All the ordinary rules and regulations for the government of an Indian
village were knocked in pieces by the arrival of such an event as the
victory over the Lipans.
Even Mother Dolores could not reasonably have forbidden Ni-ha-be and
Rita from hurrying out of their lodge to join in the general rejoicing.
In fact, Dolores had left them to their own devices a full minute
before they made their appearance.
"Rita, there is Knotted Cord!"
"I see him."
"If he could understand me I would speak to him."
"Oh, Ni-ha-be! That would be a dreadful thing to do."
Ni-ha-be would not have done any such thing, and Rita knew it; but the
chief's daughter saw no reason why she should not lead her sister
pretty near the young pale-face brave as they passed him. They could
see that he was smiling at them, and it was an act of politeness to
smile back. Ni-ha-be laughed.
It was that, perhaps, which led Steve into a mistake. He wanted to say
something, and in his haste he forgot to speak Mexican Spanish, as he
ought to have done, if he expected to be understood by an Apache young
lady.
"There has been a great fight. Your father has taken some prisoners."
"We know it," answered Rita, and she was almost as much startled as was
Steve himself.
"What! Do you understand English?"
Ni-ha-be turned at the same moment, and looked at her in astonishment.
"Only some. A little. Not any more talk now. Come, Ni-ha-be."
"Talk Apache, so I can hear. You shall not say any more words to him.
Tell me what you said. Tell me his words."
Ni-ha-be's jealous pride was touched to the quick at finding that Rita
possessed still another accomplishment that she had not. It was worse
than even the talking leaves, for Rita had not seemed to hear them very
well. It was too bad!
Rita quickly interpreted all that had been said, but she did it in a
way that told both her sister and Steve Harrison that she was a good
deal excited about something.
"Come, Ni-ha-be, come."
"I will. There is Red Wolf. We must hurry."
Poor Rita! The whooping and clamor and tumult and confusion all around
her confused her more than ever. She was glad there was enough of it
to keep Ni-ha-be from asking her any questions; but it seemed as if she
would be willing to give her favorite pony to hear a few words more in
that strange tongue--the tongue she had known once, and forgotten, till
the talking leaves began to speak it to her.
Pretty soon the girls were mingling with their friends and relations,
crowding as closely as they dared upon the line of warriors, and
striving to get a glimpse of the prisoners by the light of the
camp-fires.
It was getting late, but Many Bears had work to do before he could
think of calling for a luncheon or going to his lodge. He had seen his
captives safely bound and put away under guard, and he now summoned his
old men for a brief but very important "talk."
Murray had guessed right when he said he would be sent for, but he had
not waited the arrival of any messenger. The words were hardly out of
the mouth of Many Bears before a brave in the crowd responded,
"Send Warning is here."
"Where is the Knotted Cord?"
"In lodge. Wait there."
That explanation came from Red Wolf, and the Apaches knew exactly where
their pale-face friends were at that particular moment, which was the
precise thing Murray wanted them to feel sure of, considering what he
knew was about to be found out.
All the rest of the village was full of noise, but the dignity of the
older men enforced silence in the circle now gathering closely around
the chief. Added to the dignity was a large amount of pride over what
they had already done, and a little anxiety concerning what it would be
best to do next.
Many Bears turned to Murray. "Send Warning gave good council. His
head is white. He is wise. Tell Apaches now where all pale-face gone.
No come."
"Send Warning can guess. The pale-faces don't like to be killed. Find
too many Apaches. Run away and save scalp."
"Ugh! Good. Nobody know where they go. No use follow. Apaches take
Lipan prisoners. What Send Warning say about them?"
"Keep them till to-morrow. No hurry. Something else to think of now.
More fight, maybe."
The chief nodded his head, but a chorus of "Ughs!" expressed the
dissent of his council. They meant to decide the fate of old Two
Knives without delay.
Still, three of the older braves insisted upon arguing the case, one
after the other; and by the time the last of them ceased speaking,
Murray felt pretty safe about To-la-go-to-de. He said to himself, "The
old fox has half an hour the start of them now. He is miles and miles
away."
Just then Many Bears turned to him with, "What say now? Any words?"
"No. Never speak twice. Apaches do what think best."
"Ugh! Good. Young braves bring out Lipans. No wait. Kill them all
right away."
Prisoners of such a sort were likely to be a troublesome burden to a
party on the march like that of Many Bears, and the only real question
before the council was, after all, in what precise manner the killing
should be done.
At that moment, however, a great cry arose from the vicinity of the
lodge where the Lipans had been shut up--a cry of surprise, anger, and
disappointment. And then the word spread over the whole camp like
wildfire,
"The Lipans are gone!"
It was almost beyond belief, and there was a general rush toward that
row of lodges, and beyond them into the bushes and through the corral.
It came within an ace of stampeding every pony there, and every trace
of anything like a "trail" left by the feet of Two Knives and his
warriors was quickly trampled out.
The only bit of a "sign" found by anybody was in the shape of more than
a dozen thongs of buckskin on the ground in the lodge, all clean cut
through with a sharp knife.
That told plainly how the prisoners had released themselves.
The braves who had searched and tied them were positive that not one of
them retained a knife, or was left in a condition to make any use of
one. They must have had help from somebody, but it was a great mystery
who that somebody could be.
Suspicion might have fallen upon Murray and Steve, but it was well
known that the latter had remained in his lodge, refusing even to look
at the prisoners, while Send Warning had been in council with the
chiefs. They believed they knew where he had been all the while, and
none of them imagined that Two Knives had been set free before he had
lain in that "prison lodge" three minutes.
It was a terrible mortification, but something must be done; and again
Murray was asked for advice.
"What do I think? Let me ask you a question. Did the Lipans go away
on foot?"
"Ugh! No. Take good horse."
"Did they have any arms? Gun? lance? bow?"
"Ugh! No. Think not."
"They are cunning warriors. Did they ride out among your young men?
Send Warning says they would do just what great Apache chief would do."
"Ugh! Good. Pale-face chief very wise. Lipans go all way round.
Like snake. Only one thing for us to do. Catch 'em when they come to
pass."
"Better ride now," said Murray. "Send Warning and Knotted Cord will
ride with Apache braves. No time lose. Want fresh horse."
He afterward explained to Steve that a little seeming activity on their
part was needful at that moment of excitement, lest anything unpleasant
should be said about them. Besides, he had no fear of any farther
collision with the Lipans. The night was too far gone for that, and he
had great confidence in the courage and skill of old Two Knives.
In less than twenty minutes after he had given his advice, he and Steve
Harrison, mounted on fresh mustangs chosen for them from the corral by
Red Wolf himself, were riding across the ford at the head of a strong
squad of Apache warriors, commanded by a chief of well-known skill and
prowess.
"They will pick up plenty more on the way, Steve, but they won't have
much to do."
"No danger of their catching old Two Knives?"
"Not a bit. I'll tell you all about it some other time."
"I've something to tell you, Murray. I can't keep it."
"Out with it, my boy."
"That white daughter of old Many Bears can speak English. She
understood what I said and answered me."
It was dark, or Steve would have seen that the face of his friend grew
as white as his hair, and then flushed and brightened with a great and
sudden light.
For a moment he was silent, and then he said, in a deep, husky voice,
"Don't say any more about it to me, Steve. Not till I speak to you
again. I'm in an awful state of mind to-night."
Steve had somehow made up his mind to that already, but he was saved
the necessity of saying anything in reply. Red Wolf rode closer to him
at the moment and said,
"Knotted Cord is young. Been on war-path before?"
"Say yes, Steve," muttered Murray.
"Yes, I'm young. Seen a good deal, though. Many war-paths."
"What tribe strike?"
"Lipans, Comanches, Mexicans. Followed some Pawnees once. They got
away."
Red Wolf's whole manner told of the respect he felt for a young brave
who had already been out against the fiercest warriors of the Indian
country. He would have given a good many ponies to have been able to
say as much for himself.
"Glad come among Apaches. Stay long time. Never go away."
That was a wonderful thing for Red Wolf to say, considering what a
bitter prejudice had been taught him against everybody with a white
skin. Ni-ha-be would not have believed it unless she had heard him say
it.
"Can't promise," replied Steve. "Go when Send Warning say."
No comment could be made by a "young brave" on an appeal to a
white-headed "chief" like Murray, and the talk slackened a little.
It would hardly have done so if they could have looked a few miles in
front of them just then. The darkness would have prevented their
seeing much, but if they had been near the old Lipan camp they would
have seen that it was empty.
A few Apaches had taken possession of it at first, but the smouldering
camp-fires and blazing wagons gave light enough to the Lipans among the
rocks to enable them to send occasional bullets at whatever might be
stirring there, and the place was given up as uselessly dangerous. The
scattered shots which now and then came from the mouth of the pass told
that the beaten warriors of To-la-go-to-de were wide-awake and ready to
defend themselves, and their position was well known to be a strong
one--not to be attacked without both orders and re-enforcements.
But for one thing that end of the pass would have been already vacant.
The pride of the Lipans forbade their running farther without at least
an effort to learn what had become of their chief. They felt that they
could never look their squaws in the face again unless they could
explain that point.
To be sure it was almost a hopeless case, and the Apaches would be upon
them in the morning, but they waited.
Everything seemed to be growing darker, and the outlying Lipan
sentinels were not in any fault that four men on horseback should get
so near them undiscovered. It was very near, and the new-comers must
have known there was danger in it, for one of them suddenly put his
hand to his mouth and uttered a fierce, half-triumphant war-whoop. It
was the well-known battle-cry of To-la-go-to-de himself, and it was
answered by a storm of exulting shouts from the warriors among the
rocks. Their chief had escaped!
That was true, and it was a grand thing, but he had brought back with
him only three men of his "front rank."
The Apaches could hear the whooping, and the foremost of them deemed it
wise to fall back a little. Whatever their enemies might be up to,
they were men to be watched with prudence as well as courage.
The words of the great chief were few. There was no farther account to
be made of Captain Skinner and his miners, he told them. They were
cunning, and they had taken care of themselves. It had been well to
plunder their camp. He himself owed his safety to their old friend No
Tongue, and the Lipans must never forget him. The Yellow Head had
probably been killed, and they would not see him again. They must now
gather all their horses and other plunder, and push their retreat as
far as possible before morning. Some other time they would come and
strike the Apaches, but it was "bad medicine" for them just now.
Whatever else that may have meant, according to Indian superstition,
every warrior could understand that their losses had weakened them too
much to think of fighting another hard battle. It was no disgrace to
make a great deal of haste under such circumstances; and so, if Red
Wolf and the rest had been near enough at that hour, they would have
seen Two Knives and what was left of his band riding steadily on,
deeper and deeper, among the mountains.