WIRELESS TELEGRAPHY.
LET us do justice to Black Elk, chief of the Shoshones, who acted like a
true sportsman. He had witnessed the discomfiture of his sons, and could
not conceal his disgust and exasperation. Little doubt that soon after
the incidents described he “settled” with his heirs, not so much because
of their overthrow, but because of the cowardice they had shown. Courage
with the red men, no less than with our own race, is a cardinal virtue,
as the lack of it is an unpardonable sin.
Victor Shelton allowed his brother to lead him away from his threatening
pose in front of the chieftain of the red men. He saw the rashness of
his last act, and hoped the leader would overlook it. And Black Elk not
only did that, but he did more. He deliberately strode across to Victor,
offered his hand, and said something, which Mul-tal-la interpreted:
“He says my brother is a brave youth; he is the master of his sons; he
would be glad to adopt you and have you live with him as the one who,
when he dies, shall become the leading chief of his tribe, which numbers
many hundred warriors.
“Great Cæsar!” exclaimed the astonished Victor. “Give him my thanks, but
tell him the thing can’t be thought of.”
Black Elk was so pleased with the boys that he still urged Mul-tal-la to
go with them to his village and stay for a long time. The Blackfoot
finally convinced the chief that being on his return to his own home,
from which he had been absent many moons, it would not do to linger on
the road. He had sad news to carry to his people and to the relatives of
the companion who had met his death in the East. He would be blamed if
he delayed in bearing the sorrowful message to them.
So finally the two parties separated. Black Elk shook hands with each of
the three, and the grim warriors came forward and did the same. Then the
Shoshones passed down the slope and headed toward the rocks on the other
side of the valley, where George and Victor Shelton first caught sight
of them.
The horses being ready, our friends mounted and started forward again.
Their course was a little to the east of the range through which they
would soon have to force their way in order to reach the Blackfoot
country. Mul-tal-la explained that he had a pass in mind, which was a
day’s ride away, and probably would not be entered before the following
morning. It will be remembered that our friends had partaken of no food
since the previous evening. None referred to it, for they could well
wait until the middle or, if necessary, until the close of the day.
The weather continued favorable. Summer had come, and in the lower
portions of the country the heat at midday was often oppressive.
Mosquitoes had begun to annoy the travelers, who might count upon being
plagued by them for the rest of their journey. These pests are more
unbearable in cold regions, during the brief summer season, than in the
temperate regions of a country.
The sun shone clear and strong, but the three were already upon elevated
ground, and the nearness of the mountains doubtless helped to cool the
air. At intervals they came upon the interesting creatures peculiar to
the West and known as prairie dogs, their dwellings consisting of holes
burrowed in the ground, often covering acres in extent, beside which the
little animals would sit and gaze at the horsemen as they filed past.
Sometimes they emitted queer whistling noises, and, upon observing
anything suspicious on the part of the travelers, whisked into these
openings and vanished in a twinkling. Then they could be seen peeping
out, and, when the seeming danger had passed, they clambered back to
their posts, as lively and watchful as ever. To-day the prairie dogs
have become so harmful to agriculture in some parts of the West that the
problem of extirpating them is under consideration and is a serious one.
The Blackfoot as usual kept his place at the front, while the brothers
rode side by side, talking when disposed, and sometimes going for miles
without exchanging more than a few sentences. This conversation revealed
the fact that both did not feel entirely at ease regarding Black Elk and
his Shoshones. At the time of which I am writing this tribe numbered
more than five thousand people, and was one of the most important in the
West. Their main villages lay to the westward of the Rocky Mountain
range, about the headwaters of the stream now known as South Fork of the
Lewis River. With so many warriors, it was not strange that some of
their hunting parties often came through the passes in the Rockies and
roamed over the level country on the east. Since they were generally
provided with horses, it seemed singular that Black Elk and his
companions were on foot. Mul-tal-la said beyond a doubt all owned
animals, which were at no great distance.
When the Blackfoot was told by the boys of their fears, they were
surprised to find that he shared them, though not to the same extent. He
explained that for some time to come the chieftain’s principal emotion
would be that of exasperation against his sons for the sorry showing
they had made against the two white youths. They were sure to receive
punishment at his hand for running away that would last them a lifetime.
But after the first burst of passion was over, Black Elk would begin to
think of the two white lads that had brought this disgrace upon the
royal household, and, as he mused, his resentment would kindle toward
them. All the Indians not unnaturally looked upon every white man as an
intruder. Though history shows that the aborigines welcomed their
visitors, yet the action of the latter was so cruel that the friendship
of the red men was turned to enmity. Thus most of the trappers and
hunters who ventured into the West and Northwest took their lives in
their hands, and many never came back from the wild solitudes. The story
of the settlement of our country is a continuous one of outrage and
massacre, in which the fault lay almost always at the door of the
palefaces.
Black Elk could not fail to feel resentful over the fact that the
disgrace of his sons had been inflicted by members of that hated race.
It was quite likely, therefore, that, repenting the magnanimity he had
shown, he would try to visit his vengeance upon the two youths while
they were yet within reach.
The duty of our friends, therefore, was plain: they must lose no time in
hurrying beyond danger. When Mul-tal-la was asked what the result would
have been had the apparently honest invitation of Black Elk been
accepted, the Blackfoot smiled.
“My brothers would have been treated well for a time, but they would not
have lived long.”
“How would it have been with you?” asked George.
“Mul-tal-la did not hurt Young Elk or the Antelope; his skin is of the
same color as Black Elk’s. They are brothers.”
This was another way of saying the Blackfoot had nothing to fear from
the Shoshones. It was the boys who were in peril.
Victor more than once was tempted to ask their companion the cause of
his absence the night before, but refrained after speaking to George,
who told him if Mul-tal-la wished he would give the information without
questioning. If he did not, it was not tactful to bother him.
The boys noted that the Blackfoot, from his place in front, occasionally
turned his head and scanned the horizon, especially to the south and
west.
“That means that he doesn’t believe we are through with the Shoshones,”
said Victor, when his brother commented upon the action.
“If they intend any harm, I don’t see why they don’t follow us, without
trying to hide from our sight. We can’t travel fast, and they wouldn’t
have any trouble in overtaking us before we went many miles.”
“That isn’t the Indian fashion of doing business.”
Inasmuch as Mul-tal-la showed no such interest in studying the country
they were leaving behind them, George frequently brought his spyglass
into play. Whenever they reached an elevation, though of slight extent,
he directed the instrument toward the points which he saw were passing
under the scrutiny of their guide. The most careful study, sometimes
shared with Victor, failed to reveal anything of a disturbing nature. It
was well to be on guard, but it looked as if the Blackfoot was unduly
suspicious.
The surface of the country became more broken, for the two were
gradually entering the foothill region of that mighty range which
extends over many degrees of the American continent. The air remained
clear and sharp, different species of wood were met, and it was not yet
noon when they halted beside one of the numerous small streams which
issued from the mountains, and, frolicking and tumbling eastward,
finally found its way into the Missouri and so on to the Gulf.
The water was crystalline and cold. The horses drank from it, for it was
not imprudent to permit them to do so, since their gait had been
moderate and they were neither too warm nor too tired. The draught was
refreshing to the boys and the Blackfoot. The latter told them that if
they would start a fire he would try to woo a meal from the brook, which
contained numerous deep pools and abounded with eddies, where fish were
sure to be found.
George and Victor set to work with animation. From the stunted pines
they broke off dry twigs and fractured larger limbs into pieces until
something of a pile was gathered and heaped up against a small boulder.
It took some time to make the flame catch from the steel and tinder, but
both had had a good deal of experience in kindling a fire in
difficulties, and they succeeded in starting a blaze of no mean size.
Mul-tal-la was ready, and appeared with three fish, weighing two or
three pounds apiece. They resembled salmon-trout, but were not. However,
there was no doubt they would make an excellent meal, and it did not
take our friends long to prepare it. As you remember, the boys had
brought considerable seasoning in the form of salt and pepper, and they
made sparing use of them. The Blackfoot, like the rest of his people,
did not know the use of condiments in preparing his food. It would have
mattered little to him had he been forced to eat his fish raw, but he
had learned to show deference to the tastes of Deerfoot and other
civilized persons, and often affected a fastidiousness which was foreign
to him.
When the midday meal was finished Mul-tal-la borrowed the glass from
George Shelton, and walking a hundred paces or so to the westward,
climbed a rock and pointed the instrument to the south and west. He held
his erect posture so long, with the instrument immovable, that the boys,
who were watching him, were sure he had made the discovery for which he
had groped so long and hoped not to make.
Such was the fact. Some five or six miles to the southwest he descried a
finger of smoke climbing into the clear air, and showing distinctly
against the blue sky, near the foothills. Such a sight was so common and
so natural in that part of the world that it would not have caused the
Blackfoot any unrest had he not noted a new and disquieting feature. The
line of vapor did not climb the sky, as such lighter substance naturally
does, but its course was sinuous and waving, like a ribbon held by one
end and shaken out.
This proved that it was meant as a signal by those who had kindled the
fire. That thin, vibratory line of smoke was a message sent for miles
across the wild country, and the wireless telegram carried an important
meaning. Who was sending it?
“Black Elk, the Shoshone chieftain,” was the instant answer which
presented itself to the Blackfoot. Did it bear any relation to the red
man and his white companions? Undoubtedly it did in the estimation of
Mul-tal-la.
To whom was the message sent?
_That_ question remained to be answered. Of course it could not be meant
for Mul-tal-la and his young friends, for there was no conceivable cause
for any signal of that nature. It followed, therefore, that the
oscillating line of vapor was intended for other Shoshones who were in
the neighborhood.
Accordingly, Mul-tal-la now began scrutinizing with the utmost care
every other portion of the landscape within his field of vision. To the
east and south the view extended for a long distance, but was shortened
by the towering mountains to the west and northwest. Somewhere among
these rugged masses must be the other wandering Shoshones, and, sooner
or later, they were sure to catch sight of the signal fire, because it
was too conspicuous to remain hidden for any length of time.
If the signal was seen by those for whom it was intended, they would
reply much in the same manner, for the peculiar code does not admit of
much variation. Perhaps the most that it could tell would be that the
notice had been seen and understood. The party of the second part would
then proceed to act.
Again and again the Blackfoot’s eye ranged over his field of vision, but
at the end of an hour no new discovery had rewarded his efforts.
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