CHAPTER XXVIII
RUNNING ELK, THE SIOUX CHIEF
IN spite of their struggles the two boys were made prisoners, as wasthe Mandan warrior. There seemed to be fully a score of the hostilebraves; but Dick, as soon as he could look around him, after such roughhandling, told his cousin they were not on the warpath, because theyhad not painted themselves, nor did they wear the feathers in theirhair that would indicate a foray, and an expected battle.
It was evidently a hunting party in quest of fresh meat, and they hadtaken chances of falling in with some of their enemies in thus comingto the salt-lick, hoping to find game there.
They seemed greatly interested in the guns taken from the whiteboys. Apparently these were an almost unknown thing among the Sioux,who hunted with bows and arrows in those early days, just as theirancestors had done before them.
"What do you suppose they'll do with us?" asked Roger, who lookedforlorn. He had a scratch on his cheek, from which his face had becomesmeared with blood, although in answer to Dick's anxious question hesaid that it did not amount to anything.
"Take us to their village, I'm afraid," Dick answered, shortly, for hewas trying to figure out some plan that offered at least a shred ofhope; but, after many attempts, he was obliged to confess that he couldsee little relief ahead.
There followed considerable jabbering among the warriors. It seemed asthough they were disputing about something, although Dick fancied thatthis was only their way of conversing.
"Do you think one side wants to put us to the torture right away, andthe other is for holding out till they get back to their village?"asked Roger, nervously; for, in spite of his stout heart, the prospectwas enough to alarm any one.
"No, I don't believe it's quite as bad as that," replied his cousin,trying to assume a confidence he was far from feeling. "They're justhaving a palaver about whether to head straight back home, or continuethe hunt. That is, I guess as much from the way they point toward thenorthwest, and then at us."
"But what will happen when we get there, Dick? Can't you think upsomething to get us out of this scrape?" asked Roger, turning as usualto his stronger cousin, when trouble descended upon them.
"I'm trying the best I know how, Roger, but so far I've thought ofnothing that would help us. But we must keep up brave hearts. Even thewarlike Sioux have no reason to hate you and me. We have never hurtthem in any way, and the most they can have against us is that we'rewhite boys, and have come to their country without asking permissionfrom Running Elk, their great chief."
"But will they put us to the torture, as they do their red enemieswhenever they make them prisoner?" Roger asked.
"Perhaps not," answered his companion. "They may take a notion to adoptus into their tribe. Don't you think, Roger, that we'd make prettygood-looking Sioux braves? Both of us have dark hair, and, with somefeathers in it, we'd pass for Indians right now. I've only got onelittle hope outside of that."
"Then please tell me what it is, Dick, because things look so darkahead of us."
"Stop and remember, Roger, how it was when we were on that island,with the angry waters creeping up, and threatening to make us swim forit--we said then it was darkest before dawn, and didn't it turn out tobe that way? Well, how can we tell but what the same thing may happento us now, and that out of this capture by the Sioux great good maycome?"
"I only wish I had half your faith, Dick," sighed Roger; "but they'vemade up their minds what to do, and are turning this way, as if meaningto start off on a long tramp. Tell me before they come for us what thatone little hope is, that you said you could see. And I pray that it mayturn out for the best."
"It is our guns, Roger," the other went on hastily.
"What about them?" demanded Roger. "We will never be given a chance tosnatch them away from the braves who are now carrying them so proudly.And, even if we did, what would two shots mean among twenty foes?"
"You don't understand me," Dick replied. "Our guns are an object ofcuriosity to every warrior. They will be sure to carry them to the bigchief, as his property. Of course not one of them knows a thing abouthow the 'shooting-sticks' are used to make the great noise, and causethe game to fall down, while no arrow is seen to shoot through the air.Then he will send for us, perhaps, and make us an offer to spare ourlives if we will show him how to fire the guns, and be taken into thetribe. Yes, I think our only hope lies in the secret of shooting thefire and smoke from those guns. But here they come to get us now."
"And I'm tired already from our long walk," sighed Roger. "I hope theywon't try to keep it up all night, for I'd drop in my tracks. And,Dick, we'd have shown more sense if we'd just stuck to the camp, andwaited for Jasper to come in."
Dick was thinking the same thing himself; but then he was not much ofa fellow to cry after the milk was spilt. What was done could not behelped and, instead of bemoaning their hard luck, Dick believed incudgeling his brains in an effort to find some solution to the problem.
The Sioux had evidently decided to head direct for their distantvillage. Their unexpected luck in making prisoners of the two whiteboys had excited them considerably. They seemed to think that whenthose at home saw the palefaces they would forgive the lack of freshmeat. Antelope and buffalo could be killed at any time, but it was arare event to have white prisoners in the strong lodge, and be given achance to handle those wonderful "shooting-sticks" that, when pointedat an enemy, spat out flame and smoke, and in some mysterious wayencompassed the death of the thing aimed at.
Forming around the prisoners, the warrior band started off. Both boysfelt as though a heavy weight had been attached to their shoulders,their spirits had so fallen. Just a short half hour before they hadbeen full of eager anticipation concerning the expected meeting withJasper Williams; but now the heavens had clouded over, and all wasgloom.
Still, they took pattern from the jaunty manner of the Wolf. He hadbeen sorely wounded in his fight with the three Sioux who had pouncedupon him, after a descending brave had knocked him down and clutchedhim, but not for worlds would the Wolf show the white feather.
"We can do no less than a red heathen, Roger," Dick had said, whencalling the attention of his cousin to the proud manner of the otherprisoner; and somehow this seemed to have a great influence upon bothwhite boys, so that they forced themselves to appear quite at theirease, even while inwardly groaning with physical pain, and mentaltortures respecting their uncertain future.
Long did the Sioux walk in that steady manner. Night fell, but theygave not the slightest evidence of feeling distressed, althoughdoubtless they, too, had been on the go since early dawn.
When some hours had passed since the sun went down, Roger complainedthat his legs were actually giving out under him. Perhaps some of theIndians had noticed that his gait was becoming rather wobbly; for aword was spoken, and to the great relief of the white prisoners theycame to a halt.
The Sioux took the precaution to tie their ankles with deerskinthongs; but no fire was kindled, nor were there any signs of a meal inprospect. Perhaps some of those prostrate braves chewed at dry pemmicanas they lay there, resting; but, even though they had not a singlebite, that would have mattered little, so great were their powers ofendurance when out on the hunt, or the warpath. The same warriors woulddoubtless loiter around the village for days and weeks, and appear tobe the most indolent and lazy of their kind, until an occasion arosefor them to once more display their ability to withstand fatigue andhunger.
The weary boys slept, in spite of their discomfort. Nature would not bedenied; and while Dick woke up several times during the night, he foundhimself much refreshed as dawn broke once more.
Again was the march resumed, and all through the day, with only a shortstop at about noon, did they keep heading into the northwest.
Roger would have given out but for the earnest pleas of his cousin,and his own natural dislike to appear weak in the eyes of these brawnybraves. They had been given some dry food in the morning, before thestart was made, and also at noon, and,
though neither had much heartfor eating, Dick advised that they force themselves to do so, becausethey would surely need all their strength in order to pull through.
Again and again did Dick continue to paint a possible rainbow ofpromise in the blank heavens; but Roger could not see it, no matter howearnestly he looked.
"I'll try to keep going, just to please you, Dick," he would say; "butI'm feeling so terribly that it would almost be a mercy if one of thesefellows put an arrow through me right now."
It was toward the end of the afternoon that the Indians with them setup a loud and triumphant series of whoops.
"We must be near the village!" declared Dick, and even forlorn Rogerbrightened up a little.
"I hope so," he remarked, with a sad smile; "because it'll be a changeanyway, no matter what comes. And I tell you, I've just about got tothe end of my rope."
"There, I can see something moving over at the brow of that low hill,"Dick went on to say.
"And I hear dogs barking, too, which is a sure sign," Roger remarked.
Soon afterwards there remained no longer any doubt that they hadarrived at the Sioux village; for over the crown of the hill came aflood of running figures--warriors and boys and old men, as well assquaws, all eager to see what it was that brought the hunting partyback so soon from their foray. And at sight of the two white prisonersthey manifested great delight; for it was evidently the first time mostof them had ever set eyes on a real paleface, though they may haveknown some of the half-breeds who had wandered up this way.
Surrounded by a shouting and dancing throng, the two boys and the proudMandan brave were conducted into the Sioux village. They may have morethan once manifested a natural desire to look upon such a settlement;but somehow it did not give them much satisfaction now. As prisoners,with a dark outlook ahead of them, the pioneer boys could hardly beexpected to take much interest in the odd sights that met their eyesamong the wigwams of the warlike Sioux, concerning whom they had heardso many stories of cruelty and valor.
Some of the brown-faced boys even pinched the prisoners to see whetherthey could stand pain. Roger was too hot-tempered to put up with this,and proceeded to kick savagely at one of his persecutors, but the otherjumped to one side, and, as the paleface had his hands tied behindhim, he stumbled and fell on his back, at which a shout went up fromthe delighted Sioux boys.
Thus escorted they were taken to a big council lodge, the outside ofwhich was decorated with all manner of colored pictures of battles,the Sioux always being the victors in this historical catalogue. Justas Dick expected, the great chief of the Sioux tribe, Running Elk, wassitting there, cross-legged, on a bearskin rug, waiting to look atthe prisoners, and hear the story of the capture from the lips of theparticipants.
The chief was a powerful-looking man, and wore a head-dress ofmagnificent feathers that trailed down his back to the ground. Hisdeerskin garments were decorated with colored porcupine quills, andbeads, as well as small shells. It must have been his "court dress," asRoger called it, in which he was accustomed to preside at the councilsof the tribe.
But the face of Running Elk was stern, and Dick felt his heart growcold as he looked upon it. Surely they could expect no mercy from sucha man. Several times had some of the Sioux attacked the expeditionwhich Captain Lewis was leading into the northwestern country; and,because of their fierce daring, they had not always issued from theseconflicts unscathed. Perhaps wounds had been received, and even thedeath of a warrior might have resulted from the fire of the explorers'guns. And if this were the case, the Sioux would believe that theGreat Spirit had purposely thrown these two paleface boys into theirhands in order that they might be tortured, and put to death, so thatthe departed brave would have slaves with him on his way to the HappyHunting Grounds.
Standing there, the boys felt the keen eyes of Running Elk upon them.It was as though the chief was figuring in his mind what species oftorture should be tried upon the palefaces, in order to appease thegrief of the widow of the departed warrior.
"Now he is motioning for them to hand him my gun, Dick," declaredRoger, who was doing the best he knew how to appear at his ease, whileall the time he could feel his heart thumping against his ribs like atrip-hammer.
Dick watched eagerly to see what the chief would do next. He examinedthe long rifle all over, but apparently looked upon it as a dangerousthing for any one not familiar with its working to handle.
Finally his eyes again lighted on Dick, and he made motions to hisguards, at the same time saying something in his quick, harsh voice.
Apparently the word of the chief was law, for immediately one of thewarriors hastened to loosen the withes that were wrapped around thewrists of the boy. Then the chief motioned to Dick, and held out thegun.
"He wants you to show him how it works, Dick!" exclaimed Roger,eagerly, as though a gleam of new hope had come into his soul.
When he had rubbed his hands until the blood circulated once more, Dickaccepted the gun from the chief. It gave him a queer feeling to touchit again; but he knew well that his only chance of escape lay in hisbeing able to interest the chief so greatly in the "shooting-stick"that he would spare the lives of the palefaces in order that they mightteach his braves how to use the wonderful thing.
So Dick beckoned to them to let him walk outside, which was agreedupon. Surrounded by a mob of moving figures, the boys were allowed toemerge from the council lodge. Dick was looking for some target atwhich to shoot. This he quickly discovered in a crow that had alightedon the top of a dead tree some distance away. Quickly leveling the gun,he took aim, and fired.
As Dick was a splendid marksman he had no trouble in bringing down thecrow, at which there was tremendous excitement among the assembledIndians. One boy ran and brought back the dead bird, after which everyone had to poke a finger into the hole the bullet had made. (Note 9.)
Then Dick, taking his powder-horn, showed them just how he charged therifle. He put a greased piece of rag about the bullet, as was usual inthose days, and rammed it home, after which he primed the pan, makingmotions that the chief was to try the next shot. But, although RunningElk was known as the bravest man of his tribe, he shook his head, asif to signify that he preferred not having anything to do with such awonderful invention of the Evil Spirit.
Still, Dick had high hopes that the desire to make use of such apowerful agency against the foes of his tribe might yet influenceRunning Elk to spare the lives of his white prisoners.
While the assemblage was still engaged in discussing these strangethings in an excited manner, the two boys were once more taken incharge by their guards, who led them through the village and thrustthem into a log cabin that was undoubtedly the prison, or strong lodge.
It was growing dark, and the boys could hardly see each other's face asthey sat there, with their backs against the rough wall of the cabin.At least their hands had not been fastened again, and for that they hadreason to be grateful, though it was such a small thing after all, whentheir lives might be at stake.
Long they sat there, trying to squeeze some hope out of the situation,and listening to the strange sounds that came to their ears fromwithout.
"Hark!" exclaimed Dick, when perhaps an hour had passed since darknessset in, and they had eaten the bowls of food thrust into the stronglodge by one of their dusky guards; "what can that fresh shout mean, doyou think?"
"It sounds to me as if they had brought in another prisoner," Rogerdeclared. "But it may only be that they are holding a council tosettle our fate. I remember old Pat O'Mara saying that was what theyalways did. We might peep out through some of these wide cracks on thisside, and see if it is so."
But, just as they were about to do this, the door of the cabin wasopened again, and the figure of a man thrown in. He landed in a heap onthe hard ground, and gave a grunt.
"That might have broken my neck, if my arms had been tied!" they heardthe newcomer say, with what seemed to be a half chuckle; and it was atonce apparent to the boys that the last prisoner of th
e Sioux was alsowhite, like themselves.
Dick coughed, to inform the other that he was not alone.
"Who's there?" asked the unseen man, quickly.
"Two white boys who have been made prisoners by the Sioux," repliedDick. "We belong to Captain Lewis's party, and came out to thesalt-lick to see if we could meet a scout who was to report there to aMandan brave; when the Indians dropped down on us from the branches ofthe trees. Who may you be, sir, I'd like to know?"
"I? I'm the scout who was to leave word at the salt-lick; and my nameis Jasper Williams!" came the astonishing reply.
What a meeting, after they had come all these hundreds upon hundreds ofmiles especially to find this man; and now all of them were prisonersin the hands of the savage Sioux!
The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri; or, In the Country of the Sioux Page 31
