AT THE SALT-LICK
"IT seems as though we were foolish not to have brought our horses with
us, Dick," Roger said, when noon had come and gone, and they were still
pressing on at the side of the Mandan brave, mostly through timber.
"Yes," replied his comrade, "I've been sorry more than once that we
made up our minds to let the poor beasts have a rest, while we were
gone on this little hunt for Jasper Williams. But as the Wolf expected
to travel afoot, I thought it would be all right."
"But you know he's used to tramping it, day after day. He's a strong
man, and his muscles are like iron; while we're only boys, you see,
Dick."
"Still, we've gone through more than a little in our time, Roger," the
other rejoined.
"That's true; and I'm not played out, let me tell you," Roger asserted;
"only we might just as well have had horses, and taken things easy.
The Wolf could have run alongside, and we'd have reached the salt-lick
quicker than we seem likely to do at this rate."
"I've been trying to get it out of him how much farther we have to go;
it's like pounding a hole through a rock; but at last he seemed to
understand, and held up three fingers. But just what that means is the
question. It might be that we are three miles away from the salt-lick;
and then again perhaps it's still three hours' walk."
"Well, we'll have to grin and bear it, as old Pat O'Mara used to say,"
observed Roger, whose spirits refused to remain cast down for any
length of time.
"And we've not had the good luck to get close to any game to fire a
single shot," Dick complained.
"But they told us in the village that we'd be almost sure to get a
chance at some sort of wild animal at the lick; for they come there
right along. I'm hoping that it'll be antelope. I've never forgotten
how fine that meat tasted to us; and nothing would please me so much as
to have more of the same kind."
Roger licked his lips as he said this, as though the very mention of
that feast made his mouth water.
"One thing, sure," Dick went on, "the summer has gone, and autumn is
coming along now. You can feel the tang of it in the early morning air.
Why, before long we'll be having frost, if this keeps on."
"Just think how many weeks it has been since we left home," said Roger,
as if at times hardly able to believe the fact himself.
"And what a long distance lies between us and those dear ones," added
Dick; "but, if things go well, we can soon be starting back down the
river again."
"There, look, Dick, the Wolf is making gestures again! He wants to tell
you something, I believe. And I hope it is that we're getting close to
the lick at last."
"Don't speak so loud, Roger, he seems to be making a motion with his
arm as if to point ahead; then he puts his finger on his lips, which
must mean that he wants us to keep as still as a mouse. I really
believe we must be close by, or else he's discovered signs of Sioux,
and wants us to be on our guard."
"No, he's beckoning to us to come on, now, Dick, and he wouldn't do
that if he believed there were enemies around. It must be the lick,"
Roger went on, lowering his voice to a whisper, at which the Mandan
brave smiled, and nodded his head, as though he approved.
They began to exercise more caution as they crept forward. The boys,
being hunters themselves, noticed several things that gave them cause
to look upon their guide as one who knew his business.
"See how he sneaks along, with never a sound as his feet touch the
ground," Roger whispered in the ear of his companion. "Did you ever see
anything to beat that? No matter how sharp your hearing might be, you'd
never catch the first sound with the Wolf moving along."
"And another thing, Roger, you can see that the breeze is right in our
faces. He circled around a little, for I noticed it, and wondered why
at the time. Now I know. It was to come in at the lick so as to not
alarm any animal that might happen to be there ahead of us."
"Plenty of timber around," remarked the other, signifying with a nod of
his head the trees they were passing.
"Yes, lots of it; and now, let's drop all this talk," suggested Dick,
after which silence fell upon them.
They tried to imitate the stealthy manner of advance shown by the Wolf,
but realized that they would have considerable to learn before they
might equal his noiseless method of placing each foot on the ground,
with a quick, accurate movement. Roger believed that a panther could
never have walked with a more velvety tread than did that agile Mandan
warrior, accustomed to this sort of thing from childhood.
It began to grow a little irksome after a while; but they believed that
it must soon come to an end, and that thought comforted both lads.
If anything, the caution of the Wolf increased. This would seem to
indicate that they must be getting very close to the end of their
journey, and both boys began to imagine they could tell just where the
lick must lie.
Yes, their guide was heading straight for a thick clump of bushes under
the trees, and, from the looks of things, they fancied they were at the
end of the tramp.
The Wolf turned his head then to make a gesture, and nod, just as if
he wanted them to understand that they had arrived. Then the three
crept forward, a foot at a time. Roger almost held his breath with the
suspense, although accustomed to hunting in all its branches. Would
they discover any kind of wild animal there, licking the salty rock; or
were they fated to be disappointed?
Still, even though there happened to be no game in sight, that was not
saying their chance would not come a little later. All they would have
to do would be to conceal themselves, and wait, when perhaps a deer,
or a buffalo, would appear, bent on gratifying the taste for salt that
holds such a strong fascination for most four-footed animals.
Another minute, and they were eagerly peering through the thick bushes.
They could see where the lick lay, for it was in the open, and the
ground all around had been trampled by many hoofs.
Roger heaved a sigh of disappointment, for there was no sign of
antelope, buffalo or any wild animal. On his part Dick felt a keen
sense of chagrin, but from another cause; he had secretly hoped to see
the form of a white scout lounging in the open, and that would mean,
that their long search was at an end, with the much sought Jasper
Williams before them. But it was not to be.
The Wolf, if also surprised not to find game there, after all
their labor in making such a skillful advance, showed no signs of
disappointment. He had doubtless learned early in life that a warrior
must never give way to such feelings. When things do not come his way
it is his business to keep plodding along until the tide changes, for
everything comes to him who waits, even game at a salt-lick.
There was no longer any reason why they should crouch in an
uncomfortable attitude. It was just as well to straighten up, relieve
their tired muscles, go forward and examine the lick; and then, when
the mood seized them, find a new hiding-place, where they could lie in
wait.
"Come on, Dick, let's see what the old thing looks like," Roger
remarked, as he stepped out from the screen of bushes.
Both the Mandan brave and Dick followed at his heels, for the latter
was also curious to investigate. He had never seen a salt-lick,
although told about such places by his father, as they were more
plentiful away back in Kentucky than along the Mississippi. And it
repaid them for the trouble they had experienced in making this
stealthy advance.
It was easy to see where the salt rock cropped out from the ground.
In several places animals had actually worn a hole in it with their
rough tongues. Their hoofs had also made various trails in front of
each exposed salt rock, and Roger could easily see how a hunter, lying
concealed in the bushes within a short arrow-flight of the spot, would
be able to bring down his game. No doubt many a tragedy had taken place
there, and Roger could picture them in his mind while examining the
surroundings.
Dick was still thinking of Jasper Williams.
"I wonder if he could have been here, and gone again," he remarked.
"Oh! I had about lost track of what we were coming out after--you mean
the scout, Williams. And, sure enough, he isn't here, is he, Dick? Now,
that's another disappointment. We might have found him waiting for
some message from the Mandan chief. Well, there's only one thing we
can do--camp here, and wait for one or the other to show up--game, or
Jasper."
"The Wolf seems to be examining something on the ground, which, I take
it, must be tracks," announced Dick.
"Then perhaps our man _has_ been here, and gone again?" ventured Roger,
in a startled tone.
"No, because he was to leave some sign behind him, a bark message in
the crotch of a stick, perhaps, and there's nothing of the kind around,
Roger, you see."
"Well, but the Wolf seems to be bending over more than ever. Do you
think it can be game he scents? Why, there are dozens of tracks here,
and I don't see how any particular set could interest him," Roger
continued.
"Let's go forward and see for ourselves," Dick suggested.
As they came alongside the Mandan brave he pointed to certain marks
at his feet. Both lads saw that these were the faint impressions of
moccasins. But that in itself gave them no cause for uneasiness, and it
was not until the Wolf pointed once more, and uttered a word they took
to be "Sioux," that they understood. Some of the deadly enemies of the
Mandans had only recently been at the salt-lick; and that might mean
they were contemplating an attack on the great Mandan village, hardly
more than half a day's journey away.
Efforts had plainly been made to erase the footprints, which would
indicate that the Sioux had some reason for not wanting their enemies
to know of their presence so close by.
Somehow the fact gave both boys an uneasy feeling, and again Dick found
himself wishing that he had thought to bring the horses; then, in
case of trouble, they would have had a means for beating a successful
retreat.
Roger did not look so far ahead as his comrade, as a rule. He was even
now wondering what the Wolf saw in these old tracks to cause him alarm.
Why, from time to time no doubt lots of Indians, perhaps belonging to
various tribes, must visit this spot, since it was the only salt-lick
in all the surrounding country, he had been told.
"Now, for my part," he started to say, "I don't see why he should
bother with a lot of tracks. Perhaps they are days old. What if the
Sioux did try to hide the marks of their moccasins; they'd know the
Mandans could tell from the tread that Sioux braves had been here, and,
if they were just out on a hunt, it might be they wouldn't want to
have any trouble with their old-time enemies."
"Yes, that might be as you say, Roger; but if you look close you'll
see that it _wasn't_ days ago these tracks were made. No dew has ever
fallen in this footprint, which would go to show it was not here at
dawn this morning."
"Oh!" exclaimed Roger, "then, if these marks have been made since
sun-up, that's a different story; and perhaps the Wolf does well to
look serious. These fierce Sioux are a lot of fighters, they say. The
expedition has had ever so much trouble with them while on the way.
Now, if we have to leave here before we meet Jasper Williams, it will
be too mean for anything."
"That must be as the Wolf says, and perhaps he can make us understand
by motions what he thinks about it. There, see him bending down again
over yonder, as if he had discovered something else. Those eyes of his
are like a hawk's, and little can escape them."
"I wish he would hurry up then, and let us know the worst," grumbled
Roger.
Dick was about to say something more, when the words seemed to cleave
to the roof of his mouth, for something remarkable had happened,
something that was so utterly unexpected that he could hardly believe
his eyes.
He saw a swift descending object fall directly upon the stooping Mandan
brave, and bear him to the ground with the force of the collision. His
first impression was that the assailant must be a hungry panther; and
then he discovered that it bore more resemblance to a human being,
although the two intertwined figures whirled over and over with such
incredible swiftness that he could not make sure.
"Oh!" exclaimed Roger, as here and there dark figures began to drop, as
though the thick branches of the overhanging trees were raining human
fruit; and now it did not require more than one look to tell that these
were feathered Indians, undoubtedly Sioux braves, who, seeing their
approach toward the salt-lick, had laid this cunning trap to surprise
them.
Dick started to throw his gun to his shoulder. It was an involuntary
movement, for he could have but little hope of escaping from that
circle of enemies; but it was only to have the weapon snatched from his
hands, while he was borne to the ground.