CRAFTY TACTICS
So unexpected had been Thunder-maker's tactics and so immediate the
response of his people, that the attack was over before the Englishmen
were well aware that it had begun. Not that any foreknowledge would have
availed them much. They were unarmed, while the Dacotahs were both armed
and numerous. Still, the average Englishman does not like to be trussed
up without showing some marked resistance. It makes him feel small to be
trapped without dealing a blow in self-defence.
The place was brilliantly lit with burning brands which many of the
Indians had brought, and the camp was in an uproar with the voluble
chatter of the men as they crowded round the captives, while
Thunder-maker excitedly cried out his story of the affair.
So well did the Medicine Man concoct his lies so as to work upon the
feelings of his people that meanwhile it seemed as though the Englishmen
were in for a hot time. Indeed, so great was their wrath that knives
were already reflecting the flames, and fingers were nervously twitching
about the locks of their guns. And all the time Thunder-maker was
dancing about in a frenzy of passion. He was not brave enough to strike
a blow, but he hoped to shift the responsibility upon the shoulders of
his brethren.
What would have been the termination of the scene it is not difficult to
decide, had not the old figure of Swift Arrow pushed a way through the
seething multitude and taken a place at Arnold's side, while he faced
his people with burning indignation.
"What is this, brothers?" he exclaimed. "Is this how the Dacotahs treat
the stranger in their tents?"
"They are witches, not men!" came from many throats, and Thunder-maker
added--
"They call me from teepee--call me without words, and fill Thunder-maker
with hot fire!"
"Bah!" ejaculated Swift Arrow with utter contempt, as he turned to the
last speaker. "Is not Thunder-maker great medicine himself? Has he no
weapon to protect himself from magic?"
But the Medicine Man had his reply ready.
"Thunder-maker sleep. When Thunder-maker sleep he have no power against
magic." Then he turned to the surrounding Indians with a wild appeal.
"Shall it be, brothers, that the great medicine of the Dacotahs die
before arrows of the evil spirits?"
"Kawin![3] Kawin!" was the general reply, and again the knives glistened
as they were raised in many hands.
Thunder-maker shrieked with triumph.
"Then save our tribe from the magic of the evil ones!" he cried as he
flung his arms upwards and turned to the captives with a fiendish grin
of exultation.
The Indians were now worked up to a condition of irresponsible madness.
Another such impulse from the Medicine Man, and the thirsty knives would
be quenched.
"Stay!" commanded Arnold suddenly.
So unexpected was the word from that quarter that for the time curiosity
superseded frenzy, and all paused to hear what the white man might have
to say. And Arnold, seeing the advantage, went on with a calmness that
seemed to act like a spell upon the excited minds. "Stay! My white
brother and I are not afraid to die, if it be Manito's will that we find
the Happy Hunting-ground this night, and if the Dacotahs have so
forgotten the brave name of their tribe that they would slay the
stranger who came to their tents in trouble. But first tell me: is it
the way of the redmen to kill a prisoner without the wish of their
chief----"
"Ha!" interrupted Thunder-maker, hissing the exclamation through his
teeth, for even now he felt his victims slipping through his hands. "Do
not listen, brothers! They are evil spirits--they speak magic words
against which nothing prevails. They have forked tongues that dart as
fire. Ugh! I spit upon them--dogs!"
The Englishmen met the verbal onslaught as firmly as a rock resists a
wave, and Arnold did not so much as look towards the madman, but
resumed, in the same even tones as before.
"Who are you, redmen? Are you dogs, to be beaten to obey the first loud
voices? Shall the howling wolf put fear into your hearts, to drag down a
prey that he dares not attack alone? Or are you children of your
rightful chief? Who is chief of the Dacotahs--Thunder-maker or Mighty
Hand?"
"The fiery totem is on the breast of Mighty Hand," answered one of the
warriors. The hubbub had fallen, and all were listening intently--partly
with the native courtesy that forbids the rude interruption of speech,
and partly because the better self was beginning to replace the moment's
frenzy.
"Ah," resumed Arnold with a smile, "I see that the understanding of the
pale-face was wrong. We thought that the chief was Thunder-maker, as you
hastened to obey _his_ words."
"Thunder-maker great medicine----" began Swift Arrow, when the former
speaker rejoined--
"Then he would make himself great chief. Will you braves suffer this
insult to the wearer of the fiery totem?"
"Ka--Kawin!" was the chorus that met this question, and the dark looks
that had been directed towards the Englishmen but a little while since
were now turned towards the defeated Medicine Man, who was standing
sullen and silent.
But Thunder-maker was not yet conquered, though he was apparently
humbled. To give him his due, he was a man of wonderful resource, and
when he saw that the tide was turning against him he was quick to meet
the occasion.
"My brothers, listen not to the words of Thunder-maker," he said
quietly, and with a pretence of sad emotion that he had failed to
influence the other Indians to take the right course. "Did not
Thunder-maker say that these evil spirits have tongues of magic? Did he
not say that no weapon could prevail against those magic words? But let
it be as my red brothers wish. Mighty Hand rest in teepee. He not come
from tent at night, unless the war-cry call him. So let it be as
these--dogs--say. Let them rest in their tent to-night, and at another
sun we will bring them before the great chief Mighty Hand, who is the
greatest of warriors, and chief of the greatest of all tribes, the
Dacotahs. I have spoken."
"And spoken well," said Holden, thinking that it might be well to
propitiate the Medicine Man for the time. But Thunder-maker, stooping
forward with a pretence of picking up something from the ground, came
close enough to whisper, so that only the Englishmen could hear him--
"By another sun, when Mighty Hand looks upon the pale-faces, it may be
that the friends of Thunder-maker have looked first!"
The words were spoken with all the venom of a savage threat, and before
Holden could make reply the Medicine Man was speaking loudly to Swift
Arrow.
"The Dacotahs shall see great medicine when the fiery totem again turn
eyes upon the evil water-spirits. Thunder-maker will now go to his
teepee. He would speak with his little children that they show much
magic."
But Swift Arrow did not deign to reply. He turned to the Englishmen, and
with a few movements of his hunting-knife severed the cords that bound
them.
"The stranger who has raised no arm against the redmen may not be bound
in the camp of the Dacotahs. My brothers did wrong. The pale-faces will
forgive my foolish people."
"We do not blame you. You are a good man, and Manito smiles upon the
kind heart," returned Arnold quietly.
Thoroughly worn out with the events of the previous day as well as the
exciting incidents of the night, the two friends were glad to be at
liberty to return to their tent and stretch their tired limbs upon the
robes that had been provided for them. The Indians had quickly dispersed
at the bidding of old Swift Arrow, and soon the camp was once more in
peace.
Little was said by either of the men as they lay down at opposite parts
of the teepee, and it was not long before sleep came to the relief of
weariness.
For a couple of hours or more the Englishmen were wrapt in deep slumber.
Then, just as the grey dawn was beginning to chase the shadows from the
forest, Holden suddenly awoke. It was not the calm awakening that
follows refreshing rest, but that sudden return of the senses that one
sometimes experiences accompanied by a horrible instinct of danger.
Holden sat up and looked round. Nothing strange was to be seen within
the tent, and when he looked through the entrance all seemed peaceful
without. The brown teepees were not even stirred by a morning breeze.
Not a soul was to be seen, and it was too early even for the birds to
sing their morning anthems.
He looked at Arnold, and saw that his friend was still enjoying profound
rest. So, laughing at his own weakness, Holden returned to his robes
and was soon dozing again.
Then a second time he wakened with the former conviction even stronger
than before.
He raised himself on his right elbow, and as he did so was startled by a
sound that is calculated to strike terror into the hearts of men quicker
than the most formidable of human foes.
It was the danger-signal of a rattlesnake--the harsh alarm that is
unmistakable even when heard for the first time, and the sinuous green
thing was poised in the centre of the tent, with head thrown back in the
attitude to strike. It had been startled by Holden's sudden movement on
awakening, and now was armed to repel its supposed enemy.
The man dared not move, for the least motion of a muscle might be
sufficient to frighten the deadly little rope of flesh, and then----?
The continued sound of the rattle had roused Arnold by this time; but at
his first stirring Holden spoke, though he managed to do so without
moving his lips.
"Keep still. There's a rattlesnake in the tent. It's got an eye on me,
and----"
But the rest of the sentence was choked, for the man's blood suddenly
ran cold as another serpent came from among the fur robes, writhing its
cold chill body across his bare hand as it lay at his side, and then
moving towards its companion.
"There's another--just crawled over my hand," whispered Holden hoarsely.
"And I see a third--over there just beyond my feet!" said Arnold. "What
on earth are we to do?"
"Lie still. We can do no more, unless we get a chance to make a bolt for
it. But they are between us and the door."
The men waited in tense silence, preserving the immovable attitudes of
statues until, as time passed, other serpents made their appearance and
the teepee was swarming with a dozen at least. They seemed to be
everywhere. They crawled over the robes and peered into the men's faces,
they wriggled beneath the covering and even passed across Holden's bared
throat. But they were no longer aggressive. They were more of an
exploring than an antagonistic bent.
"I wonder where they have come from and why they have congregated in
this particular tent?" Arnold questioned in a whisper, and, with the
question, the explanation seemed to flash into Holden's mind like a
flame of fire.
"Thunder-maker!" he exclaimed. "The treacherous hound! This is his work.
I was wakened by something before. He must have been letting loose his
vile creatures."
Just then the snakes returned unpleasantly near to the men's heads
again, so further conversation was impossible, for it is remarkable what
little sound will attract a serpent's attention, and the nature of a
rattler is to regard every sound and movement as something dangerous to
be fought.
For more than an hour the men lay in strained positions, watching the
writhing movements of the ugly creatures, and wondering how long the
position could be sustained.
And then, just when it seemed that the situation could not be supported
another minute, they became aware of a sound of soft whistling at no
great distance from the rear of the tent. At first the sound was quite
low, and barely audible, but gradually it increased in volume until it
took the form of a sort of minor tune of barbaric rhythm played on some
sort of reed instrument.
At the beginning the music was unheeded by the serpents, but as it
became more distinct it was observable that the creatures became
restless and uneasy. Now and then one would raise its head and begin to
sway gently to and fro, in agreement with the rhythm. But gradually each
seemed to be irresistibly drawn towards the back of the tent, as the
spell of their master's music fascinated them. One by one they passed in
one direction--moving slowly yet steadily in obedience to the call.
And as the last of the reptiles passed beneath the edge of the
tent-cloth both men sprang from their couches and rushed round to the
teepee that was pitched a little way behind their own.
But they found Thunder-maker reclining on a heap of robes and apparently
asleep; and not a sign was seen to suggest the presence of a "rattler."
So much for the art of the snake-charmer and the craft of an evil man.
[3] No.