CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
HUNTED BY INDIANS.
There's something wonderfully inspiriting in sunshine--something thatmakes the heart leap and the blood course through the veins, raising thespirits, and sending trouble along with darkness far away into thebackground.
As the sun rose, flooding the wild plains with heat, and Bart drew reinand looked about after his long night-ride to see that there was hardlya cloud in sight, and, better still, no sign of Indians, he uttered acry of joy, and bent down and smoothed and patted his brave littlesteed, which had carried him so far and so well.
Then he had a good look round, to see if he could make out his position,and, after a while, came to the conclusion that he was not so very farout of his way, and that by turning off a little more to the west hewould soon be in the direct route.
In patting and making much of Black Boy, Bart found that the littlehorse was dripping with perspiration, many, many miles running havingbeen got over in the night; and if the journey was to be satisfactorilyperformed, he knew that there must be some time for rest.
With this idea, then, Bart turned a little to the east, and rodestraight for a clump of trees about a couple of miles away, a spot thatpromised ample herbage and shade, perhaps water, while, unseen, he couldkeep a good look-out over the open plain.
The patch Bart reached was only of a few acres in extent, and it offeredmore than he had bargained for, there being a pleasantly clear pool ofwater in an open spot, while the grass was so tempting that he hadhardly time to remove Black Boy's bit, so eager was he to begin. He wassoon tethered to a stout sapling, however, feeding away to his heart'scontent, while, pretty well wearied out by his long night-ride, Bart satdown beneath a tree where he could have a good view of the plain overwhich he had ridden, and began to refresh himself, after a good draughtof pure cool water, with one of the long dry strips of bison-meat thatformed his store.
Nature will have her own way. Take away from her the night's rest thatshe has ordained for man's use and refreshment, and she is sure to tryand get it back. And so it was here; for as Bart sat munching there inthe delicious restfulness of his position, with the soft warm breezejust playing through the leaves, the golden sunshine raining downamongst the leaves and branches in dazzling streams, while the pleasantwhirr and hum of insects was mingled with the gentle _crop, crop, crop_of Black Boy's teeth as he feasted on the succulent growth around, alltended to produce drowsiness, and in a short time he found himselfnodding.
Then he roused himself very angrily, telling himself that he must watch;and he swept the plain with his eyes. But, directly after, as hethought that he must hurry on, as it was a case of life and death, hewas obliged to own that the more haste he exercised the less speed therewould be, for his horse could not do the journey without food and rest.
That word rest seemed to have a strange effect upon him, and he repeatedit two or three times over, his hand dropping wearily at his side as hedid so, and his eyes half closing while he listened to the pleasant humof the insects all around.
Then he started into wakefulness again, determined to watch and waituntil a better time for sleep; but as he came to this determination, thesound of the insects, the soft cropping and munching noise made by BlackBoy, and the pleasant breath of the morning as it came through thetrees, were too sweet to be resisted, and before poor Bart could realisethe fact that he was ready to doze, he was fast asleep with his headupon his breast.
The sun grew higher and hotter, and Black Boy, who did not seem torequire sleep, cropped away at the grass till he had finished all thatwas good within his reach, after which he made a dessert of green leavesand twigs, and then, having eaten as much as he possibly could, he stoodat the end of his tether, with his head hanging down as if thinkingabout the past night's storm or some other object of interest, ending bypropping his legs out a little farther, and, imitating his master, goingoff fast asleep.
Then the sun grew higher still, and reached the highest point beforebeginning to descend, and then down, down, down, all through the hotafternoon, till its light began to grow softer and more mellow, and theshadows cast by the tree-trunks went out in a different direction tothat which they had taken when Bart dropped asleep.
All at once he awoke in a fright, for something hard was thumping andpawing at his chest, and on looking up, there was Black Boy right overhim, scraping and pawing at him as if impatient to go on.
"Why, I must have been asleep," cried Bart, catching at the horse'shead-stall and thrusting him away. "Gently, old boy; your hoofs are notvery soft. You hurt."
He raised himself up, stretching the while.
"How tiresome to sleep like that!" he muttered. "Why, I had notfinished my breakfast, and--"
Bart said no more, but stood there motionless staring straight beforehim, where the plain was now ruddy and glowing with the rays of theevening sun.
For there, about a mile away, he could see a body of some twenty orthirty Indians coming over the plain at an easy rate, guided evidentlyby one on foot who ran before them with bended head, and Bart knew aswell as if he had heard the words shouted in his ear that they werefollowing him by his trail.
There was not a moment to lose, and with trembling hands he secured thebuckles of his saddle-girths, and strapped on the various littlearticles that formed his luggage, slung his rifle, and then leading thecob to the other side of the patch of woodland, where he would be out ofsight of the Indians, he mounted, marked a spot on the horizon whichwould keep him in a direct line and the woodland clump as long aspossible between him and his enemies, and rode swiftly off.
The inclination was upon him to gaze back, but he knew in doing so hemight swerve from the bee-line he had marked out, and he resisted thetemptation, riding on as swiftly as his cob could go, and wondering allthe while why it was that he had not been seen.
If he had been with the Apaches he would have ceased to wonder, forwhile Bart was galloping off on the other side, his well-rested andrefreshed horse going faster and faster each minute as he got intoswing, the Indians began to slacken their pace. There was no doubtabout the trail, they knew: it led straight into the patch of woodland;and as this afforded ample cover, they might at any moment findthemselves the objects of some able rifle-firing; and as they hadsuffered a good deal lately in their ranks, they were extra cautious.
The trail showed that only one fugitive was on the way, him of whomtheir dying comrade had spoken; but then the fugitive had made straightfor this clump of trees, and how were they to know but that he expectedto meet friends there, whose first volley would empty half the saddlesof the little troop?
Indians can be brave at times, but for the most part they are cowardlyand extremely cautious. Naturally enough an Indian, no matter to whattribe he belongs, has a great objection to being shot at, and a greaterobjection to being hit. So instead of riding boldly up, and finding outthat Bart had just galloped away, the Apaches approached by means ofthree or four dismounted men, who crept slowly from clump of brush topatch of long grass, and so on and on, till first one and then anotherreached the edge of the woody place, where they rested for a time,eagerly scanning each leaf and tree-trunk for an enemy at whom to fire,or who would fire at them.
Then they crept on a little farther, and found Bart's halting-place andthe feeding-ground of the horse. Then they came by degrees upon histrail through the wood, all very fresh, and still they went oncautiously, and like men to whom a false step meant a fatalbullet-wound, while all the time their companions sat there upon theplain, keen and watchful, ready for action at a moment's notice, andwaiting the signal to come on.
At last this came, for the advanced dismounted scouts had traced thetrail to the farther edge of the wood, and seen even the deep impressionmade by Bart's foot as he sprang upon his steed.
Then the mounted Apaches came on at a great rate, dashed through thewood and came up to their friends, who triumphantly pointed to theemerging trail, and on they all went once more, one man only rem
ainingdismounted to lead the party, while the rest followed close behind.
This little piece of caution had given poor Bart two hours' start, andwhen the Indians came out of the wood, he had been a long time out ofsight; but there was his plainly marked trail, and that they couldfollow, and meant to follow to the end.
The Silver Canyon: A Tale of the Western Plains Page 38
