The Prairie Chief

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER FOUR.

  CIRCUMVENTING THE BLACKFEET.

  On reaching the neighbourhood of the Blackfoot camp, Whitewing, and hiscompanions crept to the top of the eminence which overlooked it, takingcare, however, to keep as far away as possible from the sentinel whostill watched there.

  Brighteyes proved herself to be quite as expert as her male companionsin advancing like a snake through the long grass, though encumbered witha blanket wrapped round her shoulders. The use of this blanket soonbecame apparent. As the three lay prone on their faces looking down atthe camp, from which the sound of voices still arose in subdued murmurs,the young chief said to his sister--

  "Let the signal be a few notes of the song Brighteyes learned from thewhite preacher. Go."

  Without a word of reply, the girl began to move gently forward,maintaining her recumbent position as she went, and gradually, as itwere, melted away.

  The moon was still shining brightly, touching every object with pale buteffective lights, and covering hillocks and plains with correspondinglydark shadows. In a few minutes Brighteyes had crept past the youngsentinel, and lay within sight--almost within ear shot of the camp.

  Much to her satisfaction she observed that the Indians had not boundtheir captives. Even the missionary's hands were free. Evidently theythought, and were perhaps justified in thinking, that escape wasimpossible, for the horses of the party were all gathered together andhobbled, besides being under a strong guard; and what chance could womenand children have, out on the plains on foot, against mounted men,expert to follow the faintest trail? As for the white man, he was a manof peace and unarmed, as well as ignorant of warriors' ways. Thecaptives were therefore not only unbound, but left free to move aboutthe camp at will, while some of their captors slept, some fed, andothers kept watch.

  The missionary had just finished singing a hymn, and was about to beginto read a portion of God's Word when one of the women left the group,and wandered accidentally close to the spot where Brighteyes lay. Itwas Lightheart.

  "Sister," whispered Brighteyes.

  The girl stopped abruptly, and bent forward to listen, with intenseanxiety depicted on every feature of her pretty brown face.

  "Sister," repeated Brighteyes, "sink in the grass and wait."

  Lightheart was too well trained in Indian ways to speak or hesitate. Atonce, but slowly, she sank down and disappeared. Another moment, andBrighteyes was at her side.

  "Sister," she said, "Manitou has sent help. Listen. We must be wiseand quick."

  From this point she went on to explain in as few words as possible thatthree fleet horses were ready close at hand to carry off three of thosewho had been taken captive, and that she, Lightheart, must be one of thethree.

  "But I cannot, will not, escape," said Lightheart, "while the othersand, the white preacher go into slavery."

  To this Brighteyes replied that arrangements had been made to rescue thewhole party, and that she and two others were merely to be, as it were,the firstfruits of the enterprise. Still Lightheart objected; but whenher companion added that the plan had been arranged by her affiancedhusband, she acquiesced at once with Indian-like humility.

  "I had intended," said Brighteyes, "to enter the Blackfoot camp as if Iwere one of the captives, and thus make known our plans; but that is notnow necessary. Lightheart will carry the news; she is wise, and knowshow to act. Whitewing and Leetil Tim are hid on yonder hillock likesnakes in the grass. I will return to then, and let Lightheart, whenshe comes, be careful to avoid the sentinel there--"

  She stopped short, for at the moment a step was heard near them. It wasthat of a savage warrior, whose sharp eye had observed Lightheart quitthe camp, and who had begun to wonder why she did not return.

  In another instant Brighteyes flung her blanket round her, whispered toher friend, "Lie close," sprang up, and, brushing swiftly past thewarrior with a light laugh--as though amused at having been discovered--ran into camp, joined the group round the missionary, and sat down.Although much surprised, the captives were too wise to express theirfeelings. Even the missionary knew enough of Indian tactics to preventhim from committing himself. He calmly continued the reading in whichhe had been engaged, and the Blackfoot warrior returned to his place,congratulating himself, perhaps, on having interrupted the little planof one intending runaway.

  Meanwhile Lightheart, easily understanding her friend's motives, creptin a serpentine fashion to the hillock, where she soon found Whitewing--to the intense but unexpressed joy of that valiant red man.

  "Will Leetil Tim go back with Lightheart to the horses and wait, whilehis brother remains here?" said the young chief.

  "No, Little Tim _won't_," growled the trapper, in a tone of decisionthat surprised his red friend. "Brighteyes is in the Blackfoot camp,"he continued, in growling explanation.

  "True," returned the Indian, "but Brighteyes will escape; and even ifshe fails to do so now, she will be rescued with the others at last."

  "She will be rescued with _us_, just _now_," returned Little Tim in atone so emphatic that his friend looked at him with an expression ofsurprise that was unusually strong for a redskin warrior. Suddenly agleam of intelligence broke from his black eyes, and with the softexclamation, "Wah!" he sank flat on the grass again, and remainedperfectly still.

  Brighteyes found that it was not all plain sailing when she had mingledwith her friends in the camp. In the first place, the missionaryrefused absolutely to quit the captives. He would remain with them, hesaid, and await God's will and leading. In the second place, no thirdperson had been mentioned by her brother, whose chief anxiety had beenfor his bride and the white man, and it did not seem to Brighteyescreditable to quit the camp after all her risk and trouble without sometrophy of her prowess. In this dilemma she put to herself the question,"Whom would Lightheart wish me to rescue?"

  Now, there were two girls among the captives, one of whom was a bosomfriend of Lightheart; the other was a younger sister. To theseBrighteyes went, and straightway ordered them to prepare for flight.They were of course quite ready to obey. All the preparation needed wasto discard the blankets which Indian women are accustomed to wear asconvenient cloaks by day. Thus unhampered, the two girls wandered aboutthe camp, as several of the others had occasionally been doing.Separating from each other, they got into the outskirts in differentdirections. Meanwhile a hymn had been raised, which facilitated theirplans by attracting the attention of the savage warriors. High abovethe rest, in one prolonged note, the voice of Brighteyes rang out like asilver flute.

  "There's the signal," said Little Tim, as the sweet note fell on hislistening ear.

  Rising as he spoke, the trapper glided in a stooping posture down theside of the hillock, and round the base of it, until he got immediatelybehind the youthful sentinel. Then lying down, and creeping towards himwith the utmost caution, he succeeded in getting so near that he couldalmost touch him. With one cat-like bound, Little Tim was on theIndian's back, and had him in his arms, while his broad horny handcovered his mouth, and his powerful forefinger and thumb grasped himviciously by the nose.

  It was a somewhat curious struggle that ensued. The savage was muchbigger than the trapper, but the trapper was much stronger than thesavage. Hence the latter made fearful and violent efforts to shake theformer off; while the former made not less fearful, though seemingly notquite so violent, efforts to hold on. The red man tried to bite, butTim's hand was too broad and hard to be bitten. He tried to shake hisnose free, but unfortunately his nose was large, and Tim's grip of itwas perfect. The savage managed to get just enough of breath throughhis mouth to prevent absolute suffocation, but nothing more. He haddropped his tomahawk at the first onset, and tried to draw his knife,but Tim's arms were so tight round him that he could not get his hand tohis back, where the knife reposed in his belt. In desperation hestooped forward, and tried to throw his enemy over his head; but Tim'slegs were wound round him, and no limpet ever embraced a rock withgreater t
enacity than did Little Tim embrace that Blackfoot brave. Halfchoking and wholly maddened, the savage suddenly turned heels over head,and fell on Tim with a force that ought to have burst him. But Timdidn't burst! He was much too tough for that. He did not evencomplain!

  Rising again, a sudden thought seemed to strike the Indian, for he beganto run towards the camp with his foe on his back. But Tim was preparedfor that. He untwined one leg, lowered it, and with an adroit twisttripped up the savage, causing him to fall on his face with tremendousviolence. Before he could recover, Tim, still covering the mouth andholding tight to the nose, got a knee on the small of the savage's backand squeezed it smaller. At the same time he slid his left hand up tothe savage's windpipe, and compressed it. With a violent heave, theBlackfoot sprang up. With a still more violent heave, the trapper flunghim down, bumped his head against a convenient stone, and brought thecombat to a sudden close. Without a moment's loss of time, Tim gaggedand bound his adversary. Then he rose up with a deep inspiration, andwiped his forehead, as he contemplated him.

  "All this comes o' your desire not to shed human blood, Whitewing," hemuttered. "Well, p'raps you're right--what would ha' bin the use o'killin' the poor critturs. But it was a tough job!"--saying which, helifted the Indian on his broad shoulders, and carried him away.

  While this fight was thus silently going on, hidden from view of thecamp by the hillock, Whitewing crept forward to meet Brighteyes and thetwo girls, and these, with Lightheart, were eagerly awaiting thetrapper. "My brother is strong," said Whitewing, allowing the faintestpossible smile to play for a moment on his usually grave face.

  "Your brother is tough," returned Little Tim, rubbing the back of hishead with a rueful look; "an' he's bin bumped about an' tumbled on tothat extent that it's a miracle a whole bone is left in his carcass.But lend a hand, lad; we've got no time to waste."

  Taking the young Blackfoot between them, and followed by the silentgirls, they soon reached the thicket where the horses had been left.Here they bound their captive securely to a tree, and gave him a drinkof water with a knife pointed at his heart to keep him quiet, afterwhich they re-gagged him. Then Whitewing led Lightheart through thethicket towards his horse, and took her up behind him. Little Tim tookcharge of Brighteyes. The young sister and the bosom friend mounted thethird horse, and thus paired, they all galloped away.

  But the work that our young chief had cut out for himself that night wasonly half accomplished. On reaching the rendezvous which he hadappointed, he found the braves of his tribe impatiently awaiting him.

  "My father sees that we have been successful," he said to Bald Eagle,who had been unable to resist the desire to ride out to the rendezvouswith the fighting men. "The great Manitou has given us the victory thusfar, as the white preacher said he would."

  "My son is right. Whitewing will be a great warrior when Bald Eagle isin the grave. Go and conquer; I will return to camp with the women."

  Thus relieved of his charge, Whitewing, who, however, had little desireto achieve the fame prophesied for him, proceeded to fulfil the prophecyto some extent. He divided his force into four bands, with which hegalloped off towards the Blackfoot camp. On nearing it, he so arrangedthat they should attack the camp simultaneously at four opposite points.Little Tim commanded one of the bands, and he resolved in his own mindthat his band should be the last to fall on the foe.

  "Bloodshed _may_ be avoided," he muttered to himself; "an' I hope itwill, as Whitewing is so anxious about it. Anyhow, I'll do my best toplease him."

  Accordingly, on reaching his allotted position, Tim halted his men, andbided his time.

  The moon still shone over prairie and hill, and not a breath of airstirred blade or leaf. All in nature was peace, save in the hearts ofsavage man. The Blackfoot camp was buried in slumber. Only thesentinels were on the alert. Suddenly one of these--like the war-horse,who is said to scent the battle from afar--pricked his ears, distendedhis nostrils, and listened. A low, muffled, thunderous sort ofpattering on the plain in front. It might be a herd of buffaloes. Thesentinel stood transfixed. The humps of buffaloes are large, but theydo not usually attain to the size of men! The sentinel clapped his handto his mouth, and gave vent to a yell which sent the blood spirtingthrough the veins of all, and froze the very marrow in the bones ofsome! Prompt was the reply and turn-out of the Blackfoot warriors.Well used to war's alarms, there was no quaking in their bosoms. Theywere well named "braves."

  But the noise in the camp prevented them from hearing or observing theapproach of the enemy on the other side till almost too late. A whoopapprised the chief of the danger. He divided his forces, and lost someof his self-confidence.

  "Here comes number three," muttered Little Tim, as he observed the thirdband emerge from a hollow on the left.

  The Blackfoot chief observed it too, divided his forces again, and lostmore of his self-confidence.

  None of the three bands had as yet reached the camp, but they all camethundering down on it at the same time, and at the same whirlwind pace.

  "Now for number four," muttered Little Tim. "Come boys, an' at 'em!" hecried, unconsciously paraphrasing the Duke of Wellington's Waterloospeech.

  At the some time he gave utterance to what he styled a Rocky Mountaintrapper's roar, and dashed forward in advance of his men, who, in tryingto imitate the roar, intensified and rather complicated their own yell.

  It was the last touch to the Blackfoot chief, who, losing the smallremnant of his self-confidence, literally "sloped" into the long grass,and vanished, leaving his men to still further divide themselves, whichthey did effectually by scattering right and left like small-shot from ablunderbuss.

  Great was the terror of the poor captives while this brief but decisiveaction lasted, for although they knew that the assailants were theirfriends, they could not be certain of the issue of the combat.Naturally, they crowded round their only male friend, the missionary.

  "Do not fear," he said, in attempting to calm them; "the good Manitouhas sent deliverance. We will trust in Him."

  The dispersion of their foes and the arrival of friends almostimmediately followed these words. But the friends who arrived were fewin number at first, for Whitewing had given strict orders as to thetreatment of the enemy. In compliance therewith, his men chased themabout the prairie in a state of gasping terror; but no weapon was used,and not a man was killed, though they were scattered beyond thepossibility of reunion for at least some days to come.

  Before that eventful night was over the victors were far from the sceneof victory on their way home.

  "It's not a bad style o' fightin'," remarked Little Tim to his friend asthey rode away; "lots o' fun and fuss without much damage. Pity wecan't do all our fightin' in that fashion."

  "Waugh!" exclaimed Whitewing; but as he never explained what he meant by"waugh," we must leave it to conjecture. It is probable, however, thathe meant assent, for he turned aside in passing to set free theBlackfoot who had been bound to a tree. That red man, having expecteddeath, went off with a lively feeling of surprise, and at top speed, hispace being slightly accelerated by a shot--wide of the mark and at longrange--from Little Tim.

  Three weeks after these events a number of Indians were baptised by ourmissionary. Among them were the young chief Whitewing and Lightheart,and these two were immediately afterwards united in marriage. Next daythe trapper, with much awkwardness and hesitation, requested themissionary to unite him and Brighteyes. The request was complied with,and thenceforward the white man and the red became more inseparable thanever. They hunted and dwelt together--to the ineffable joy ofWhitewing's wrinkled old mother, whose youth seemed absolutely to reviveunder the influence of the high-pressure affection brought to bear on acolony of brown and whitey-brown grand-children by whom she was at lastsurrounded.

  The doubts and difficulties of Whitewing were finally cleared away. Henot only accepted fully the Gospel for himself, but became anxious tocommend it to others as the only
real and perfect guide in life andcomfort in death. In the prosecution of his plans, he imitated theexample of his "white father," roaming the prairie and the mountains farand wide with his friend the trapper, and even venturing to visit someof the lodges of his old foes the Blackfoot Indians, in his desire torun earnestly, yet with patience, the race that had been set beforehim--"looking unto Jesus."

  Full twenty years rolled by, during which no record, was kept of thesayings or doings of those whose fortunes we have followed thus far. Atthe end of that period, however, striking incidents in their careerbrought the most prominent among them again to the front--as thefollowing chapters will show.