"OH, THERE IS WOLF EAR!"
It will be remembered that when Brinton Kingsland dropped to the
ground in the gathering darkness to check the crossing of the Big
Cheyenne by the Sioux, whose leader had met him in mid-stream, he
called in an undertone to his parents to hasten out of the range of
the flying bullets; he repeated the command to his pony Jack, who
obediently trotted after them.
The father and mother, at this time, had no more thought of
separating themselves for any distance from their brave son than he
had; but two causes brought about the singular accident already
referred to.
The excited words of Brinton and the reports of the guns led the
couple to think the danger more imminent than it was. As a
consequence, they rode farther than was necessary, but still not to a
point that ought to have caused any difficulty in their coming
together when prudent to do so.
Mr. Kingsland's pony travelled faster than that of his wife, thus
placing him a few yards in advance. The gloom had not yet become
deep enough to prevent their seeing each other; but at a moment when
the wife was about to ask her husband to stop, she was surprised to
see him turn to the left, his pony struggling up the bank to the
level ground above.
"Why do you do that, Hugh?" she called in a guarded voice, but at
once following him.
He did not answer, but narrowly missed falling out of the saddle.
His animal continued moving away from the river-bank, and presently
struck into an easy gallop, which rapidly increased the distance from
the stream.
Mrs. Kingsland now suspected the meaning of the strange action, and
urged her pony beside that of her husband, which was going so fast
that she was obliged to travel farther than she supposed before
coming up with him. Then, laying hold of the bridle, she brought her
husband's pony to a halt.
"What is the matter, Hugh?" she asked; "are you ill?"
"Gracious! what have I been doing?" he exclaimed, in turn bewildered,
and looking about in the darkness.
"Why, you have been trying to run away from us," said Edith, with a
laugh, believing the whole thing to be a joke on her father's part.
"You have come a good way from the riverbank," replied the disturbed
wife; "I tried to check you, but could not."
"I understand it now," said he, passing his hand across his forehead,
in the effort to collect his thoughts. "Just after we started a
faintness seized me, and I knew nothing until this minute. I don't
understand why I did not fell out of the saddle."
"I saw you reel, and you must have come near doing so. How do you
feel now?"
"Much better. Strange that I should have been attacked in that
manner; but I am sure it will not occur again. What will Brinton
think?"
"I have heard the report of guns, but all is quiet now."
"I feel little alarm, for they will not dare to cross while he is
guarding the ford."
"Is he not in danger?"
"No; he is lying on the ground, and they cannot see him; he will hold
them at bay as long as he wishes."
"But they may come over at some other point and get behind him."
"I did not think of that," said the husband more thoughtfully; "but I
am sure he will not stay any longer than he ought. It won't do for
us to go back, for, if the Indians do cross the river, we shall be in
their path. It may be well to go part of the way over our own track,
so as to make it easier for him to find us. Come on, and make no
noise."
"But you are not taking the right course," protested his wife: "you
should turn more to the left."
"I feel almost sure you are wrong; but you have had your senses about
you all the time, which is more than I have had, and I bow to your
decision."
"But, mother, you are not right," interposed Edith, now fully awake;
"you should go that way"; and she indicated a route widely different
from that of either--so different, indeed, that her mother could not
accept it.
"No, dear, you are wrong," she calmly replied. "I will lead."
And yet there is reason to believe the child was nearer right than
either, and had her suggestion been adopted, much of what followed
might have been averted.
While they were riding, as they believed, in the direction of the Big
Cheyenne, Mr. Kingsland noticed that the pony of his son was not with
them. His wife said that he did not come up the river-bank, and was
probably waiting for Brinton to go to him. It will thus be seen that
the youth was wrong in his supposition about the movements of Jack.
By-and-by the time came when Mrs. Kingsland saw she had committed a
sad blunder, and, instead of approaching the river, had gone still
farther from it; they could hear nothing of its flow, and were lost
on the prairie. Husband and wife now debated what was best to do.
It was found that when each, including Edith, named the supposed
direction to the stream, they were as widely apart as before.
"The wisest course is to stop trying to find the river," remarked the
husband, "for every effort only takes us farther away; we might as
well go into camp right here."
"And freeze to death."
"No; we will ride round until we find some shelter from this cutting
wind, and then make ourselves as comfortable as we can until morning.
Do you see that light away to the south?"
That which the ranchman observed was the glow already referred to as
attracting the notice of Brinton. The latter saw it in its true
direction--that is, in the northern horizon, from which the
bewilderment of his parents will be evident.
In the hope of finding their way to the river the couple acted upon
what might be considered a compromise. It is not necessary to say
that every yard thus traversed increased the space between them and
the youth who, at that moment, was groping blindly in quest of them.
The wanderings of the stray ones, however, were fortunately not long
continued, when the ponies of their own accord descended a depression
in the prairie. It was not deep or well protected, and was not
reached until after they had passed over several elevations, but they
accepted the shelter thankfully, and dismounted.
The three were cramped from their long constraint, and Edith ran
around and here and there for some minutes before she was willing to
be tucked away for the night. Their abundant clothing enabled them
to get along much better than might be supposed; the little one lay
between father and mother, the ponies being allowed to stay by
themselves. As in the case of Brinton, the long wintry night passed
without disturbance or incident.
With the coming of daylight Mr. Kingsland roused himself. Seeing his
wife and child were still sleeping, he did not awake them, and took
the best survey he could of their surroundings.
The weather was still intensely cold and the sky overcast. A look at
his watch showed it was near eight o'clock when he clambered out of
the depression and looked about him.
The first discovery to cause surprise was the shelter that they had
enjoyed during the night. Instead of being a ravine, like that where
Brinton had slept, this was a rough irregular excavation, some forty
or fifty feet in diameter. The sides sloped gently, the whole
appearance being that of an immense hole left by some great explosion
of gunpowder, to which a providential chance had guided their horses.
The husband saw no sign of any living being besides those with him,
nor could he form any surmise as to the course to be taken to effect
a meeting with his son.
"What will Brinton think? After doing so bravely the work I ought to
have done, we left him in the lurch. We are as much lost to each
other as if in the depths of an African jungle with miles
intervening. I can't help feeling that the top of that ridge yonder
would give me a view that would disclose something important."
He debated with himself whether it was prudent to walk thither and
obtain the coveted survey. It was little more than a hundred yards
distant, and it did not seem that any harm could come to the loved
ones whom he would leave but a few minutes.
"I must manage to get my bearings in some way before I can do
anything. The sun seems to be off yonder behind the clouds, but
really it appears to me as if it were in the wrong place!"
He ended the doubt by striding to the elevation, rifle in hand.
Since his faintness of the night before, he felt better and stronger
than he had for weeks, and this fact doubtless had much to do with
the feeling of self-confidence which now nerved him.
Reaching the crest of the ridge or swell in the prairie, Kingsland
was disappointed. The same kind of view confronted him on every
hand, and he experienced a repetition of that sensation which often
comes to one in his situation: if he could only pass to the top of
the next elevation, he would obtain the view he wanted.
But Hugh Kingsland was too wise to yield to the prompting. One
precious member of his family was already gone he knew not where, and
he would incur no risk of its being further broken up.
He was roused from his meditations in the most startling manner
conceivable, the cause being a rifle-shot, undoubtedly aimed at
himself. On the summit of the ridge at which he was gazing, and
almost at the very point, two Indian bucks suddenly walked up from
the other side in plain sight. While they were still ascending, and
when only their heads and waists showed, one of them brought his
rifle to his shoulder and tried his skill on the white man across the
valley-like depression.
Mr. Kingsland did not tarry long enough to reply, but hurried back to
the hollow where he had left his wife and child. They had awakened,
but were not alarmed at his absence, the wife suspecting the cause.
She had brought out what was left of the lunch, and she and Edith
were calmly eating when he reappeared, his looks and manner showing
that he had made some terrifying discovery.
He quickly explained what had taken place, adding--
"I am in doubt whether to mount the ponies and start to flee, or to
stay where we are and try to fight them off."
"You saw only two, and they were on foot."
"But they are sure to have ponies near, and more than likely more of
the hostiles are within call."
"Let us stay here until something is learned," said the wife, showing
admirable coolness and courage.
Whether or not this was the wiser course remains to be seen, but it
was followed. Mr. Kingsland crept to near the top of the hollow, and
lying extended at full length against the sloping bank, peered over,
with his rifle ready to fire at the first appearance of danger. His
position was such that he could detect the approach of anyone from
that side, while his wife guarded the other in a similar manner.
The ponies having been quieted, Edith was cautioned to remain near
them, and to avoid exposing herself to any stray shots that might be
fired. As long as she kept at the bottom of the hollow with the
animals, she and they were safe.
A full hour passed without the least sign of the hostiles. A less
experienced person might have accepted this evidence that the danger
had passed them by; but when a second hour had worn away with the
same quietness everywhere, the husband and wife still maintained
their watchfulness.
The forenoon was half gone before this vigilance was rewarded. Mrs.
Kingsland called to her husband that there was something suspicious
in front of her; and pausing only long enough to make sure that
nothing of the kind was immediately before him, he slipped down the
hollow and up the opposite slope to her side.
"Where is it?" he asked in an undertone.
"Just over that first swell, and a little to the left."
"I see him; keep down out of sight!"
He placed the muzzle of his repeating Winchester over the side of the
hollow, took careful aim at the rough head that had risen a few
inches above the slight swell in the prairie, and let fly. The aim
was a perfect one, as was shown by the instant disappearance of the
crown and the cry, which from behind the elevation sounded as if much
farther off.
Instantly three or four replies came from other points along the
swell, and the bullets chipped the dirt about the face of Kingsland,
who ducked his head out of range. Knowing, however, how much
depended on his concealing his weakness from the hostiles, he fired
four shots quickly, without special aim, and with no expectation of
accomplishing anything except that named.
"If I can make them think there are half a dozen rifles here on the
watch, they will be careful about attacking. But they mustn't know
how weak we are."
"I don't admit that we are so weak in this hollow and with that
repeating gun, and you feeling so strong and well."
At this juncture a cry was heard from Edith. She had forgotten the
command of her father, and crept up the opposite slope.
"Oh, there is Wolf Ear!"
And before anyone could interpose she sprang up the bank and ran
toward the ridge where her father had first seen the two hostiles.
The horrified parents at the same moment saw three other Indians dash
toward the innocent child, who never dreamed of her awful peril.
[Illustration: "'Oh, there is Wolf-Ear!'"]