EVIL DAYS
The Maple leaves were yellowing in the Fall. The hollow seed-cups of the
wild parsley were turning old and grey. Up the slopes of the northern
buttes, the shumack flared like a shout of flame. Over a thousand
leagues of prairie the days carried the warmth and stillness of that
mysterious season called the Indian Summer; but the nights had cold in
them, and the middle sky had voices. For the geese were coming
now--driving out of the north in great arrow-heads of flight--and the
nightwind passed with a dry whisper, like the running of antelope
through dead grasses, over a thousand leagues.
The camp of Dusty Star's people was feverishly astir. The air was filled
with rumours. Scouts coming from the north-east brought disquieting
tidings. There was a great movement among the Yellow Dogs. Scattered
bands were coming in daily to join the main body. It could mean only one
thing--the gathering for the final attack.
And still Lone Chief did not come back.
Day after day, scouts watched from the summit of Look-out Bluff,
scanning the western prairie eagerly for signs of the returning
Medicine-man. Day after day, they returned with heavy faces to the
anxiously waiting tribe.
And as the days passed, the rumours grew more black. The Senakals were
in movement now. They were allies of the Yellow Dogs, related to them by
ties of blood. The Senakals were a powerful tribe. If they joined forces
with the Yellow Dogs, the strength of the enemy would be enormously
increased.
It was late October now, or, as the Indians named the season,
When-the-Geese-fly-South. In the rich meadows along the Wide-Water
river, the bunch-grass was very long, and on the slopes of the eastern
hills the huckleberries were large and ripe. But no Indian ponies grazed
in the meadows now, having been brought closer into camp: for fear of a
hostile raid; nor, in the early morning or late evening, were any
parties of squaws to be seen out on the prairies, going to the hills, or
returning with baskets full of fruit.
Among all the families in the camp, that of Dusty Star was the most
disturbed. His parents had always hoped that, sooner or later, he would
come back. His mother, especially, had grieved for his absence, and had
looked anxiously for his return. It was a pity, she said, they had not
taken his part about Kiopo. Only then, who could possibly have foreseen
that all this medicine power which Lone Chief made so much of would be
discovered in the wolf? But, even so, she thought, they might have been
kinder to Dusty Star himself, and have tried more fully to understand
his feelings for the wolf. And after all, was it not his father who had
presented him with the creature in the beginning, when it was nothing
but a little compact bundle of fat and fur, not yet very steady on its
legs? She was now quite clear in her own mind that they had been
decidedly to blame. Day after day, she waited anxiously for tidings of
Lone Chief, and, as night after night brought no news of his
whereabouts, her anxiety grew.
The only person who clung stubbornly to her old opinions was
Sitting-Always. But that was only to be expected, since she was so very
like her name. Once the mind of the old squaw had laid an opinion, she
would sit on it like a broody hen, till it went addled in her head. She
had never really liked Dusty Star, and she had always hated the wolf. If
the wolf _had_ a medicine (which, for her part, she very much doubted)
as everybody said, she had made up her mind that it was a bad medicine,
and could not help the tribe. As a protest against all this nonsense
about the wolf, she painted her face with an extra coat of yellow, and
sat in a bad temper at the door of her tepee.
Things were in this state, when, one morning early, a scout came into
camp. He brought alarming tidings. He had rashly crossed the border of
the Yellow Dog country, and had been seen and chased. Fortunately his
pony was a very swift one, and he had reached the Wide-Water river in
time to swim across, and so escape. All day he had lain hidden in the
willow thickets of the southern bank, and had only dared to leave them
after dark. He said that his pursuers were in advance of a large body of
Indians who were camped to the north-west of the Sokomix hills.
Instantly Spotted Eagle ordered a strong war-party to start off, in
order to meet the advance guard of the enemy, and, if possible, drive
them back. Dusty Star's father, Running Wolf, as one of the leading
braves, was a member of the party.
At sundown, a solitary Indian came galloping into camp. He was the
bearer of terrible news. The war-party had encountered the enemy, and
had given battle shortly after noon; but, owing to the fact that the
Yellow Dogs greatly outnumbered them, they had been defeated and finally
put to flight. But in spite of their victory he did not know whether
they would continue their advance immediately or not. It was best to be
prepared for the worst.
When the news became known, panic seized the camp. Terrified squaws ran
from tepee to tepee, uttering shrill screams and tearing their hair. To
their cries were added the neighing of ponies driven into camp, the
barking of huskies, and the beating of drums.
During the evening, the remainder of the defeated war-party returned.
Fully a third of its members were missing. Among the missing was Running
Wolf.
Nikana did not run, nor scream. She walked restlessly up and down in
front of her tepee, holding Blue Wings closely in her arms, and filled
with a horrible fear.
The night which followed the defeat was one of terrible anxiety. With
the exception of the children and the animals, hardly any one slept.
From moment to moment no one could say what might happen. If their
enemies were already in the neighbourhood, they might attack at any
instant. People wandered aimlessly about, or squatted at the entrances
of the tepees, listening uneasily to the slightest sound, even if it
were nothing more than the howling of some distant coyote far off upon
the prairie that set every ear straining lest it should be an Indian
signal for the gathering to attack. And when, at long intervals, a flock
of wild geese would approach with shrill, honking call out of the vast
darkness of the North, the cry seemed to carry evil tidings of their
approaching doom. When the first streaks of dawn brightened above the
Eastern hills, a feeling of relief passed through the camp that, if the
dreaded attack were indeed preparing, at least it would not be launched
under cover of the dark.
And with the dawn, came a sudden ray of hope. From Look-out butte a
scout came galloping into camp. Far to the south-west several Indians
had been sighted. It was almost certain that Lone Chief was one of them.
The news ran through the camp like wild-fire. But was Dusty Star coming
too? Or, if not of the party, would it be found that he was following
with the wolf? The excitement and suspense were tremendous. People
crowded to the western side of the camp, some even going out to wards
Look-out butte in order to be the earliest to receive the fateful news.
They had not long to wait. Soon the little party was seen rounding the
southern slope of the hill. And Lone Chief was indeed one of the party.
He had fallen in with them on his homeward route, a day's journey from
the camp. But he came without either Dusty Star or the wolf. And when at
last he had arrived, and in a few short words had announced the failure
of his mission, a feeling of gloom that was almost despair spread over
the whole tribe.
In vain Spotted Eagle, and some of the other chiefs, attempted to give
them fresh courage. The deep superstition of the Indian mind had settled
darkly upon them. If the wolf-medicine did not come, they said, it
showed clearly that the Great Spirit had refused to give them
protection.
After that, things went from bad to worse. And although the day went by
without any fresh signs of the enemy's approach, the camp was filled
with disquieting rumours, and gave itself up more and more to the
despondency of fear.
Another night of suspense passed, and still there were no signs. Hope
began to rise that the Yellow Dogs, in spite of their victory, had
suffered so severely that they would not dare to attack the main camp.
It was possible that some of their allies had failed at the last moment.
And then, just as the feeling began to be general, the new hope was
dashed to the ground by the news that the enemy was again in motion and
was moving rapidly south in force.
If it had not been for the courage and coolness of Spotted Eagle and
Lone Chief, the tribe would have been thrown into a state of more
hopeless desperation than before; but they summoned all the chiefs
together and gave them the command of strong parties which should post
themselves on the outskirts of the camp, in order to show the enemy that
they were fully prepared to do battle without waiting for the attack
upon the camp itself. Orders were also given that no fires were to be
lighted if the enemy did not appear before nightfall. Scouting parties
were then to be sent far out on the northern prairie so as to prevent
all possibility of a surprise attack.
The afternoon passed into evening. The short-lived northern twilight
darkened swiftly down the prairies, and it was night. And above, in the
enormous hollow of the sky, the stars glittered like many camp-fires,
and ever and again the flocks of travelling voices came honking out of
the north, and filled the silence with a wandering cry.