CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
IN WHICH PLANS, PROSPECTS, LOVE, DANGERS, AND PERPLEXITIES ARE DEALTWITH.
Three days after the conversation related in the last chapter, a partyon horseback, numbering five persons, left the Blackfoot camp, and,entering one of the patches of forest with which the eastern slopes ofthe mountains were clothed, trotted smartly away in the direction of therising sun.
The party consisted of Rushing River and his mother, Moonlight, SkippingRabbit, and Eaglenose.
The latter, although still afflicted with a nose the swelled conditionof which rendered it out of all proportion to his face, and interferedsomewhat with his vision, was sufficiently recovered to travel, and alsoto indulge his bantering talk with the "skipping one," as he called hislittle friend. The chief was likewise restored, excepting the stump ofthe little finger, which was still bandaged. Umqua had been prevailedon to accompany her son, and it is only just to the poor woman to addthat she believed herself to be riding to a martyr's doom. The chiefhowever, did not think so, else he would not have asked her to accompanyhim.
Each of the party was mounted on a strong horse, except Skipping Rabbit,who bestrode an active pony more suited to her size. We say bestrode,because it must ever be borne in remembrance that Red India ladies ridelike gentlemen--very much, no doubt, to their own comfort.
Although Rushing River had resolved to place himself unarmed in thepower of his enemy, he had no intention of travelling in that helplesscondition in a country where he was liable to meet with foes, not onlyamong men but among beasts. Besides, as he carried but a small supplyof provisions, he was dependent on gun and bow for food. Himself,therefore, carried the former weapon, Eaglenose the latter, and bothwere fully armed with hatchet, tomahawk, and scalping-knife.
The path--if such it may be called--which they followed was one whichhad been naturally formed by wild animals and wandering Indians takingthe direction that was least encumbered with obstructions. It was onlywide enough for one to pass at a time, but after the first belt ofwoodland had been traversed, it diverged into a more open country, andfinally disappeared, the trees and shrubs admitting of free passage inall directions.
While in the narrow track the chief had headed the little band. Thencame Moonlight, followed by Umqua and by Skipping Rabbit on her pony,Eaglenose bringing up the rear.
On emerging, however, into the open ground, Rushing River drew reinuntil Moonlight came up alongside of him. Eaglenose, who was quick toprofit by example--especially when he liked it--rode up alongside of theskipping one, who welcomed him with a decidedly pale-face smile, whichshowed that she had two rows of bright little teeth behind her laughinglips.
"Is Moonlight glad," said the chief to the girl, after riding beside herfor some time in silence, "is Moonlight glad to return to the camp ofBounding Bull?"
"Yes, I am glad," replied the girl, choosing rather to answer in thematter-of-fact manner of the pale-faces than in the somewhat imaginativestyle of the Indians. She could adopt either, according to inclination.
There was a long pause, during which no sound was heard save the regularpatter of the hoofs on the lawn-like turf as they swept easily out andin among the trees, over the undulations, and down into the hollows, oracross the level plains.
"Why is Moonlight glad?" asked the chief.
"Because father and mother are there, and I love them both."
Again there was silence, for Moonlight had replied some what brusquely.The truth is that, although rejoicing in the prospect of again seeingher father and mother, the poor girl had a lurking suspicion that areturn to them meant final separation from Rushing River, and--althoughshe was too proud to admit, even to herself, that such a thoughtaffected her in any way--she felt very unhappy in the midst of herrejoicing, and knew not what to make of it. This condition of mind, asthe reader knows, is apt to make any one lower than an angel somewhattesty!
On coming to a rising ground, up which they had to advance at a walkingpace, the chief once more broke silence in a low, soft voice--
"Is not Moonlight sorry to quit the Blackfoot camp?"
The girl was taken by surprise, for she had never before heard anIndian--much less a chief--address a squaw in such a tone, or condescendto such a question. A feeling of self-reproach induced her to replywith some warmth--
"Yes, Rushing River, Moonlight is sorry to quit the lodges of herBlackfoot friends. The snow on the mountain-tops is warmed by thesunshine until it melts and flows down to the flowering plains. Theheart of Moonlight was cold and hard when it entered the Blackfoot camp,but the sunshine of kindness has melted it, and now that it flowstowards the grassy plains of home, Moonlight thinks with tenderness ofthe past, and will _never_ forget."
Rushing River said no more. Perhaps he thought the reply, coupled withthe look and tone, was sufficiently satisfactory. At all events, hecontinued thereafter to ride in profound silence, and, checking hissteed almost imperceptibly, allowed his mother to range up on the otherside of him.
Meanwhile Eaglenose and Skipping Rabbit, being influenced by noconsiderations of delicacy or anything else, kept up a livelyconversation in rear. For Eaglenose, like his chief, had freed himselffrom some of the trammels of savage etiquette.
It would take up too much valuable space to record all the nonsense thatthese two talked to each other, but a few passages are worthy of notice.
"Skipping one," said the youth, after a brief pause, "what are yourthoughts doing?"
"Swelled-nosed one," replied the child, with a laugh at her owninventive genius, "I was thinking what a big hole you must have made inthe ground when you got that fall."
"It was not shallow," returned the youth, with assumed gravity. "It wasbig enough to have buried a rabbit in, even a skipping one."
"Would there have been room for a jumping-jack too?" asked the child,with equal gravity; then, without waiting for an answer, she burst intoa merry laugh, and asked where they were travelling to.
"Has not Moonlight told you?"
"No, when I asked her about it yesterday she said she was not quitesure, it would be better not to speak till she knew."
"Moonlight is very wise--almost as wise as a man."
"Yes, wiser even than some men with swelled noses."
It was now the youth's turn to laugh, which he did quite heartily, foran Indian, though with a strong effort to restrain himself.
"We are going, I believe," he said, after a few moments' thought, "tovisit your father, Bounding Bull. At least the speech of Rushing Riverled Eaglenose to think so, but our chief does not say all that is in hismind. He is not a squaw--at least, not a skipping one."
Instead of retorting, the child looked with sudden anxiety into thecountenance of her companion.
"Does Rushing River," she asked, with earnest simplicity, "want to havehis tongue slit, his eyes poked in, his liver pulled out, and his scalpcut off?"
"I think not," replied Eaglenose, with equal simplicity, for althoughsuch a speech from such innocent lips may call forth surprise in acivilised reader, it referred, in those regions and times, topossibilities which were only too probable.
After a few minutes' thought the child said, with an earnest look in herlarge and lustrous eyes, "Skipping Rabbit will be glad--very glad--tosee her father, but she will be sorry--very sorry--to lose her friends."
Having now made it plain that the feelings of both captives had beentouched by the kindness of their captors, we will transport them and thereader at once to the neighbourhood of Bounding Bull's camp.
Under the same tree on the outskirts which had been the scene of thegirls' capture, Rushing River and Eaglenose stood once more with theircompanions, conversing in whispers. The horses had been concealed along way in rear, to prevent restiveness or an incidental neighbetraying them.
The night was intensely dark and still. The former condition favouredtheir enterprise, but the latter was unfavourable, as it rendered therisk of detection from any accidental sound much greater.
After a few minutes' talk with his male companion, the chief approachedthe tree where the females stood silently wondering what their captorsmeant to do, and earnestly hoping that no evil might befall any one.
"The time has come," he said, "when Moonlight may help to make peacebetween those who are at war. She knows well how to creep like theserpent in the grass, and how to speak with her tongue in such a waythat the heart of the listener will be softened while his ear ischarmed. Let Moonlight creep into the camp, and tell Bounding Bull thathis enemy is subdued; that the daughter of Leetil Tim has conquered him;that he wishes for friendship, and is ready to visit his wigwam, andsmoke the pipe of peace. But tell not that Rushing River is so near.Say only that Moonlight has been set free; that Manitou of thepale-faces has been whispering in the heart of Rushing River, and he nolonger delights in revenge or wishes for the scalp of Bounding Bull. Gosecretly, for I would not have the warriors know of your return till youhave found out the thoughts of the chief. If the ear of the chief isopen and his answer is favourable, let Moonlight sound the chirping of abird, and Rushing River will enter the camp without weapons, and trusthimself to the man who was once his foe. If the answer is unfavourable,let her hoot like the owl three times, and Rushing River will go back tothe home of his fathers, and see the pleasant face of Moonlight nomore."
To say that Moonlight was touched by this speech would give but a feebledescription of her feelings. The unusual delicacy of it for an Indian,the straightforward declaration implied in it and the patheticconclusion, would have greatly flattered her self-esteem, even if it hadnot touched her heart. Yet no sign did she betray of emotion, save thesomewhat rapid heaving of her bosom as she stood with bowed head,awaiting further orders.
"Moonlight will find Skipping Rabbit waiting for her here beside thistree. Whether Bounding Bull is for peace or war, Rushing River returnsto him his little one. Go, and may the hand of Manitou guide thee."
He turned at once and rejoined Eaglenose, who was standing on guard likea statue at no great distance.
Moonlight went immediately and softly into the bushes, without pausingto utter a single word to her female companions, and disappeared.
Thereupon the chief and his young brave lay down, and, resting there inprofound silence, awaited the result with deep but unexpressed anxiety.
Well did our heroine know every bush and rock of the country around her.With easy, soundless motion she glided along like a flitting shadowuntil she gained the line of sentries who guarded the camp. Here, as ona former occasion, she sank into the grass, and advanced with extremecaution. If she had not possessed more than the average capacity ofsavages for stalking, it would have been quite impossible for her tohave eluded the vigilance of the young warriors. As it was, shenarrowly escaped discovery, for, just as she was crossing what may hetermed the guarded line, one of the sentinels took it into his head tomove in her direction. Of course she stopped and lay perfectly flat andstill, but so near did the warrior come in passing that his footabsolutely grazed her head. But for the intense darkness of the nightshe would have inevitably been caught.
Creeping swiftly out of the sentinel's way before he returned, shegained the centre of the camp, and in a few minutes was close to herfather's wigwam. Finding a little hole in the buffalo-skins of which itwas chiefly composed, she peeped in.
To her great disappointment, Little Tim was not there, but Brighteyeswas, and a youth whom she knew well as one who was about to join theranks of the men, and go out on his first war-path on the first occasionthat offered.
Although trained to observe the gravity and reticence of the Indian,this youth was gifted by nature with powers of loquacity which he foundit difficult to suppress. Knowing this, Moonlight felt that she darednot trust him with her secret, and was much perplexed how to attract hermother's attention without disturbing him. At last she crept round tothe side of the tent where her mother was seated, opposite to the youth.Putting her lips to another small hole which she found there, shewhispered "Mother," so softly that Brighteyes did not hear, but wentcalmly on with her needlework, while the aspirant for Indian honourssent clouds of tobacco from his mouth and nose, and dreamed of awfuldeeds of daring, which were probably destined to end also in smoke.
"Mother!" whispered Moonlight again.
The whisper, though very slightly increased, was evidently heard, forthe woman became suddenly motionless, and turned slightly pale, whileher lustrous eyes gazed at the spot whence the sound had come.
"What does Brighteyes see?" asked the Indian youth, expelling a cloudfrom his lips and also gazing.
"I thought I heard--my Moonlight--whisper."
A look of grave contempt settled on the youth's visage as he replied--
"When love is strong, the eyes are blind and the ears too open.Brighteyes hears voices in the night air."
Having given utterance to this sage opinion with the sententioussolemnity of an oracle, or the portentous gravity of "an ass"--as modernslang might put it--the youth resumed his pipe and continued thestupefaction of his brain.
The woman was not sorry that her visitor took the matter thus, for shehad felt the imprudence of having betrayed any symptom of surprise,whatever the sound might be. When, therefore, another whisper of"Mother!" was heard, instead of looking intelligent, she bestowed someincreased attention on her work, yawned sleepily once or twice, and thensaid--
"Is there not a council being held to-night?"
"There is. The warriors are speaking now."
"Does not the young brave aspire to raising his voice in council?"
"He does," replied the youth, puffing with a look of almost superhumandignity, "but he may not raise his voice in council till he has been onthe war-path."
"I should have thought," returned Brighteyes, with the slightestpossible raising of her eyebrows, "that a brave who aims so high wouldfind it more pleasant to be near the council tent talking with the otheryoung braves than to sit smoking beside a squaw."
The youth took the hint rather indignantly, rose, and strode out of thetent in majestic silence.
No sooner was he gone than Moonlight darted in and fell into her mothersarms. There was certainly more of the pale-face than of the red man'sspirit in the embrace that followed, but the spirit of the red man soonreasserted itself.
"Mother," she said eagerly and impressively, "Rushing River is going tobe my husband!"
"Child," exclaimed the matron, while her countenance fell, "can the dovemate with the raven? the rabbit with the wolf?"
"They can, for all I care or know to the contrary," said Moonlight--impelled, no doubt, by the spirit of Little Tim. "But" she continuedquickly, "I bear a message to Bounding Bull. Where is he?"
"Not in the camp, my daughter. He has gone to the block-house to seethe preacher."
"And father. Is he here?"
"No, he has gone with Bounding Bull. There is no chief in the camp justnow--only the young braves to guard it."
"How well they guard it--when I am here!" said the girl, with a laugh;then, becoming intensely earnest, she told her mother in as few words aspossible the object of her visit, concluding with the very pertinentquestion, "Now, what is to be done?"
"You dare not allow Rushing River to enter the camp just now," saidBrighteyes. "The young men would certainly kill him."
"But I must not send him away," returned the perplexed Moonlight. "If Ido, I--I shall never--he will never more return."
"Could you not creep out of camp as you crept in and warn him?"
"I could, as far as the sentinels are concerned, for they are littlebetter than owls; but it is growing lighter now, and the moon will be upsoon--I dare not risk it. If I were caught, would not the bravessuspect something, and scour the country round? I know not what to do,yet something _must_ be done at once."
For some minutes the mother and daughter were silent, each striving todevise some method of escaping from their difficulty. At lastBrighteyes spoke.
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sp; "I see a way, my child," she said, with more than her wonted solemnity,even when discussing grave matters. "It is full of danger, yet you musttake it, for I see that love has taken possession of my Moonlight'sheart, and--there is no withstanding love!"
She paused thoughtfully for a few moments, and then resumed--
"One of your father's horses is hobbled down in the willow swamp. Heput it there because the feeding is good, and has left no one to guardit because the place is not easily found, as you know, and thieves arenot likely to think of it as a likely place. What you must do is to goas near our lines as you dare, and give the signal of the owl. RushingRiver will understand it, and go away at once. He will not travel fast,for his heart will be heavy, and revenge to him is no longer sweet.That will give you time to cross the camp, creep past the sentinels, rundown to the swamp, mount the horse, and go by the short cuts that youknow of until you get in front of the party or overtake them. Afterthat you must lead them to the block-house," (Brighteyes never wouldconsent to call it Tim's Folly after she understood the meaning of thename), "and let the chief manage the rest. Go. You have not a momentto lose."
She gave her daughter a final embrace, pushed her out of the tent andthen sat down with the stoicism of a Red Indian to continue her work andlisten intently either for the savage yells which would soon indicatethe failure of the enterprise, or the continued silence which wouldgradually prove its success.
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