"The Pawnee chiefs do not love the Pale-faces. Some of them hate them."
"The Dark Flower knows it," answered the woman; "she is sorry. She
would help the Pale-faces if she could."
This was uttered in a low tone, and with a meaning glance of the eye.
Joe hesitated again--could he trust her? Yes; the feelings that filled
her breast and prompted her words were not those of the Indian just
now--they were those of a _mother_, whose gratitude was too full for
utterance.
"Will the Dark Flower," said Joe, catching the name she had given
herself, "help the Pale-face if he opens his heart to her? Will she
risk the anger of her nation?"
"She will," replied the woman; "she will do what she can."
Joe and his dark friend now dropped their high-sounding style of speech,
and spoke for some minutes rapidly in an undertone. It was finally
arranged that on a given day, at a certain hour, the woman should take
the four horses down the shores of the lake to its lower end, as if she
were going for firewood, there cross the creek at the ford, and drive
them to the willow-bluff, and guard them till the hunters should arrive.
Having settled this, Joe returned to the tent and informed his comrades
of his success.
During the next three days Joe kept the Indians in good-humour by giving
them one or two trinkets, and speaking in glowing terms of the riches of
the white men, and the readiness with which they would part with them to
the savages if they would only make peace.
Meanwhile, during the dark hours of each night, Dick managed to abstract
small quantities of goods from their pack, in room of which he stuffed
in pieces of leather to keep up the size and appearance. The goods thus
taken out he concealed about his person, and went off with a careless
swagger to the outskirts of the village, with Crusoe at his heels.
Arrived there, he tied the goods in a small piece of deerskin, and gave
the bundle to the dog, with the injunction, "Take it yonder, pup."
Crusoe took it up at once, darted off at full speed with the bundle in
his mouth, down the shore of the lake towards the ford of the river, and
was soon lost to view. In this way, little by little, the goods were
conveyed by the faithful dog to the willow-bluff and left there, while
the stuffed pack still remained in safekeeping in the chief's tent.
Joe did not at first like the idea of thus sneaking off from the camp;
and more than once made strong efforts to induce San-it-sa-rish to let
him go, but even that chief's countenance was not so favourable as it
had been. It was clear that he could not make up his mind to let slip
so good a chance of obtaining guns, powder, and shot, horses and goods,
without any trouble; so Joe made up his mind to give them the slip at
once.
A dark night was chosen for the attempt, and the Indian woman went off
with the horses to the place where firewood for the camp was usually
cut. Unfortunately the suspicion of that wily savage Mahtawa had been
awakened, and he stuck close to the hunters all day--not knowing what
was going on, but feeling convinced that something was brewing which he
resolved to watch, without mentioning his suspicions to any one.
"I think that villain's away at last," whispered Joe to his comrades;
"it's time to go, lads, the moon won't be up for an hour. Come along."
"Have ye got the big powder-horn, Joe?"
"Ay, ay, all right."
"Stop! stop! my knife, my couteau. Ah! here it be. Now, boy."
The three set off as usual, strolling carelessly to the outskirts of the
camp; then they quickened their pace, and, gaining the lake, pushed off
in a small canoe.
At the same moment Mahtawa stepped from the bushes, leaped into another
canoe and followed them.
"Hah! he must die," muttered Henri.
"Not at all," said Joe, "we'll manage him without that."
The chief landed and strode boldly up to them, for he knew well that
whatever their purpose might be, they would not venture to use their
rifles within sound of the camp at that hour of the night; as for their
knives, he could trust to his own active limbs and the woods to escape
and give the alarm if need be.
"The Pale-faces hunt very late," he said with a malicious grin. "Do
they love the dark better than the sunshine?"
"Not so," replied Joe, coolly, "but we love to walk by the light of the
moon. It will be up in less than an hour, and we mean to take a long
ramble to-night."
"The Pawnee chief loves to walk by the moon too, he will go with the
Pale-faces."
"Good," ejaculated Joe. "Come along, then."
The party immediately set forward, although the savage was a little
taken by surprise at the indifferent way in which Joe received his
proposal to accompany them. He walked on to the edge of the prairie,
however, and then stopped.
"The Pale-faces must go alone," said he; "Mahtawa will return to his
tent."
Joe replied to this intimation by seizing him suddenly by the throat and
choking back the yell that would otherwise have brought the Pawnee
warriors rushing to the scene of action in hundreds. Mahtawa's hand was
on the handle of his scalping-knife in a moment, but before he could
draw it, his arms were glued to his sides by the bear-like embrace of
Henri, while Dick tied a handkerchief quickly yet firmly round his
mouth. The whole thing was accomplished in two minutes. After taking
his knife and tomahawk away, they loosened their gripe and escorted him
swiftly over the prairie.
Mahtawa was perfectly submissive after the first convulsive struggle was
over. He knew that the men who walked on each side of him grasping his
arms were more than his match singly, so he wisely made no resistance.
Hurrying him to a clump of small trees on the plain which was so far
distant from the village that a yell could not be heard, they removed
the bandage from Mahtawa's mouth.
"_Must_ he be kill?" inquired Henri, in a tone of commiseration.
"Not at all" answered Joe, "we'll tie him to a tree and leave him
there."
"Then he vill be starve to deat'. Oh! dat is more horrobell!"
"He must take his chance o' that. I've no doubt his friends'll find him
in a day or two, an' he's game to last for a week or more. But you'll
have to run to the willow-bluff, Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie
him. We can't spare it well; but there's no help."
"But there _is_ help," retorted Dick. "Just order the villain to climb
into that tree."
"Why so, lad?"
"Don't ask questions, but do what I bid ye."
The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to the Indian, and ordered
him to climb up a small tree near to which he stood. Mahtawa looked
surprised, but there was no alternative. Joe's authoritative tone
brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a monkey.
"Crusoe," said Dick, "_watch him_!"
The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and fixed his eyes on
the savage with a glare that spoke unutterable things. At the same time
he displayed his full compliment of teeth, and uttered a sound like
distant thunder.
Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.
"Come along, he's safe now," cried Dick, hurrying away in the direction
of the willow-bluff, which they soon reached, and found that the
faithful squaw had tied their steeds to the bushes, and, moreover, had
bundled up their goods into a pack, and strapped it on the back of the
pack-horse; but she had not remained with them.
"Bless yer dark face," ejaculated Joe as he sprang into the saddle and
rode out of the clump of bushes. He was followed immediately by the
others, and in three minutes they were flying over the plain at full
speed.
On gaining the last far-off ridge, that afforded a distant view of the
woods skirting the Pawnee camp, they drew up, and Dick, putting his
fingers to his mouth, drew a long, shrill whistle.
It reached the willow-bluff like a faint echo. At the same moment the
moon arose and more clearly revealed Crusoe's catalyptic glare at the
Indian chief, who, being utterly unarmed, was at the dog's mercy. The
instant the whistle fell on his ear, however, he dropped his eyes,
covered his teeth, and, leaping through the bushes, flew over the plains
like an arrow. At the same instant Mahtawa, descending from his tree,
ran as fast as he could towards the village, uttering the terrible
war-whoop when near enough to be heard. No sound sends such a thrill
through an Indian camp. Every warrior flew to arms, and vaulted on his
steed. So quickly was the alarm given that in less than ten minutes a
thousand hoofs were thundering on the plain, and faintly reached the
ears of the fugitives.
Joe smiled. "It'll puzzle them to come up wi' nags like ours. They're
in prime condition too, lots o' wind in 'em. If we only keep out o'
badger holes we may laugh at the red varmints."
Joe's opinion of Indian horses was correct. In a very few minutes the
sound of hoofs died away, but the fugitives did not draw bridle during
the remainder of that night, for they knew not how long the pursuit
might be continued. By pond, and brook, and bluff they passed, down in
the grassy bottoms and over the prairie waves,--nor checked their
headlong course till the sun blazed over the level sweep of the eastern
plain as if it arose out of the mighty ocean.
Then they sprang from the saddle and hastily set about the preparation
of their morning meal.