"WHAT WILL BE THEIR NEXT STEP?"
Brinton Kingsland was in the saddle again on the instant, and his
pony dashed down the arroya at full speed.
"Wolf Ear has hurried back to tell the rest that he has seen us, and
they will be here in a few minutes," was the belief that lent wings
to his speed.
It was a comparatively short ride to where his friends awaited him.
A minute sufficed for them to learn the alarming tidings.
"It won't do to delay another second; come on!"
The next moment the two horses followed the youth out of the gully
upon the plain.
"Can you stand it, father?" he asked, holding his pony back and
looking inquiringly at him.
"Yes, my son; don't think of me," was the brave response, as the
parent struck his animal into a gallop.
The mother was a capital horsewoman, and little Edith, who was now
fully awake, once more accommodated herself to her position, so as to
save all embarrassment so far as she was concerned.
Child-like, she wanted to ask innumerable questions, but she was
intelligent enough to understand that silence was expected of her,
and she held her peace, wondering, perplexed, and frightened.
The wintry afternoon was wearing to a close. The sky maintained its
heavy leaden hue, the wind blew fitfully and was of piercing
keenness, and the occasional snow-flakes, whirling about the heads of
the fugitives, were more like hailstones than the soft downy
particles which had appeared earlier in the afternoon. The view was
shortened in the gathering gloom, and the anxious eyes glancing
around the different points of the compass, and especially to the
rear, failed to reveal the dreaded horsemen from whom they were
fleeing.
The hope of the little party lay in keeping beyond sight of their
enemies until night. With no moon and stars to guide them, the
hostiles could not keep their trail, which our friends were sure to
make as winding as possible.
As the night approached, their hopes increased. Darkness was closing
in when they reached the bank of the Big Cheyenne, and, for the first
time since leaving the arroya, they drew rein.
"This is better than I dared expect," said the father in high
spirits, and seemingly strengthened by his sharp ride through the
cutting cold; "I can hardly understand it."
"I suspect that Wolf Ear made a blunder."
"In what way?"
"He did not think we should leave the gully before night; he went
back and told the rest. They dared not attack us where we had some
show to defend ourselves; they will not discover our flight until it
is too late."
While there seemed reason in this belief, it did not fully satisfy
the father. It was not in keeping with the subtlety of the American
Indian that they should allow a party of whites to ride directly away
from them, when they were at their mercy. Any one of the hostiles,
by climbing the side of the arroya, was sure to see the little
company of fugitives emerge therefrom, and it was inconceivable that
they should not take that simple precaution.
"There is something beyond all this which has not yet appeared," he
said; "neither Wolf Ear nor his companions are fools."
The river swept by in the gathering darkness at their feet. The
current was not swift, but pieces of ice lay against the shores, and
floated past in the middle of the stream. The opposite bank could
hardly be seen in the gloom.
"Must we cross that?" asked Mrs. Kingsland, as the horses halted on
the margin of the icy waters.
"Yes," replied her husband, "and twenty miles further we must cross
the White, to say nothing of smaller streams, which may be as deep
and more difficult. Pine Ridge lies fifty miles away, and there's no
going round any of the water."
"It will be the death of us to swim our horses," she said with a
shudder; "we shall freeze to death."
"That is not to be thought of," Brinton hastened to explain; "while
the Cheyenne has many deep places at this season, there are others
where a horse can wade across without wetting one's stirrups."
"But how are we to know such fords?"
"By trying, and there's no better place than this; wait till I make
the attempt."
With commendable promptness he urged Jack forward, and the animal,
understanding what was required of him, stepped among the pieces of
ice along the bank. He slipped on one, and Edith uttered a cry of
alarm.
"Look out, Brint! You will fall into the water."
"Don't fret about me," he called back.
A few reassuring words to his pony, who hesitated and sniffed, as if
about to draw back, and he continued his cautious advance into the
stream, the others anxiously watching his progress.
Should the water prove deep enough to force the steed to swim, it
would never do, for that would necessitate the saturation of the
garments of all, which meant freezing to death.
As long as the ponies maintained a sure footing, even though the
water crept well up their sides, the riders could guard themselves
against the dreaded wetting. Brinton, therefore, ventured into the
stream with the utmost care, his animal feeling every step of the
way. Ten steps from the bank, and the water touched Brinton's
stirrups. He withdrew his feet and held them out of reach. He was
so excellent a horseman that, by the pressure of his knees, he sat
almost as firmly in the saddle as if with the support for his feet.
"Be careful, Jack; slowly--slowly--slowly!"
Jack was sniffing, with his neck outstretched and his nose almost on
the surface of the water, The breath issued like steam through his
thin silken nostrils, and he paid no heed to a triangular piece of
jagged ice which struck his hind legs with a sharp thrust, and then
swung clear. He knew his duty, and was doing his "level best."
The rider turned his head and looked back. The forms of his parents
on their motionless horses were dim, and growing more indistinct in
the approaching night.
Seeing him turn his head, his father called something in a guarded
undertone, which the son did not catch, but, believing it was simply
a request for him to be careful, he replied, "All right," and went on
with the work in hand.
Several steps further and the water had not perceptibly deepened.
Brinton, indeed, was inclined to think it had slightly shallowed.
"We are pretty near the middle, and it begins to look as if I had
struck the right spot after all Halloa! what's up now?"
Jack had stopped, just as he did in the arroya, and with the same
appearance of alarm.
"Can it be that you have scented a deep place in front and want to
save me from a bath?"
Brinton Kingsland checked the light question on his lips, for at the
moment of uttering it his own vision answered the query in a manner
that fairly lifted his cap from his head.
A horseman was advancing through the water from the other side of the
Cheyenne. He was several rods away, but near enough for the youth to
recognise him as an Indian warrior. He had entered the icy stream,
as if to meet the other, who in the same glance that identified him
dimly discerned more horsemen on the bank beyond.
As in the former instance, Jack had discovered the peril before his
master and halted, not through fear of a chilling bath, but because
of a tenfold greater danger stealing upon them.
It looked as if the hostiles, from whom they were fleeing, had come
towards the river from beyond, and were again between them and safety.
If so, the question might well be asked what was meant by this
extraordinary behaviour of the red men? Why did they not conceal
themselves until the fugitives rode directly into their arms? Why
take this risk of sending one of their number to meet an enemy in
mid-stream, where, despite whatever advantage the savage possessed,
he could not help yielding a portion of it to his foe?
But it was a moment for action and not for conjecture and speculation.
In the same moment that Brinton recognised the horseman immediately
in his front as a foe, he observed that his pony had also halted and
the rider was in the act of bringing his weapon to his shoulder.
The mitten was snatched from the youth's right hand and thrust in the
pocket of his coat. He had no time to slip the other off, nor was it
necessary, since that only supported the rifle. He hastily brought
his Winchester to a level, and, knowing that everything depended upon
who was the quicker, he took instant aim at the centre of the dark
figure and let fly.
With a wild cry the Indian rolled from his pony, and disappeared in
the dark waters. His animal, with a snort of alarm, whirled about
and dashed to shore, sending the spray flying in all directions.
"Quick, Jack! back with you!"
Brinton flung himself on the neck of his pony, who seemed to spin
about on his hind feet as he galloped furiously through the water for
the shore he had just left. Nothing but this precaution and the
deepening gloom saved the daring youth from death. It required a few
precious seconds for the hostiles on the other bank to comprehend
what had taken place, and when they began firing the form of the
horse and his rider were fast vanishing from sight.
But the bullets were whistling perilously near his friends, who did
not quite comprehend what had taken place.
"Move further down the bank!" called Brinton in a guarded undertone;
"quick! don't stop to ask why, but do as I say!"
The parents obeyed, and a minute or two was sufficient to take them
out of range.
"Follow them, Jack, and move lively!"
The pony obeyed, and he too passed beyond danger for the time.
The darkness was too deep for the persons on either bank to discern
the others across the stream. The hostiles kept up their firing, in
a blind way, hoping that some of their shots might reach the
fugitives. Brinton had lain down on the shore, so as to decrease the
danger of being struck by any of the stray bullets. He could tell
where the others were by the flash of their guns, but deemed it best
not to fire for the present, through fear of betraying his own
position.
The dropping shots continued for a few minutes, and then suddenly
stopped. It was impossible to tell in the gloom what his enemies
were doing, but he suspected the truth: they were preparing to ford
the river, with a view of bringing the combatants to close quarters.
Peering intently into the night, he made out the faint outline of a
horseman feeling his way across, and did not doubt that others were
close behind him. This must be a particularly favourable ford, else
the hostiles would try some other, if they knew of any in the
immediate vicinity.
It was necessary to check this advance, if he expected to save the
dear ones with him. The moment, therefore, he made sure of the
object approaching, he sighted as best he could and blazed away,
instantly shifting his own position, to escape the return shot which
he knew would be quick in coming.
It was well he did so, for the flash and report of several rifles and
the whistling of the bullets told of the peril escaped by a very
narrow chance.
There was no reason to believe that his own shot had been fatal, for
there was no outcry, nor did the listening ear detect any splash in
the water, such as marked his first essays when in mid-stream; but he
had accomplished that which he sought--he had checked the advance,
which otherwise must have been fatal to him and his companions. The
form of the horseman disappeared in the gloom. He had returned to
the shore whence he came, and it was safe to conclude that he would
not soon repeat the attempt.
"What will be their next step?" was the question that presented
itself to the young defender of the ford.
It was not to be expected that they would try to cross in the face of
the certain reception that awaited them.
"They know more of the Cheyenne than we do," Brinton Kingsland
thought, "and must be aware of some place where they can reach this
side without danger. If they do succeed in coming over, there will
be trouble."
He dared not wait long, for nothing was to be gained, while he ran
the risk of losing everything. Only the sound of the rushing water,
the crunching of the ice, reached his ear. Rising to his feet and
peering into the gloom, he could discern nothing of his foes.
"There's no need of my staying here," he decided, starting along the
stream in quest of his parents.
When he had passed a hundred yards without seeing them, he was
astonished. Another hundred, and still they were invisible, and the
cautious signals he made remained unanswered.