CHAPTER XXXVI.THE MAGIC CUP.
First of all, Cody desired to question the Sioux warrior, and as he prepared a hearty meal he proceeded to draw Red Knife out.
“When did my brother leave the village of his people?”
“It is a night and two days.”
“Is Oak Heart inclined to peace?”
“Oak Heart awaits the coming of the Long Hair, as he promised White Antelope.”
“Very true,” said Cody calmly. “But there is one near Oak Heart who would keep the Long Hair from fulfilling his promise.”
“A warrior?”
“The renegade white, whom you call Death Killer.”
“Ah! Death Killer is a great magician,” declared Red Knife, looking as though he meant it.
“He is a wicked white. He is throwing dirt in the faces of my red brothers. They do not know him.”
“His medicine is wonderful.”
“Yet he could not make new medicine for the Red Knife?” suggested Cody slyly.
“Ah! who could do that?” demanded the brave gloomily.
“I have heard of its being done,” said the scout, and then, before the red man could ask a question, he proceeded: “Death Killer has ringed the camp with his own braves. They lay in wait for Pa-e-has-ka. Is it not so?”
At this Red Knife showed that he was surprised.
“This is bad. This is not known to Oak Heart. Is it so, Long Hair?”
“The Sioux know that Long Hair is not two-tongued,” declared Cody. “This is so. I suspected it, and I have found them watching. Is not Death Killer much from the camp?”
“He is.”
“He goes from watcher to watcher to see that all are in their places. If Long Hair goes straight to the camp of Oak Heart, he will be killed.”
Red Knife shrugged his shoulders and fell silent. Cody saw that, although the young brave considered it none of his business—it was a fight between Long Hair and Death Killer—he did not approve of the latter’s methods. And the scout was convinced, too, that the bulk of the Indians—and Oak Heart himself—knew naught of the trick to which Boyd Bennett had resorted.
Cody had not been foolish enough to ride straight toward Oak Heart’s village when he rode away fromthe spot where the Mad Hunter had been killed. He had seen in Boyd Bennett’s face, when he had gone free under his promise to the chief’s daughter, that the scoundrel would do all in his power to keep the scout from fulfilling his agreement. Although in going to the Indian village Cody would be taking his life in his hand, still bynotappearing there he would lose honor among the reds themselves.
It would be said among the Utah Sioux, and from them spread to the Utes, Arapahoes, and others, that Pa-e-has-ka was afraid to keep his promise. And from the time he first journeyed across the plains Buffalo Bill had kept his agreements in every particular with the red man, friend or foe alike. He was one of the few white men “without guile.” He said what he meant, and meant what he said, and he was considered single-tongued by all, though he was up to every craftiness that his enemies might try upon him.
Cody now wished to undermine the popularity of Boyd Bennett among Oak Heart’s braves. Even if he got through the medicine chief’s guards and reached the council-lodge of the Sioux, he would have to face the influence of the renegade, and that might overcome him to the extent of his life’s sacrifice. The scout was not the man to go blindly into a trap.
Death Killer, as he called himself, was playing the traitor. Cody wished to convince Red Knife of this fact and send him back to the encampment to spread the tale against Death Killer. To this end he used the cunning which he had long cultivated in his association with the redskins.
He well knew the regard in which the Indian holds his medicine-bag. If he could restore to Red Knife hismedicine, or, rather, supply him with a new amulet that would make him a man and a citizen again, the scout could command his good offices to almost any extent.
But the scout said nothing further that night. He let his observations regarding the renegade Bennett sink into the red man’s mind. In the morning he fed him bountifully again. When he had finished, Red Knife showed that he had digested Cody’s remarks well, and was in some measure grateful for the entertainment shown him.
“The Long Hair is my brother. He has warmed me and fed me. If the Long Hair really desires to appear before Oak Heart and the old men of the tribe, as he has promised, Red Knife may show him a way.”
“Ah!” exclaimed the scout. “Some way that Death Killer is not guarding with his braves, eh?”
“It may be.”
“In which direction is it?”
“The Long Hair knows the direction of the encampment, perhaps? Red Knife, wandering in broken spirit, has lost his way.”
“Oh, you want to know the direction of the place?”
“It is so. The lodges of his people will not receive Red Knife, but he may point them out, by a secret way, to the Long Hair.”
“Humph! Let’s see the direction,” muttered Cody, and drew from under his shirt a small compass in a brass cup which was hung about his neck by a strong cord.
The Indian’s eyes suddenly glistened. Here was the great white’s chief’s medicine, and Red Knife was greatly interested in medicines just then! He peeredclosely at the cup which Cody held in his hand. The latter noticed the brave’s eagerness, and he knew instinctively what was passing through the red’s mind.
Therefore the scout made a great show of consulting the compass, holding it in his hand while the little needle waggled cheerfully to his movements, pointing ever to the north. Finally Red Knife spoke—breathlessly:
“Does the magic cup speak to Long Hair? If so, its voice is very low. Does it tell where lies the lodges of my people?”
“It does not speak. But it answers the question,” declared Cody gravely.
“A marvelous magic!” exclaimed Red Knife. “The white chief worships the spirit of the cup?”
“This is a great medicine, Red Knife,” said Cody seriously. “Now mark! We wish to know how to travel to reach the lodges of your people. Long Hair knows that we are south and west of the village. We look into the cup.”
He thrust the compass under the Indian’s nose, and Red Knife had hard work to keep from jumping back.
“Look! See the finger which moves?”
“Ugh! It is magic!” muttered the young brave.
“That finger points ever to the cold land—to the lands from which winter comes. Always to the north it points. Therefore, so standing and facing the north, my right hand points to the sunrise, my left to the sunset,” suiting the action to his words. “Behind me is the south. Therefore, by facing the sunrise and bearing off somewhat to the north of that, we approach the village of Chief Oak Heart.”
“Ugh! It is wonder-work, indeed!” exclaimed Red Knife. “It is a great medicine.”
“It is a great and good medicine. No brave in Red Knife’s tribe has a medicine like this.”
“There are no two medicines alike in this world,” grunted the brave philosophically.
Cody went to the bag strapped to Chief’s saddle, unbuckled a pocket, and brought out a small packet tied in wash-leather and oilskin. When he was in Denver he had made a purchase for a brother scout, but so far had not run up against the man to give it to him. He came back to the fire, squatted down beside Red Knife, and unwrapped the exact counterpart of his own “magic cup,” only this was brighter and unused.
“Waugh!” ejaculated the Indian, starting back.
“You see, here is another of the magic cups. I have long had two medicines,” said Buffalo Bill, drawing slightly on his imagination. “They are good medicines. They have brought me good luck and made me successful in the chase, and in war. The Red Knife has no medicine. What would he do for the possession of this?” and the scout held out the compass temptingly.
Red Knife could barely restrain himself now. His cheeks actually flushed, and his eyes glistened.
“The Red Knife is a man!” he cried. “He will fight the Long Hair for the good medicine.”
“Nay. The Long Hair cannot battle at once with he whom he has fed. The Red Knife and the Long Hair are brothers. The Long Hair will give his red brother the magic cup,” and he thrust the compass into the brave’s willing hand.
“In return,” Cody pursued, “Red Knife will takethe tale of Death Killer’s treachery into Oak Heart’s village. Come! Long Hair will show his brother the medicine chief’s braves lurking for the scalp of Long Hair. It is a true tale. Red Knife will tell Oak Heart himself.”
“Waugh! Death Killer is a mighty chief,” said Red Knife hesitatingly.
“And this is a mighty medicine,” suggested the wily scout.
The Indian rose up suddenly and thrust the compass into the breast of his shirt. He had evidently made up his mind.
“It is well,” he said shortly. “Let Long Hair show this truth to me.”