_Wanderings on the prairie_--_A war party_--_Chased by Indians_--_A
bold leap for life_.
For many days the three hunters wandered over the trackless prairie in
search of a village of the Sioux Indians, but failed to find one, for
the Indians were in the habit of shifting their ground and following
the buffalo. Several times they saw small isolated bands of Indians;
but these they carefully avoided, fearing they might turn out to be
war parties, and if they fell into their hands the white men could not
expect civil treatment, whatever nation the Indians might belong to.
During the greater portion of this time they met with numerous herds
of buffalo and deer, and were well supplied with food; but they had to
cook it during the day, being afraid to light a fire at night while
Indians were prowling about.
One night they halted near the bed of a stream which was almost dry.
They had travelled a day and a night without water, and both men and
horses were almost choking, so that when they saw the trees on the
horizon which indicated the presence of a stream, they pushed forward
with almost frantic haste.
"Hope it's not dry," said Joe anxiously as they galloped up to it.
"No, there's water, lads," and they dashed forward to a pool that had
not yet been dried up. They drank long and eagerly before they noticed
that the pool was strongly impregnated with salt. Many streams in
those parts of the prairies are quite salt, but fortunately this one
was not utterly undrinkable, though it was very unpalatable.
"We'll make it better, lads," said Joe, digging a deep hole in the
sand with his hands, a little below the pool. In a short time the
water filtered through, and though not rendered fresh, it was,
nevertheless, much improved.
"We may light a fire to-night, d'ye think?" inquired Dick; "we've not
seed Injuns for some days."
"P'r'aps 'twould be better not," said Joe; "but I daresay we're safe
enough."
A fire was therefore lighted in as sheltered a spot as could be found,
and the three friends bivouacked as usual. Towards dawn they were
aroused by an angry growl from Crusoe.
"It's a wolf likely," said Dick, but all three seized and cocked their
rifles nevertheless.
Again Crusoe growled more angrily than before, and springing out of
the camp snuffed the breeze anxiously.
"Up, lads! catch the nags! There's something in the wind, for the dog
niver did that afore."
In a few seconds the horses were saddled and the packs secured.
"Call in the dog," whispered Joe Blunt; "if he barks they'll find out
our whereabouts."
"Here, Crusoe, come--"
It was too late; the dog barked loudly and savagely at the moment,
and a troop of Indians came coursing over the plain. On hearing the
unwonted sound they wheeled directly and made for the camp.
"It's a war party; fly, lads! nothin' 'll save our scalps now but our
horses' heels," cried Joe.
In a moment they vaulted into the saddle and urged their steeds
forward at the utmost speed. The savages observed them, and with an
exulting yell dashed after them. Feeling that there was now no need
of concealment, the three horsemen struck off into the open prairie,
intending to depend entirely on the speed and stamina of their horses.
As we have before remarked, they were good ones; but the Indians soon
proved that they were equally well if not better mounted.
"It'll be a hard run," said Joe in a low, muttering tone, and looking
furtively over his shoulder. "The varmints are mounted on wild
horses--leastways they were wild not long agone. Them chaps can
throw the lasso and trip a mustang as well as a Mexican. Mind the
badger-holes, Dick.--Hold in a bit, Henri; yer nag don't need drivin';
a foot in a hole just now would cost us our scalps. Keep down by the
creek, lads."
"Ha! how dey yell," said Henri in a savage tone, looking back, and
shaking his rifle at them, an act that caused them to yell more
fiercely than ever. "Dis old pack-hoss give me moche trobel."
The pace was now tremendous. Pursuers and pursued rose and sank on the
prairie billows as they swept along, till they came to what is termed
a "dividing ridge," which is a cross wave, as it were, that cuts the
others in two, thus forming a continuous level. Here they advanced
more easily; but the advantage was equally shared with their pursuers,
who continued the headlong pursuit with occasional yells, which served
to show the fugitives that they at least did not gain ground.
A little to the right of the direction in which they were flying a
blue line was seen on the horizon. This indicated the existence of
trees to Joe's practised eyes, and feeling that if the horses broke
down they could better make a last manful stand in the wood than on
the plain he urged his steed towards it. The savages noticed the
movement at once, and uttered a yell of exultation, for they regarded
it as an evidence that the fugitives doubted the strength of their
horses.
"Ye haven't got us yet," muttered Joe, with a sardonic grin. "If they
get near us, Dick, keep yer eyes open an' look out for yer neck, else
they'll drop a noose over it, they will, afore ye know they're near,
an' haul ye off like a sack."
Dick nodded in reply, but did not speak, for at that moment his eye
was fixed on a small creek ahead which they must necessarily leap or
dash across. It was lined with clumps of scattered shrubbery, and he
glanced rapidly for the most suitable place to pass. Joe and Henri did
the same, and having diverged a little to the different points chosen,
they dashed through the shrubbery and were hid from each other's view.
On approaching the edge of the stream, Dick found to his consternation
that the bank was twenty feet high opposite him, and too wide for any
horse to clear. Wheeling aside without checking speed, at the risk of
throwing his steed, he rode along the margin of the stream for a few
hundred yards until he found a ford--at least such a spot as might be
cleared by a bold leap. The temporary check, however, had enabled an
Indian to gain so close upon his heels that his exulting yell sounded
close in his ear.
With a vigorous bound his gallant little horse went over. Crusoe could
not take it, but he rushed down the one bank and up the other, so that
he only lost a few yards. These few yards, however, were sufficient
to bring the Indian close upon him as he cleared the stream at full
gallop. The savage whirled his lasso swiftly round for a second, and
in another moment Crusoe uttered a tremendous roar as he was tripped
up violently on the plain.
Dick heard the cry of his faithful dog, and turned quickly round, just
in time to see him spring at the horse's throat, and bring both steed
and rider down upon him. Dick's heart leaped to his throat. Had a
thousand savages been rushing on him he would have flown to the rescue
of his favourite; but an unexpected obstacle came in the way. His
fiery little steed, excited by the headlong race and the howls of the
Indians, had taken the bit in his teeth and was now unmanageable. Dick
tore at the reins like a maniac, and in the height of his frenzy even
raised the butt of his rifle with the intent to strike the poor horse
to the earth, but his better nature prevailed. He checked the uplifted
hand, and with, a groan dropped the reins, and sank almost helplessly
forward on the saddle; for several of the Indians had left the main
body and were pursuing him alone, so that there would have been now no
chance of his reaching the place where Crusoe fell, even if he could
have turned his horse.
Spiritless, and utterly indifferent to what his fate might be, Dick
Varley rode along with his head drooping, and keeping his seat almost
mechanically, while the mettlesome little steed flew on over wave and
hollow. Gradually he awakened from this state of despair to a sense
of danger. Glancing round he observed that the Indians were now
far behind him, though still pursuing. He also observed that his
companions were galloping miles away on the horizon to the left, and
that he had foolishly allowed the savages to get between him and them.
The only chance that remained for him was to outride his pursuers, and
circle round towards his comrades, and this he hoped to accomplish,
for his little horse had now proved itself to be superior to those of
the Indians, and there was good running in him still.
Urging him forward, therefore, he soon left the savages still farther
behind, and feeling confident that they could not now overtake him he
reined up and dismounted. The pursuers quickly drew near, but short
though it was the rest did his horse good. Vaulting into the saddle,
he again stretched out, and now skirted along the margin of a wood
which seemed to mark the position of a river of considerable size.
At this moment his horse put his foot into a badger-hole, and both of
them came heavily to the ground. In an instant Dick rose, picked up
his gun, and leaped unhurt into the saddle. But on urging his poor
horse forward he found that its shoulder was badly sprained.
There was no room for mercy, however--life and death were in the
balance--so he plied the lash vigorously, and the noble steed warmed
into something like a run, when again it stumbled, and fell with
a crash on the ground, while the blood burst from its mouth and
nostrils. Dick could hear the shout of triumph uttered by his
pursuers.
"My poor, poor horse!" he exclaimed in a tone of the deepest
commiseration, while he stooped and stroked its foam-studded neck.
The dying steed raised its head for a moment, it almost seemed as
if to acknowledge the tones of affection, then it sank down with a
gurgling groan.
Dick sprang up, for the Indians were now upon him, and bounded like an
antelope into the thickest of the shrubbery; which was nowhere
thick enough, however, to prevent the Indians following. Still, it
sufficiently retarded them to render the chase a more equal one than
could have been expected. In a few minutes Dick gained a strip of open
ground beyond, and found himself on the bank of a broad river, whose
evidently deep waters rushed impetuously along their unobstructed
channel. The bank at the spot where he reached it was a sheer
precipice of between thirty and forty feet high. Glancing up and
down the river he retreated a few paces, turned round and shook his
clenched fist at the savages, accompanying the action with a shout of
defiance, and then running to the edge of the bank, sprang far out
into the boiling flood and sank.
The Indians pulled up on reaching the spot. There was no possibility
of galloping down the wood-encumbered banks after the fugitive; but
quick as thought each Red-man leaped to the ground, and fitting an
arrow to his bow, awaited Dick's re-appearance with eager gaze.
Young though he was, and unskilled in such wild warfare, Dick knew
well enough what sort of reception he would meet with on coming to the
surface, so he kept under water as long as he could, and struck out as
vigorously as the care of his rifle would permit. At last he rose for
a few seconds, and immediately half-a-dozen arrows whizzed through the
air; but most of them fell short--only one passed close to his cheek,
and went with a "whip" into the river. He immediately sank again, and
the next time he rose to breathe he was far beyond the reach of his
Indian enemies.