CHAPTER XIX
UNDER THE FALLEN FOREST MONARCH
"THERE! that makes the fourth tree I've seen blown down in the storm,"remarked Roger, after they had been walking through the forest for sometime.
"Yes, and in every case if you went to the trouble to examine thosetrees," he was told by Dick, "you would find that they were rotten atthe heart. They may keep on standing up with the rest, and seem to beperfect, but when the wind sweeps through the forest it searches outthe weak and imperfect trees, and topples them over."
"That must be what grandfather means when he talks about the 'survivalof the fittest,'" Roger mused. "He says that Nature knows what is bestfor everything, and keeps thinning out the weak ones along every line."
"Then there must have been a lot of poor trash over yonder," chuckledDick, "for I can see a number of trees down."
"Oh! what was that!" suddenly asked Roger.
"It sounded to me like a groan," his companion admitted, as both ofthem stood still in order to listen.
"There it comes again, Dick, and, just as you said, it must be a groan.I wonder if any one could have been caught under a tree when it fell?"
"We must be cautious how we move forward," as Dick's advice, "becausewe know the treacherous nature of these Indians."
"Do you mean it might turn out to be a trap?" demanded Roger.
"There is always a chance of that, so, while we make our way in thatdirection, we must be ready to run if we discover any lurking redsabout."
Dick also kept his rifle in readiness in case of a sudden emergency. Itmight be a shot would check a rush on the part of their enemies, andthus enable the boys to get a fair start.
Guided by the groans, which now came louder and more frequently, theywere not long in making a discovery.
"Dick, I see him!" exclaimed Roger, in fresh excitement; "and, sureenough, he is caught in the branches of that big tree over there. Itisn't a trap after all, but some one in trouble."
"THEY PUSHED FORWARD, AND WERE SOON AT THE FALLEN TREE"]
"And an Indian at that, Roger," added the other, as he, too, managed tocatch a glimpse of the unfortunate one.
"Will that make any difference; or do you think he may be justshamming?" asked Roger, hesitating.
"There is no mistake about his being in a bad fix," ventured Dick. "Hemay not be terribly hurt, but the tree has pinned him down, you cansee; and if we left the poor fellow there he would either starve todeath or else be devoured by the wild beasts."
"Oh! we never could have the heart to do that," asserted Roger, whopossessed a generous nature, like all his headstrong class.
They pushed forward, and were soon at the fallen tree. The Indian musthave discovered their presence, for he had ceased groaning, as thoughtoo proud to show any sign of cowardice. A brave would sooner have hishand cut off than be reckoned timid or weak.
"How are we going to get him out of that trap?" Roger remarked, afterthey had looked the situation over. "We have no hatchet for cutting thelimb, and my knife would never do the job in a day."
"He's held down as if in a vise," Dick observed thoughtfully, "and Ican see only one way of getting him loose. Let me have your knife andI'll hack my way in close to him. There seems to be just one avenueopen for that."
Roger, filled with curiosity, watched his cousin set to work. He couldreadily understand how the other intended to reach the side of theimprisoned brave, but just what means he expected to use in order tofree the warrior Roger was unable to guess.
A short time afterwards Dick had gained the side of the brave, to whomhe spoke a few words; and, doubtful whether he was understood, thesewere supplemented by various reassuring gestures.
Then, to the astonishment of Roger, Dick started to dig furiouslyin the ground. At first his intentions were a mystery to Roger, whowrinkled his brow as he looked on. All at once, however, he grasped theidea.
"Now I can see what you're up to, Dick," he called out; "and I must sayit looks like a winning scheme. All you have to do is to dig under thebrave, and let him sink down a little. Then, when the pressure of thoselimbs grows less, he can either squirm out himself, or be draggedforth."
That, in fact, was the idea Dick had conceived in his fertile brain. Hecontinued to delve away with a steady purpose in view, and presentlyit could be seen that he was making an impression on the earth. Thetrapped Indian brave began to sink downward by slow degrees untilfinally the pressure had relaxed to such an extent that by making agreat effort, and assisted by Dick, he managed to wriggle out fromunder the limbs of the fallen tree.
He had been hurt in various places, though Dick did not believe any ofhis wounds were really serious. Accustomed, as they were, to treatinginjuries, it was only natural for the boys to make up their minds thatthey would do something for the poor fellow.
When Dick made motions to this effect, the Indian allowed them to dowhat they willed, although he watched every movement with eyes thatwere filled with curiosity.
"I wonder whether he's more surprised at seeing us have this soothingointment mother made along with us, or that 'palefaces' should go tosuch trouble just for an Indian?" Roger remarked, as he assisted in thework. (Note 6.)
"It doesn't matter much which affects him most," said Dick, calmly, "weare doing just what our parents have taught us to do. Besides, how canwe tell whether this brave is an enemy or a friend?"
"They say an Indian never forgets an injury, or an act of kindness,"ventured Roger; "and, if that is true, we can count on one friend amongthe Dacotahs, for I'm sure he belongs to that tribe."
"Yes, he is a Dacotah, but they all look alike to me, so I couldn'tsay whether he was among those who captured us or not. He seems tobe listening to what we are saying, and I really believe he halfunderstands our talk. Perhaps he knows a little English, for there havebeen white trappers who have penetrated this far."
"Suppose you try him, and see if he can understand, Dick?"
"I mean to do that," was the reply, "because I'd like to put a spoke inthe wheel of that revengeful Andrew Waller. He has told these foolishIndians we are the sons of the Great White Father at Washington, andthat if we were held as prisoners a mighty ransom would be paid for ourrelease. We must convince the reds that it is false, and that we areonly ordinary white boys."
This idea held some weight with Dick, and after completing his work inconnection with the brave's wounds he commenced the attempt to talkwith him.
At first it looked as though there would be little chance of success;but after a little he succeeded in getting the painted brave tounderstand what he was trying to explain. This was done by means ofsingle words, accompanied by much gesturing and pointing.
If the Indian had not already known about the boys, and what was saidabout their being the sons of the White Father he could never haveunderstood matters at all. Gradually Dick began to believe he washammering the facts into the head of the other. He saw a light as ofcomprehension dawning on his painted face.
"I do believe you've managed to pound it into his brain, Dick," saidRoger, who had been an earnest witness of all this. "He looks as if heknew what you wanted him to do. See, he even nods his head when youspeak."
Dick felt that he had reason to be proud of what he had done. To get anIndian, who could not talk English, beyond a few words, to understandthat they were only ordinary, every-day boys instead of the importantpersonages Andrew Waller had pictured, was a triumph indeed.
"I am asking him to pass the news along, and spread it far and wide,"explained Dick, as he continued his gestures and forceful words; "andI think he knows. Here, let me do a little picture writing for him;perhaps that may help."
He picked up a piece of smooth bark, and, using the point of Roger'shunting knife, managed to scratch several crude designs upon it. Two ofthese represented the rising and the setting sun. Then a figure with aDacotah head-dress stood half way between with arms outstretched.
Showing this to the brave, Dick once more began to speak and makegestu
res. While he could not of course be certain, still he had everyreason to believe that the other understood what he was driving at, forhe nodded, touched each of the boys on the chest, then shook his headin the negative, and said something in the Dacotah tongue which Dickfancied meant White Father.
"That's the best I can do with him, Roger; and now we must be on ourway again. Whether it works or not, at least we can feel that we havedone the right thing."
The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest Page 22
