SITTING BULL--THE FAIR CAPTIVE.
Fearless Frank stepped back aghast, as he saw the inhuman chief of the
Sioux--the cruel, grim-faced warrior, Sitting Bull; shrunk back, and
laid his hand upon the butt of a revolver.
"Ha!" he articulated, "is that you, chief? You, and at such work as
this?" there was stern reproach in the youth's tone, and certain it is
that the Sioux warrior heard the words spoken.
"My friend, Scarlet Boy, is keen with the tongue," he said, frowning.
"Let him put shackles upon it, before it leaps over the bounds of
reason."
"I see no reason why I should not speak in behalf of yon suffering
girl!" retorted the youth, fearlessly, "on whom you have been
inflicting one of the most inhuman tortures Indian cunning could
conceive. For shame, chief, that you should ever assent to such an
act--lower yourself to the grade of a dog by such a dastard deed. For
shame, I say!"
Instantly the form of the great warrior straightened up like an arrow,
and his painted hand flew toward the pistols in his belt.
But the succeeding second he seemed to change his intention; his hand
went out toward the youth in greeting:
"The Scarlet Boy is right," he said, with as much graveness as a
red-skin can conceive. "Sitting Bull listens to his words as he would
to those of a brother. Scarlet Boy is no stranger in the land of the
Sioux; he is the friend of the great chief and his warriors. Once when
the storm-gods were at war over the pine forests and picture rocks of
the Hills; when the Great Spirit was sending fiery messengers down in
vivid streaks from the skies, the Big Chief cast a thunderbolt in
playfulness at the feet of Sitting Bull. The shock of the hand of the
Great Spirit did not escape me; for hours I lay like one slain in
battle. My warriors were in consternation; they ran hither and thither
in affright, calling on the Manitou to preserve their chief. You came,
Scarlet Boy, in the midst of all the panic;--came, and though then but
a stripling, you applied simple remedies that restored Sitting Bull to
the arms of his warriors.[A]
"From that hour Sitting Bull was your friend--is your friend, now, and
will be as long as the red-men exist as a tribe."
"Thank you, chief;" and Fearless Frank grasped the Indian's hand and
wrung it warmly. "I believe you mean all you say. But I am surprised
to find you engaged at such work as this. I have been told that
Sitting Bull made war only on warriors--not on women."
An ugly frown darkened the savage's face--a frown wherein was depicted
a number of slumbering passions.
"The pale-face girl is the last survivor of a train that the warriors
of Sitting Bull attacked in Red Canyon. Sitting Bull lost many
warriors; yon pale squaw shot down full a half-score before she could
be captured; she belongs to the warriors of Sitting Bull, and not to
the great chief himself."
"Yet you have the power to free her--to yield her up to me. Consider,
chief; are you not enough my friend that you can afford to give me the
pale-face girl? Surely, she has been tortured sufficiently to satisfy
your braves' thirst for vengeance."
Sitting Bull was silent.
"What will the Scarlet Boy do with the fair maiden of his tribe?"
"Bear her to a place of safety, chief, and care for her until I can
find her friends--probably she has friends in the East."
"It shall be as he says. Sitting Bull will withdraw his braves and
Scarlet Boy can have the red-man's prize."
A friendly hand-shake between the youth and the Sioux chieftain, a
word from the latter to the grim painted warriors, and the next
instant the glade was cleared of the savages.
Fearless Frank then hastened to approach the insensible captive, and,
with a couple sweeps of his knife, cut the bonds that held her to the
torture-stake. Gently he laid her on the grass, and arranged about her
half-nude form the garments Sitting Bull's warriors had torn off, and
soon he had the satisfaction of seeing her once more clothed properly.
It still remained for him to restore her to consciousness, and this
promised to be no easy task, for she was in a dead swoon. She was even
more beautiful of face and figure than one would have imagined at a
first glance. Of a delicate blonde complexion, with pink-tinged
cheeks, she made a very pretty picture, her face framed as it was in a
wild disheveled cloud of auburn hair.
A hatful of cold water from a neighboring spring dashed into her
upturned face; a continued chafing of the pure white soft hands; then
there was a convulsive twitching of the features, a low moan, and the
eyes opened and darted a glance of affright into the face of the
Scarlet Boy.
"Fear not, miss;" and the youth gently supported her to a sitting
posture. "I am a friend, and your cruel captors have vamosed. Lucky I
came along just as I did, or it's likely they'd have killed you."
"Oh! sir, how can I ever thank you for rescuing me from those
merciless fiends!" and the maiden gave him a grateful glance. "They
whipped me, terribly!"
"I know, lady--all because you defended yourself in Red Canyon."
"I suppose so: but how did you find out so much, and, also, effect my
release from the savages?"
Fearless Frank leaned up against the tree which had been used as the
torture-stake, and related what is already known to the reader.
When he had finished, the rescued captive seized his hand between both
her own, and thanked him warmly.
"Had it not been for you, sir, no one but our God knows what would
have been my fate. Oh! sir, what can I do, more than to thank you a
thousand times, to repay you for the great service you have rendered
me?"
"Nothing, lady; nothing that I think of at present. Was it not my
duty, while I had the power, to free you from the hands of those
barbarians? Certainly it was, and I deserve no thanks. But tell me,
what is your name, and were your friends all killed in the train from
which you were taken?"
"I had no friends, sir, save a lady whose acquaintance I made on the
journey out from Cheyenne. As to my name--you can call me Miss Terry."
"Mystery!" in blank amazement.
"Yes;" with a gay laugh--"Mystery, if you choose. My name is Alice
Terry."
"Oh!" and the youth began to brighten. "Miss Terry, to be sure;
Mystery! ha! ha! good joke. I shall call you the latter. Have you
friends and relatives East?"
"No. I came West to meet my father, who is somewhere in the Black
Hills."
"Do you know at what place?"
"I do not."
"I fear it will be a hard matter to find him, then. The Hills now have
a floating population of about twenty-five thousand souls. Your father
would be one to find out of that lot."
A faint smile came over the girl's face. "I should know papa among
fifty thousand, if necessary;" she said, "although I have not seen him
for years."
She failed to mention how many, or what peculiarities she would
recognize him by. Was he blind, deaf or dumb?
Fearless Frank glanced around him, and saw that a path rugged and
steep led up to the prairie above.
"Come," he said, offering his arm, "we will get up to the plains and
go."
"Where to?" asked Miss Terry, rising with an effort. The welts across
her back were swollen and painful.
"Deadwood is my destination. I can deviate my course, however, if it
will accommodate you."
"Oh! no; you must not inconvenience yourself on my account. I am of
little or no consequence, you know."
She leaned upon his arm, and they ascended the path to the plain
above.
Frank's horse was grazing near by where the scarlet youth had taken
his unceremonious tumble.
Off to the north-west a cloud of dust rose heavenward, and he rightly
conjectured that it hid from view the chieftain, Sitting Bull, and his
warriors.
His thoughts reverting to his companion, "General" Nix, and the train
of Charity Joe, he glanced toward where he had last seen them.
Neither were to be seen, now. Probably Nix had rejoined the train, and
it was out of eye-shot behind a swell in the plains.
"Were you looking for some one?" Alice asked, looking into her
rescuer's face.
"Yes, I was with a train when I first heard your cries; I left the
boys, and came to investigate. I guess they have gone on without me."
"How mean of them! Will we have to make the journey to the Hills
alone?"
"Yes, unless we should providentially fall in with a train or be
overtaken by a stage."
"Are you not afraid?"
"My cognomen is Fearless Frank, lady; you can draw conclusions from
that."
He went and caught the horse, arranged a blanket in the saddle so that
she could ride side-fashion, and assisted her to mount.
The sun was touching the lips of the horizon with a golden kiss; more
time than Frank had supposed' had elapsed since he left the train.
Far off toward the east shadows were hugging close behind the last
lingering rays of sunlight; a couple of coyotes were sneaking into
view a few rods away; birds were winging homeward; a perfume-laden
breeze swept down from the Black Hills, and fanned the pink cheeks of
Alice Terry into a vivid glow.
"We cannot go far," said Frank, thoughtfully, "before darkness will
overtake us. Perhaps we had better remain in the canal, here, where
there is both grass and water. In the morning we will take a fresh
start."
The plan was adopted; they camped in the break, or "canal," near where
Alice had been tortured.
Out of his saddle-bags Frank brought forth crackers, biscuit and dried
venison; these, with clear sparkling water from the spring in the
chaparral, made a meal good enough for anybody.
The night was warm; no fire was needed.
A blanket spread on the grass served as a resting-place for Alice; the
strange youth in scarlet lay with his head resting against the side of
his horse. The least movement of the animal, he said, would arouse
him; he was keen of scent and quick to detect danger--meaning the
horse.
The night passed away without incident; as early as four o'clock--when
it is daylight on the plains--Fearless Frank was astir.
Be found the rivulet flowing from the spring to abound with trout, and
caught and dressed the morning meal.
Alice was awake by the time breakfast was ready. She bathed her face
and hands in the stream, combed her long auburn hair through her
fingers, and looked sweeter than on the previous night--at least, so
thought Fearless Frank.
"The day promises to be delightful, does it not?" she remarked, as she
seated herself to partake of the repast.
"Exactly. Autumn months are ever enjoyable in the West."
The meal dispatched, no delay was made in leaving the place.
Fearless Frank strode along beside his horse and its fair rider,
chatting pleasantly, and at the same time making a close observation
of his surroundings. He knew he was in parts frequented by both red
and white savages, and it would do no harm to keep on one's guard.
They traveled all day and reached Sage creek at sunset.
Here they remained over night, taking an early start on the succeeding
morning.
That day they made good progress, in consequence of Frank's purchase
of a horse at Sage creek from some friendly Crow Indians, and darkness
overtook them at the mouth of Red Canyon, where they went into camp.
By steady pushing they reached Rapid creek the next night, for no halt
was made at Custer City, and for the first time since leaving the
torture-ground, camped with a miner's family. As yet no cabins or
shanties had been erected here, canvas tents serving in the stead;
to-day there are between fifty and a hundred wooden structures.
Alice was charmed with the wild grandeur of the mountain scenery--with
the countless acres of blossoms and flowering shrubs--with the
romantic and picturesque surroundings in general, and was very
emphatic in her praises.
One day of rest was taken at Rapid Creek; then the twain pushed on,
and when night again overtook them, they rode into the bustling,
noisy, homely metropolis--Deadwood, magic city of the North-west.