Surrounded by Indians
Jack and Steve lay in the narrow belt of trees for another half-hour
before either opened their lips again. For the hunter had lifted a
warning finger, and had enjoined silence upon his companion. And as they
lay there, the band of Indians they had seen collected outside on the
plain was increased by the addition of some two dozen more, who rode up
from another quarter.
"Guess they're a trifle bothered," said Steve at last, making an effort
and managing to kneel; for up till then his lower limbs had been
practically powerless. "Yer see, the varmint they've sent riding round
has picked up our traces from the point where we left the wagon this
mornin', and they've followed 'em right away to the point whar we struck
the herd of buffalo. They ain't seen no marks goin' back agin, and so
they concludes that we're hid up in this here belt of trees. Wall, now,
they ain't sartin."
"And why?" asked Jack, his voice lowered to a whisper, while his eyes
were glued upon the Indians. For he was still a novice where these wild
men of the plains were concerned, and what he knew already had been
picked up by listening to the scouts' tales at night, as they sat round
the fire.
"'Cos them buffalo aer done us a right down good turn," said Steve.
"Them skunks out thar has theirselves to thank fer that, for they turned
the herd and sent it flying into our faces. And them buffalo fairly
smashed out every trace we made coming into these trees. Wall, now,
supposin' we was still with the herd. Supposin' our horses happened to
have been extry fresh, and not tired after a day of it, they'd likely as
not have managed to keep ahead of them chargin' beasts, and, ef they
did, we should be miles away by now, and still leadin' 'em. That aer the
difficulty. I 'low as it's a small one, and won't take over long fixin'.
But thar it is, and them critters has to come right in here afore
they're sartin what's happened. That aer a movement clear agin their
principles."
"Why?" asked Jack, wondering at the statement; for it seemed hardly
probable that, when there were at least thirty of the enemy to each one
of themselves, they would hesitate to rush the belt of trees and kill
those lying within.
"Why, I'll tell yer. Them varmint out thar aer the cruellest and bravest
men as ever stepped the airth. Their trainin' teaches 'em to kill an
enemy, and never to go down theirselves ef they can help it. Ef a man's
killed, wall, guess to them redskins it's 'cos he's a fool, and ain't
been cute enough. That's why yer don't git an Injun creepin' to a place
like this when he may likely enough get his skull cracked afore he's
seen so much as a haar of the enemy. See?"
Jack did, and for a while pondered the matter. Somehow or other, in
spite of his knowledge that he and Steve stood in very imminent danger
of losing their lives, he felt no trepidation, no fear for himself, but
only a great longing to beat the enemy out there on the plain. As long
as the white man fills his present position in the world, and retains
his wonderful independence, he will, without doubt, face odds with
determination and even some amount of pleasure. A strong fight has
always appealed to men of the British race, and to those of America, for
the truth of which statement one hardly need turn to the roll of history
compiled by each of them. There are examples of heroic struggles, where
few were opposed to many, all through the years that have passed, and
some are so notorious that one always carries them in one's memory. With
that fine record to stimulate him, Jack, too, looked to the coming
contest not with fear, but with a certain amount of pleasure. His pulses
were beating fast, all his senses were keenly alert, and as he stared
out at the Indians his wits were working quickly in the endeavour to
discover some scheme whereby he and Steve might outwit them.
"Ef these plaguey legs of mine'll only continue to improve we'll put up
a fight that'll astonish them varmint," growled Steve at last. "Yer kin
see, they're havin' a palaver, and in a bit, no doubt, the chiefs'll
call upon the venturesome young men to investigate this here place.
It'll be nigh dark then, which should give us a bit of a chance. Aer yer
got yer knife, lad?"
Jack's hand dropped on it, for since he had joined the scouts he had
carried the same weapons as themselves. And a large hunting-knife was
part of his outfit "It's here," he said. "Right in my belt."
"Wall, ye'll want it. Them critters as comes has got ter be silenced
without so much as a sound, and ef yer've any love fer yer own scalp
ye'll put away all sorts of skeary notions yer may have had. A man
sarcumstanced same as we aer ain't got a look in ef he's too
thin-skinned to fight fer his life as best he kin. To live through
to-night and keep our haar we've got to kill some of them critters. And
a huntin'-knife aer the only weapon. Ef we was to use a revolver,
shucks! it'd give the show away. They'd be on to us in a moment Jest
look at them young bloods!"
Out in the open there was a good deal of commotion at this moment, and
voices, which before had been inaudible, came to the ears of the two
hiding amidst the trees and underwood. It seemed that there was an
altercation amongst the Indians, for there was shouting, while some of
the men urged their horses into the centre of the circle which had been
formed, and brandished their weapons.
"Didn't I say as much?" whispered Steve. "Them's the young men of the
tribe, and sense they ain't accounted much till they've took a hull heap
of scalps, and has done something extry brave, why, in course they're
fer rushin' this place agin the advice of the older and cautious ones.
Ye'll see as they'll allow two or three to try their hands."
"But why give them a chance?" asked Jack suddenly. "While they're
discussing the matter we might get on to the horses and make a dash in
the opposite direction."
Steve's grim face showed for a moment a grin of contempt. Then the lines
softened as he regarded our hero.
"Ye've got grit right enough, Carrots," he said, "but yer ain't seen
much of them varmint. Do yer think as they ain't thought of a dash?
Reckon an Injun don't forget nothin'. There's men posted all round this
belt of trees, and mounted on the best hosses. 'Sides, ef it did come to
a rush, our mounts are that tired they'd break up afore we'd galloped
five miles. Then, too, ye're forgettin' my condition. I've never had
sich a thing happen to me afore, though I've seen a sight of men thrown
heavily, and unable to move for weeks. Yes, and some of 'em never got
back the use of their legs. With me it's jest temporary. Reckon the jerk
threw something outer gear for a while. But it's mendin' fast, and in a
few hours, perhaps, I'll be able to mount and ride."
The same grim look came over the injured scout's face, as much as to say
that when those few hours had passed circumstances would make further
use of his limbs out of the question. For Steve had not the smallest
doubt that nothing but a miracle could save them. He became silent for
some few moments, while his weather-beaten face crinkled in all
directions, showing big lines across the forehead, which indicated the
fact that he was thinking deeply. Meanwhile the excitement amongst the
Indians grew even greater. To Jack, as he watched them, it seemed at
first as if they would come to blows, and that they were quarrelling
seriously. Then the noise died down a little, while five men slipped
from their ponies.
"Them's the lads as has been chosen to investigate this here place,"
said Steve grimly, "and it won't be long afore they're sticking their
ugly, painted faces in amongst the trees. Look ye here, Jack, I've been
thinkin' somethin'. Yer was rash to stay back there and haul me away
from the front of that 'ere herd of buffalo, 'cos ef ye'd rid fer it
ye'd have got clear yerself, without a doubt, and could have reached our
mates with the start ye'd have had. It war a brave act, and I don't say
as I ain't grateful. I am precious grateful, but I'm vexed to think as
my poor life are been saved jest fer a few minutes at the expense of
yours. Jack, you aer young. The world's dead ahead of yer, and, ef I
ain't makin' an error, ye've somethin' real serious to live fer. But fer
me, life ain't that rosy. I don't say as I ain't grateful to Him as give
it to me; but I've had my day, and am ready to go when the call comes.
Yer see, I've lost wife and childer, and when that's the case a man
don't kinder stick so fast to this world. But I war sayin' as ye've got
somethin' real good to live fer. And I are been thinkin' about them 'ere
red-skinned varmints. There aer jest a chance as yer might escape. Ef
them critters was all engaged in watchin' the young bloods creepin' in
here, I 'low that a man on a fair horse might manage to steal through
the fellers hanging around outside, and gallop to his friends. Now, my
horse ain't had the doin' that yours has. Yer jest wait a bit, and when
I tell yer, creep back and mount. When them young critters aer close
handy to these here trees, yer slip out t'other side. It'll be dark
then, and the chance aer worth takin'."
For the usually silent Steve the speech was an extraordinarily long one,
and once he had finished he let his head drop back against the tree
trunk with a sigh of relief. For, after all, even though a man's outlook
on life may have faded a little, he still clings to it. And to urge a
comrade to escape, and leave one to certain death at the hands of such
miscreants, needed not a little fortitude. Even as Steve faced the
consequences of his advice to Jack, he shuddered just a little. Somehow
or other it required greater courage to face a lonely death, with no
comrade at hand to bear him company.
"Ain't yer got ready?" he asked, a minute later, hearing no movement
from Jack. "Them varmint aer creepin' nearer, and the night aer fallin'
fast. Reckon ye'd best be movin'."
Then, as he turned his head to look at his comrade, a gasp of surprise
escaped the hunter. For Jack had not moved an inch. He lay there, hidden
from the enemy, behind a tree, his hunting-knife gripped firmly in his
hand. Even there, in the gloom cast by the branches, it was possible to
observe his face, and Steve noticed for the first time in his life a
look of dogged determination. For till that day Jack had shown his new
comrades, with the exception of Tom, his lighter side, his merry,
good-hearted nature. He was whistling or laughing or singing the day
long, and at night listening to their hunter yarns with an interest
there was no denying. Suddenly, as it were, he had developed from a boy
into a stern man. There was no mistaking his expression.
"Why!" gasped Steve. "Yer ain't moved. Jack, ef yer don't get away to
them hosses there won't be any ridin' at all. Jest git, lad, and make no
bones about the matter."
"And leave you? Not much!" answered our hero doggedly, just as he had
done earlier on when Steve ordered him to ride and leave him to be
crushed by the buffalo. "Look ye here, Steve, when I rode from camp with
you this mornin', reckon you was in command, 'cos I ain't no great idea
of huntin'. But you're hurt. You ain't no longer able to command, so I
guess I have to take the job over. I ain't goin' to move away. You can
take that as final."
"Yer ain't goin'----!"
"H-h-hush! They'll hear us. Lie quiet!" commanded Jack sternly.
"Jest give us a fist, lad. I ain't angry. A man knows when he meets a
real man, and I ain't quarrelin' with yer for it. My! Ef we get outer
this thar'll be somethin' to tell the boys!"
Something suspiciously like a sob of relief escaped Steve as he lay back
against the tree, and none but the most heartless would have scoffed at
him. This grim, courageous little hunter, who had lived his life out on
the plains or in the forests, and had become innured to privation and
exposure, was, after all, just like any other man possessed of energy
and determination. The feeling that he was useless, the very strangeness
of being in such a condition, caused the most abject depression of
spirits, while the relief of finding that he had a true comrade beside
him was almost too much for him. But the determination of the little man
soon conquered any passing weakness, and in a few moments he was
himself again, the crafty scout, who had fought the Indian enemy many a
time.
"Gee! Ef I could get these here legs o' mine to move sensible like," he
whispered. "But look ye here, Jack; get on yer knees behind the tree and
wait for 'em. Don't so much as move an eyelid till them varmint is
close. Then strike. It aer their lives or ourn."
It was indeed a case of self-defence, of taking life to save life, and
though our hero's natural gentleness caused him to shrink from the
ordeal before him, yet the fact that he found himself suddenly called
upon to defend a helpless comrade made him brace himself for the
contest, and set his lips firmly together, while a quiet determination
came over him to protect Steve, and to come out of the conflict alive.
No man likes to be beaten. Jack did not differ from the average
individual.
"Separatin'," whispered Steve after a few moments. "They reckon as
they've got ter investigate every corner of the place, so they're each
of 'em taking a plot. That'll suit us better than ef they came all
together. Five of the varmints. Ef I war fit and able to use these here
legs, and thar warn't a tarnal heap of their brothers I'd tackle that
lot single-handed, and afore breakfast too. It ud jest kinder give me an
appetite."
As the moment for action arrived the little scout's spirits revived
wonderfully. He was a man who had come through many a fight with the
Indians, and had learned never to give up the contest until he was
actually beaten. And now, with such a stanch comrade as Jack beside
him, he began to look upon their chances as perhaps not altogether
hopeless.
"I've knowed wonderful escapes," he said to himself. "And I reckon a
chap like this here Carrots ain't goin' under so easy. After showin'
grit same as he has done, he desarves to pull through, and, by the
'tarnal, I'll help him."
Stretched full length on the ground, with the branches of trees
overhanging them, and brushwood thickly scattered about, Jack and his
friend watched the approach of the five young Indians in a grim silence.
Where they lay it was now almost dark, so that they could barely see one
another. But outside, in the open, it was still possible to perceive
objects, though the band of Indians had now become blotted out by the
falling gloom. In the gathering dusk five figures could be seen
advancing on hands and knees, their eyes fixed on the trees in front of
them. Ten yards divided each man from his comrade, and as they came
nearer this distance was increased. At length they reached the very edge
of the trees, and so that all should enter at the same moment, the one
who arrived first lay on his face and signalled to the others.
"Yer hear the critters?" asked Steve in a tense whisper, putting his
lips to Jack's ears. "That 'ere aer the bark of a fox, and it tells 'em
all that they can push on into the trees. Jest lie as ef yer was dead.
That chap out thar'll pass us to one side."
Dimly seen, some ten feet to the right, was one of the Indians; but
though Jack listened with all his ears he heard no sound as the stealthy
figure crept into the underwood. For the first time he had an
illustration of that cunning and cleverness of which he had read and
heard, and for which the Red Indian was famous. Though he himself could
hardly have advanced a foot without causing a branch to swish heavily,
or a twig to snap, not a sound came from the several points where he
knew an enemy must be. So, more convinced than ever that deathly silence
was essential if he would not be pounced upon before he was ready, he
kneeled there like a statue, his eyes peering eagerly into the dense
underwood.
Ah! A leaf rustled away to his right, and there was a feeble sound,
almost indistinguishable, which told of a branch being set gently aside.
And then silence, a deadly, nerve-racking silence, which continued for
nearly five minutes. Five minutes! It felt like five hours to Jack. And
then a hand caught him by the shoulder.
"H-h-h-ush!" Steve hardly whispered the word. "Jest to the right!"
The hand on his shoulder gripped him firmly and turned Jack a little.
Without needing to move his legs, he twisted his body, and found himself
looking in a different direction. Then his ears caught a faint sound. A
mouse might have made more; a human being could hardly have been
expected to make so little. It seemed impossible. A branch dangling just
before his face swayed in his direction, and the leaves rustled against
his forehead. Then they began to press upon him, gently at first, and
then more and more firmly. Someone was trying to push the branch aside
and advance. Jack's fingers closed on the haft of his hunting-knife like
a vice. He braced his muscles for the encounter, while he held his
breath lest the miscreant should hear him, and so gain an advantage.
The moment for action was imminent. It was with difficulty that he could
restrain himself; but for the hand still gripping his shoulder, telling
him that Steve was there, advising him still to remain motionless, Jack
would have thrown further caution to the winds, and would have flung
himself upon the Indian.
Crash! Away in the centre of the little wood a branch broke with the
crisp sound of a pistol shot, and instantly there came that familiar
signal, the bark of a fox. It was answered to right and left, and then
from a point but three feet from our hero. Instantly the pressure on the
branch pushing into his face was relaxed. Those faint, stealthy sounds
reached his ear again, and presently subsided.
"Good fer yer," whispered Steve, placing his lips close to Jack's ear
again. "I felt yer kinder draw yerself together fer the ruction, and I
'low it takes a heap of grit to lay still when thar's one of them
varmint close handy. They've found the hosses, and by the way they're
palaverin' it seems to me as if they took it fer granted that we'd
slipped from the wood. Do yer hear them calls? They're signalling to the
men placed outside."
From the small wood in which they lay, and a little later from the plain
outside, came those mysterious barkings, as if a regiment of foxes had
suddenly appeared upon the scene. Then voices were heard, as the Indians
called openly to one another.
"I think they've gone," said Jack at last, having heard more sounds of
breaking branches. "We shall be able to leave perhaps in a little
while."
"P'raps," agreed Steve grudgingly. "But ef I know them varmint they
won't take their eyes off this place even ef they think we've given 'em
the slip. They'll watch it like lynxes all night long, and in the
morning they'll know for sure, 'cos there won't be no tracks. Guess
they're leadin' away our hosses."
Listening intently, the dull sounds which came to their ears told them
without room for doubt that the two horses were being taken from the
wood. There were then a few more calls out on the plain, and afterwards
silence again settled down.
"S-s-s-h!" whispered Steve, as Jack attempted to move, for his limbs
were a little cramped. "I'm thinkin' there's a bit of a trick bein'
played. Lie still fer yer life, for I thought I heerd someone movin' not
three yards away."
He whispered ever so gently in Jack's ear, and again his restraining
hand fell upon our hero's shoulder. An instant later it was dragged
forcibly away, for someone had gripped Jack by the arm, and with a
sudden jerk he was hauled in the opposite direction. A man closed with
him, grasping his hair with one hand, while the other held a knife
poised in the air. And, luckily for Jack, his fingers closed upon the
wrist ere a second had passed, while his free hand sought for and
finally fell upon the man's neck. He gripped it as a terrier takes a rat
between his teeth, and then made frantic efforts to upset his opponent,
who lay above him. And all the while, as the two struggled desperately
in the darkness of the undergrowth, there was silence; neither uttered
so much as a sigh, and the only sound to be detected was the snap of
breaking twigs and the hiss of their laboured breathing. For Jack was
in the grip of one of the deadly Indians, and the struggle between them
could end only with the last breath of one or other of them.