; "I like Wolf Ear and want to see him."
Brinton did not think it worth while to discuss the matter with his
sister, for a far more important matter pressed upon them.
"It won't do to follow the trail," remarked the father, "since they
will be on the look-out for us. We will bear to the south, so as to
strike the Cheyenne further up stream."
"We may not be able to ford it."
"We can follow it down till we find a place. It may be frozen over
nearer its source. The agency is so far off that we shall have to go
into camp before we can get half-way there."
"How do you feel, father?" abruptly asked his son, glancing keenly at
him. "Are you strong enough to stand this hard ride?"
"I am much stronger than you would suppose; you know a crisis like
this will rouse any man, even if he is a good deal more unwell than I
am."
"I am glad to hear you talk that way, but you will be tried hard
before we reach Pine Ridge."
"Give yourself no uneasiness about me; the only thing we are to think
about is how we shall get to the agency without meeting with the
hostiles, who seem to be roaming everywhere."
While they sat talking, at the base of the swell, on the summit of
which the parents had first appeared, all partook of lunch, for it
was not likely they would have a more favourable opportunity before
the coming of night.
It was decided to bear still more to the south, with a view of
avoiding the party that was at no great distance. Indeed, less than
half an hour had passed since they vanished from the view of the
youth, who believed they were waiting in the vicinity of the trail
for his return, and would attack the whites the moment they
discovered them.
The halt lasted little more than a quarter of an hour, when they
resumed their journey toward the agency, which they hoped, rather
than expected, to reach by the morrow's set of sun. The mother was
without any weapon, though she was quite skilful in the use of a
rifle. Her husband said that if he found himself compelled to yield
to weakness, he would turn over his Winchester to her, believing as
he did that she was sure to give a good account of herself.
They were plentifully supplied with cartridges, but the reader does
not need to be reminded of their almost helpless situation.
Kingsland, despite his brave efforts to keep up, was unable to ride
his pony at full speed for any length of time, while the wife,
burdened with the care of Edith, could not expect to do much better.
If the company were attacked by any party of hostiles, however slight
in numbers, deplorable consequences were almost certain. Their hope
would be in finding some sort of shelter which might be turned to
account as a screen or barricade.
But their only safety, it may be said, lay in avoiding the Indians
altogether, and it was to that task that Brinton, as the strongest
one of the party, addressed himself with all the energy and skill of
his nature.
The course was up and down continually, though none of the swells in
the prairie was of much height. The youth rode slightly in advance
and never made his way to the top of one of the slight elevations
without a quicker throbbing of the heart and a misgiving which made
the situation of the most trying nature.
It was the dread of the hostiles, with whom Wolf Ear had joined
himself, that led him to make a longer bend to the south than even
his father had contemplated. True, as he well knew, they were not
the sole Indians to be dreaded, but they were the only ones of whom
he had positive knowledge. Others were likely to be encountered at
any time, and it may be said that as they drew nearer the agency, the
peril increased.
A half-dozen miles from where the family had been reunited, they
approached a higher elevation than any that had yet been crossed.
Brinton asked the rest to halt at the base, while he dismounted and
carefully went to the top on foot.
It was well he took this precaution, for his friends, who were
watching his crouching figure as he cautiously went up the incline,
saw him abruptly halt and peer over the ridge, in a way which showed
he had perceived something. He remained but a minute, when he
hurried back, pale and excited.
"There are fifty hostiles!" he exclaimed in an undertone, "and they
are only a little way off!"