The Prairie, Volume 2 Read online

  Mahtoree and his party slowly retired from the thicket, the moment they caught a view of the strangers, until they halted on a swell that commanded a wide and unobstructed view of the naked fields on which they stood. Here the Dahcotah appeared disposed to make his stand, and to bring matters to an issue. Notwithstanding this retreat, in which he compelled the trapper to accompany him, Middleton still advanced, until he too halted on the same elevation and within speaking distance of the warlike Siouxes. The borderers in their turn took a favourable position, though at a much greater distance. The three groups now resembled so many fleets at sea, lying with their topsails to the masts, with the commendable precaution of reconnoitring before each could ascertain who among the strangers might be considered as friends and who as foes.

  During this moment of suspense, the dark, threatening eye of Mahtoree rolled from one of the strange parties to the other, in keen and hasty examination, and then it turned its withering look on the old man, as the chief said, in a tone of high and bitter scorn--

  “The Big-knives are fools! It is easier to catch the cougar asleep than to find a blind Dahcotah. Did the white head think to ride on the horse of a Sioux?”

  The trapper, who had found time to collect his perplexed faculties, saw at once that Middleton, having perceived Ishmael on the trail by which they had fled, preferred trusting to the hospitality of the savages, than to the treatment he would be likely to receive from the hands of the squatter. He therefore disposed himself to clear the way for the favourable reception of his friends, since he found that the unnatural coalition became necessary to secure the liberty if not the lives of the party.

  “Did my brother ever go on a war-path to strike my people?” he calmly demanded of the indignant chief, who still awaited his reply.

  The lowering aspect of the Teton warrior so far lost its severity, as to suffer a gleam of pleasure and triumph to lighten its ferocity, as sweeping his arm in an entire circle around his person he answered--

  “What tribe or nation has not felt the blows of the Dahcotahs? Mahtoree is their partisan.”

  “And has he found the Big-knives women, or has he found them men?”

  A multitude of fierce passions seemed struggling together in the tawny countenance of the Indian, as he heard this interrogatory. For a moment inextinguishable hatred seemed to hold the mastery, and then a nobler expression, and one that better became the character of a brave warrior, got possession of his features, and maintained itself until, first throwing aside his light robe of pictured deer-skin and pointing to the scar of a bayonet in his breast, he replied--

  “It was given as it was taken, face to face.”

  “It is enough. My brother is a brave chief, and he should be a wise one. Let him look; is that a warrior of the Pale-faces? Was it one such as that who gave the great Dahcotah his hurt?”

  The eyes of Mahtoree followed the direction of the old man’s extended arm, until they rested on the drooping form of Inez. The look of the Teton was long, riveted and admiring. Like that of the young Pawnee, it resembled more the gaze of a mortal on some heavenly image, than the admiration with which man is wont to contemplate even the loveliness of woman. Starting as if suddenly self-convicted of forgetfulness, the chief next turned his eyes on Ellen, where they lingered an instant with a much more intelligible expression of admiration, and then pursued their course until they had taken another glance at each individual of the party.

  “My brother sees that my tongue is not forked,” continued the trapper, watching the emotions the other betrayed with a readiness of comprehension little inferior to that of the Teton himself. “The Big-knives do not send their women to war. I know that the Dahcotahs will smoke with the strangers.”

  “Mahtoree is a great chief. The Big-knives are welcome,” said the Teton, laying his hand on his breast, with an air of lofty politeness that would have done credit to any state of society. “The arrows of my young men are in their quivers.”

  The trapper motioned to Middleton to approach, and in a few moments the two parties were blended in one, each of the males having exchanged friendly greetings after the fashions of the prairie warriors. But, even while engaged in this hospitable manner, the Dahcotah did not fail to keep a strict watch on the more distant party of white men, as though he still distrusted an artifice or sought a further explanation. The old man in his turn perceived the necessity of being more explicit, and of securing the slight and equivocal advantage he had already obtained. While affecting to examine the groupe, which still lingered at the spot where it had first halted, as if to discover the characters of those who composed it, he plainly saw that Ishmael contemplated immediate hostilities. The result of a conflict on the open prairie, between a dozen resolute border-men, and the half-armed natives, even though seconded by their white allies, was in his experienced judgment a point of great uncertainty, and though far from reluctant to engage in the struggle on account of himself, the aged trapper thought it far more worthy of his years and his character to avoid than to court the contest. His feelings were for obvious reasons in accordance with those of Paul and Middleton, who had lives still more precious than their own to watch over and protect. In this dilemma the three consulted on the means of escaping the frightful consequences, which might immediately follow a single act of hostility on the part of the borderers, the old man taking care that their communication should, in the eyes of those who noted the expression of their countenances with jealous watchfulness, bear the appearance of explanations as to the reason, why such a party of travellers was met so far in the deserts.

  “I know that the Dahcotahs are a wise and great people,” at length the trapper commenced, again addressing himself to the chief; “but does not their partisan know a single brother who is base?”

  The eye of Mahtoree wandered proudly around his band, but rested a moment reluctantly on Weucha, as he answered--

  “The Master of Life has made chiefs, and warriors, and women;” conceiving that he thus embraced all the gradations of human excellence from the highest to the lowest.

  “And he has also made Pale-faces, who are wicked. Such are they whom my brother sees yonder.”

  “Do they go on foot to do wrong?” demanded the Teton, with a wild gleam from his eyes, that sufficiently betrayed how well he knew the reason why they were reduced to so humble an expedient.

  “Their beasts are gone. But their powder, and their lead, and their blankets still remain.”

  “Do they carry their riches in their hands like miserable Konzas? or are they brave, and leave them with the women, as men should do, who know where to find what they lose.”

  “My brother sees the spot of blue across the prairie; look, the sun has touched it for the last time to day.”

  “Mahtoree is not a mole.”

  “It is a rock, and on it are the goods of the Big-knives.”

  An expression of savage joy shot into the dark countenance of the Teton as he listened; turning to the old man he seemed to read his soul for an instant, as if to assure himself he was not deceived. Then he bent his look on the party of Ishmael and counted its number.

  “One warrior is wanting,” he said.

  “Does my brother see the buzzards? there is his grave. Did he find blood on the prairie? it was his.”

  “Enough! Mahtoree is a wise chief. Put your women on the horses of the Dahcotahs; we shall see, for our eyes are open very wide.”

  The trapper wasted no unnecessary words in further explanations. Familiar with the brevity and promptitude of the natives, he immediately communicated the result to his companions. Paul was mounted in an instant, with Ellen at his back. A few more moments were necessary to assure Middleton of the security and ease of Inez. While he was thus engaged Mahtoree advanced to the side of the beast he had allotted to this service, which was his own, and manifested an intention to occupy his customary place on its back. The young soldier seized the reins of the animal, and glances of sudden anger and lofty pride were exchanged
between them.

  “No man takes this seat but myself,” said Middleton, sternly, in English.

  “Mahtoree is a great chief!” retorted the savage; neither comprehending the meaning of the other’s words.

  “The Dahcotah will be too late,” whispered the old man at his elbow, “see; the Big-knives are afraid and they will soon run.”

  The Teton chief instantly abandoned his claim, and threw himself on another horse, directing one of his young men to furnish a similar accommodation for the trapper. The warriors, who were dismounted, got up behind as many of their companions. Doctor Battius bestrode Asinus, and notwithstanding the brief interruption, in half the time we have taken to relate it the whole party was prepared to move.

  When he saw that all were ready, Mahtoree gave the signal to advance. A few of the best mounted of the warriors, the chief himself included, moved a little in front, and made a threatening demonstration, as if they intended to attack the strangers. The squatter, who was in truth slowly retiring, instantly halted his party, and showed a willing front. Instead however of coming within reach of the dangerous aim of the western rifle, the subtle savages kept wheeling about the strangers, until they had made a half circuit, keeping the latter in constant expectation of an assault. Then perfectly secure of their object, the Tetons raised a loud shout and darted across the prairie in a line for the distant rock, with the directness and nearly with the velocity of the arrow that has just been shot from its bow.

  CHAPTER IV.

  “Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.

  Signor Baptista, shall I lead the way?”

  Shakspeare Mahtoree had scarcely given the first intimation of his real design, before a general discharge from the borderers proved how well they understood it. The distance, and the rapidity of the flight however, rendered their fire perfectly harmless. As a proof how little he regarded the hostility of their party, the Dahcotah chieftain answered the report with a yell, and, flourishing his carabine above his head, he made a circuit on the plain, followed by his chosen warriors, as if in very scorn of the impotent attempt of his enemies. As the main body continued the direct course, this little band of the elite in returning from its wild exhibition of savage contempt, took its place in the rear, with a dexterity and a concert of action that showed the manœuvre had been contemplated.

  Volley swiftly succeeded volley, until the enraged squatter was reluctantly compelled to abandon the idea of injuring his enemies by means so feeble. Relinquishing his fruitless attempt, he commenced a rapid pursuit, occasionally discharging a rifle, in order to give the alarm to the garrison, which he had prudently left under the command of the redoubtable Esther herself. In this manner the chace was continued for many minutes, the horsemen gradually gaining on their pursuers, who maintained the race, however, with an incredible power of foot.

  As the little speck of blue rose against the heavens, like an island issuing from the deep, the savages occasionally raised a yell of triumph. But the mists of evening were already gathering along the whole of the eastern margin of the prairie, and before the band had made half of the necessary distance, the dim outline of the rock had melted into the haze of the back-ground. Indifferent to this circumstance, which rather favoured than disconcerted his plans, Mahtoree, who had again ridden in front, held on his course with the accuracy of a hound of the truest scent, merely slackening his steed a little, as the horses of his party were by this time thoroughly blown. It was at this stage of the enterprise that the old man rode up to the side of Middleton, and addressed him as follows in English--

  “Here is likely to be a thieving business, and one in which I must say I have but a small relish to be a partner.”

  “What would you do? It would be fatal to trust ourselves in the hands of the miscreants in our rear.”

  “Tut, for miscreants, be they red or be they white. Look ahead, lad, as if ye were talking of our medicines, or perhaps praising the Teton beasts. For the knaves love to hear their horses commended, the same as a foolish mother in the settlements is fond of hearing the praises of her wilful child. So; pat the animal and lay your hand on the gew-gaws, with which the Red-skins have ornamented his mane, giving your eye as it were to one thing, and your mind to another. Listen; if matters are managed with judgment we may leave these Tetons, as the night sets in.”

  “A blessed thought!” exclaimed Middleton, who retained a painful remembrance of the look of admiration, with which Mahtoree had contemplated the loveliness of Inez, as well as of his subsequent presumption in daring to wish to take the office of her protector on himself.

  “Lord, Lord! what a weak creatur’ is man, when the gifts of natur’ are smothered in bookish knowledge and womanly manners. Such another start would tell these imps at our elbows that we were plotting against them, just as plainly as if it were whispered in their ears by a Sioux tongue. Ay, ay, I know the devils; they look as innocent as so many frisky fawns, but there is not one among them all that has not an eye on our smallest motions. Therefore, what is to be done is to be do in wisdom, in order to circumvent their cunning. That is right, pat his neck and smile, as if you praised the horse, and keep the ear on my side open to my words. Be careful not to worry your beast, for though but little skilled in horses, reason teaches that breath is needful in a hard push, and that a weary leg makes a dull race. Be ready to mind the signal, when you hear a whine from old Hector. The first will be to make ready; the second, to edge out of the crowd, and the third, to go--am I understood.”

  “Perfectly, perfectly,” said Middleton, trembling in his excessive eagerness to put the plan in instant execution, and pressing the little arm, which encircled his body, to his heart. “Perfectly. Hasten, hasten.”

  “Ay, the beast is no sloth,” continued the trapper in the Teton language, as if he continued the discourse, edging cautiously through the dusky throng at the same time, until he found himself riding at the side of Paul. He communicated his intentions in the same guarded manner as before. The high-spirited and fearless bee-hunter received the intelligence with delight, declaring his readiness to engage the whole of the savage band, should it become necessary to effect their object. When the old man drew off from the side of this pair also, he cast his eyes about him to discover the situation occupied by the naturalist.

  The Doctor, with infinite labour to himself and Asinus, had maintained a position in the very centre of the Siouxes, so long as there existed the smallest reason for believing that any of the missiles of Ishmael might arrive in contact with his person. After this danger had diminished, or rather disappeared entirely, his own courage revived while that of his steed began to droop. To this mutual but very material change was owing the fact, that the rider and the ass were now to be sought among that portion of the band who formed a sort of rear-guard. Hither then the trapper contrived to turn his steed, without exciting the suspicions of any of his subtle companions.

  “Friend,” commenced the old man, when he found himself in a situation favourable to discourse-- “Should you like to pass a dozen years among the savages with a shaved head, and a painted countenance, with perhaps a couple of wives and five or six children of the half-breed, to call you father?”

  “Impossible!” exclaimed the startled naturalist. “I am indisposed to matrimony in general, and more especially to all admixture of the varieties of species, which only tend to tarnish the beauty and to interrupt the harmony of nature. Moreover it is a painful innovation on the order of all nomenclatures.”

  “Ay, ay, you have reason enough for your distaste to such a life, but should these Siouxes get you fairly into their village, such would be your luck, as certain as that the sun rises and sets at the pleasure of the Lord.”

  “Marry me to a woman who is not adorned with the comeliness of the species!” responded the Doctor. “Of what crime have I been guilty, that so grievous a punishment should await the offence? To marry a man against the movements of his will is to do a violence to human nature!”

 
; “Now, that you speak of natur’, I have hopes that the gift of reason has not altogether deserted your brain,” returned the old man, with a covert expression playing about the angles of his deep-set eyes, which betrayed he was not entirely destitute of humour. “Nay, they may conceive you a remarkable subject for their kindness, and for that matter marry you to five or six. I have known, in my days, favoured chiefs, who had numberless wives.”

  “But why should they meditate this vengeance?” demanded the Doctor, whose hair began to rise, as if each fibre was possessed of sensibility; “what evil have I done?”

  “It is the fashion of their kindness. When they come to learn that you are a great medicine, they will adopt you in the tribe, and some mighty chief will give you his name, and perhaps his daughter, or it may be a wife or two of his own, who have dwelt long in his lodge, and of whose value he is a judge by experience.”

  “The Governor and Founder of natural harmony protect me!” ejaculated the Doctor. “I have no affinity to a single consort; much less to duplicates and triplicates of the class! I shall certainly essay a flight from their abodes before I mingle in so violent a conjunction.”

  “There is reason in your words; but why not attempt the race, you speak of, now?”

  The naturalist looked fearfully around him, as if he had an inclination to make an instant exhibition of his desperate intention, but the dusky figures, who were riding on every side of him seemed suddenly tripled in number, and the darkness, that was already thickening on the prairie, appeared in his eyes to possess the glare of high noon.

  “It would be premature, and reason forbids it,” he answered. “Leave me, venerable venator, to the council of my own thoughts, and when my plans are properly classed, I will advise you of my resolutions.”

  “Resolutions!” repeated the old man, shaking his head a little contemptuously as he gave the rein to his horse, and allowed him to mingle with the steeds of the savages. “Resolution is a word that is talked of in the settlements and felt on the borders. Does my brother know the beast on which the Paleface rides?” he continued, addressing a gloomy looking warrior in his own tongue, and making a motion with his arm that at the same time directed his attention to the naturalist and the meek Asinus.