After the failure of his horse-capturing expedition, the reflections of George Benning were far from pleasant. He had not only met with poor success is getting horses, but had lost his three companions. His own escape had been wonderful, his life having been in the greatest peril, and he was sure that a horrible death would be the fate of those who had been taken. His only consolation was in the thought that he had done all in his power to render the expedition a success, and that it had not failed through any fault of his own. If he could blame himself for any thing, it was only for having taken Dennis Regan as one of his party.
He found himself alone, and further than ever from the object which he had undertaken, the rescue of Flora Robinette. He still had his strength and his weapons, and had a good horse under him; but what could one man do against a tribe of Indians? He had no thought, however, of giving up the search; but was determined to persevere, if it should take a lifetime, until he could recover the lady of his love, or learn her fate.
He rode on until he was satisfied that the Indians did not intend to pursue him any further, when he halted by the side of a wooded stream. Here he kindled a little fire, cooked and ate his supper, and, after tethering his horse, wrapped himself in his blanket, and lay down to sleep.
It was long before sleep visited his eyelids; but when it did come it seemed that it would never leave him. He was awoke, at last, by some strange sounds, which had formed part of his dreams. Starting up, he perceived that it was broad daylight, and that he was surrounded by a group of Indians. Manyothers could be seen in the timber and on the plain, and a number of horses were feeding along the stream.
There was no chance to escape, if he had thought it advisable to make the attempt. A brief glance showed him, however, that these Indians were Crows, who were generally considered friendly to the white men, although Pap Byers had been certain that they were Crows who had made the attack upon Mr. Robinette’s encampment.
If he had any doubts, they were soon dispelled by one of the chiefs, who approached him, and greeted him kindly, asking how he happened to be there alone.
As it was possible that the opinion of Byers might have been correct, Wilder thought it best to say nothing concerning the disaster to Mr. Robinette’s expedition. He stated that he, with three companions, had been endeavoring to recover some horses that had been taken from them by the Blackfeet; that they were caught in the attempt, and his friends had been killed or captured, while he had made a narrow escape from his pursuers.
The chief informed him, in return, that they were a war-party, who had set out for the purpose of taking some horses or scalps, and asked how far it was to the Blackfoot village.
Wilder replied that it was distant not more than two hours’ ride, and pointed out the direction in which he supposed it to lie. At the same time he proffered his services to the Crows, if they should attack the Blackfeet, hoping that his friends had been captured, and that he might be able to rescue them.
Spies were sent to reconnoiter the village, and the Crows staid where they were during the remainder of the day. Toward evening the spies came in, and reported that the village consisted of about two hundred lodges, but there did not seem to be many warriors in it.
The Crow chief waited for another band, that was expected the next day. On their arrival, he divided his warriors into two parties, one of which was to attack the village from the west, and the other from the east. Shortly after dark they had reached their stations; but their approach had been discovered, and the surprise was not as perfect as they hoped to make it. They charged in, however, and, after a brief struggle, drove their adversaries from the village.
Those of the Blackfeet warriors who survived this contest, together with their women and children, took refuge in a dense thicket, where they fortified themselves as well as they could, and defended the position with the obstinacy of despair.
While the efforts of the Crows were devoted to dislodging their enemies from this refuge, George Benning hastened through the village in search of his late companions.
He soon found Pap Byers and Dennis Regan. They had been left in an open lodge, guarded by two Indians. When their guards had been killed or driven away, they came out, and found themselves at liberty.
Byers was very thankful for his deliverance and expressed gratitude quite warmly; but the Irishman remained silent. Instead of replying to the questions that Benning addressed to him, he only shook his head, and pointed to his tongue.
“What is the matter with Denny?” asked the partisan, in surprise.
“The critter has gone dumb,” replied Byers. “When I told him that the red-skins allowed to burn us, he swore that he wouldn’t speak a word for six months, if he could git out of the scrape. I thought the durned fool was jokin’; but it seems he was in ‘arnest, as he has helt out so fur without speakin’.”
“If he had made that resolution earlier, it would have been better for all of us. How did it happen that you were not burned?”
“The red-skins took us out to roast us. They tied us to stakes and built a fire around us. It was all up with this child, I allowed, and the fire was jest beginnin’ to scorch, when a white man stepped in and scattered the fire, and swore that they shouldn’t burn us while he lived.”
“I should think he would not have been likely to live long, after that.”
“I tell ye, cap’n, he skeered ’em. Some of them red-skins nearly turned white. Thar was some talk, and then a lot of red-skins j’ined the white man, and thar was a right smart chance fur a big row; but it quieted down arter a bit, and then they turned us loose.”
“It is very strange. It is seldom that a white man gainssuch influence among the Blackfeet. Do you know who he was?”
“They called him Silverspur. He was young, but a right smart chance of a man.”
“Silverspur? I have heard of him; in fact, I have seen him. His name is Wilder, if I remember rightly. He is a brave man, and fine-looking, but of an unsettled disposition. It would not surprise me if he had joined the Blackfeet. If he has, they will not keep him long. What has become of Sam Glass?”
“He was killed in the scrimmage. The red-skins danced over his scalp and Mr. Robinette’s the night they took us.”
“Mr. Robinette’s?”
“Yes, sir. I was mistooken about its bein’ the Crows who raised the old man’s ha’r. They were Blackfeet who pounced onto us.”
“Did they carry away Miss Flora, or was she killed? Have you heard any thing about her?”
“She was here; but she’s gone now; and that’s why you had sech an easy time whippin’ this village of Blackfeet. Ef it hadn’t been fur her, the job would hev been a leetle tougher, I reckon.”
“How so? What do you mean?”
“I heerd the red-skins torkin’ about it. That white man, Silverspur, kerried her off last night, and one of the red-skins went with him. Leastways, she was missin’, and so war those two men. Thar was a big hullabaloo raised this mornin’, as the head chief had sot his eye on her fur a wife, and they war mad, too, about the red-skin goin’ off with Silverspur. A right smart chance of warriors mounted and rode off arter ’em, and that’s how thar warn’t many in the village when you came.”
“Was she willing to go with that—with Silverspur?”
“How do I know? I reckon she was, as she mought easy enough hev staid here, whar a thousand red-skins wanted to keep her.”
“Of course. I ought not to have asked such a question. When did the warriors start?”
“The sun was nigh an hour high when they got off.”
“Shouldn’t wonder if the cap’n has gone crazy,” mutteredByers, as George Benning hastened away, in search of the chief who commanded the war-party of the Crows.
He had met him returning from the thicket in which the remaining Blackfeet had taken refuge. In their efforts to dislodge their enemies from that position, the Crows had sustained serious loss, and had concluded that the game was not worth the candle. They had abandoned the siege, therefore, and were about to collect the horses of the Blackfeet, preparatory to returning home.
It was Benning’s belief that the Blackfeet warriors who had gone in pursuit of Silverspur and his companions would be likely to overtake the fugitives, in which event they would at once return to their village. He hoped to be able to induce the Crows to follow their trail, and meet them as they came back. They would thus easily gain another victory, which ought to be, as he supposed, a sufficient inducement for them to do as he wished them to.
But the Crow, when Benning presented this view of the case to him, steadily refused to do any thing of the kind. His party had come but for a special purpose, he said. That purpose had been accomplished, and it was their duty to return. Besides, several warriors had been lost in the attack upon the Blackfeet in the thicket, and it was their custom, when such a misfortune had befallen a war-party, to return immediately to their village, and to mourn for the fallen before attempting any other achievement.
All the arguments that Benning could use were ineffectual to change the determination of the chief, and he declared his intention of following the trail alone, in the hope that chance might in some way give him an opportunity of aiding Flora Robinette.
From this he was dissuaded by Pap Byers and the chief. The former represented to him that he would be unable to do any thing alone, and the latter advised him to accompany the warriors to the Crow village. He might there represent the case, the chief said, to Bad Eye, the chief of the village, who would be sure to sympathize with him, and would probably place a body of warriors under his control, for an expedition against the Blackfeet.
These arguments were so strongly advanced, and appearedso reasonable, that Benning reluctantly consented to accompany the Crow warriors, and set out with a heavy heart.
It must be said, although George Benning would not have liked to make the admission, that he felt very ill at ease concerning the company in which Flora Robinette had left the Blackfeet. He had hoped to rescue her himself; but another had been before him, and that other was a handsome, brave, and impulsive fellow, who might be as energetic and victorious in love as Benning knew him to be in war. What could be more likely than that he should fall in love with fair Flora Robinette, and what better opportunity could a man have for pressing his suit, than just when he had rescued the lady of his love from captivity among savages?
The more Benning thought of this, the more it troubled him. From what he had seen and heard of Fred Wilder, he had formed a high opinion of him; but he now began to torture himself with doubts and suspicions, which were not flattering to the character of Silverspur. If that person should succeed in getting Flora safely out of the clutches of the Blackfeet, there was no knowing what mean advantage he might take of her position and his achievement. Benning had never declared his love to Flora. He had thought that she had perceived it, and he had seen indications that led him to hope that his love was returned; but that was all. It would be only natural, if Wilder should address her, that she should feel herself bound in honor to listen favorably to the man who had saved her from a fate that might have been worse than death. It was highly probable, indeed, that she would consent to marry him, if she found that no objection could be urged against him.
These thoughts troubled the young partisan so much, that he had little rest during his journey with the Crows, and he was glad indeed when they reached their village.
When the ceremony of reception was over, and while the whole village was lamenting for the fallen braves, he sought the head chief, Bad Eye, to whom he told his story, declaring that he believed Flora Robinette to be still in the possession of the Blackfeet, and beseeching aid to deliver her from their hands.
Bad Eye was a fine-looking Indian, considerably past middleage, differing somewhat in features from the rest of the Crows, if not in color. His left eye was sightless, from which peculiarity he had received his cognomen; but the remaining eye was unusually bright and keen.
He listened to Benning’s tale very attentively, and the partisan, knowing the usually stolid nature of the Indian character, was surprised at the emotion which he manifested.
“The white-haired chief, then, is dead,” he said. “Some worse men have died, and many better men. He was hard in his dealings with the red-men, but did not treat them as badly as some traders have done. The Blackfeet must not keep his scalp, to dry in their lodges, if Bad Eye can take it from them. But his daughter is safe, I think. I know something of Silverspur, and I know that he always does what he undertakes to do. I must think of this matter. I can do nothing without consulting the counselors. When I know what to do, I will tell you.”
Benning was obliged to be satisfied with this answer, and he waited impatiently to learn the intentions of the chief.