WANDERINGS ON THE PRAIRIE--A WAR-PARTY--CHASED BY INDIANS--A BOLD LEAP
FOR LIFE.
For many days the three hunters wandered over the trackless prairie in
search of a village of the Sioux Indians, but failed to find one, for
the Indians were in the habit of shifting their ground, and following
the buffalo. Several times they saw small isolated bands of Indians,
but these they carefully avoided, fearing they might turn out to be
war-parties, and if they fell into their hands the white men could not
expect civil treatment, whatever nation the Indians might belong to.
During the greater portion of this time they met with numerous herds of
buffalo and deer, and were well supplied with food, but they had to cook
it during the day, being afraid to light a fire at night while Indians
were prowling about.
One night they halted near the bed of a stream which was almost dry.
They had travelled a day and a night without water, and both men and
horses were almost choking, so that when they saw the trees on the
horizon which indicated the presence of a stream, they pushed forward
with almost frantic haste.
"Hope it's not dry," said Joe anxiously as they galloped up to it. "No,
there's water, lads," and they dashed forward to a pool that had not yet
been dried up. They drank long and eagerly before they noticed that the
pool was strongly impregnated with salt. Many streams in those parts of
the prairies are quite salt, but fortunately this one was not utterly
undrinkable, though it was very unpalatable.
"We'll make it better, lads," said Joe, digging a deep hole in the sand
with his hands, a little below the pool. In a short time the water
filtered through, and though not rendered fresh, it was, nevertheless,
much improved.
"We may light a fire to-night, d'ye think?" inquired Dick; "we've not
seed Injuns for some days."
"Pr'aps 'twould be better not," said Joe, "but I daresay we're safe
enough."
A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found,
and the three friends bivouacked as usual. Towards dawn they were
aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe.
"It's a wolf likely," said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their
rifles nevertheless.
Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, and springing out of the
camp snuffed the breeze anxiously.
"Up, lads; catch the nags! There's something in the wind, for the dog
niver did that afore."
In a few seconds the horses were saddled and the packs secured.
"Call in the dog," whispered Joe Blunt; "if he barks they'll find out
our whereabouts."
"Here, Crusoe, come--"
It was too late; the dog barked loudly and savagely at the moment, and a
troop of Indians came coursing over the plain. On hearing the unwonted
sound they wheeled directly and made for the camp.
"It's a war-party; fly, lads; nothin' 'll save our scalps now but our
horses' heels," cried Joe.
In a moment they vaulted into the saddle, and urged their steeds forward
at the utmost speed. The savages observed them, and with an exulting
yell dashed after them. Feeling that there was now no need of
concealment, the three horsemen struck off into the open prairie,
intending to depend entirely on the speed and stamina of their horses.
As we have before remarked, they were good ones, but the Indians soon
proved that they were equally well if not better mounted.
"It'll be a hard run," said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking
furtively over his shoulder. "The varmints are mounted on wild horses,
leastways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can throw the lasso
and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the badger holes, Dick.
Hold in a bit, Henri, yer nag don't need drivin'--a foot in a hole just
now would cost us our scalps. Keep down by the creek, lads."
"Hah! how dey yell," said Henri in a savage tone, looking back, and
shaking his rifle at them--an act that caused them to yell more fiercely
than ever. "Dis old pack-hoss give me moche trobel."
The pace was now tremendous. Pursuers and pursued rose and sank on the
prairie billows as they swept along, till they came to what is termed a
"dividing ridge," which is a cross wave, as it were, which cuts the
others in two, thus forming a continuous level. Here they advanced more
easily, but the advantage was equally shared with their pursuers, who
continued the headlong pursuit with occasional yells, which served to
show the fugitives that they at least did not gain ground.
A little to the right of the direction in which they were flying a blue
line was seen on the horizon. This indicated the existence of trees to
Joe's practised eyes; and feeling that if the horses broke down they
could better make a last manful stand in the wood than on the plain he
urged his steed towards it. The savages noticed the movement at once,
and uttered a yell of exultation, for they regarded it as an evidence
that the fugitives doubted the strength of their horses.
"Ye haven't got us yet," muttered Joe, with a sardonic grin. "If they
get near us, Dick, keep yer eyes open, an' look out for yer neck, else
they'll drop a noose over it; they will, afore ye know they're near, an'
haul ye off like a sack."
Dick nodded in reply, but did not speak, for at that moment his eye was
fixed on a small creek ahead which they must necessarily leap or dash
across. It was lined with clumps of scattered shrubbery, and he glanced
rapidly for the most suitable place to pass. Joe and Henri did the
same, and having diverged a little to the different points chosen, they
dashed through the shrubbery, and were hid from each other's view. On
approaching the edge of the stream, Dick found to his consternation that
the bank was twenty feet high opposite him, and too wide for any horse
to clear. Wheeling aside without checking speed, at the risk of
throwing his steed, he rode along the margin of the stream for a few
hundred yards until he found a ford--at least such a spot as might be
cleared by a bold leap. The temporary check, however, had enabled an
Indian to gain so close upon his heels, that his exulting yell sounded
close in his ear.
With a vigorous bound his gallant little horse went over. Crusoe could
not take it, but he rushed down the one bank and up the other, so that
he only lost a few yards. These few yards, however, were sufficient to
bring the Indian close upon him as he cleared the stream at full gallop.
The savage whirled his lasso swiftly round for a second, and in another
moment Crusoe uttered a tremendous roar as he was tripped up violently
on the plain.
Dick heard the cry of his faithful dog, and turned quickly round, just
in time to see him spring at the horse's throat, and bring both steed
and rider down upon him. Dick's heart leaped to his throat. Had a
thousand savages been rushing on him, he would have flown to the rescue
of his favourite; but an unexpected obstacle came in the way. His fiery
little steed, excited by the headlong race and the howls of the Indians,
had taken the bit in his teeth and was now unmanageable. He tore at the
reins like a maniac, and in the height of his frenzy even raised the
butt of his rifle with the intent to strike the poor horse to the earth,
but his better nature prevailed. He checked the uplifted hand, and with
a groan dropped the reins, and sank almost helplessly forward on the
saddle, for several of the Indians had left the main body and were
pursuing him alone, so that there would have been now no chance of his
reaching the place where Crusoe fell, even if he could have turned his
horse.
Spiritless, and utterly indifferent to what his fate might be, Dick
Varley rode along with his head drooping, and keeping his seat almost
mechanically, while the mettlesome little steed flew on over wave and
hollow. Gradually he awakened from this state of despair to a sense of
danger. Glancing round he observed that the Indians were now far behind
him, though still pursuing. He also observed that his companions were
galloping miles away on the horizon to the left, and that he had
foolishly allowed the savages to get between him and them. The only
chance that remained for him was to outride his pursuers, and circle
round towards his comrades, and this he hoped to accomplish, for his
little horse had now proved itself to be superior to those of the
Indians, and there was good running in him still.
Urging him forward, therefore, he soon left the savages still further
behind, and feeling confident that they could not now overtake him, he
reined up and dismounted. The pursuers quickly drew near, but short
though it was, the rest did his horse good. Vaulting into the saddle,
he again stretched out, and now skirted along the margin of a wood which
seemed to mark the position of a river of considerable size.
At this moment his horse put his foot into a badger hole, and both of
them came heavily to the ground. In an instant Dick rose, picked up his
gun, and leaped unhurt into the saddle. But on urging his poor horse
forward, he found that its shoulder was badly sprained. There was no
room for mercy, however,--life and death were in the balance,--so he
plied the lash vigorously, and the noble steed warmed into something
like a run, when again it stumbled, and fell with a crash on the ground,
while the blood burst from its mouth and nostrils. Dick could hear the
shout of triumph uttered by his pursuers.
"My poor, poor horse!" he exclaimed, in a tone of the deepest
commiseration, while he stooped and stroked its foam-studded neck.
The dying steed raised his head for a moment, it almost seemed as if to
acknowledge the tones of affection, then it sank down with a gurgling
groan.
Dick sprang up, for the Indians were now upon him, and bounded like an
antelope into the thickest of the shrubbery, which was nowhere thick
enough, however, to prevent the Indians following. Still, it
sufficiently retarded them to render the chase a more equal one than
could have been expected. In a few minutes Dick gained a strip of open
ground beyond, and found himself on the bank of a broad river, whose
evidently deep waters rushed impetuously along their unobstructed
channel. The bank at the spot where he reached it was a sheer precipice
of between thirty and forty feet high. Glancing up and down the river
he retreated a few paces, turned round and shook his clenched fist at
the savages, accompanying the action with a shout of defiance, and then
running to the edge of the bank, sprang far out into the boiling flood
and sank.
The Indians pulled up on reaching the spot. There was no possibility of
galloping down the wood-encumbered banks after the fugitive, but quick
as thought each Red-man leaped to the ground, and fitting an arrow to
his bow, awaited Dick's re-appearance with eager gaze.
Young though he was, and unskilled in such wild warfare, Dick knew well
enough what sort of reception he would meet with on coming to the
surface, so he kept under water as long as he could, and struck out as
vigorously as the care of his rifle would permit. At last he rose for a
few seconds, and immediately half a dozen arrows whizzed through the
air; but most of them fell short; only one passed close to his cheek,
and went with a "whip" into the river. He immediately sank again, and
the next time he rose to breathe he was far beyond the reach of his
Indian enemies.