We must not forget that young Warren Starr and Tim Brophy have an important part to play in the incidents we have set out to relate.
We left them in the wooded rocky section, where they had spent the night together in the rude shelter erected a year before when on their hunting excursions. They were awakened by the frenzied cry of the young Irishman's horse, and appeared on the scene just in time to save the pony from a grizzly bear, who made things exceedingly lively for the young gentlemen themselves.
But relieved of their peril, they sat down like sensible persons to make their morning meal from the lunch brought thither by Tim. They ate heartily, never pausing until the last particle of food was gone. Then they rose like giants refreshed with new wine.
"Now," said Warren, "we will mount the ponies, and instead of making for the fort will try to find the folks."
"I'm wid ye there, as I remarked previously," was the response of the brave young rancher, who was ever ready to risk his life for those whom he loved.
"It will be an almost hopeless hunt, for father could give me only a general idea of the course he meant to take, and we are likely to go miles astray."
"We shall have to depind on Providence to hilp us, though it may be the folks are in no naad of our assistance."
"I pray that such may be the case," was the fervent response of Warren, accompanied by a sigh of misgiving. "I think we shall be able to take care of ourselves, but father is in a bad fix with mother and Dot on his hands. I hope Plummer has joined them."
"He niver will do the same," remarked Tim gravely.
"Why do you say that?"
"He has been killed by the spalpeens, for if he hadn't, he would have showed himsilf before we lift the ranch."
"It looks that way, but you cannot be certain."
"I wish I couldn't, but he must have larned of thim being so near the house as soon as mesilf, or very nearly so, and he would have been back before me. That he didn't come is proof to my mind that he niver will—ye may depind on the same."
This brief conversation took place while the youths were saddling and mounting their horses. They made certain that everything was secure, and then, carefully guiding their animals among bowlders to the open prairie, paused a moment to decide upon the best course to take.
To the northwest stretched the white plain in gentle undulations, and in the clear sunlight, miles away in the horizon, rose the dark line of a wooded ridge, similar to the others described, and which are so common in that section of the country. They agreed that the best course was to head toward it, for it seemed to them that the rancher had probably crossed the same at some point, or if he had not already done so, would ride in that direction. Possibly, too, the father, despite the wishes he had expressed, would suspect such a movement on the part of his son. If so, the probability of their meeting was increased.
The air was clear, sharp, and bracing, with the sun shining from an unclouded sky. It was a time to stir the blood, and had not the young ranchers been oppressed by anxiety for their friends, they would have bounded across the plain in the highest possible spirits. The ponies, having no such fear, struck into a swinging gallop of their own accord, which continued without interruption until more than half the intervening distance was passed. All this time the youths were carefully scanning the wooded ridge, as it rose more distinctly to view; for they could not forget that they were more likely to meet hostiles than friends in that section, and approaching it across an open plain, must continue conspicuous objects to whatever Sioux were there.
"Tim," said Warren, as they rode easily beside each other, "unless I am much mistaken, a fire is burning on the ridge."
"Where?"
"Almost directly ahead, but a little to the left; tell me whether you can make it out."
The Irishman shaded his eyes with one hand, for the glare of the sun on the snow was almost blinding, and after a moment's scrutiny, said:
"Ye are right; there is a fire up there; not much smoke does the same give out, but it is climbing up the clear sky as straight as a mon's finger."
"I take it that it means Indians; it seems to me they are all around us."
"I agraas wid ye, but s'pose it is a fire that yer fayther has started himsilf."
Warren shook his head.
"He would not do so imprudent a thing as that."
"But he moight have in his eye that we'd be looking for something of the same."
Still his friend was unconvinced.
"He could not be certain that it would be noted by us, while he must have known that it was sure to attract the attention of the Sioux. No; I cannot be mistaken."
"Do ye want to pass it by widout finding out its maaning?"
"If it is father who has kindled the blaze, and he is looking for us, he will find some way of telling us more plainly——"
"Do ye obsarve?" asked Tim, in some excitement.
Beyond question the approach of the two young horsemen had produced an effect. The faint column of smoke which, until that moment, had climbed perpendicularly up the sky, now showed a wavy appearance, vibrating from side to side in graceful undulations, as though it were a ribbon swayed by human hands. But Warren, instead of accepting this as did his companion, regarded it as more indicative of danger. The Sioux that were responsible for the ascending vapor were aware of the approach of the couple, and were signalling the fact to others whose whereabouts was unknown to the whites.
"Do ye moind," said Tim, "that two months since, whin we were hunting along the Big Cheyenne and got separated from him and Plummer, he let us know where they were in jist that way?"
It was a fact. Precisely the same signal had been used by the parent to apprise his son and companion where he and Plummer were, though in that instance it was the employé who adopted the method.
He was inclined for a few seconds to agree with his companion; but there was something in the prominence of the artifice, and the certainty that it would be noted by unfriendly eyes, that caused him to dismiss the belief. Enough doubt, however, had been injected into his mind to bring the desire for further investigation.
"We will ride straight toward it, as though we intended to go to the camp or signal fire as it may be, but will turn aside before reaching the ridge, so as to avoid the trap that may be set for us. I had an experience yesterday afternoon something like that before you joined me."
Strange it was that the couple, who, despite their youth, had learned so much of border life, forgot to keep watch of the rear, while giving so much attention to the front. Singular as it may seem, they had not looked behind them for the preceding half hour. The sight of the signal fire ahead so absorbed their interest that they neglected this obvious precaution; nor did it once occur to them that if the smoke was sent into the sky by hostiles, who meant it for the guidance of confederates, those same confederates were likely to be to the rear of them.
Such was the fact, and the knowledge came to the friends in the most startling manner conceivable, being in the shape of several rifle bullets which whistled about their ears. Then, when they glanced affrightedly around, they saw fully a dozen Sioux bucks, all well mounted, bearing down upon them at full speed.
They had issued from the rocky section behind them, and ridden to this perilous position without the youths once dreaming of the fact until, as may be said, the hostiles were literally upon them.
But one thing could be done: that was to run, and Warren Starr and Tim Brophy did it in the highest style of the art. They put their ponies to their utmost pace without an instant's delay. The animals, as if conscious of their peril, bounded across the snowy plain on a dead run, with their riders stretching forward over their necks to escape the bullets expected every moment.
It must have been that the Sioux were sure the fugitives would look around the next moment, else they would have stolen nearer before announcing their presence in such a startling fashion.
The only hope for the young ranchers lay in the speed of their horses, since there was no other possible chance against the bucks who were as fierce after their lives as so many ravening wolves. The boys shouted to their animals, who flew across the plain as though the snow did not discommode them in the least. They did not separate, for the instinctive resolve thrilled them that they would fall or escape together.
Each was provided with a repeating Winchester, and enough has been told to prove they knew how to use the weapons effectively, but the opportunity was hardly the present, since to turn and fire while their ponies were on the run, offered little chance of success, and was liable to interfere with their speed, so important above everything else.
The flight was so sudden that, without thought, they headed toward the wooded ridge, where they had seen the suspicious signal fire, but they had not gone far before discovering that that would never do. The flight must end at the ridge, where they would find themselves at fearful disadvantage.
"We must have the open plain or we are lost!" called Warren.
"Ay, ay; I'm wid ye," replied Tim, who pulled sharply on the right rein of his animal. At the same moment his friend turned the head of his horse to the left, and, before the comrades were aware, they were diverging with several rods between them.
Warren was the first to perceive the mistake, and believing he had adopted the right line of flight, shouted for his friend to do the same. Tim had already noticed the turn and now thundered across the prairie toward him. But the devious course, as will be readily seen, threw him slightly to the rear, seeing which, Warren drew in his animal to allow him to come up.
"None of that!" called the Irishman; "ye've no advantage to throw away! Ye can't hilp me by that nonsense."
But Warren gave him no heed. The next minute Tim was almost at his side.
"I belave we're riding faster than the spalpeens," he added, glancing for the twentieth time to the rear, where the Sioux were forcing their horses to the utmost. They did not fire for some time after the opening volley, giving their whole attention to this run for life.
That the capacities of the pursuing ponies varied was quickly apparent. Several began dropping to the rear, but more than half maintained their places near each other.
It was hard to tell whether they were holding their own or gradually drifting back from the fugitives. The one hopeful fact was that as yet they were not gaining. Whether they would do so or lose ground must quickly appear.
Tim Brophy now performed a deed as reckless as it was daring. He watched the rear more than did Warren, and was in the act of drawing up beside the latter, when he discovered that one of the Sioux was leading all the rest. He was fully a rod in advance, and what was more alarming than everything else, he was gaining, beyond question, on the fugitives. His horse had developed a burst of speed that no one anticipated.
Rising to the sitting posture in the saddle, Tim brought his gun to his shoulder.
"Don't do that!" admonished Warren. "You have no chance to hit him, and will cause Billy to lose ground."
The Irishman made no reply; he was too much occupied with the act he had in mind. Furthermore, he noted that the buck whom he held in such fear was making ready to fire.
But Tim was ahead of him, and, by one of those strange accidents which sometimes happen, he hit him so fair and hard that, with the invariable cry of his race when mortally hurt, he reeled sideways and fell to the ground, his horse, with a snort of alarm, circling off over the prairie far from his companions.
Warren glanced around at the moment the gun was discharged and could hardly believe his own eyes. He knew the success was accidental, and hoped it would not encourage Tim to repeat the attempt.
It was expected that the shot would serve as a check to the rest, and ordinarily it would have done so, but it produced not the slightest effect in that direction. Back of the fallen warrior, whose body rolled over and over in the snow, as it struck with a rebound, were more than half a dozen, with the others streaming after them. They gave no heed to their fallen leader, neither uttering any outcry nor firing in return, but pressing their ponies to the highest possible point. They were resolved upon capturing those fugitives and subjecting them to a punishment beside which shooting would be a mercy.
It would not do to forget the country in front. While their chief interest lay to the rear, they were liable to run into some peril that would undo all the good gained by outrunning their pursuers. Warren saw that while they had swerved to the left, yet the course of the ridge would carry them to its base, unless they diverged still more from the direct path.
And yet this divergence must be made as gradual as circumstances would permit, since otherwise great advantage would be given their enemies by the chance to "cut across lots," or in other words to follow a straight line, while offsetting the curved course of the fugitives.
Directing the attention of Tim to the situation, he begged him to give no further thought to firing upon their foes.
"I'll let the spalpeens alone if they'll do the same wid me," was his reply, spoken in a low voice, for the two were separated by only a few feet.
"You can't have as good luck a second time."
"But," persisted Tim, "if I hadn't dropped that felly, he would have tumbled you or mesilf out of the saddle, as he was about to do whin I jumped on him wid both feet."
But Warren begged him to desist, confident as he was that any further attempt would result in ill to them. Tim held his peace, but leaving his friend to watch where they went he gave his chief attention to the Sioux, whose leaders, if they were not gaining ground, seemed to be holding their own.
Suddenly, to Warren's disgust, his companion again brought his gun to his shoulder. Before he could aim and fire, however, one of the bucks discharged his weapon and the bullet nipped the leg of young Starr, who continued leaning forward, so as to offer as little of his body as possible for a target.
Tim fired, but more than likely the ball went wide of the mark.
His companion hoped that the act of their pursuers in shooting was caused by their fear of losing the fugitives through the speed of their ponies.
But a short distance was necessary before the boys were riding in a line parallel with the ridge that had loomed up in their path. This gave them an open country for an unknown distance, over which to continue their flight, but it was hardly to be supposed that it would continue long. The section was too broken to warrant such a hope.
It may have been the perception of the fugitives' object that brought the shot from the Sioux. At any rate, if it should become manifest that the young ranchers were drawing away, the rifles of the pursuers were certain to be brought into effective use, and the distance between the parties was fearfully brief.
One recourse was before the pursuing Sioux from the start: that was to shoot the horses of the fugitives. The wonder was that they had not aimed to do so from the first. With the couple dismounted, they would be at their mercy.
It was the fear of this that caused Warren to ask his friend to draw up as near to him as he could. It was not likely that both ponies would fall at once, and the survivor might be able to carry the couple to safety.
"I tell ye we are gaining," said the Irishman, with far more hope in his manner than Warren thought was warranted.
"We must gain a good deal before getting out of the woods," was the reply of the other, who devoted every energy to forcing his animal to his best pace.
"Look out! they're going to shoot again," said Tim.
Throwing himself forward, Warren hugged his pony closer than ever, his companion doing the same, instead of trying to use his gun. The volley came while the words were in course of utterance, but neither of the youths was touched. The Sioux must have found it equally hard to fire with their animals on a full run.
"Why don't the spalpeens save their powder?" was the disgusted question of Tim, but his feelings changed a minute later, when his own pony showed by his actions that he had been hit hard. He uttered a low, moaning cry, and staggered as if about to fall.
Warren was the first to notice it.
"Tim, Billy is going to drop; ride closer and mount Jack behind me."
"Not a bit of it! I'll see you hanged first," was the characteristic reply of the brave fellow, who sturdily refused to heed the urgent appeal of his friend.
"Why not?"
"Jack can't carry us both."
"He can until we reach the ridge."
"But we're not going toward it," insisted Tim, too observant to be deceived.
"Turn Billy's head that way," said Warren, growing desperate in the imminence of the peril, and swerving his pony to the right; "Jack can carry us both as well as one."
Still the Irishman hesitated. It might be as his companion said, but he was unwilling to imperil Warren, and destroy the chances of both, when everything looked so favorable for one.
Meanwhile, the stricken Billy was fast giving out. He struggled gamely, but it was evident that he must quickly succumb. At the most, he could go but a short distance farther.
The Sioux fired again, but nothing was accomplished. If Jack was hit, he did not show it during the few seconds that his rider held his breath.
Still Tim held back in the face of the pleadings of his friend. Two discoveries, however, led him to yield.
They were now heading straight for the ridge, which was barely half a mile distant. It must soon be attained, unless something happened to Jack. The foremost Sioux had fallen so perceptibly behind that there was reason to believe the horse could carry both riders to safety, or rather to the refuge which they hoped to find at the base of the ridge.
"I'll do the same, being it's yerself that asks it——"
"Quick! Billy is falling!" called Warren, far more excited than his companion.
The crisis had come. The poor animal could go no farther, and was swaying from side to side like a drunken person, certain to fall with the next minute.
Tim released his foot from the stirrup on his right, swung his leg over the saddle, as only a skilful horseman can do, and, holding his gun with one hand, grasped the outstretched one of Warren and made a slight leap, which landed him behind him.
It was a delicate and difficult task, and despite the skill with which it was executed, both came within a hair of tumbling headlong to the ground.
Quickly as it was done, it was not a moment too soon. The mortally wounded Billy suddenly went forward, his nose ploughing up the snow and earth, and after a few struggles all was over.
The action had not only increased the danger of both of the fugitives, but it rendered the situation of the Irishman doubly perilous. Although both leaned forward, they could not do so as effectually as when each was on his own horse, and Tim of necessity was the more exposed of the two.
Leaving Warren to guide and urge Jack, he gave his attention to the Sioux, who did not relax their efforts, but whose relative situations, owing to the varying speed of their horses, underwent a curious change of position.
Two were riding abreast, and so far as Tim could see there was not the least difference in the speed of their ponies. Behind them at a distance of several rods came two others, holding precisely the same relative positions, while the rest were strung along over the prairie, until it looked as if the hindmost was a third of a mile distant.
Nothing was to be feared from them, but what of those that were so much nearer?
That was the vital question that must soon be answered.
While the position of the Irishman was anything but pleasant, and with the horse on a jump he was required to take the utmost care to maintain his seat, he decided to try his gun once more.
This proved harder than he supposed. He could make no use of the saddle in which young Starr sat, and when he sought to turn he would have fallen, had he not kept one arm about the waist of his friend. And yet, in the face of all this, he managed to get his Winchester in position with the muzzle toward the leading Sioux.
Anything like aiming the weapon was out of the question, and it would have been folly to expect that a second chance shot would favor him. Nevertheless, the demonstration accomplished something unexpected. He had done execution with one shot, and when the bucks saw the muzzle pointing backward, they were scared.
The leaders naturally supposed they were the ones intended to serve as targets, and they ducked their heads with such suddenness that the Irishman grinned. Not only that, but one of them caused his pony—probably through some inadvertent act on the part of the rider—to swerve from his course, thereby interfering with those immediately in the rear.
Even the companion at his side was thrown somewhat out of "plumb," and lost a few paces, much to the delight of Tim, who gleefully told Warren of what had taken place.
The advantage to the fugitives will be understood when it is remembered that they were rapidly drawing near the ridge, now at no great distance in front.
True, there was no certainty that it would prove a refuge to them, if attained; but it would be more of a shelter than the open prairie, where, if driven to bay, there was not the slightest protection against the bullets of the Sioux, unless the body of Jack should be used as a breastwork.
The confusion of the bucks was only temporary. They needed no one to tell them what the aim of the youths was when they changed the line of their flight, nor could they fail to see that the ridge would be attained quite soon, unless they were checked.
Tim Brophy suspected that such thoughts were passing through their minds, and despite the hopelessness of the effort, he discharged his rifle toward them; and when it is stated that it was discharged "toward them," no more can be said. There is no reason to believe that he came within twenty feet of hitting any one of the Sioux.
It may be doubted, therefore, whether this essay on his part was beneficial to himself and companion, inasmuch as it must have lowered their opinion of his marksmanship and convinced the red men that they were altogether mistaken in giving heed to any more shots fired by him from the back of the pony, which was not only going at full speed, but was carrying a double burden.
The fugitives were now so close to the ridge that Warren Starr, from his position on his pony, turned his attention to their immediate front. He saw that the race must end, so far as his steed was concerned, within the next second. The trees stood close together, the ascent was steep, and the bowlders and rocks, plainly discernible, since all leafage was gone, showed that the horse must halt of necessity at the moment of striking the base of the elevation.
The Sioux had ceased firing. They were so certain of capturing the youths that they saved their ammunition. The struggle could not last much longer.
"Be ready to jump off!" said Warren to his companion; "I am going to stop!"
Even as he spoke, he threw Jack on his haunches with a suddenness that would have pitched the couple over his head, had they not braced themselves. Both took a flying leap from his back and dashed for the cover now directly before them.
The purpose was still to keep together, but circumstances beyond their control prevented. They had no time to form any plan. Young Starr darted to the right, aiming for some rocks which he fancied might afford partial shelter. Tim had his eye on a somewhat similar refuge to the left, and made for that. He would have joined his friend had he known his intention, but the seconds were too precious to allow it, after a few steps were taken. So he kept on without once glancing behind him.
Still there was no firing. The Indians must have felt more certain than ever of their prey, thus to hold their shots. They emitted several whoops of exultation, and the foremost bounded from their ponies and sped after the fugitives like so many bloodhounds.
But the separation of the latter compelled a division of the former, who, it will be remembered, were scattered at varying distances, only a couple being at the heels of the young ranchers. Thus it came about that each was pursued by a single warrior, and through a whim which cannot be fully understood, the Sioux next to the leaders turned to the left on the trail of the young Irishman, who had thus the honor, if it may be so considered, of attracting the greater attention.
For a few moments Warren devoted his energies to running. He bounded like a hare over the first bowlder that interposed, swerved slightly to the right, to pass an obstructing rock, and went up the slope with the same headlong speed with which he had dashed from the level ground to the bottom of the slope.
It was not until he had sped fully a hundred yards in this furious fashion that he ventured to throw a glance over his shoulder. Then he learned that there was but a single Sioux in sight.
The fugitive had held his own so well against this miscreant, that the latter must have felt a quick fear of his escaping him altogether. Young Starr was an unusually swift sprinter, and it may be doubted whether the fleet-footed Indian could have run him down in a fair contest.
The fear of losing the young man caused the Sioux to check himself abruptly, bring his gun to a level, and let fly.
An extraordinary accident, or rather providence, saved the fugitive. At the very instant of his enemy firing, Warren's foot slipped in the snow, and he stumbled on his hands and knees. Certain that his fall was due to the bullet just sent after him, the Sioux, with a whoop of triumph, bounded forward over the bowlders and around the rocks to finish him.
Warren saw, with lightning-like quickness, that his fall might be his salvation. It had deceived his foe into the belief that he was either killed or mortally hurt, and he was, therefore, unprepared for that which followed.
The youth did not attempt to rise. He had slipped down in such a position that he was hidden from the sight of his pursuer. He quickly shifted around so as to face him, and, rising on one knee, held his Winchester pointed and ready for use.
He had not long to wait. The Sioux was so close that the next minute his head and shoulders appeared above the rock, as he took his tremendous strides toward the lad, whom he expected to see stretched helpless on the snowy earth.
The sight of him kneeling on one knee, with his rifle aimed, his eye ranging along the barrel, and his finger on the trigger, was the first startling apprisal of the real state of affairs.
The warrior instantly perceived his fearful mistake, and made a desperate attempt to dodge to one side, but though the loon may elude the bullet of the hunter's rifle, no man has ever yet been equal to the task. No screeching Indian was ever hit more fairly, surprised more suddenly, or extinguished more utterly.
And so it came about that in the twinkling of an eye Warren Starr was left without a pursuer. Not a solitary Sioux was in sight.
But he was too wise to think he was safe. He was simply relieved for the time being of his harassing foes. They must have heard the discharge of his rifle, and some of them would soon investigate when their comrade failed to return to them. This would be after a few minutes. Naturally they would suppose that the fugitive had been brought down, and not until a brief period had elapsed would they suspect the truth.
It was this interval which must be utilized to the utmost, if the youth hoped to escape. While the snow would reveal his trail so plainly that it could be followed without the least difficulty, yet his own fleetness ought to enable him to keep so far in advance of the Sioux that they could not gain another shot at him. True, he was deprived of his matchless pony, but the red men were also on foot, and therefore they stood on equal terms, with the opening in favor of the fugitive.
Warren would have been full of hope and resolution, but for Tim Brophy. His concern for his devoted friend forbade him turning the situation solely to his own account. He made a hasty examination of his rifle, and found nothing the matter with it. It was ready for use whenever needed.
Not a solitary warrior was in sight, and the profound stillness which reigned caused the incidents of the last few minutes to seem like some wild dream.
With that peculiar doubt that sometimes comes over one in such crises, Warren gently pinched one hand with the other. The result convinced him that everything was real—imagination had nothing to do with it.
The reports of his own Winchester and the Sioux's rifle were all that had broken the stillness since the headlong leap of the young ranchers from the back of the pony. There could have been no other report without its being heard by Warren, who was sorely perplexed over the fact.
Could it be that equally good fortune had befallen Tim Brophy? Had he been able to throw his pursuers off the track for the time? It seemed impossible that two such providences should come simultaneously to the fugitives. The Irishman was by no means as fleet of foot as Warren, and with the majority of the pursuers dashing after him, only the worst result was to be feared.
"Some of them will soon be here," was the conclusion of the youth, as he stood sorely perplexed as to what he should do; "if I remain, I shall have half a dozen of them around me, and then it will be all up; but what about Tim?"
In his chivalrous devotion to his comrade, he now began withdrawing from his dangerous position, but trended to the right as he faced his enemies, with the object of getting near Tim, and with the hope that he might be of help to him in his desperate strait.
He shuddered as he glanced down at the ground and observed the prints he made in the snow. There could be no delay in tracing him, no matter what direction he might take. It must be the same with his friend, who, despite any advantage gained at the beginning of his last flight, could be readily run down, if the Sioux preferred that to "winging" him while in full flight.
Meanwhile Tim Brophy found himself in the hottest quarters of his life.
Inspired by the same desperate thought of his friend, he strove, with all the energy he possessed, to widen the space between himself and his pursuers. Less fleet of foot than they, it took but a few seconds to show him the hopelessness of the task.
None of the trees was large enough to give protection to his body, but seeing no rocks that could serve him, he dodged behind the first trunk that presented itself. This was barely six inches in diameter, and was no better than nothing at all.
Pausing but a moment, he leaped away again, with that wild, aimless impulse which comes over one when panic-stricken. The halt, brief though it was, proved fatal. His pursuer was on his heels, and the brave youth turned at bay. As if fate was against him, when he attempted to bring his rifle to a level, he made a slip and it dropped from his grasp. He had no time to pick it up.
"S'render! s'render!" called his foe in good English, waving his right hand aloft with his gun grasped in it.
"I'll surrender, ye spalpeen!"
Resorting like a flash to nature's weapons, the Irishman delivered a blow straight from the shoulder, which sent the Sioux spinning backward with his feet pointing toward the sky.
Had he been the only foe to contend with, Tim might have saved himself, for the savage was utterly "knocked out," and the opportunity to finish him could not have been better.
Tim had his revolver, but in his excitement he forgot the important fact. He was about to leap upon his prostrate enemy, with the intention of snatching his gun from him and using it, when the other two Sioux burst to view.
Without waiting for them to assail him, the youth dashed forward like a panther at bay.
Before the foremost could elude the assault, he struck him as fairly as he had hit the other, and he sprawled on his back, with the breath driven from his body.
But the impetus of his blow carried Tim forward, and, half tripping in his headlong rush, he fell on his hands and knees. He strove frantically to save himself, but, before he could struggle to his feet, the other Sioux dealt him a stroke with the butt of his gun which laid the fellow helpless on his face.
The skull of the Irishman, however, was tough, and he quickly recovered, but not before several other warriors appeared on the scene.
For one moment the young rancher meditated a rush upon them, and had actually doubled his fists for that purpose, but even in his fury he perceived the folly of such a course. If he assailed the Sioux, they would quickly finish him then and there, while the fact of their having spared his life thus far proved that they did not intend to put him to instant death.
It was with singular emotions that he recognized among the last arrivals the Carlisle student Starcus, who had saved his life the preceding morning by his timely shot when the grizzly bear was upon him. The presence of the "civilized" youth among the hostiles told its own story.
"Ye've got me foul," said Tim, looking straight at Starcus as he spoke; "and now ye may do wid me what ye loikes."
Starcus, knowing the words and look were meant for him, made no answer, but kept in the background.
He was grim and silent. Who shall say what thoughts were stirring his heart at that trying moment! He had sat with this youth at the table of George Starr and his family.
He had partaken of their hospitality, and had claimed to possess the civilization which he was anxious his own race should adopt, but here he was, taking part in the pursuit and attack of two youths who not only had never done him harm, but had always acted the part of friends toward him.
There was one curious fact (and yet, perhaps it was not so curious after all) which was evident to the captured youth. The Sioux admired the brave fight he had made for himself. Trained for ages to regard physical prowess as above all virtues, the American race cannot fail to revere it, even when they are the sufferers therefrom.
The warrior who had first felt the weight of Tim's fist now began clambering to his feet. He was dazed and bewildered, for the blow was a terrific one. Landing squarely in his face, it had brought considerable crimson, which, mingling with the daubs of paint already there, gave him a frightful appearance.
He assumed the upright posture, and standing uncertainly for a few seconds, fixed his eyes on the prisoner.
Then grasping the situation, and recognizing him as the individual that had treated him so harshly, he suddenly emitted a shout, whipped out his hunting-knife, and rushed at him like a fury. Tim instantly threw himself into a pugilistic attitude, and no doubt would have given a good account of himself had he been permitted, for he was skilled in the art of self-defence, and such a person always has the advantage over a foe, no matter what his weapon, provided it is not a firearm.
But the collision did not take place. Three Indians interposed, restraining the fierce red man; among the foremost being Starcus, who roughly seized the upraised arm and forced the warrior back several steps, using some strong words in his own language. The savage strove to free himself that he might attack the youth, but he was not permitted, and finally gave up the effort and withdrew sullenly into the background.
This incident was hardly over, when the second warrior that had gone down before the young Irishman's prowess also gained his feet. He looked as if he would very much like to try conclusions again, with the aid of one of his weapons, but he seemed to think he could bide his time, and have it out on a more fitting occasion.
The captive was too wise to place a favorable construction on the interference of Starcus, despite the additional fact of his kindly offices of the morning. The rest of the Sioux had shown a wish to take him prisoner, for certainly the chance to bring him down had been theirs more than once. Actuated by their intense hatred of the white race, they looked upon sudden death as too merciful to a foe that had done them so much ill. He had slain one of their best men, and knocked prostrate two others; no punishment, therefore, was too cruel to be visited upon him.
While the group stood about the helpless captive they talked in their own language, without Tim being able to guess the meaning of a word uttered. He watched the countenances closely, and was surprised a minute or two later by the appearance of the last member of the party. He came straggling up as though he felt no concern in the proceedings. That which interested Tim the most was the sight of his valued Winchester in the fellow's hand. For one moment the youth thought he meant to hand it over to him, but that would have been a stretch of hospitality of which none of his race could ever be guilty. He did a rare thing for an Indian—indulged in a grin of pleasure at the prize which his companions had passed by to allow it to fall into his possession.
In his trying situation, Tim Brophy could not avoid a feeling of curiosity concerning Starcus. To him the fellow's conduct was inexplicable. While his presence among the Sioux was proof that he was "with them" in thought, intention, and feeling, yet there was the friendly act of the morning during the struggle with the grizzly, and his late interference to prevent the warrior from injuring him, which united to puzzle the captive.
As has been said, he was too wise to build much hope on these facts, but nevertheless they raised doubts and questions relating wholly to the future.
Would Starcus continue to hold his present enmity to the people that had been friendly to him?
While he had been carried away by the frenzy that had driven so many of his people out of their senses, was not an awakening likely to take place, when his better nature would resume control? Could he forget that he had eaten salt with this hapless fellow, and stand by, without raising hand or voice, when his extremity should come, as come it must, in a very brief while?
But these were questions that Tim Brophy could not answer; they must be left for the immediate future.
While these lively scenes were taking place, Warren Starr was not idle. The report of his gun was plainly heard by the other Sioux and the captive, but the former took it for granted that it was fired by their comrade, and calmly awaited his return with the news of the death of the fugitive.
But as the reader has learned the boot was on the other leg. The youth was unharmed, and his enemy was of no further account.
Actuated by the chivalrous wish to help Tim, he began cautiously picking his way along the slope, at a considerable distance from the base, peering forward and listening intently for sights and sounds that could tell him how his companion had fared.
He had better fortune than he dared expect. The flickering of something among the trees warned him that he was in a delicate position, and his farther advance was with the utmost care, accompanied by glances on every hand, to guard against walking into a trap.
Very soon he reached a point from which he saw all that was going on. Tim was standing defiantly among the Sioux, who appeared to be discussing the question of what to do with him. He identified Starcus, and recognized also the hapless state of affairs.
Much as he regretted the conclusion, Warren Starr was forced, in spite of himself, to see that it was out of his power to raise a finger to help his friend. For one moment he meditated bringing his Winchester to his shoulder and opening fire, but at the best he could not hope to bring down more than two or three before the others would be upon him. With no possible way of escape open, the situation of Tim would be worse than before, for one of the first things done by the Sioux would be to slay him on the spot, whereas they were now likely to spare him for a time, and so long as he had life, so long did hope remain.
Warren would have been as eager to befriend the brave fellow as the latter would have been to aid him; but, as we have said, there was no dodging the fact that it was out of his power. What, therefore, should he do for himself and the other loved ones for whom all this danger had been incurred?
Where were that father, mother, and little sister? They might be in equally sore distress, and longer delay on his part perhaps would decide the question of life or death.
Stealthily withdrawing again, until well beyond sight of the group, he began carefully descending the side of the ridge toward the open prairie. In doing so, he avoided doubling on his own trail, for at any moment some of the Sioux were liable to start out on a tour of investigation, which would bring them face to face with him.
With all his senses on the alert, he threaded his way among the trees and around the rocks and bowlders, until he stood on the base of the elevation, with the broad plain, across which he and his friend had fled in such desperate haste, stretching out before him for many miles.
But another sight interested him. Along the foot of the ridge were scattered nearly a dozen Indian ponies, cropping as best they could the grass, whose tops faintly showed above the thin coating of snow. Their owners had abandoned them in their haste, without thought of securing them to any of the limbs, confident that they would be found within reach when wanted.
They were tough little animals, without saddle or bridle. The majority had a blanket roughly secured over the back, with a thong about the upper part of the neck, which was all that was needed to guide them wherever their masters willed.
But there was one animal worth all the rest for whom the eyes of the youth eagerly searched among the group, scattered at varying distances. He would have given anything for a sight of his own Jack at that moment.
To his astonishment, he saw nothing of him. Through some unaccountable cause, he had vanished as utterly as if he had never existed.
In the vain hope of discovering him, Warren glanced from one to the other, until he had surveyed each one several times over. But there was no mistake; Jack was invisible.
The fact caused him keen regret, but it would not do to tarry, with the certainty that the Sioux would soon learn the truth and be after him like a whirlwind. One or two of their ponies were almost as fleet as Jack, and Warren was a good enough horseman to ride them as well as their masters could without saddle.
Fixing his attention on the best looking animal, which happened also to be the nearest, he moved briskly toward him, with the purpose of bounding upon his back and dashing away; but his abruptness defeated his intention. It frightened the pony, who with a snort threw up his head, trotted several rods out on the prairie, and then turned and looked at him.
The alarm of this animal communicated itself to the others, who also hurriedly trotted beyond his reach.
The situation was critical. The action of the ponies was almost certain to be heard by their owners a short distance off, and they would be quickly on the spot. If they caught sight of the youth on foot trying to steal one, his position would be far more hopeless than when among the rocks and trees.
Seeing his mistake, Warren tried to right matters by a less abrupt approach. He dropped to a slow walk, holding out his hand and uttering soothing words. Had he done this at the beginning, he would have had no trouble in capturing any horse he desired, but the animals identified him as a stranger, and continued shy.
The finest, which he had sought first to catch, closely watched him as he slowly approached, but at the very moment the heart of the youth was beating high with hope, he swung his head around and trotted beyond reach. Warren turned his attention to the one that was nearest, and by a sudden dash aimed to catch his halter, one end of which was dangling in the snow.
As he stooped to grasp the thong, it was whisked from under his hand, and the pony galloped beyond his reach.
The bitter disappointment made Warren desperate. He had undertaken an impossible task. He might succeed had more time been at his command, but the Sioux were liable to appear any minute. It would not do for him to be caught in this situation. He must abandon the attempt and get back among the trees and rocks, where there remained the bare possibility of eluding the red men.
"What the mischief has become of Jack?" he muttered, facing about and breaking into a lope for the ridge. "If he were only in sight, he would come to me at once. Hello! just what I feared!"
At that juncture he detected something moving among the trees. It was not clearly seen, but not doubting that the Sioux were coming, he broke into a run for cover, not daring to risk a shot until partial shelter was secured.
In his affright he did not dare glance to the left even, and held his breath in thrilling expectancy, certain that with every leap he took he would be greeted by a volley, or that the Sioux would throw themselves across his track to shut off all chance of escape.
That they did not do so was not only unaccountable to him, but gave him the hope that possibly he might still elude them. Bending his head, he ran with might and main. The distance was not great, but it seemed tenfold greater than it was, and a slip of the foot, which came near bringing him to his knees, filled his heart with despair and made him certain that he would soon join Tim Brophy.
He heard his pursuers at his heels. Despite his own fleetness, they were outspeeding him. Nothing could save him from being overtaken before reaching the ridge.
Suddenly a peculiarity in the sound made by those at his rear caused him abruptly to halt and look around.
Then, to his unbounded delight and amazement, he recognized his own pony, Jack, striving hard to keep him company.
Warren Starr could have hugged his pony in his transport of delight. Until a moment before he was sure several of the Sioux were upon him; when, wheeling about, he was confronted by Jack, whom he had been desirous of meeting above every other person or animal in the world.
The action of the horse he understood. On the sudden flight of his master he had attempted to follow him among the rocks and trees of the ridge; the Indians, in the flurry of the occasion, paying no attention to him. Failing, he was making his way back to the open prairie, when the sight of his master sent him galloping after him; Warren being too panic-stricken to suspect the truth until he was well-nigh run down by the faithful animal.
"Heaven bless you, Jack!" he exclaimed, with glowing face and joyous heart; "you are in the nick of time."
Saddle and trappings were unharmed, though the tapering limbs of the creature had been scratched and cut by his attempt to follow his master. The youth was in the saddle in a twinkling, and, but for the sad situation of Tim Brophy, he would have uttered a shout of triumph.
For in truth he felt safe, even though the hostiles were dangerously near. Remembering this, he rode farther out from the ridge, and whooped and swung his arms at the Indian ponies, who dashed still farther out on the plain.
It was inevitable that this tumult should become known to the captors of Tim Brophy. Young Starr expected it, and therefore was not surprised when he saw the figures of several warriors at the base of the ridge. He could not forbear swinging his Winchester over his head and taunting them. They replied with several shots, but the distance was too great for Warren to feel any alarm. He, too, discharged his gun at the group, and acted as if he meant to challenge them to come out and attack him.
If such were his intentions, the challenge was accepted. Several warriors ran out on the prairie, calling to their ponies, in order that they might mount and take up the pursuit. Their action caused the youth no alarm, for the test of speed had already been made, and he feared none of the Indian animals.
The latter may have been under good discipline when their masters were astride of them, but they showed anything but obedience now that they were free from their control. They kept trotting about in circles, and avoided the warriors with a persistency that must have been exasperating to them.
Only one displayed consideration for his master. He was among the fleetest, and after some coy dallying he stood still until the athletic Sioux came beside him. He vaulted upon his back, and then accepted the seeming challenge of the youth.
The latter had checked his steed at a safe distance on the snowy plain, and confronted the Indian party. Looking beyond the warrior nearest him, he strove to catch sight of Tim Brophy; but he was too far off, and the trees interfered with his vision. Before he could continue the scrutiny long, the mounted Sioux demanded his attention.
Prudence would have suggested that now, since young Starr was well mounted, he should take no chances, but scurry away at the top of his speed, leaving the discomfited warrior to nurse his chagrin over the clever trick played upon him.
But the young rancher saw no reason why he should flee from a single buck, no better mounted or armed than himself. He had had enough experience in the Northwest to understand those people well, and thought he knew how to take care of himself. No, he would fight him; and now opened a most extraordinary prairie duel between Warren Starr and his dusky enemy.
The youth glanced at his Winchester, and saw that it was all right, as was the case with his revolver. His saddle was firmly cinched in place, Jack was at his best, and what cared he for a single Indian, even though he was a warrior that had taken the scalp of more than one unoffending pioneer!
Jack stood as motionless as a statue, with his nose toward his enemy. A gentle wind blowing across the prairie lifted his luxuriant mane slightly from his neck and swung his heavy tail to one side. His head was high, and the nostrils seemed to breathe defiance to the dusky foe, who approached at a swinging gallop, as though he meant to ride down the animal and rider.
But he held no such intention. The Sioux required no one to tell him that that stationary figure, sitting so firmly in his saddle, meant to fight.
While more than a hundred yards still separated the combatants the Sioux horseman wheeled to the right, and, without checking his speed, started to describe a long circle around the youth. The latter spoke softly to Jack, who slowly turned, so as to keep his head continually pointed toward the enemy. Evidently the animal understood the situation, and was competent to do his part.
The Sioux at the base of the ridge had given over their effort for the time to capture their ponies. All their attention was centred on the two horsemen out on the prairie.
As yet the Indian made no move to fire. Warren was looking for him to throw himself over the side of his animal, and aim from under his neck, screening his own body meanwhile from the bullet of the young rancher. Instead of doing so, however, he described a complete circle about Warren, coming back to his starting point, while Jack continued to move around, as if on a pivot, keeping his head always facing his foe.
The warrior was starting on his second round, when, without any perceptible movement, he discharged his gun. Warren saw the blue puff of smoke, the report sounding dull and far away in the wintry air.
The bullet did not pass nigh enough for him to be aware how close it was. It would seem that the Indian ought to have done better, for it was noticeable from where Warren sat that in completing his circle he had shortened it, and was now several rods nearer than when he set out to circumnavigate him.
"It is no more than fair to return the compliment," thought Warren, raising his Winchester, taking careful aim, and pulling the trigger. Truth compels us to say, however, that his shot went as wide of the mark as the one aimed at him. Thus far honors were equal between them.
The Sioux continued his trip around the central object, though what he expected or hoped to accomplish by this curious proceeding was more than his antagonist could conjecture.
The advantage during the performance possibly was with young Starr; for, by keeping the nose of Jack pointed toward the other he offered the least possible target to the foe, while the course of the Indian compelled him to hold his pony broadside, himself remaining a conspicuous object on his back.
"I think I can shorten this business," reflected Starr, "by another shot or two. I am standing still, and if I can't bring that fellow off his horse I'm of little account."
But the Sioux was more watchful than he suspected. Hardly was the Winchester raised when, presto! the warrior disappeared. He had flung himself far on the other side of his pony, and was capable of maintaining that situation while making the circuit of the youth.
The latter held his fire. He was confident of being able to hit the other animal, but to his mind that would be taking a dishonorable advantage, though none knew better than he that he was dealing with an enemy to whom treachery was a cardinal virtue.
The horse showed no decrease of his speed, but continued galloping forward with the easy swing shown by the trained circus animal when an equestrian is giving an exhibition. That the rider, from his position on the other side of his body, with his moccason extended over the spine of the animal, was keeping close watch of the youth the latter did not need to be told.
He must have seen Warren, after holding his weapon levelled for a moment, lower it again, disappointed at the vanishing target. The next moment the Sioux discharged his weapon.
The aim of the warrior was better than before, and though it was not fatal, it came startlingly near being so. The bullet nipped the ear of the pony, and cut through the coat of Warren Starr; grazing his shoulder in the passage.
There could be no question that the red man was in dead earnest, and that when he discharged his rifle he meant to kill.
It must not be supposed there was any holding back on the part of the youth; he was equally resolved that, if the chance were given, he would do his best to bring his antagonist from the back of his horse.
The Sioux resumed his circling course, gradually drawing nearer the young man, who continued as alert as at the first; ready to take advantage of any opening that presented itself.
Suddenly the red man wheeled his pony in the opposite direction, doubling on his own course. This compelled him to swing over to the other side in order to continue his use of the animal as a shield. He executed the movement with wonderful deftness, but a singular condition was against him.
Young Starr had just formed the decision that the best, if indeed not the only thing he could do, was to shoot the steed of his foe. This was easy, and with the Indian dismounted he would be at a great disadvantage, though likely still to use the body of his animal as a guard against the marksmanship of his enemy; but the latter counted on the flurry giving him his opportunity.
Thus it happened that at the moment the Winchester was at Warren's shoulder, and his eye was ranging along the barrel, he caught a glimpse of the dusky body in the act of whisking over that of the pony. The glimpse was only momentary, but under the peculiar conditions it was just what was needed. The youth fired, and with such accuracy that the warrior lunged over his steed, and sprawled in the snow on the other side.
The released animal threw up his head with a snort, and trotted toward the ridge as if he, too, had felt the sting of the bullet and was hastening away from a possible repetition.
The sight of the Indian on the ground told the youth of the success of his shot, but it did not lead him to do anything rash, as would have been natural in the flush of triumph. The Sioux was not yet killed, and was still capable of mischief.
Warren rode rapidly a few yards toward him, and then brought Jack to an abrupt halt. He had seen something suspicious in the actions of his enemy.
"Is he shamming?" was the question he asked himself, as he leaned forward, carefully keeping the head and neck of Jack in front of his body, and on the alert against a treacherous shot.
The Sioux seemed to have fallen on his side, with his face turned partly away from the youth. With surprising quickness he shifted his position so as to confront the horseman, and still lay prostrate in the snow, as if unable to rise.
There might be a sinister meaning to this. The pretence of being mortally disabled was an old one with his people, as many a white man has learned when too late. If he were trying the artifice in the present instance, he did it skilfully.
Under the belief that he was powerless to inflict further harm, nothing was more natural than that the youth should ride forward with the purpose of giving him his quietus, disregarding his own safety until a bullet through the body should apprise him of his fatal oversight. It was this fear that checked Warren in the very nick of time.
The one great obstacle in the way of the Sioux successfully playing this ruse was that he was in open view, where no movement on his part could be concealed. Were it in the wood, with rocks and trees at his command, the chances would have been far better for him.
Warren Starr kept his eye fixed on him. It would have been easy, while seated on his own pony, to drive a ball through the miscreant, who was fully exposed to his fire, but it might be after all that he was badly wounded and unable to defend himself. If such were the case he could not commit the cruelty of firing at him again, even though the Sioux would have eagerly seized such a chance against a foe.
It was for the purpose of learning the truth in the matter that Warren watched him with the utmost closeness, holding his own weapon ready to use the instant the other made a hostile demonstration.
The action or rather inaction of the other Sioux at the base of the ridge was suggestive, and increased the suspicion of the young rancher. They were in a direct line with the one on the ground, so that Warren readily saw them without withdrawing his attention from his immediate antagonist.
Instead of rushing out to the help of the latter they remained where they were, and continued the role of spectators. This looked as if they did not believe the fellow was in need of assistance, and they were simply waiting with confidence in the result of the piece of treacherous cunning.
The warrior with his left hand drew his rifle round to the front. The weapon was a magazine one like Warren's, and it was one, therefore, of which it would not do to lose sight.
The gun being in position for use, the owner, apparently with difficulty, raised the upper part of his body, so that it was supported on the left elbow. Then he essayed to call the right hand into play, but appeared to find a difficulty in doing so.
Up to this moment Warren Starr had been trying to learn in what manner the fellow was wounded. The motion of his lower limbs showed no weakness, though it might have been there without appearing, so long as he held his prone position and did not call them into use.
The action now indicated that his right arm was the one that had suffered, since it fumbled awkwardly and refused to give the needed help when called upon.
Still all this might be pretence, intended to deceive the youth into uncovering himself. Warren did not lose sight of that probability.
The action of the Sioux was precisely what it would have been had he, knowing that he was confronted by a merciless enemy, done his utmost, while badly wounded in the right arm, to bring his weapon to bear upon him. There was no hesitation or trouble with the left arm, but it was the other which, from appearances, refused to answer the call upon it.
It was seen to move aimlessly about, but still was unable to help in aiming, and the hand could not manipulate the trigger—an impotence which, if actual, was fatal.
But who can trust an Indian? Knowing that his slightest action could not escape the keen eyes of the youthful horseman a short distance away, was he not likely to direct every movement with the purpose of deceiving him?
The truth must show itself soon; but be it what it might, Warren Starr had the comforting belief that he was master of the situation. He was unharmed, with his ready Winchester in such position that he could use it like a flash. As yet the Sioux had not brought himself to the point of aiming, and Warren was watching him so closely that he could anticipate his firing. He was resolved that the instant he attempted to shoot he would let fly, and end the singular prairie duel.
It has taken considerable time to make all this clear, but the incidents from the fall of the Sioux to the close occupied but a few minutes.
Young Starr spoke in a low voice to his pony, who began moving slowly toward the prostrate Indian, the rider holding his weapon ready as before. Jack took short and very deliberate steps, for he did not like the appearance of things. A man lying on the ground is always a disquieting object to a horse, and this one had already felt the sting of the Indian's anger when the bullet clipped a tiny speck out of his ear. Warren Starr was resolved to learn the truth, and he did so before Jack had advanced a dozen steps.