A BAFFLING TRAIL
White Otter felt certain that the Pawnees had been warned of the
approaching Sioux war party, and he believed that they would ride
furiously to reach their own territory before the Dacotahs overtook
them. He realized, therefore, that it would be foolhardy to attempt to
come up with them before they arrived at their permanent camp. However,
the thought of what might happen to Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse in the
meantime filled him with despair. He knew only too well the intense
hatred that the Sioux and the Pawnees held for each other, and he feared
that the latter might take sudden vengeance upon their helpless
captives. His one hope was that the war chiefs would insist that the
prisoners be spared until they reached the camp, so that the entire
Pawnee nation might participate in their punishment and death. Still, he
realized that even if his unfortunate tribesmen reached the Pawnee
village in safety his chances for saving them were slight indeed. He
feared that the Pawnees would waste little time in putting them to
death, and he knew that unless he arrived at the hostile camp soon after
his foes he might be too late.
"We must keep near the Wolf People," he told Little Raven. "If they take
those two brave warriors to the camp, perhaps they will kill them before
we come to that place. Well, we must be near enough to do something."
"You are the leader," replied Little Raven, "I will listen to your
words."
At daylight they searched the plain for signs of the Pawnees. When they
failed to discover them, they separated and reconnoitered in different
directions. It was not long until White Otter found the fresh tracks of
the Pawnee ponies. He immediately called Little Raven, and they hurried
away on the trail.
"Perhaps some scouts are watching," suggested White Otter. "We must look
sharp."
"Yes, we will keep watching ahead," replied Little Raven.
The day was more than half gone before they saw anything to awaken their
suspicions. Then they suddenly discovered that the trail divided into
three distinct branches. The main trail continued toward the south,
another trail turned abruptly toward the west, and a third trail swerved
toward the east. White Otter regarded them in dismay. He instantly
recognized the unexpected maneuver as a wily bit of stratagem to confuse
the Sioux war party. It was evident that the crafty Pawnees feared
pursuit, and hoped in this manner to throw their enemies from their
trail. However, it was also possible that they hoped to induce the Sioux
force to separate into smaller companies to follow them. Then they might
suddenly unite, and attack one of the weakened commands. But whatever
was the reason for the ruse, it completely bewildered the anxious young
Ogalala.
"This thing fills my heart with clouds," he told Little Raven. "I do not
know about it. The Wolf People have fooled us. It is bad. I do not know
what to do."
Little Raven remained silent. He realized that in such a predicament he
must submit to the greater experience of White Otter. The loyal
Minneconjoux had implicit confidence in the ability of his friend. He
believed that the sharp-witted Ogalala would eventually think of a way
to overcome the difficulty. Many moments passed while they sat quietly
on their ponies, gazing gloomily at the confusing trails. Then White
Otter determined on a plan of action.
"There is only one thing to do," he said. "We must find out if these
trails go far. You must go one way and I will go another way. Perhaps we
will come together. But if these trails do not turn before the sun goes
away, then we will come back here and talk about it. Perhaps the Pawnees
are watching to see someone do this thing. I will tell you to be very
cautious."
"I will use my eyes," Little Raven promised.
A moment later they separated. White Otter followed the trail toward the
west, and Little Raven turned toward the east. They rode until sunset,
and then, as the tracks showed no signs of turning to join the original
trail toward the south, the discouraged young scouts returned to the
place where they had parted. It was dark when they finally met.
"My brother, I must tell you something bad," White Otter said,
disconsolately. "That trail does not turn around. There is only one
thing to do. I must follow it."
"White Otter, I must tell you that I saw the same thing," replied Little
Raven. "I went a long way but those tracks went straight ahead. When the
sun went away I thought about your words. Then I turned around and came
here. Now you must tell me how to do this thing."
For some moments White Otter remained silent. It was evident that the
baffling maneuver of his foes had greatly upset him. He knew that it
meant a delay, and he realized that each lost moment weakened his chance
of saving the Ogalala prisoners. Still, he knew that it would be fatal
to give way to his fears.
"Yes, I will tell you how to do this thing," he assured Little Raven.
"We must wait here until it is light. Then we will go different ways.
We will follow those trails and find out where they go. If they come
back to this straight trail, then we will leave three stones in three
tracks. That will tell us that we are both on that trail. If I find
those stones, I will keep going until I come up with you. If you find
those stones, then you must keep going until you find me. I have
finished."
"My brother, I have listened to your words--now I know what to do," said
Little Raven. "But I must tell you that I am heavy in my heart. Perhaps
we will not see each other again. Perhaps the Pawnees will kill us.
Well, I will not think about it."
"You are a warrior," White Otter reminded him. "A warrior wipes those
things from his heart."
Fearing that Pawnee scouts might follow the trail back under cover of
the night, to learn if they were followed, the wily young Sioux made a
long detour and camped farther to the west. They muzzled and picketed
the ponies, and took turns watching until the faint gray streak in the
east finally ended their suspense.
"Now we must go away," White Otter said soberly. "Little Raven, you are
my brother. You are very brave. You are going to do a hard thing.
Perhaps you will be killed. I will take your hand."
"White Otter, you have called me your brother--it is true," replied
Little Raven. "Yes, we are going away from each other. Perhaps we will
never meet again. Well, I will do the best I can. Now I will take your
hand."
They stood a moment, silently clasping hands. Then they mounted their
ponies and rode away. The eastern sky was tinged with gray, but the
plain was still dark. They rode rapidly toward the place where each had
abandoned his search the day before.
Darkness had already given way to daylight when White Otter reached the
grassy swale where he had ended his reconnoissance the previous day. He
immediately set out on the trail, riding slowly, and keeping a sharp
watch for Pawnee scouts. There was constant peril of running into an
ambush, and, wherever the plain offered suitable concealment for his
foes, he made a wide detour, and kept safely out of arrow-range. As the
trail continued directly toward the west, he feared that this company
of Pawnees were actually from another village. The possibility caused
him much concern. He realized that once the main force of his foes
divided into different bands, it might be necessary to visit each camp
before he could locate his tribesmen. In that event he felt certain that
his efforts would be useless, as he had little doubt that Wolf Robe and
Yellow Horse would have already met their fate before he could even find
them. Therefore, the anxious lad rode along with a heavy heart, and a
mind filled with all sorts of disquieting misgivings.
The day was far advanced when he finally learned that his long detour
had been in vain. The trail suddenly ended in an intricate maze of
tracks, which scattered in all directions. As White Otter realized how
easily he had fallen into the wily trap that had been set for him, a
great rage entered his heart, and his eyes flashed threateningly. He
knew at once that the Pawnees had simply separated temporarily to delay
their pursuers. Having lured them a day's journey from the real trail,
they had scattered and gone to join the main command. White Otter saw
it all plainly enough now, but he feared that the trick had already
achieved its purpose. He believed that the delay would prove fatal to
Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse.
For a moment the discouraged Ogalala lost heart. It seemed mere folly to
continue in the face of the unexpected difficulties that beset him.
Still, he banished all idea of turning back. He had given his word to
his grandmother, and even if he could not save Wolf Robe, he was
determined to rush into the Pawnee village and avenge him. The frantic
appeals of old Singing Wind rang in his ears, and the memory of her
grief restored his confidence. He told himself that he might still save
the Ogalala war chief. The possibility drove him to action. Wheeling his
pony, he raced madly toward the east.
White Otter knew that there were two things to do. The first was to
return to the main trail of the Pawnees and leave a sign to warn the
Sioux war party from repeating his blunder. The second was to find
Little Raven. He felt sure that the false trail which the Minneconjoux
had followed would either end in a hopeless tangle of tracks, or
eventually return to the original trail. Therefore, he hoped to find
Little Raven somewhere along the route taken by the main company of
Pawnees.
It was almost dark when White Otter again returned to the place where
the false trails began. His heart burned with anger as he realized the
time he had lost, each precious moment a link in the chain that was
dragging Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse to their doom. Still, he hoped that
in spite of the delay he might yet arrive at the Pawnee village in time
to aid his tribesmen. It was barely possible that the Pawnees might
spare the captives for several days, and White Otter strengthened his
confidence with the thought.
Aware that there was not an instant to lose, he proceeded to leave a
warning for the war party. Riding to a little patch of willows, he
selected a long, slender branch, and peeled the bark from one end. Then
he stuck it in one of the hoof-prints, with the peeled end pointing in
the direction of the Pawnee village. Next, he placed a barrier of small
stones across each of the false trails. Then he mounted his pony and
galloped along the original trail.
When night finally closed down, White Otter dismounted to follow the
tracks of the Pawnee ponies. He moved slowly forward, listening and
watching for some evidence of Little Raven. As time passed and he failed
to find him he began to worry. He wondered whether the fearless lad had
fallen into the hands of the Wolf People. He tried to reassure himself
with the possibility that the trail toward the east had actually
continued to another camp.
Then a sound came out of the night, a short distance ahead of him, and
he instantly drew his pony from the trail, and prepared his bow. As he
listened the noise was repeated, and he recognized it as the attempt of
a muzzled pony to call to one of its kind. His own horse tried to reply,
but he instantly grasped its nostrils and smothered it with a heavy fold
of buckskin. Then he imitated the bark of the little gray fox. In a few
moments he received a crude reply. He knew at once that it came from
Little Raven.
"Ho, my brother, I see that you have come back; it is good," White Otter
called softly.
"My ears tell me that you are my brother, White Otter," replied Little
Raven.
A moment afterward they met. Little Raven said that the tracks which he
had followed had rejoined the main trail at that very spot. He declared
that he had seen nothing but antelope and buffaloes and some stray
prairie wolves.
"Perhaps they were Pawnee scouts," White Otter suggested.
"No, I came close to those animals, and I know that they were wolves,"
Little Raven assured him.
"Well, now we know about this thing," said the Ogalala, "we must go on.
Perhaps the Pawnees have reached their camp. Perhaps they have sent Wolf
Robe and Yellow Horse on the Long Trail. But we must not wait. Now I
will go to that village and do the thing I have set out to do. If my
grandfather is not there, then I will rush into the camp and throw
myself away. But I will kill many Pawnees before I die. My brother, this
is how it is in my heart to do. If you feel different, then you must
turn back. I have finished."
"My brother, you have spoken brave words," declared Little Raven. "But I
must tell you that I will not turn around. Perhaps we will help Wolf
Robe and Yellow Horse. But if they have been sent away, then I will go
into the camp to die with you. This is how the thing is in my heart."
"You are as brave as your brother, Sun Bird," said White Otter. "If you
come out of this thing, you will be a great warrior. Yes, I will tell
all the Dacotahs about you. Now we will go."
As they cantered boldly forward into the night, the long, dismal wail of
the prairie wolf sounded some distance away toward the west. White Otter
instantly stopped his pony to listen. In a few moments an answer came
from the east. The calls were so perfect, however, that the keen ears of
the Ogalala could find no reason to suspect them. Still, he was
suspicious. He was unable to overcome a disturbing premonition that had
worried him throughout the day; he felt almost certain that both Little
Raven and he had been watched by Pawnee scouts.
"I believe that the Pawnees are telling about us," White Otter
whispered, uneasily.
"Do your ears tell you that?" inquired Little Raven.
"No, my ears tell me that it is the cry of the wolf, but my heart tells
me a different thing," replied White Otter.
They waited some moments longer, but the calls were not repeated. Then
the two daring young scouts resumed their perilous advance through the
darkness. They had not gone far, however, when the lonely cry in the
west was repeated. This time they did not stop, but listened anxiously
as they cantered along. There was no answer from the east, and Little
Raven felt somewhat reassured.
"I believe it is a wolf," he told White Otter.
The Ogalala made no reply.