The Indian Outbreak
"They seem to be having trouble with the Indians on the reservation,"
remarked Mr. Milton one evening, just after his return from a trip to
town; "everybody in Helena seems to be talking about it, and there was
a big article in the 'Despatch' this morning, too."
"What kind of trouble?" asked Bert, his interest at once aroused. "You
don't mean there's talk of an outbreak among them, do you?"
"That's exactly what I _do_ mean," replied Mr. Melton seriously. "The
young bucks are discontented, and are continually making 'war medicine.'
Of course, the old men of the tribes do all they can to keep them within
bounds, for they know how useless any outbreak would be. But the young
men have never had the bitter experience of their fathers, and at present
they seem very restless."
"But I thought the days of Indian outbreaks were over," exclaimed Tom
excitedly; "why, they wouldn't have a ghost of a chance if they started
anything now."
"Just the same there are enough of them to make trouble, if they ever got
started," said Mr. Melton soberly. "Of course, as you say, the uprising
would be suppressed quickly enough, but not perhaps without considerable
bloodshed and loss of property. At any rate, the prospect of such an
outbreak is enough to keep people living anywhere near the reservation
boundary on the anxious seat."
"But I should think," remarked Dick, "that the authorities would make
such preparations to subdue an uprising among the Indians that it would
be crushed before they had a chance to get off the reservation."
"Well, the authorities _have_ taken every possible precaution," replied
Mr. Melton. "Jim Hotchkiss, the sheriff, told me that word had been
passed to officers of the forts to have the troops in readiness for
instant action. But the 'noble red man' is cunning in his own way, and
lays his plans carefully. And when he is ready to strike he strikes
quickly, like the snake. A marauding band will attack and sack a
farmhouse, and be forty miles away before the troops arrive on the scene.
And in a country as large and wild as this it is something of a task to
corner and subdue them."
"There hasn't been any trouble of the kind for a long time, has there?"
asked Dick.
"No, not for a good many years," answered Mr. Melton; "and that inclines
me all the more to take the present situation seriously. These uprisings
come only at long intervals now, but it seems impossible to prevent them
altogether. After an outbreak has been put down the Indians are very
quiet for a time. They have probably suffered considerable loss of life,
and been severely punished by the government. For years the memory of
this lingers, but gradually it fades away, and the rising generation of
young bucks, with the inherited lust of fight and warfare running riot in
their blood, become restless and rebellious under the restraints of
civilization and government. They hear stories of their ancestors'
prowess from the lips of the old men of the tribe, and they long to go
out and capture a few 'pale face' scalps on their own account. After a
while they work themselves up to the required pitch, and some fine day a
band of them sallies forth on the 'war path.' Then there is a brief time
of plundering and murdering, until the troops can come up with them. Then
there's a scrimmage, in which most of the band is exterminated, and the
rest are herded back to the reservation, with most of the fight gone out
of them."
"I should think a few experiences like that would teach them wisdom, and
keep them from repeating the experiment," commented Bert.
"It would seem so," assented Melton, "but," with a smile, "youth is
always prone to disregard what is told it by its elders, and to insist on
finding out the why and wherefore of things by bitter experience."
"I hope there's nothing personal in that," grinned Dick.
"Oh, not at all," replied his host with an innocent expression on his
face, but a twinkle in his eye. "I wonder what could have given you that
idea."
"Nothing," replied Dick. "I just thought it barely possible, that's all."
"Oh, no," disclaimed Melton, "nothing could have been further from my
thoughts."
Dick looked suspicious, and Tom and Bert laughed heartily.
After this little interruption, the talk went back to the subject of the
threatened Indian uprising. After a time Mr. Melton said: "It might be a
good idea for you boys to ride to town to-morrow and get the latest news.
There'll be very little going on about the ranch to-morrow to interest
you, and it will be a good way to spend the day. Besides, there are one
or two things I forgot when in town, and while you are about it you can
get them and bring them back with you."
This plan was received by the boys with acclamation, and they immediately
set to making preparations. It was a considerable distance to the town,
and they planned to make an early start, before the intense heat of the
day set in.
They accordingly packed their "war-bags" that same evening, and before
retiring had made every preparation for the morrow's trip.
The next morning they were up with the sun, and after a hasty breakfast
leaped into their saddles and were off. It was a glorious day, and the
exhilarating air made them feel "right up on their toes," as Tom
expressed it. Bert felt called upon to reprove Tom for using this
expression, for, as he gravely pointed out, they were not on their own
toes at all, but on the horses', so to speak.
"Aw, forget it," retorted Tom flippantly; "it's toe bad about you,
anyway."
Having delivered this shot Tom chirruped to his horse, and set off at a
smart gallop, followed by Dick and Bert. The two latter hadn't decided
what they would do to Tom when they caught him, but they were longing for
a canter, anyway, and this gave them a good excuse. But after traveling
in this rapid manner for a short distance they pulled in their steeds,
for it would never do to tire them thus early in the journey. Tom, seeing
that the pursuit had been abandoned, also reined in his horse, and
allowed his companions to gain on him.
"Don't shoot," he called. "I'll promise to be good and never do it
again--not till the next time, that is."
"All right," laughed Bert, "we'll suspend sentence this time, but at the
next offense we won't be so lenient, will we, Dick?"
"Not by a long shot," said Dick; "we'll toe him along at the end of a
lariat if he does, that's all." He grinned feebly as he got off this
atrocious pun, but Bert and Tom refused to be beguiled into smiling.
"I never thought it of you, Dick, honest I didn't," mourned Bert, sadly
shaking his head. "I naturally expect such things from Tom, but I had a
better opinion of you. I suppose I'll have to let bygones be bygones, but
just the same you deserve nothing less than ptomaine poisoning as
punishment."
At this Tom and Dick gave utterance to a howl of execration that made
their horses jump, and two tightly rolled sombreros came flying toward
Bert's head. But he ducked just in time, and then had a good laugh as Tom
and Dick were forced to dismount and secure their misused headgear.
Soon his two friends were back in the saddle, however, and then they set
off at a steady trot, discussing in a more serious vein the probability
of such an uprising as Mr. Melton feared.
"I don't want it to happen," summed up Bert at last, "but if it's got to
happen anyway, I hope it does while we're out here. I feel like a small
boy going to a fire. As long as the house has to burn anyway, he wants to
be Johnny-on-the-spot."
In this manner the time passed quickly, and before eleven o'clock they
were nearing the town. A few minutes later they were riding through its
streets, alertly on the lookout for any signs of impending trouble. All
seemed much the same as usual, though, except that about the telegraph
and newspaper offices there seemed to be unwonted bustle and excitement.
Here and there knots of men had congregated also, who appeared to be
discussing some important matter.
The three boys rode until they reached the post office, and then,
dismounting and hitching their horses, went inside. The post office also
served as a telegraph station, and there were various news bulletins
posted about the room.
They hastened to one of these, and their faces grew grave as they read.
It appeared from the bulletin that the Indians were on the very eve of an
outbreak, although they had made no actual hostile moves as yet. Troops
had been summoned to the reservation, however, and were expected to reach
Helena that evening. They were ordered to stay in the town overnight, and
press on for the reservation the following morning.
"It begins to look like business now, all right," said Bert, after he and
his friends had digested this information.
"It sure does," agreed Dick, "but likely as not it will all blow over
before anything really serious happens."
"Oh, of course, there's always that chance," said Bert, "but let's go
outside and find out what the opinion of the townspeople is. They must
understand the situation pretty thoroughly, and we can soon find out
whether or not they regard this as a false alarm. But it looks to me as
though real trouble were brewing."
Bert's opinion seemed to be shared almost unanimously by the citizens.
Everywhere men were getting out and overhauling their firearms, and there
was a run on the ammunition stores.
"I'm glad we brought our revolvers," remarked Tom; "there seems to be a
chance of our having use for them by and by."
"I'm mighty glad we did," acquiesced Bert, "and I brought something
beside my revolver, too. Just before we left the ranch I packed my
Winchester repeater inside my blankets. I wasn't even thinking of the
Indians then, but I thought we might have a chance at a little game, and
it would be just as well to pack it along. There's not a chance in a
thousand that we'll need it, but you can't always tell."
"It's lucky you did," said Dick; "have you got plenty of ammunition for
it?"
"None too much," replied Bert. "I think while we're here I'll buy a few
boxes of cartridges."
Acting upon this thought, they bought the ammunition, together with some
extra cartridges for their revolvers. This done they made the purchases
for Mr. Melton that he had requested of them, and after a satisfying meal
at the best hotel set out on their return journey.
It was about two o'clock as they jogged out of town, and as they knew
they had ample time in which to reach the ranch before dark they let the
horses set their own pace. They had many things to talk about, although
the heat of the sultry afternoon made even conversation a task. But
nothing could subdue their spirits, and with never a care in the world
they rode gaily on.
"It's quite near stage time," Bert remarked suddenly, "we're pretty near
the trail, and if we meet it we can get the latest developments of the
reservation situation from Buck, the driver. He always has a supply of
the latest news. He knows more than the local newspapers of what's going
on, I believe."
"I'll bet that's the coach now," exclaimed Dick, pointing to a cloud of
dust in the distance.
"Yes, I guess it is," returned Bert, gazing intently at the distant
smirch against the clear blue background of sky; "come along, fellows.
Ride hard and we'll reach the trail before the coach comes along."
Accordingly they set spurs to their horses and galloped rapidly over the
sunburned prairie. In a short time they reached the travel-hardened
trail, beating the coach by a good half mile. Then they drew rein, and
waited impatiently for the lumbering vehicle to reach them.
With rattle of harness and creak of complaining axle-tree the coach
toiled over the endless trail, drawn by four raw-boned mules. As it drew
near, the boys waved their sombreros to the driver, who returned the
salute with a flourish of his long snakeskin whip.
At last it reached them and the driver rumbled a hoarse greeting. "How
goes it, pards," he said, "an' what's the good word?"
"That's just what we were going to ask you," said Bert with a friendly
smile. "We've been hearing a lot lately of the expected redskin uprising,
and we wanted to know if you had a line on the real situation, Buck. Is
there anything really doing, or is it all just talk?"
"I dunno," answered the driver, "some says yes an' some says no, but
if you want my honest opinion I'd say thet the Injuns ain't got nerve
enough to start trouble no more. Why, they're so all-fired meek an' lowly
thet----"
Zip! A bullet whizzed through the sultry air and whirled the stage
driver's slouch hat from his head. Zip! Zip! Zip! and the air was alive
with the whine and drone of bullets.
"Hold-ups, by the 'tarnal," yelled the driver, accompanying his words
with a whirl of oaths. "Down behind the coach, Sam!" addressing the
guard, who always rode beside him on the box with loaded rifle; "we'll
stand 'em off, or I'm a greaser."
The guard leaped down behind the coach at the same moment that Bert and
Dick and Tom made for the same shelter. There were only two passengers
in the coach, and they, pale of face and with chattering teeth, joined
the little group.
"Them shots came from that bunch of chaparral over there," said Buck,
"but it's an almighty queer way for road agents to go about a job. They
ginerally----"
"Injuns!" shouted the guard, who had been peering cautiously around the
end of the coach. "Injuns, by the Lord Harry, shoot me if they ain't!"
A thrill passed over the three comrades, and they looked warily forth in
the direction in which the guard had pointed. Sure enough, over the top
of the chapparal they could discern a number of hideously painted faces
surmounted by tufts of eagle feathers. The guard, recovering from his
first paralysis of astonishment, took careful aim at one of them and
pulled the trigger. A yell of pain followed the report of his rifle, and
a savage shout went up from the band of redskins. They answered with a
volley that bored through the sides of the coach, and narrowly missed
several of the little group gathered behind it.
"We got to turn the coach over," exclaimed Buck, "the top an' floor's a
whole lot thicker than the sides, and besides, as it is there's nothin'
to prevent the bullets from comin' in underneath. Lend a hand, everybody,
and we'll get 'er over."
He crept in between the mules and commenced unharnessing them. Bert and
his friends leaped to his assistance, although during the process they
were much more exposed to the fire of the Indians. The latter were not
slow to perceive this, and they opened a steady fire. But fortunately
they were poor shots, and most of their bullets went wild. Several struck
the mules, however, and the unfortunate animals plunged and kicked so
wildly that the three friends and the driver stood in almost as much
danger from them as from the bullets. Finally the traces were unfastened,
and the mules, released from the harness, raced wildly away.
Bert and the others dodged nimbly back behind the coach, and then all
hands set to the task of overturning it. By dint of exerting all their
strength they finally managed to lift one side of the clumsy vehicle
until it toppled over with a crash.
"There," exclaimed Buck, wiping the perspiration from his face with a big
bandanna handkerchief; "so fur, so good, but we got to do more than that.
Them Injuns will start to surround us as soon as they see they can't pick
us off from the front, and we want to be ready for them."
"What do you think we'd better do?" asked Bert.
"Fust thing is t' get the trunks and mail bags out o' the coach and build
a barricade with them," replied the driver, "an' it looks as though we
stood a good chance o' gettin' shot full o' lead doin' it, too. If them
Injuns hadn't been sech all-fired poor shots we'd a been winged before
this, I reckon."
"Well, as long as it's got to be done, we might as well get it over
with," said Dick; "come on, fellows, one, two----"
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Bert. "I think it would be a good plan for
those of us who have rifles to be on the lookout and pick off any of the
redskins who show themselves. Even if we don't get any, it will prevent
them from taking good aim."
"We ain't got but one rifle, though," objected Buck. "Sam, here,"
motioning toward the guard, "is the only one in the bunch with a rifle."
"No, I've got one in my blanket roll," replied Bert, and before the
driver could answer was busily engaged in undoing the tightly rolled
blanket.
"I reckon you two had better get anythin' you want off your horses," said
Buck, addressing Tom and Dick, "an' then set the critters loose. They
ain't a mite o' good here, an' they only take up valuable space."
The boys were loath to act on this advice, but they saw the wisdom of it,
and so did as the driver suggested. They knew that the horses, as soon as
released, would make for the ranch, and they had little fear of the
Indians being able to catch them. Accordingly, a few minutes later the
three trusty animals were turned loose, each receiving a smart slap to
start it on its way. They galloped off across the plain, and were soon
lost to sight in the distance.
Meantime the Indians had been keeping up a straggling fire in the
direction of the stage coach, and Bert and the guard set themselves to
the task of silencing it. Lying flat on the ground, and aiming their guns
cautiously around each end of the coach, they fired with sure aim every
time a dusky arm or leg was exposed by their attackers. They were both
crack shots, and their bullets seldom failed to reach their mark.
Gradually the fire from the enemy died down, and at last stopped almost
altogether. The precision of the white men astonished them, and they drew
behind cover and held a conference.
"Now's the time!" exclaimed Buck. "Into the coach, boys, and rustle out
the baggage. Lively's the word!"
All the little party, with the exception of the passengers, who seemed
too paralyzed with fright to move, dashed into the coach, and before the
Indians realized what was happening returned, each staggering under some
bulky article, trunk, or mail bag.
The savages sprang into life, and a hail of bullets struck against the
coach. But they were too late, and the defenders set to work to construct
a circular rampart, using the coach as part of it. After arranging the
baggage to their satisfaction they dug up earth and covered the
improvised ramparts with it.
"So far, so good," said Buck, when at last they stopped to draw breath.
"That will hold the red devils off for a time, anyway. But unless we get
help in some way I'm afraid we're done for, anyway. There's a big party
o' bucks there, and chances are that more will join them before mornin'.
Then they'll come at us in earnest, and it will only be a question o' how
long we can stand them off. After that----" he ended with a silence more
eloquent than words.
"Isn't there--isn't there some way to summon aid?" asked one of the
passengers, with blanched cheeks.
"I don't see how," replied Buck; "it would be jest plain suicide fer one
of us to make a break now. Besides, it's twenty miles to the nearest
town, and the Injuns'll be on us long before anybody could get to town
and bring back help, even supposin' the Injuns didn't pot him before he
got fairly started. O' course, we couldn't do anythin' before dark,
nohow."
"Don't you think they'll attack before that?" asked Dick.
"No, I don't," replied the driver; "they'll want to surround us first,
an' they won't start to do that until after dark, 'cordin' to my way o'
thinkin'. What do you say, Sam?"
"Them's my sentiments exactly," answered that individual. "There ain't a
chance in the world o' their doin' anythin' before that."
As the opinions of these two veterans coincided the matter was regarded
as settled, and the boys commenced overhauling their pistols to make sure
they were in perfect shape.
There was no further movement on the part of their besiegers, but Buck
and Sam knew full well that the Indians were far from giving up their
attack. To them the respite was more ominous than an active sally, for
they knew that the braves were hatching some scheme for their
destruction.
"They're foxy as they make 'em," opined Sam grimly; "the critters are
cookin' up some deep plan to circumvent us, or I'm a Dutchman. Jest wait
an' see if they ain't."
"If anybody thinks them red devils ain't watching us closer than a cat
watches a mouse," said Buck, "I'll just prove it to 'em mighty pronto."
He snatched his sombrero from his head, and placing it on the muzzle of
the guard's rifle, held the piece up in the air so that the hat projected
above the edge of the over-turned coach. Instantly a sharp fusillade broke
from the Indian's position, and one bullet, better aimed than the
majority, passed clean through the sombrero, whirling it off the rifle.
"I reckon that shows they ain't asleep," remarked Buck grimly; "ef they
don't get our scalps it won't be from lack o' tryin'."
"We've got to figure out some way of getting word to town," exclaimed
Bert fiercely. "There must be some way, if we could only think of it.
I have it!" he shouted. "Listen! The new branch they've been putting
through from the railroad is almost completed, and a foreman I was
speaking to a few days ago said they had almost finished stringing the
telegraph wires. They're probably up by now, and if I could only get to
them I'd have help here in no time!"
"By all that's holy, the lad's right," exclaimed Buck, "an' it ain't far
from here neither, considerin' jest the distance."
"But the chances are you'd never reach the railroad, Bert," said Dick
anxiously; "they'd wing you before you got anywhere near it."
"I'll have to take a chance on that," responded Bert. "Besides, if I
don't go our condition is hopeless, anyhow, so I might as well attempt
it."
The two Westerners nodded their heads at this, and Buck said: "O' course,
it's only a ragged chance, but it might go through at that. The best
thing will be for him to make the try the first second after dark. The
redskins won't start to surround us until then, and by quick work he
might get out before they'd finished postin' a ring around us."
"But even if you get to the railroad how are you going to telegraph
without an instrument?" inquired Tom.
"Leave that to me," replied Bert; "if I can only get that far I'll manage
to telegraph all right, never fear."
By this time the sun was low in the west, and a short time afterward it
dipped under the rim of the prairie. For a short time the sky was painted
in vivid colors by its reflected rays, and then the sudden prairie
twilight descended swiftly.
"Now's your time, son," said Buck; "are you all ready?"
"I'll start the first second you think it best," replied Bert, and then
turning shook hands all around, ending up with Dick and Tom.
"We'd go with you, old friend, if it would do any good," said Dick,
wringing Bert's hand. "I guess you know that without my saying it."
"I know it, all right," replied Bert; "but don't you worry about me. The
Indian isn't born yet that can get my scalp."
As he finished speaking Buck said: "You'd better start now, my lad. It's
so dark they can't see you, and I don't think they've had time to
surround us yet. If you do get through and send the message make for
town. Don't try to get back here, because you'd never make it, and if you
did it would do no good. There's no use sacrificing your life along with
ours."
"Well, I'll get there first," said Bert, "and then there'll be plenty of
time to think about whether or not to come back." Needless to say, in his
own mind there was little doubt that if it lay in his power he would
return and fight, and if need be die at his comrades' side.