A stern chase is usually a long one. There are not many proverbs the
truth of which comes more powerfully home than this--at least to those
who have had the misfortune to engage in many such chases. To make a
slant at a fugitive, so as to cut him off, or to make a short cut and
head him, is pleasant if you be strong in wind and limb, but to creep up
right astern, inch by inch, foot by foot, yard by yard, and to overcome
him at last by sheer superiority and perseverance, is a disheartening
task.
That was the task we undertook the night we left the Indian camp, and
went off at full gallop over the rolling prairie in pursuit of the
scoundrel Attick and his crew.
But Indians are by nature persevering, and, for myself, I was roused to
the highest pitch of indignation and anxiety. Salamander and I had
ridden far and fast that day, besides which we had eaten only a mouthful
of pemmican and biscuit since breakfast; nevertheless, under the
excitement of the moment our weariness vanished, our hunger fled, and we
engaged in the pursuit with all the ardour of the youngest brave among
them.
Fortunately I had secured two exceptionally fine horses, so that they
were quite able to compete with the inferior, though fresher, horses of
the Indians.
"How long is it since you discovered that they were gone?" said I, as I
galloped alongside of Big Otter.
"Not more than an hour," he replied.
"Do you think they had a long start before that?"
"I cannot tell. Perhaps two hours, perhaps four. Certainly not five,
for they were seen in camp when the sun was high."
I was greatly relieved to learn that they had not got a longer start of
us, and very thankful that I had come up in time to join the pursuers.
I was calming down somewhat under the influence of these thoughts, when
I had a sudden feeling of being shot from a cannon into the air. This
was succeeded by a sensation of having my nose converted into a
ploughshare, and that was instantly followed by oblivion!
In the uncertain light my steed had put his foot in a badger hole--that
was all, but it sufficed to check the pace of the whole party!
On recovering I found my head on Salamander's knee. I felt dreamy and
indifferent. "What has happened?" I asked, in English.
Our interpreter, who had a tendency to answer in whatever language he
was addressed--whether English, French, or Indian--replied--
"Yoos bin a-most busted, sar!"
Suddenly the true state of the case flashed upon me. Langour fled. I
leaped up, and scrambled somehow into the saddle.
"Have I been long insensible, Salamander?" I asked, as we resumed our
headlong pace.
"On'y what time I kin count twinty, sar."
Rejoiced to find that no longer time had been lost, I galloped along
contentedly, and in silence, though with a rather confused feeling in my
brain, and a sensation of being possessed of six noses rolled into one.
Although no one, as I have said, seemed to lead the party when we
started, I soon found that Big Otter was really our chief. He rode
ahead of us, and more than once pulled up to dismount and examine the
trail. On these occasions the rest of the party halted without orders,
and awaited his decision. Once we were completely thrown off the scent.
The fugitives had taken to a wooded tract of country, and it required
our utmost caution not to lose the trail.
Presently we came to a small stream and crossed it, but the trail ended
abruptly here. We were not surprised, being well aware of the common
Indian device of wading in a stream, which holds no footprints, so as to
throw pursuers out. Dividing our force, one party went up stream, the
other down, but although eager, sharp, and practised eyes examined the
banks, they could not discover the spot where the fugitives had again
taken to dry land. Returning to the place where we had divided, Big
Otter again examined the trail with minute care, going down on his knees
to turn over the blades of grass and examine the footprints.
"Strange," said I, impatiently, "that so simple a device should baffle
us."
As I spoke, the chief arose, and, dark though it was, I could see a
gleam of intelligence on his swarthy visage.
"Attick thinks he is wise," he said, in a low voice, "but he has no more
brains than a rabbit. He was from childhood an idiot."
Having paid his tribesman this compliment, he remounted, and, to my
surprise, went straight back the way we had come.
"What means this!" I asked, unable to restrain my impatience.
"Attick has doubled back, that is all. If there had been more light we
should easily have seen that. We shall soon find the place where the
trail breaks off again."
The Indian was right. On clearing the wooded land we found that the
moon was up, and we followed the trail easily. Coming to a hillock in
the open ground, the top of which was covered with thick and stunted
bushes, we rode into them and there experienced much difficulty in
picking our way.
Suddenly Big Otter turned at a right angle from the line we had been
hitherto pursuing, and, putting his horse to the gallop, held on with
the decision of one who knows he is on the right road.
As the prairie was open, and the moon growing brighter, we had now no
difficulty in following up the fugitives, and pressed on as fast as our
horses could go.
Daylight came and found us still galloping; but as there was no sign of
those whom we pursued, and as our horses were getting tired, we halted
at a small stream for a short rest and breakfast.
"They must be well mounted," said I, as we sat on the banks of the
stream appeasing our hunger with masses of dried buffalo meat, while the
horses munched the grass near us.
"Attick is always well mounted," replied Big Otter; "but his men may not
be so well off, and women are difficult to urge on when they are
unwilling."
"Then you have no doubt that we shall overtake them?" I asked.
"We _must_ overtake them," was the laconic reply. I felt somewhat
comforted by the decision of the Indian's tone, and a good deal more so
by his ordering his warriors to remount before half an hour had passed.
He did not however, press on as hard as before, fearing, no doubt that
the horses would break down.
I felt assured that Attick would not dare to halt until he believed
himself almost beyond pursuit; and, as the chase therefore bade fair to
be a very long one, it seemed wise thus to spare the horses.
About noon, however, we passed through a strip of woodland, and, on
coming out at the other side, observed a party of horsemen on the
distant horizon.
"Waugh!" exclaimed Big Otter, shaking the reins of his steed and going
off at racing speed. We soon began to overhaul the cavalcade, and then
perceived that they were doing their utmost to get away from us.
"It is Attick and his party--is it not?" I asked, excitedly.
"It is Attick," was the brief reply.
Another belt of woodland lay a little to the right on the horizon. The
fugitives headed for it. We urged our horses to their utmost speed and
soon dashed through the belt of wood, expecting to see the fugitives on
the plain beyond. What was our surprise, then, to find them assembled
in a group, calmly tying up their horses, and kindling a fire as if for
the purpose of cooking their mid-day meal. As most of the men had laid
aside their guns, and we outnumbered them by two to one, we checked our
headlong course, and trotted quietly up to them.
To my great joy I saw, as we approached, that the girl who stooped to
kindle the fire was Waboose. Her mother sat on a bank near her, looking
very pale and worn.
Attick, who still carried his gun in the hollow of his left arm,
expressed well-feigned surprise at seeing us.
"Big Otter seems to be on the war-path," he said, "but I have seen no
enemies."
"Big Otter's enemy stands before him," returned our leader, sternly.
"Attick has been very foolish. Why did he run away with the daughter of
Weeum the Good?"
"Attick scorns to run away with a squaw. Waboose agreed to go with him
on the hunt. There she is: ask her."
This was a bold stroke of the wily savage. Instead of flying from us,
he pretended to have been merely hurrying after a band of buffalo, which
was said to be moving southward, and that he had halted in the chase for
a short rest and food. This plan he had hastily adopted, on perceiving
that it was impossible to escape us, having previously warned Waboose
that he would shoot her dead if she did not corroborate what he said.
But Attick was incapable of believing that fearless heroism could dwell
in the breast of a woman, and little knew the courage of the daughter of
Weeum the Good. He mistook her silence and her downcast eyes for
indications of submission, and did not doubt that the delicate-looking
and shrinking girl was of much the same spirit as the other women of his
tribe.
Great, then, was his astonishment when he saw the Saxon blood in her
veins rush to her fair brow, while she gazed at him steadily with her
large blue eyes, and said--
"The tongue of Attick is forked. He lies when he says that the daughter
of Weeum agreed to follow him. He knows that he carried her from the
camp by force against her will."
Attick had thrown forward and cocked his gun, but happily the unexpected
nature of the girl's reply, and the indignant gaze of her eyes, caused
an involuntary hesitation. This did not afford time for any one to
seize the intending murderer, but it enabled me hastily to point my
rifle at the villain's head and fire. I have elsewhere said that my
shooting powers were not remarkable; I missed the man altogether, but
fortunately the bullet which was meant for his brain found its billet in
the stock of his gun, and blew the lock to atoms, thus rendering the
weapon useless.
With a fierce shout he dropped the gun, drew his scalping-knife, and
sprang towards Waboose, or--as I had by that time found a pleasure in
mentally styling her--Eve Liston.
Of course every man of our party sprang forward, but it fell to
Salamander to effect the rescue, for that light-hearted and light-limbed
individual chanced to be nearest to the savage when I fired at him, and,
ere the knife was well drawn, had leaped upon his back with the agility
of a panther. At the same moment Big Otter flung his tomahawk at him.
The weapon was well, though hastily, aimed. It struck the savage full
on the forehead, and felled him to the earth.
The rest of Attick's party made no attempt to rescue him. Like all bad
men, they were false to each other in the hour of need. They quietly
submitted to be disarmed and led away.
We had to encamp early that evening, because the unwonted and severe
exercise to which Waboose's mother had been exposed had rendered her
quite unfit to travel further without rest. Attick, who had soon
recovered sufficiently to be able to walk, was bound, along with his
men, and put under a guard. Then the encampment was made and the fires
kindled. While this was being done I led Waboose aside to a little
knoll, from which we could see a beautiful country of mingled woodland
and prairie, stretching far away to the westward, where the sun had just
descended amid clouds of amber and crimson.
"Is it not glorious!" I exclaimed. "Should we not be grateful to the
Great Spirit who has given us such a splendid home?"
Waboose looked at me. "Yes, it is glorious," she said--"and I am
grateful; but it is strange that you should use the very same words that
were so often on the lips of my father just before he--"
She stopped abruptly.
"Just before he went home, Eve," I interposed; "no need to say died.
Your father is not dead, but sleepeth. You shall meet him again. But
it is not very strange that men should use the same words when they are
animated by the same love to the Great Spirit."
The girl raised her large eyes with a perplexed, inquiring look.
"What troubles you, Eve?" I asked.
"Eve!" she repeated, almost anxiously. "Twice you have called me by a
name that father sometimes used, though not often, and when he used it
he always spoke low and _very_ tenderly."
I felt somewhat perplexed as to how I should reply, and finally took
refuge in another question.
"Tell me, Waboose," said I, "did your father ever tell you his own
name?"
"Of course he did," she answered, with a look of surprise--"you know
well it was Weeum."
"Yes, William," said I; "but--"
"No--Weeum," she said, correcting me. "Once or twice I have heard him
say Willum, but all our people call him Weeum."
"Had he no other name?" I asked.
"No. Why should he have another? Is not one enough?"
"You never heard of Liston?"
"Liston?--No, never."
"Waboose," said I, with sudden earnestness, "I am going to tell you
something that will probably surprise you, and I will show you something
that may give you pleasure--or pain--I know not which. You remember,
that when I found the curious ornaments near to the stunted pine-tree, I
asked you not to question me at that time about the packet you gave to
me long ago. Well, the time has come when I ought to tell you all about
it. But, first, look at this."
I had taken from my pocket, while speaking to her, the miniature of her
father, which I now handed to her. She fixed her eyes on it with a
startled look, then sprang up with an exclamation, at the same time
drawing one hand across her eyes, as if to clear away some mists that
dimmed them. Eagerly she gazed again, with parted lips and heaving
bosom, then burst into a passionate flood of tears, pressing the
miniature alternately to her lips and to her heart.