ROBBERS OF THE DEAD.
Night had closed over the scene of the terrible battle, but the darkness was not intense, as the stars shone out with unusual brilliancy, and the silver crescent of a new moon in the western sky lent its feeble aid.
The cold stars looked down upon a fearful sight; such an one as has not been seen in this fair land for many a year.
Hundreds of men and horses lying dead in that fatal ravine, and a trail of bodies leading almost in a circle, down to the river and then up the bluffs.
Valiant men lay here: heroes whose names shall ever be mentioned with proud honor by their surviving comrades; and yet what a price they paid for that worthless commodity to the dead—immortality.
Across the Little Horn could be heard the noises of a great camp, and once in a while the breeze bore the distant crack of firearms.
These last came from several miles to the south, where Major Reno had intrenched his command on the bluffs, and from hastily-constructed rifle-pits fought the enemy, who had posted themselves on the neighboring heights, where they could control his position.
Shadowy figures glided hither and thither over the field of battle, for that it was a battle, though a very uneven one, I do affirm, in spite of the constant appellation of massacre indulged in by the newspaper men.
The very word massacre brings to mind the idea of a wholesale butchery of helpless people. Historians are prone to be partial in its use.
We always find the affair termed a massacre when the Indians are victorious; but when the tables are turned it is "a splendid campaign," "a hard-fought battle," and "a glorious victory for the troops."
If the word massacre does not mean a one-sided butchery, then every world's battle has been such.
As to Custer's particular case, did he not move forward with the intention of attacking the village, and though every man fell, did they not slay at least their own number of redskins? Then this proves the affair a battle and not a massacre.
Having carried my point, I beg pardon for the digression.
These shadowy figures gliding over the scene of death were robbers of the slain, and having no compunctions of conscience, if a coveted ring refused to come off, the finger was at once severed in order to obtain the bauble.
Noble Custer and most of his officers lay close together, just as they had fallen.
Near by was a heap of slain, which included troopers, Sioux and horses.
One of the robbers of the dead approached this pile, and began pulling the bodies about in a promiscuous manner, his eyes busily engaged searching for plunder.
Under this pile a form lay, which, as the heavenly lights fell upon it, revealed the features of the boy who had been beside General Custer when he fell.
Something gleamed from the little finger of his left hand, and as this sparkled in the light of the moon, the prowler uttered a delighted exclamation that at once proved him to be a white man.
Seizing hold of the hand, he at once attempted to pull the diamond solitaire ring off, but this proving fruitless, he felt for his knife.
Just as this was drawn, his hand was tightly clutched by the one he held.
The truth of the matter was, that the boy had been rendered insensible by being struck with a bullet, that glanced from his forehead without breaking the bone.
Others, killed later in the desperate struggle, had fallen upon him, and here for several hours he lay at the door of death.
When the heap that pressed upon him had been removed by the robber, the fresh air served to partially revive him, and the twisting of his finger by the desperado finished the business.
Mason, as I shall call my boy hero, for Custer had given him that name when addressing him, opened his eyes.
By the dim light of the stars and the new moon combined, he saw the figure of a man kneeling over him.
That it was a white man was evident from his clothes and hat, and also the bushy beard.
A pair of fine cavalry boots, stolen from some unfortunate officer, were slung across his shoulders, and he seemed burdened down with all sorts of plunder.
Mason waited to see no more.
The wrenching at his finger ceased, the man uttered a curse, and began to draw his knife.
Then the whole horrible truth burst upon the boy's mind.
Under the impulse of the moment he tightened his clasp, and actually pulled himself to his feet by means of the renegade, and after this had been accomplished, released his hold.
The matter did not rest here.
Amazed at having the dead come to life in such an unexpected manner, as it seemed, the renegade uttered a cry and started back.
Custer's revolver was still held in the boy's right hand, just as it had been when he had fallen to the earth.
Whether a single load remained or not he could not tell, but quickly pulling up the hammer he raised the weapon.
When the robber of the dead, base craven that he was, saw this movement, he flung out his hands in an involuntary appeal for mercy, but the boy, after passing through such a bitter, bloody experience, could feel no pity for such as he.
The hammer fell, the crack came, and the bullet did its mission of retributive justice.
"My God! I'm done for. Curses on the young hound," half howled the renegade, reeling wildly in the effort to keep his feet, and at length plunging to the ground, where he lay covered with plunder, waiting for some other robber to relieve him as he had despoiled others.
Mason sank to the ground immediately, and it was not until several moments had passed by that he ventured to raise his head and look around.
Not an object was stirring near him.
If the marauders of the dead had noticed the shot at all, they had taken it for granted that it was fired by one of their number at a wounded cavalryman, and the shout given by the victim of the bullet went far to corroborate this idea.
As he looked, Mason saw one of those shadowy forms skulking about and bending over the dead.
Fearful lest he should meet with one such and be murdered for want of weapons, he crawled over to where the renegade lay and secured his revolver.
Not content with this, he quietly proceeded to reload the empty chambers of the one he had taken from the holsters of Custer's saddle.
When this was done, he felt content, and arose to his feet.
Although he could see in the immediate vicinity, all appeared dark and gloomy a hundred yards away, and the bluffs could only be distinguished because they were outlined against the star-bedecked sky after the manner of a silhouette.
Which way to go was a puzzler.
Beyond the ravine he could hear the murmur of the river, and knew that on the other shore was the camp of the Sioux.
Once clear of this slaughter-pen and his ideas would flow more naturally, for it was impossible to think calmly while the mutilated bodies of friends lay around on every side.
To say a thing was to do it with Custer's boy friend.
He seemed to know that the general must be near by, and was led instinctively to his body.
A horse had fallen upon Custer's lower limbs, but the heavy weight had given him no pain, for he had been beyond that when the animal was shot.
I cannot positively say that the tears came from the boy's eyes, as some of my readers might deem that an unmanly proceeding, though God knows the poor fellow had cause enough to weep, with his best and only friend lying dead before him.
That he lifted the general's cold hand and kissed it repeatedly, while murmuring a farewell, I can and do affirm.
A moment more and he was stealthily making his way along the ravine, heading toward the river.
A vague notion that a horse was necessary to his future movements had intruded itself upon his brain, and although his plan of obtaining one was as yet illy defined, it constantly gained ground.
Once a dark form suddenly rose up in front of him, but the greasy Indian got no further than the drawing of his knife, when Mason's revolver sounded his death note, and without even a groan he sank beside the dead man whom he had been in the act of despoiling when disturbed by the boy's approach.
Avoiding all others whom he saw, Mason soon left the ravine behind him, and passing over the intervening ground, where a few bodies were scattered promiscuously about, he stood upon the river bank.
There was something soothing in the steady hum of the water which appeared to steady the boy's disturbed mind, and for almost half an hour he stood leaning against a tree that bent over the river, and engaged in dreamy fancies.
He had almost forgotten his notion of getting a remount in place of the one lost during the bloody skirmish.
Sad thoughts had crowded into his mind.
Of all that gallant band, was he the only survivor?
It seemed so, indeed; but Mason did not know of the supreme effort made by old Pandy Ellis, the prince of bordermen.
The boy's reverie was becoming almost unbearable, when it was disturbed by what appeared to be the flash of a paddle further up the stream.
PANDY ELLIS' HOTTEST SCRIMMAGE.
Valliant old Pandy Ellis, the veteran ranger of the prairies, was not the man to give up hope easily. He had been in many a tight scrape before, and had kept a bright face when the best of men might have given up in despair.
But there was something so fearful in the horrible struggle, where human efforts however strong seemed puny as an infant's, that the ranger might well be pardoned for shutting his teeth grimly and resolving to die hard.
There were actually tears in his eyes as he gave one last glance back at that sadly depleted little band, where noble Yates still shouted out encouraging words, and wielded his bloody sword with an untiring arm.
It was the last ever seen of this detachment of the gallant Seventh alive; and although the old ranger were to live his whole life over again, he could never forget that scene.
His hands were fully occupied in defending his person against the many weapons raised against it.
During the next five minutes Pandy had the hottest little scrimmage that ever fell to his lot.
On every side nothing met his eye but a mass of red faces, bearing the most devilish looks he could imagine, and the owners of which were trying their best to stab or shoot the rider.
Boldly he plunged into the thick of them.
Nancy trampled many under her feet, and bore her inevitable wounds with the air of a martyr, than which she could not well do otherwise, belonging as she did to such a renowned hero.
Guns cracked about him, bullets whistled close to his head, and cut into his flesh; lances, knives and tomahawks were thrust up at him with vengeful intent, and yet this veteran urged his horse forward, armed only with a knife as a serviceable weapon, with which he seemed to keep himself surrounded by a wall of steel through which it was next to impossible to force a passage.
How many men he and his horse killed between them during that five minutes' fearfulride, Pandy could not even guess after it was over, for his mind was in a whirl, and he did mechanically the work that was needed, just as a set machine might have done; but it must certainly have been dozens.
Some men might have deemed it impossible to force a way on horseback through that mass of excited redskins. Colonel Yates had deemed it so, but to Pandy nothing was accepted as beyond the power to do, until an attempt had been made, and Yates' last words to him proved that the officer must have either placed more confidence in the ranger's dash than his own, or else had resolved to die with his brave boys at any risk.
It was over at last, this brief but exciting ride of the prairie man's, encompassed on all quarters by death.
As horse and rider burst out of that maddened throng as a strong swimmer buffets the billows of the mighty deep, Pandy drew a long breath.
Not that the danger was over by any means. Here were dozens of Sioux braves outside of themelee, and these seeing an enemy emerge from the mass of struggling combatants, made a rush at him. Pandy uttered a taunting laugh and dashed away like a bird, for although Nancy was breathing hard from her exertions, she was equal to what the occasion demanded.
The ranger after clearing about a third of a mile, turned to one side and rode up a pass that led to the other side of the bluffs.
Reaching the crest, he passed along until almost even with the ravine of death. Then he paused for a last glimpse. Alas! all was over.
Yates too had fallen, and not one of his men could be seen alive; all that was visible seemed to be a sea of red men rushing pell-mell over the battle-field.
Old Pandy was visibly affected.
"God help me! I never seen such a thing in my life. The hull crowd wiped out az clean az a whistle. What's goin' ter become o' us all at this hyar rate. Custer, Cooke, Yates, Keogh, all gone. Bust my buttons ef these reds ain't woke up wid sum o' ther old fire. My hate fur 'em war dyin' out, but it only needed this ter kindle it wus nor ever. I'll have revenge for this day's work; Custer shall never lie in his grave without satisfaction; an' ef ther pesky Government won't take it in hand, dash me, Bolly Wherrit's ther chap ter stick by me. We'll go on ther war path, an' by ther heavens above, if Sitting Bull don't pay dear fur this, then it's because two ole trappers will hev gone under. Tarnal Snakes an' critters! but it makes me tearin' mad. I must let out my spleen or bust; jist a parting card afore I go, ter let 'em know what's comin' in ther future."
It took but a couple of moments to load his rifle and revolvers.
His presence was not even suspected until the gun sent its clear detonation echoing over the hills.
A commotion was visible among the crowd below, and cries of pain reached the ranger's ear that were sweet music to him just then.
Without wasting any more time, he emptied all the chambers of his revolver, and then turning his horse's head, gave a loud hurrah, and vanished from view, feeling a hundred per cent. better after making a start in what he was pleased to term his death roll.
Some thirty yards below the crest of the bluffs, the way was easily traveled, and what few difficulties presented themselves were speedily overcome by such an enterprising individual as the ranger.
In a short time Pandy came to Custer's back trail.
It was quite deserted now, save by the dead, for after the cavalry had passed, the Indians followed after in order to have a hand in the battle which they knew would take place when the troops attempted to storm the village.
The crags that had so lately echoed with the cracks of Indian rifles as their owners lay in ambush, were silent now, and as Pandy rode along he could not help thinking how different it would have all been, had headstrong Custer cast aside his willful mood, and listened to the advice of one who had his best interest at heart.
It was while in this contemplative mood that Pandy suddenly became aware of the fact that a body of Indians were dodging about and among the rocks in front of him.
To retreat was almost impossible, as he would doubtless receive a bullet in the back.
Making what might be termed the best of a bad bargain, Pandy took the bridle between his teeth, and holding a revolver in each hand, urged Nancy forward at a gallop.
There was something in the manner of this undaunted man's facing death again after his recent escape and great exertions, that would have enlisted the admiration of even an enemy.
As he advanced, the redskins vanished altogether, and Pandy was beginning to believe they had gone altogether, when he heard a singular but well-known whoop that made him draw rein with an exclamation of surprise.
At the same instant a tall Indian stepped into view from behind a bowlder and advanced boldly toward the ranger.
The latter seemed to recognize him, for a smile illuminated his bronzed and blood-stained countenance.
It was Eagle Eye, the Crow chief, whose hand Pandy pressed so warmly.
The Crow scouts of the expedition were some of his braves, but the chief had missed seeing the ranger before.
They were old friends, having hunted and trapped together a whole season several years before.
"Brother been in the big fight; much hurt?" said the chief, looking with dismay at the ranger's many wounds, which he seemed to regard as so many scratches, although some of them were very serious.
"Yes, I war thar, chief, an' 'twar ther hottest time o' my life. Did ye see it?"
"We reached the hilltop too late to take part. Custer gone up and all his men? Ugh! it was a heap big fight. How brother get away?"
"Wal, ye see," said Pandy, tying a rag over one of his worst wounds, and sitting with one leg over the saddle, "we war jist about goin' under, an' I'd 'cluded not to survive the boys, when Yates asked me ter make an attempt ter git away ter carry the news ter Mary, az ther feller sez, so I done it. Kin tell ye more about it another time, chief. Just now I want ter git ye ter do sumpin important. Know where Terry air?"
The chief pointed in the direction whence lay the distant Yellowstone, as Pandy well knew, and the ranger beamed his satisfaction.
"I reckon ye're correct, chief. Now, what I want is that ye send a couple o' yer men ter tell the gineral this sad news, an' git him ter hurry on hyar, fur I heerd firing down below, an' ef Reno hain't met Custer's fate he's in a bad fix anyhow. I intend ter jine him wharever he may be an' stand ther consequences. Chief, I'm off. Remember I depend on ye," and waving his hand toward his red friend, Pandy Ellis disappeared in the growing shadow that told of the coming night.
RED GOLIATH, THE GIGANTIC HERCULES.
Mason, General Custer's boy friend, leaned forward still more, relying on the hold he had upon the tree bending over the water, when that unmistakable sound, the dip of a paddle, reached his ears.
Underneath him the water of the Little Horn gurgled and plashed among the stones jutting out from the bank; close by a melancholy owl tried to make night hideous with its solemn declarations of warning, and once in a while the barking of dogs in the great village could be heard; but to these usual noises the boy paid little heed, as he had heard them for some time past.
The silver crescent still held forth in the western sky, and its meager light, augmented by the united force of stars, proved sufficient to see the opposite shore of the river, which at this point was rather narrow.
Could the boy's mental faculties have given him warning that it was not a common foe he was about to see?
There have been many occasions when persons of fine perceptions and susceptibility have realized, seemingly by tuition alone, that those whom they bear no love for are in the vicinity.
With some people this delicate sense of knowing what even the eyes and ears fail to tell becomes an art.
Many a deaf and blind man can tell, even the instant he enters the room, whether it be occupied or not, no matter how quiet those within may render themselves.
I only state this to defend my position when saying that young Mason appeared to suspect that a foe of more than common caliber was approaching.
Of course one cannot be positive as to what he thought, but at any rate the boy leaned out further than ever, and was fully engrossed in the steady but light dip of the paddle.
Whoever this night traveler was, his movements proclaimed him to be a man habitually addicted to caution.
This the boy quickly discovered, for although the canoe was undoubtedly approaching him, yet the steady dips of the paddle seemed to grow fainter if possible, or at least no louder.
Soon, by judging from the sounds he was enabled to place the exact position of the descending canoe, and a few seconds later a moving object crossed his range of vision.
That this was a boat, and that this craft contained but one person, soon became manifest as it drew nearer the concealed watcher.
The man stood erect near the stern, and held lightly poised in one hand the long paddle he had just been using.
Even in the dim light one would think an ancient giant, or at least a modern pocket edition of the famous Goliath whom David, the shepherd boy, slew with a stone, had appeared.
The colossal proportions reared themselves at least seven feet high, and being bulky in proportion the man presented a formidable aspect, such as would at sight appall a common foe.
Mason uttered a low exclamation and gave a companion start of surprise when the figure loomed into view; but after this one indication of his feelings he remained as motionless as a form of bronze.
There was no mistaking that person whom he was now looking upon; even a casual glance would have been sufficient to impress the face and figure indelibly on any mind, and surely the eyes of hate are more susceptible of retaining an object they dislike than others.
Hate was a feeble word when used in connection with the feeling our boy friend entertained towards this giant in the canoe, and if there was a word that combined fierce detestation, aversion, and a bitter longing to hack a man to pieces, together with a trifle of respect for his prowess, I should use it; but every one knows how weak the English language is in adjectives, compared with the scorching Italian.
The giant's back was toward the bank where Mason had concealed himself, and, judging from his appearance, he was closely scrutinizing the opposite shore as if intent on discovering something that required time to reveal.
At this point the river was rather swift, owing to its narrow bed, and his rapid motion seemed to interfere sadly with his study of the other bank, for he muttered several impatient words to himself in a voice that made Mason grit his teeth like a maniac when he heard it; for this verified what suspicions the sight of the form had raised.
Downward came the canoe with the current, and urged also by the impetus given by the last few dips of the paddle.
It was within a dozen feet of the spot where Mason hugged the tree-trunk, when the man threw up an arm bare to the shoulder and as knotty as the gnarled limb of an oak, and seized upon a branch that bent affectionately toward the cool water of the river. Instantly the canoe was halted in its downward course, as if a wall of stone had been suddenly reared in front of it, and remained swinging to and fro, with the water gurgling about the stern.
The giant now leaned down, and appeared to look up and down the stream as if searching for something.
This latter, which had been invisible to him while descending the stream, proved the opposite from his present post of observation, as the low ejaculation of surprise manifested.
"There it is as I expected; one, two, three a score of fires. The Indian village undoubtedly. Now, there's work before you if you expect to see that money, and such a sum ain't picked up every day these times. I've seen it when I'd a risked my life for a tenth of the gold. It's as plain as daylight; after that battle and victory, old Sitting Bull and his men 'll keep a loose camp. All that I'm afraid of are those sharp devils, Santee and Crazy Horse, for they've got such a spite against me I'd have a nice time if taken.
"Then I believe that Cheyenne chief, Black Moccasin, is here, and he bears me a grudge for that affair on the Platte.
"But what's the odds; I'm used to running risks on a lone hand, and it's in me to win or lose all. I'll cross here, leave the boat, and bring back the gal, if I have to search every lodge in the place," saying which the man let go of his hold on the branches, and gave a sweep of his paddle that startled the canoe towards the opposite bank, which at this point was low and sweeping.
Mason gave a convulsive movement when he heard that word "gal" mentioned.
"It is Red Goliath, and he has come fromhimforher."
These muttered words were all that he spoke; after that his lips remained as close and immovable as the clasps of a vise.
A few more sweeps of the paddle, almost noiselessly given, served to bring the canoe to the opposite shore, which the prow struck with a slight grating sound.
Laying down the paddle, the giant leaped upon the shore, and grasping the canoe pulled it upon the pebbly bench so that it could not be carried away by the action of the water.
As he turned around after doing this thing, adark shadowy form arose beside him, where it had up to this time crouched in the obscurity.
Other ears than the boy's had heard the suspicious dip of the paddle, and eyes that were hostile to his cause had witnessed the crossing of the giant.
Mason from his position saw this form rise up, and he realized the danger of the late oarsman, but not by word or deed did he attempt to warn the giant who was his deadly foe.
There was no necessity for a warning, however, for Red Goliath saw the uprising of the tall form that seemed almost to rival his own.
This modern giant and Hercules possessed a fierce nature, similar to that of a wild beast, and on stated occasions his thirst for blood became almost a mania, that could only be quenched in the life fluid of some one.
Perhaps one of these moods was coming upon him even then.
A looker-on would have been inclined to think so upon hearing the growl of satisfaction he gave utterance to.
When foemen worthy of each other's steel come in contact, there is seldom much time lost in skirmishing.
The Red Goliath threw himself upon his Indian foe with an agility one would hardly expect him to possess.
His assault, overpowering as it seemed, was right valiantly met by his sturdy opponent, and as the two closed, Mason could no longer see the particulars of the combat.
There was a threshing of arms for half a moment, then came the dull, sodden sound of blows delivered with telling force, and which must proceed from the white man.
The crushing nature of these was soon made clear.
One of the gigantic forms raised the other high in the air with but feeble resistance, and dashed him upon the ground with tremendous power.
As if intent on making sure of his work, the Red Goliath stooped over his fallen foe.
Something gleamed in the faint light; the sound of a blow reached Mason's ears, and the blade did not shine when it was again raised.
A hoarse chuckle that would have curdled the blood in the veins of a sensitive person proceeded from the human vampire as he arose to his feet, and after giving the corpse a kick with his heavily booted foot, replaced his knife.
It was certainly a fair fight, and the giant had the same privilege of slaying his fallen enemy that was granted in the arena at the hippodrome of Rome during ancient times; but civilization has brought with it the noble act of forgiving foes, which, however, such men as this seldom practice.
After that half laugh of triumph, Red Goliath stalked noiselessly away, and the boy was left alone with his meditations and half-shaped plans.
ADELE.
Only for a few moments did young Mason remain in this state. Then his active brain aroused him to the necessity of making each second count.
His plans were only partially matured; but it would not prove hard to fully arrange them as time wore on, and his first move was really characteristic of the boy.
Pulling out a piece of water-proof cloth, he quickly wrapped it around his revolver, and then stepped boldly down into the river.
A few seconds later he was swimming silently for the other shore, holding the revolver out of the water as much as possible by means of his teeth, in which it was clasped.
The current carried him a little distance down the stream, and he landed some ten or twelve yards below the spot where Red Goliath had left his boat.
Thanks to his buckskin garments, the water did not soak through, and after emerging from the river Mason found himself little the worse for his swim.
What to do now might have puzzled some old stagers; but the boy's action was prompt and to the point.
Stepping up to the boat, he felt along the side until his hand came in contact with a ring, and when this was found he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
Leaving the water he struck off in the same direction the giant had taken but a few moments before, passing by the dead Indian without even halting to examine the body.
Red Goliath must have been moving very slowly and cautiously after his fight, for Mason, who had, either through good luck or excellent management, hit upon the exact line of travel pursued by the giant, caught up with him before the outskirts of the village were gained. A moving form, crouching low, and yet showing the immense bulk in spite of this proceeding, was seen not ten yards ahead of him.
This was what attracted Mason's eye and kept him on the watch.
When the first lodges were passed, the danger thickened around our boy friend.
He had two sources to guard against, the giant on the one hand and the inhabitants of the village he was in the midst of on the other.
It may be surmised from this that Mason was very careful of his movements.
In spite of his size, which one would naturally suppose conducive to clumsiness, Red Goliath managed to get over ground with almost the noiseless powers of a serpent.
He seemed to be somewhat acquainted with the arrangement of the village, for he passed by dozens of lodges without giving them the least attention, his aim being to all appearances a certain spot not far from the center of the encampment, which was of so great a length.
There were several things in favor of this spying expedition which counted in the favor of the giant, and also his unseen follower.
In the first place, the night might be called dark, for the crescent moon was at the horizon, and although one might distinguish a form at ten yards distance, it would be next to impossible to declare whether the man was white or red.
Then again there were but a few hundred braves in the village, and these scattered along its entire length did not serve to even partially fill the lodges.
Where some of the late inmates were the reader knows, for brave Custer and his men fought hard, and each dragoon slew at least one Indian before going under.
What the main portion of the Sioux were about at this time will soon be made manifest, but a suspicion of the truth might be gleaned from the occasional shots that were borne by the wind from the north, where Reno had entrenched himself on one of the bluffs overlooking the river.
Red Goliath kept on his way as if he had been among the lodges before, and, to tell the truth, this was not his first visit to the village. Several nights before he had made one with the same purpose that he now had in view; but an unlucky tumble over a drunken brave had brought the Indians swarming around him like so many bees, and it took all the power the giant possessed to escape. He managed to do it, however, and by means of the canoe which we have seen him use, in coming to the point once more.
After moving forward some ten minutes, even Mason, some distance in his rear, could hear the boisterous sound of laughter and loud talking.
Where it came from would not prove hard to say, for a brilliant light, within a dwelling that seemed to be half cabin and half lodge, proclaimed its whereabouts.
There could be no doubt but what it came from white men, or at least men who were pale faces in looks but red devils by nature.
Goliath crept towards this lodge, and in another moment was beside it.
The boy moved around on the other side, and by dint of using the caution that seemed to be a part of his nature, managed to gain the dense shadow of the northern side without making an iota of noise.
Then the thought intruded itself, what if the giant should take a notion to make a circuit of the lodge?
He would certainly be found out, and Mason knew that discovery by this man meant death.
This action was promptly executed. The skins composing the lodge were loose at the bottom, and a pile of furs lay just within.
A glance at the two inmates showed that they were interested in the contents of a suspicious-looking keg, and paid no attention to anything else.
It took the boy but a moment to glide like an eel under the skin of the lodge, and hide among the furs.
From here he could watch the two men and hear all that was said without being in danger of discovery.
They were not a very nice-looking couple to gaze upon, not being overly well burdened with good looks, but the boy had seen one of them before, and it would be hard work to find any uglier man than Pedro Sanchez in this sphere of ours; so his companion might be said to possess some claims of beauty when compared with the noseless, one-eyed French creole, whose face bore the scars of some fearful combat.
Pedro was tall and slim, with the agility of a tiger combined with the ferocity of a grizzly bear.
He addressed his companion as Hoskins, and between the two they seemed to be effecting a compromise in regard to some bargain of which the nature was soon made manifest.
A faint long-drawn sigh, that told of unspoken misery close beside him, made the boy give a start, and it was with the utmost difficulty that he repressed the exclamation that arose to his lips when his eyes were turned in that direction.
From the pole of the lodge a long torch was stuck out, and the light of this served to illuminate the half where the men sat, but the cabin part was rather dim.
Guided by that sigh, however, the boy had little trouble in making out a small girlish form that crouched rather than sat upon a pile of furs, and seemed to be intently regarding the two men who laughed and grew merry over the whisky keg.
"Adele!" was the cry that arose to that brother's lips, but he bravely repressed it, and also the longing that had seized upon him to clasp that dear form to his breast and defy all enemies.
Although his ears were drinking in all that the two men said, yet his eyes were steadily glued upon the light form.
Hark! the Creole was speaking while he held up a tin cup that had lately belonged to one of Custer's men, and squinted with his one eye at its contents.
"Carramba!Hoskins, my price I think exceedingly reasonable. If you only knew the time and money I've spent in this matter, and what deadly enemies I've made by my exploit, you wouldn't begrudge me a picayune.Begar!I sent one of them to his long home in the fight to-day," and Pedro gave a hoarse laugh that grated on the nerves like a file, and would have set a sensitive person crazy.
The boy started, and unconsciously his hand sought his head where the bullet had glanced from it.
He knew now to whom he owed that debt, and gritted his teeth as he inwardly resolved to pay the amount with interest when the proper occasion presented itself.
Hoskins did not share in his companion's mirth, but appeared to be reflecting.
He soon looked up and took a sip at the liquor.
"Wal, mebbe the gal's worth it, squire. I've taken a mighty shine to her purty face, and, being in want of a wife, I guess we kin come to a bargain. Two hundred shiners, you said, and the hoss I own. We'll consider the question settled then. Now let's take a look at my property."
Pedro jumped to his feet with alacrity, and led the girl forward, much against her will.
As the torchlight fell on that sunny head, with its masses of golden hair and tear-bedimmed face, Mason ground his teeth in mingled rage and pity, and at the same time drew out his revolver. It was fated differently, however.
Hoskins feasted his eyes upon Adele's delicate beauty, and the grin that came upon his face told Pedro that he was satisfied with the bargain.
"Old hoss, we're squar on that. Gal, look up. Ye're mine now, body and soul. D'ye hear me? I've bought ye with a price, and I'd jest like fur the man to show himself what's goin' to take ye from me," said Hoskins.
There was a queer ripping sound. Mason saw a shining blade cut the skins of the lodge as if they were paper, and through this opening leaped Red Goliath, with a revolver in one hand and a knife in the other, and the brief exclamation of "I'm the identical chap."
HOSKINS PAYS NATURE'S DEBT—ABOUT THE FIRST HE EVER DID.
Hoskins may have been astonished at this sudden intrusion and answer to the vain question he asked. I have no doubt but what he was, more especially when his eyes took in the huge form of the giant, but his surprise was as nothing when compared to the consternation exhibited by the creole.
Pedro Sanchez had appeared in the jolliest possible humor a few moments before; now, the smile that had illuminated his face at the time of the giant's entrance seemed frozen there.
Pedro Sanchez had good cause to remember Red Goliath.
The two had been comrades in crime, and together they had committed many of the deeds that made the city of New Orleans tremble to its center.
Between them they had carried off Adele, hoping to secure a heavy ransom from her mother.
At this time the treachery so natural to Sanchez exhibited itself.
A desire to obtain the whole reward, on which he could retire from business, possessed him, and he attempted to get rid of his comrade by pushing the giant over the edge of an abyss on the southern plains.
The creole really thought the other dead, but in some way Red Goliath escaped with severe injuries, that laid him up for months at a cabin.
There he became acquainted with a gentleman who had recently left New Orleans for his health, having slain his distinguished foeman in a duel, and who intended staying away until the affair blew over.
In a conversation with this man, the giant became acquainted with several things that entirely changed the tenor of his ideas, and an understanding followed between them.
When Red Goliath started on the trail of vengeance, he had no intention of restoring Adele to her mother for a ransom, as a much larger sum had been offered him than he could ever expect from the lady, to carry her away to a point from whence she should never return, and the duelist had even hinted that he should not weep very much should news of her death reach him.
The truth of the matter was that Adele Pierrepont and her brother, Mason, stood between Luke Camden, the duelist and an immense fortune, and the idea of getting rid of the two had only entered his head when he heard through the giant that the girl had already been carried away.
Red Goliath proved a true traitor.
He had tracked his treacherous companion all the way from the plains of Texas to the pastures in the north, where the white man joined teams with Sitting Bull's gang of plunderers and thieves, where his merits in the peculiar line of business he dealt in were duly appreciated.
No wonder, then, that the creole shivered in dread when he saw the man whom he had attempted to murder standing before him with a deadly revolver in his hand, and cruel vengeance flashing from his eyes.
At first Pedro's hands failed to do their duty, and hung limp by his sides.
"Aha! it is thus we meet, my fine chicken," said the giant, who evidently had a tinge of the dramatic in his nature.
By the light of the torch it could now be seen that his hair and beard gave rise to the first half of his name, being of a fiery hue.
His eyes were small and deep-set, glittering like a snake's.
Pedro Sanchez was actually too frightened to say a word in answer to this implied question.
He could only stand and glare like a wild beast at bay and powerless to help itself.
The giant seemed rather talkative in his triumph.
"Pushed Red Goliath down a gulch, half a mile deep. Thought he'd die like a rat in its hole. Aha! my fine fellow, bushes are great inventions; thanks to them I am here now—here to claim my vengeance. Five thousand dollars tempted you, did it? Well, I want to tell you I'm offered double as much to keep the gal away forever: kill her if I like. Now, Brutus, your time has about come. Are you ready to meet your just doom?"
Pedro was shivering as only a man can who sees instant death before him, and his chattering teeth precluded the possibility of a reply.
The giant smiled derisively, and turned his eyes on Hoskins.
At this critical period the individual proved himself the possessor of more courage than the boasting creole.
Perhaps this arose from his ignorance of the giant's power, which Pedro was well acquainted with.
"Who the deuce are you that comes breaking into a man's house, and talking about doom and all that sort of thing? By George! I've a notion to——" began Hoskins in a blustering tone, but he came to an abrupt pause, for the giant seeing where it was most needed had swung the revolver around until it covered his form.
"You're mistaken. You haven't any notion at all, and it'll be better for your health if you don't have any. Asked me what I came here for; you invited me; declared you would like to see the man that was going to take the gal from you, so I showed myself. Now, my rooster, what's what with you?"
Hoskins seemed to have some spirit in him at any rate.
"Fool," said he, "one shot from your pistol would put you in a hornet's nest. If I choose to shout, a hundred braves will surround the lodge."
"As to the alarm, I care nothing for that; knew I couldn't do any work without raising it; but I swear you shan't shout again in this world, though you may in the one below us. Die, you dog."
The sudden startling crack of a revolver rang out.
Red Goliath had fired. There was an awful shudder on the part of Hoskins; a gurgling sound as if he was trying to curse his slayer, and then the stricken man fell to the ground shot through the heart. Turning on the creole, Red Goliath again raised his death-dealing revolver.
Pedro had slunk away and was crouching on the ground.
At this contemptible display of cowardice, the giant gave him a hearty kick of derision, in order to induce him to stand erect; but it only had the effect of flattening the miscreant out still more.
There was no time to waste, as the Indians must already be alarmed.
Firing two shots into the dark corner where Pedro had crouched, the giant hurriedly replaced his weapons.
Then like a flash he seized upon Adele, lifted her light form as easily as if she had been a feather, and dashed out.
An Indian met him just beyond the lodge.
One sweep of the giant's disengaged arm sent him to the ground like a ten-pin overwhelmed by a ball.
Although braves were appearing in every direction, Red Goliath sped onward like an antelope, the burden he carried appeared as nothing.
The village was soon left behind, and when the open ground was at length gained, two shadowy figures flitting close behind him proclaimed the fact that these were his only pursuers.
To get rid of them was an easy task to a man like the Hercules, who was well versed in every detail of fight and strategy, and armed into the bargain.
Again the revolver came into play.
Suddenly halting, and wheeling in his tracks, he presented the weapon.
With its first crack one of the pursuers described a parabola in the air, as if he had leaped from a spring-board, and upon touching the ground lay very, very quiet.
The second attempted to dodge, but soon found out that lead can travel mortally fast when driven by powder.
He made his way into camp half an hour later with a broken arm, and the bullet lodged in his side.
Having thus rid himself of both pursuers, the giant once more rushed along.
The river bank was gained, and also the canoe.
"Whoop! hurrah! won it, by George! run the gauntlet too," said the daring man to himself, as he placed Adele, too powerless with terror to resist, in the boat; and after pushing the craft off, sprang in himself.
Young Mason had been so taken aback by the giant's sudden shots and his rapid flight that even had he so wished he could have done nothing to prevent him.
Before he actually realized what had occurred, Red Goliath had vanished from the lodge, carrying the boy's darling sister with him.
It seemed but half a minute had passed, and Mason was about to rise up from his place of concealment and follow on the giant's trail, when half a dozen Indians burst into the lodge to see what damage had been done here.
Hoskins would never steal another horse, he had gone to that bourne from whence no traveler e'er returns; in a word he was dead.
Pedro came crawling out of the dark corner with a hole in him large enough to let the life out of any common man, but which did not appear to inconvenience him at all.
For several moments they jabbered away in a tongue unknown to our hero, much to his disgust, for he was impatient.
When they at length left the lodge, Pedro securing the gold his late companion possessed before doing so, Mason gave a sigh of relief, and made haste to throw off the warm furs in which he had been wrapped.
Then he boldly stalked from the lodge, walking as if he had a perfect right in the village. Several times he came across braves, and on such occasions grasped hold of a revolver, ready for service, but his bearing must have deceived the red-skins, for he was not molested.
After gaining the outskirts of the village, Mason struck at once for the river.
He knew that it was too late to reach the place where the canoe had been left before the giant, and had resolved to wait for it at a point below.
The wisdom of his course was soon made apparent, for his sharp eyes caught sight of a dark object moving slowly down the river near the other bank.
It was Red Goliath's canoe.
WHITE THUNDER ON THE RAMPAGE.
When Bolly Wherrit left the great Indian camp behind him, and headed for the distant hills, he had no intention of leaving the vicinity.
An object had attracted him hither, which, though backed by a golden reward, had something else behind it as an invigorator that proved far more potent with the old ranger than the money involved.
His own words had proclaimed that the cause of his hastening north, leaving his chum Pandy Ellis in the thick of some business that concerned them both, was a beautiful woman's tears.
Bolly always was weak as regarded the other sex, and knowing this reverence of his, which can hardly be called a failing, it has been a continual wonder to me why the ranger never married, especially as he must have been a fine-looking fellow in his younger days, judging from the grand old face he possesses at the present writing.
I strongly suspect, however, that in his youth Bolly had loved and been deceived, and although he never ceased caring for the ladies, he regarded them with suspicion when he came to the point.
As he rode along Bolly was engaged in various conjectures, the main subject of which was the rescue of Adele, for the reader must know by this time that this was the object that had sent Bolly from New Orleans to this northern province in such haste.
The sun was sinking down in the western sky, and the shadows were growing very long, when Bolly reached the hills.
A stream of water, so cold that one could almost believe it an ice spring, murmured among the stone, and pursued its tortuous way through the neighboring ravine, heading for the Little Horn, where its waters were quickly engulfed by the larger stream.
At this Bolly came to a halt, and allowed Black Bess to drink all that she wished, dismounting first to quench his own thirst.
The ranger did not attempt to climb the hills, as it would have proven a difficult task, and one which there was no necessity for, as he intended doing some work before morning came on.
Longer grew the shadows, and more gloomy the ravines between the elevations, as the prairie ranger galloped slowly along the foot of the range.
Night at length closed around him; the peaks were dimly outlined against the sky in which the stars began to appear.
In the west the infant moon looked like a silver bond of promise to the good welfare of man, and smiled upon the earth as if in pity at its forlorn and unlighted condition.
All of these things Bolly noticed with the air of a man whose mind is preoccupied, and whose thoughts have no range beyond a certain point.
Now that quite a distance separated him from the huge Sioux village, the usual sounds that accompany a night upon the plains came to his ears, and it really seemed as though the wolves howled and the coyotes barked louder than ever on this particular occasion.
Perhaps with their more than human instinct, these beasts of carrion knew of the feast for their hungry maws, that the setting sun had shone upon, and which was not yet ready for them because of the many moving figures in that terrible ravine of death.
A whippoorwill sending forth his plaintive cry near by, and the shrill scream of a night hawk from a neighboring tree, aroused Bolly from the stupor as it might almost be called, into which he had unconsciously fallen.
For the first time he noticed that Black Bess had carried him into the midst of a forest that lay at the foot of the hills.
As he made this discovery, the distant murmur of running water came to his ears, which could not be made by a creek.
Undoubtedly it was the river that he was nearing, and as this was just what he desired, Bolly let his sable steed continue her own course.
Five minutes later he brought the animal to a halt.
Before him rolled the Little Horn with its shady banks, the starlight glinting from the tiny waves that the adverse wind gave rise to.
Long and earnestly Bolly looked at the water.
He had built his schemes upon the river, and being in a contemplative mood, he was wondering whether the morning would see him successful or the reverse.
From this serious state he was abruptly aroused by a sound that to ears of experience like his bespoke danger.
Only a twig snapped by some incautious foot, but it had a world of meaning to the ranger.
As if it affected him like electricity, Bolly slid from the back of Black Bess, and crouched on that side of the horse nearest to the seat of danger.
The rifle he held was laid gently upon the ground, and in its stead he quickly laid hold of the formidable knife taken from the Indian who had been placed over his prison as a guard.
Although these movements were accomplished with all the noiseless powers of a tiger, Bolly was not unobserved.
Two pair of gleaming eyes had noted his descent from the horse, and hardly had the ranger laid hold of his knife than he was called upon to use it.
A form arose lightly in the air, and passing over the bushes like a bird, landed close beside him.
Following this came a second, and as this man landed he gave a fierce shout, the pent-up air of his jump forcing itself through his teeth with the shrill force of a steam-whistle.
There was no such thing as taking Bolly Wherrit unawares. A man who had earned the name of White Thunder and Never Sleep among the northern tribes might be surprised, as he was not possessed of a second sight to divine ambuscades, but his enemies always found him ready.
The first man who leaped went to immediate death, for, as he braced himself to recover from the force of his jump, the ranger gave one spring and plunged his knife forward. It entered the broad red chest with a sickening thud, and when Bolly pulled it out again, a perfect deluge of blood followed.
Sickening as was the sight of this tottering man, actually turning pale from loss of blood, we soldiers have to witness far more terrible things, such as would make a civilian faint with horror.
The old ranger had seen worse in his day, when dear comrades were roasted before his eyes at the stake, and besides he had no time to waste in heroics.
His second foeman aimed a vicious blow at his head with a tomahawk that glittered like steel or silver as it flew by.
This intended death-blow Bolly avoided by a dip of the head, and in another instant the two were locked in a close embrace.
The Indian had managed to lay hold of his knife, so that the combatants were equally well armed.
Before a dozen seconds had passed Bolly discovered that he had no puny antagonist with whom to combat, for the fellow seemed to possess muscles of iron, and even by exerting all his strength, the ranger failed to raise him from the ground to dash him down, as he had done many a man before.
They were in such a situation that if either attempted to use his knife, the other would have the advantage for an instant, and even this short time might prove disastrous to all cherished hopes of victory.
An idea came into Bolly's head which told him that the advantage really lay in his favor, for while fully the Indian's equal in strength, he also possessed some knowledge of scientific wrestling, against which the brave could oppose nothing in the same line.
The chance soon presented itself, and was promptly seized upon.
By an adroit fling of his foot, and a corresponding whirl with his arms, the ranger completely demolished his sturdy but ignorant foeman.
Falling underneath, the Indian knew that his chances of escape were slight, indeed, unless he managed to hold the ranger down, and dropping his knife, he attempted to accomplish this by clasping Bolly around the chest.
Unfortunately, however, for him, his hands failed to meet, and he could not put forth his full amount of strength.
Our old friend broke loose from the death clasp.
A cry of alarm burst from the doomed man's lips when he saw the red blade uplifted, but the outstretched arms were dashed aside, and the knife descended.
"That fur Tom Garny, blast yer hide," he muttered, and his foe was dead.
As the ranger was shaking himself to see that no material damage had befallen him through his recent struggle, the reports of several guns, followed by savage shouts, came from the bluffs across the river and further up. It proceeded from besieged Reno and his foes, but Bolly did not know this.
"Ah! sum o' ye over yonder I reckon. Wonder what became o' Custer, for it must hev been him, az no wun else'd rush inter danger like that. Sounds mighty bad; they hain't kerried the town, an' I'm afraid the yaller-haired chief hez either gone under or else had ter retreat, a thing I never knew him ter do, long az I've been acquainted—ha! what in blazes! Bolly Wherrit, down ye imp. Bess, silence now, old girl. Byes, do yer juty now, fur thar's sumpin' a comin' this way that needs lookin' arter."
The ranger sank out of sight as if he had been shot.
RENO'S RIFLE-PITS ON THE RIVER BLUFFS.
The human mind differs so greatly with various individuals that what might be said of one person, proves exactly the opposite in another.
It has truly been remarked that one man's food is poison to another, and the same may be said of the capacity of their intellect.
Pandy Ellis, the veteran ranger of the wild West, whose days had been passed among scenes of danger from boyhood up to old age, was the possessor of an iron will and a stout heart.
He had witnessed, almost with composure, it might be said, scenes that would have made many a brave man turn pale and tremble; had passed through others, not unscratched either, when dear friends fell to rise no more, and yet had not been shocked.
The utter annihilation of Custer's devoted command had actually appalled him, and put him in the gloomiest state possible.
It was perhaps the fearful fact that not one in that gallant band came out to tell the tale, that worked so on his feelings.
Had some escaped, the affair would have lost some of that horrible fascination that proceeded from the fact that every one, officers and men alike, had been swept into eternity, just as surely as if an earthquake had swallowed them.
Eagle Eye, the Crow chief, had promised to send some of his men with the news to Terry; at least his silence had been the same as an acquiescence, and this finished his obligations toward the ill-fated Colonel Yates.
The sound of firing in the advance told Pandy that Major Reno was actively engaged on the bluffs, and aroused by the thought that there was hot work yet before him, he urged Nancy forward. As night closed about him, it could not but be conducive of gloomy thoughts, for the darkness appeared to communicate itself to the mind in some way or other, keeping brighter ideas at bay.
As he advanced, carefully now, as the way was rough and unfamiliar, the sounds in front grew clearer until the old ranger knew that he was drawing near the scene of action.
It would be impossible to join Reno on horseback, if the position of the troops was as bad as he suspected, and the next thing for him to do, would be to hide Nancy in some place wherehecould find her again, but no one else.
Such a spot he was not long in ferreting out, and after securing the horse by means of his lariat, Pandy moved forward once more.
Louder came the detonation from guns and shouts from dusky throats, threatening everything that was terrible to the remnant of the gallant Seventh; and yet their answering yells and shots proved the young fellows to be undaunted by the fate that seemed staring them in the face.
Pandy stood and listened, on the brow of an eminence, striving to pierce the gloom ahead with those eagle-like eyes.
Something like a cheer arose to his mouth at the unflinching bravery exhibited by these blue-coated heroes, as they gave back shout for shout.
Although the light at a distance was deceptive and uncertain, he could make out that Reno had planted his command on the top of the bluffs, to stand what might be called a siege.
In the haste of the movement, and worried by the Indians, the courageous major had, unfortunately for those under his command, selected a spot that was controlled by higher points on either side.
From one of these latter it would not have been a very difficult task to keep the enemy at bay, but now he had a double danger to contend against, as the Indians occupied the heights around him, and also attempted to storm his position.
It is doubtful whether the handful of the gallant Seventh who lived through this night and the succeeding day, will ever forget how the minutes dragged on, and yet I have no doubt but what in these dangerous hours some of them joked and laughed with that terriblesang froidmen often assume when all hope is gone.
From his position the old prairie ranger could see that some kind of earthwork or rifle-pits had been constructed, and behind these rough shelters the tigers fought their fiendish foemen.
As yet Major Reno's men had had no suspicion of the awful calamity that had overtaken Custer and his three hundred men. So confident of success had the general been, that he divided what troops he had, so as to inclose the Indian village.
When they galloped away, it was the last that had been seen of them. True, some firing had been heard several miles away, long continued, as though an obstinate battle was in progress; but this had died away by evening.
Opinions differed, as they always will among many men. Some felt sure that Custer had defeated the Indians, marched on the village, and that any moment they might expect to see a huge bonfire in progress.
Others of a more reflective nature looked at the matter in a more serious light, thinking it not improbable that dashing Custer himself had been the sufferer, and that he would find it difficult to join them; but none ever suspected the horrible truth even for a moment.
That five companies of the bravest men in the old Seventh should have been completely swept out of existence was something almost preposterous.
When Pandy found himself gazing upon this scene, he began pinching himself, uncertain whether to believe his eyes or not.
"Lord help us, what's ther world comin' to, I'd like ter know? Wen these hyar reds gobble up ther bravest gineral az ever drew breath wid all his men, and then squat down round ther rest as if ther meal warn't complete, it's time ole Uncle Samuel war wakin' up. Blast my hide, ole Sitting Bull must be extarminated for this. I shall never hev any peace in life till it's done. But looky hyar now, ole man, bizness must be 'tended to. Ye'd like ter be wid Reno an' his men yonder, so az ter share in ther fun. Don't see any other way o' gittin' round it. Needs must wen ther devil drives, az ther feller sez. Now, jest show us wat ye kin do at this advanced period o' life in this line."
Communing with himself in his way the ranger began descending the elevation from which he had seen at the same time as much and as little. The valley below looked forbidding, but to a man of Pandy's nature, and who had so recently passed through such a horrible affair, a thing like this did not serve to daunt in the least. Soon he found himself gulfed in the darkness; the shots came from above him, and ten minutes after quitting his post of observation, an eagle's eyrie as it seemed, the trapper was cautiously making his way upward again.
There were manifold sources of danger on all sides against which he was compelled to guard himself. In every red warrior (and the hill actually swarmed with them) he had a deadly foe as a white man, and an inveterate one as the only Pandy Ellis. Besides there was a chance that the gallant boys above, deeming every moving object an enemy, would either fire upon him, or use their sabers as he attempted to mount the breastworks. It was a risky business, but one in which Pandy delighted.
Making use of each bush and rock, he slowly ascended the steep inclined plane. At times he was so close to some of the Indians, that he might have touched them with his arm had he so desired; but the reader may rest assured, Pandy did not take the trouble to test this. He was fated, however, to meet with one scrape before gaining his destination, and which came very near being fatal to him.
It was among a cluster of rocks, and the ranger had mounted a sort of cliff to expedite matters. Accidents are not confined alone to the careless, although they meet with more than the prudent, no doubt. Pandy's foot slipped and over he went.
It was certainly mortifying that after taking five minutes to get up this nice little cliff, he should descend it in a few seconds; it would have been even more so had he landed on the hard rocks below, for the fall was no petty one.
As luck would have it, however, an Indian brave happened to be below, and on this poor devil came the brunt of the tumble.
This being in the shape of a hundred and sixty pounds avoirdupois, proved to be too much for the equanimity of his mind and the balance of his body, as the poor fellow immediately collapsed.
He was only a little confused, however, and had sense enough to lay hold of the object that struck him, so that Pandy sought the ground almost as soon as did the other.
Perhaps the Indian had a vague notion that it was a comrade who had fallen upon him. If so, then he had no time to frame this idea into a thought, for the hill-top fell over upon him, at least the warrior thought so when he opened his eyes hours later in this world of pain.
Pandy had only given him a sound argument in the shape of a blow between the eyes.
Again the ranger pursued his upward way.
The small cliff was successfully scaled, and beyond this traveling seemed much easier so far as lifeless obstructions were concerned.
It would be impossible to follow Pandy's movements after this; they were inimical with those of a snake, crawling hither and thither, passing under the noses of red watchers, and close beside the fighting braves.
How he did it the trapper chief could not tell himself. With a thousand chances against him, he successfully gave the savage Sioux the slip, and, all unknown to them, passed from their outer line, and scaling the rudely thrown up earth-works, found himself among the rifle pits of the soldiers.