the tent of San-it-sa-rish.
Once again this chief stood between the hunters and
the savages, who wanted but a signal to fall on them.
There was a long palaver, which ended in Henri being
set at liberty and the rifle being restored.
That evening, as the three friends sat beside their
fire eating their supper of boiled maize and buffalo meat,
they laughed and talked as carelessly as ever; but the
gaiety was assumed, for they were at the time planning
their escape from a tribe which, they foresaw, would
not long refrain from carrying out their wishes, and
robbing, perhaps murdering them.
"Ye see," said Joe with a perplexed air, while he
drew a piece of live charcoal from the fire with his
fingers and lighted his pipe--"ye see, there's more difficulties
in the way o' gettin' off than ye think--"
"Oh, nivare mind de difficulties," interrupted Henri,
whose wrath at the treatment he had received had not
yet cooled down. "Ve must jump on de best horses
ve can git hold, shake our fists at de red reptiles, and
go away fast as ve can. De best hoss
must
vin de
race."
Joe shook his head. "A hundred arrows would be
in our backs before we got twenty yards from the
camp. Besides, we can't tell which are the best horses.
Our own are the best in my 'pinion, but how are we to
git' em?"
"I know who has charge o' them," said Dick. "I
saw them grazing near the tent o' that poor squaw
whose baby was saved by Crusoe. Either her husband
looks after them or some neighbours."
"That's well," said Joe. "That's one o' my difficulties
gone."
"What are the others?"
"Well, d'ye see, they're troublesome. We can't git
the horses out o' camp without bein' seen, for the red
rascals would see what we were at in a jiffy. Then, if
we do git 'em out, we can't go off without our bales,
an' we needn't think to take 'em from under the nose
o' the chief and his squaws without bein' axed questions.
To go off without them would niver do at all."
"Joe," said Dick earnestly, "I've hit on a plan."
"Have ye, Dick--what is't?"
"Come and I'll let ye see," answered Dick, rising
hastily and quitting the tent, followed by his comrades
and his faithful dog.
It may be as well to remark here, that no restraint
whatever had yet been put on the movements of our
hunters as long as they kept to their legs, for it was
well known that any attempt by men on foot to escape
from mounted Indians on the plains would be hopeless.
Moreover, the savages thought that as long as there was
a prospect of their being allowed to depart peaceably
with their goods, they would not be so mad as to fly
from the camp, and, by so doing, risk their lives and
declare war with their entertainers. They had therefore
been permitted to wander unchecked, as yet, far
beyond the outskirts of the camp, and amuse themselves
in paddling about the lake in the small Indian canoes
and shooting wild-fowl.
Dick now led the way through the labyrinths of
tents in the direction of the lake, and they talked and
laughed loudly, and whistled to Crusoe as they went,
in order to prevent their purpose being suspected. For
the purpose of further disarming suspicion, they went
without their rifles. Dick explained his plan by the
way, and it was at once warmly approved of by his
comrades.
On reaching the lake they launched a small canoe,
into which Crusoe was ordered to jump; then, embarking,
they paddled swiftly to the opposite shore, singing
a canoe song as they dipped their paddles in the moonlit
waters of the lake. Arrived at the other side, they
hauled the canoe up and hurried through the thin belt
of wood and willows that intervened between the lake
and the prairie. Here they paused.
"Is that the bluff, Joe?"
"No, Dick; that's too near. T'other one'll be best--far
away to the right. It's a little one, and there's
others near it. The sharp eyes o' the Redskins won't
be so likely to be prowlin' there."
"Come on, then; but we'll have to take down by the
lake first."
In a few minutes the hunters were threading their
way through the outskirts of the wood at a rapid trot,
in the opposite direction from the bluff, or wooded knoll,
which they wished to reach. This they did lest prying
eyes should have followed them. In quarter of an hour
they turned at right angles to their track, and struck
straight out into the prairie, and after a long run they
edged round and came in upon the bluff from behind.
It was merely a collection of stunted but thick-growing
willows.
Forcing their way into the centre of this they began
to examine it.
"It'll do," said Joe.
"De very ting," remarked Henri.
"Come here, Crusoe."
Crusoe bounded to his master's side, and looked up
in his face.
"Look at this place, pup; smell it well."
Crusoe instantly set off all round among the willows,
in and out, snuffing everywhere, and whining with excitement.
"Come here, good pup; that will do. Now, lads,
we'll go back." So saying, Dick and his friends left
the bluff, and retraced their steps to the camp. Before
they had gone far, however, Joe halted, and said,--
"D'ye know, Dick, I doubt if the pup's so cliver as
ye think. What if he don't quite onderstand ye?"
Dick replied by taking off his cap and throwing it
down, at the same time exclaiming, "Take it yonder,
pup," and pointing with his hand towards the bluff.
The dog seized the cap, and went off with it at full
speed towards the willows, where it left it, and came
galloping back for the expected reward--not now, as in
days of old, a bit of meat, but a gentle stroke of its
head and a hearty clap on its shaggy side.
"Good pup! go now an' fetch it."
Away he went with a bound, and in a few seconds
came back and deposited the cap at his master's feet.
"Will that do?" asked Dick, triumphantly.
"Ay, lad, it will. The pup's worth its weight in
goold."
"Oui, I have said, and I say it agen, de dog is
human
,
so him is. If not, fat am he?"
Without pausing to reply to this perplexing question,
Dick stepped forward again, and in half-an-hour or
so they were back in the camp.
"Now for
your
part of the work, Joe. Yonder's the
squaw that owns the half-drowned baby. Everything
depends on her."
Dick pointed to the Indian woman as he spoke. She
was sitting beside her tent, and playing at her knee
was the identical youngster who had been saved by
Crusoe.
"I'll manage it," said Joe, and walked towards her,
while Dick and Henri returned to the chief's tent.
"Does the Pawnee woman thank the Great Spirit
that her child is saved?" began Joe as he came up.
"She does," answered the woman, looking up at the
hunter. "And her heart is warm to the Pale-faces."
After a short silence Joe continued,--
"The Pawnee chiefs do not love the Pale-faces.
Some of them hate them."
"The Dark Flower knows it," answered the woman;
"she is sorry. She would help the Pale-faces if she
could."
This was uttered in a low tone, and with a meaning
glance of the eye.
Joe hesitated again--could he trust her? Yes; the
feelings that filled her breast and prompted her words
were not those of the Indian just now--they were those of a
mother
,
whose gratitude was too full for utterance.
"Will the Dark Flower," said Joe, catching the name
she had given herself, "help the Pale-face if he opens
his heart to her? Will she risk the anger of her
nation?"
"She will," replied the woman; "she will do what
she can."
Joe and his dark friend now dropped their high-sounding
style of speech, and spoke for some minutes
rapidly in an undertone. It was finally arranged that
on a given day, at a certain hour, the woman should
take the four horses down the shores of the lake to
its lower end, as if she were going for firewood, there
cross the creek at the ford, and drive them to the
willow bluff, and guard them till the hunters should
arrive.
Having settled this, Joe returned to the tent and
informed his comrades of his success.
During the next three days Joe kept the Indians in
good-humour by giving them one or two trinkets, and
speaking in glowing terms of the riches of the white
men, and the readiness with which they would part
with them to the savages if they would only make
peace.
Meanwhile, during the dark hours of each night,
Dick managed to abstract small quantities of goods
from their pack, in room of which he stuffed in pieces
of leather to keep up the size and appearance. The
goods thus taken out he concealed about his person, and
went off with a careless swagger to the outskirts of
the village, with Crusoe at his heels. Arrived there,
he tied the goods in a small piece of deerskin, and gave
the bundle to the dog, with the injunction, "Take it
yonder, pup."
Crusoe took it up at once, darted off at full speed
with the bundle in his mouth, down the shore of the
lake towards the ford of the river, and was soon lost
to view. In this way, little by little, the goods were
conveyed by the faithful dog to the willow bluff and
left there, while the stuffed pack still remained in safe
keeping in the chiefs tent.
Joe did not at first like the idea of thus sneaking off
from the camp, and more than once made strong efforts
to induce San-it-sa-rish to let him go; but even that
chief's countenance was not so favourable as it had been.
It was clear that he could not make up his mind to let
slip so good a chance of obtaining guns, powder and
shot, horses, and goods, without any trouble; so Joe
made up his mind to give them the slip at once.
A dark night was chosen for the attempt, and the
Indian woman went off with the horses to the place
where firewood for the camp was usually cut. Unfortunately,
the suspicion of that wily savage Mahtawa
had been awakened, and he stuck close to the hunters
all day--not knowing what was going on, but feeling
convinced that something was brewing which he resolved
to watch, without mentioning his suspicions to
any one.
"I think that villain's away at last," whispered Joe
to his comrades. "It's time to go, lads; the moon
won't be up for an hour. Come along."
"Have ye got the big powder-horn, Joe?"
"Ay, ay, all right."
"Stop! stop! my knife, my couteau. Ah, here I be!
Now, boy."
The three set off as usual, strolling carelessly to the
outskirts of the camp; then they quickened their pace,
and, gaining the lake, pushed off in a small canoe.
At the same moment Mahtawa stepped from the
bushes, leaped into another canoe, and followed them.
"Ha! he must die," muttered Henri.
"Not at all," said Joe; "we'll manage him without
that."
The chief landed and strode boldly up to them, for
he knew well that whatever their purpose might be
they would not venture to use their rifles within sound
of the camp at that hour of the night. As for their
knives, he could trust to his own active limbs and the
woods to escape and give the alarm if need be.