Chapter XIXA Happy Meeting
When Dick Howard saw that the raging Sioux covered the field andthat the little army was destroyed wholly he could bear the sightno longer, and, reeling back against the tree, closed his eyes.For a little while, even with eyes shut, he still beheld the redruin, and then darkness came over him.
He never knew whether he really fainted or whether it was merelya kind of stupor brought on by so many hours of battle and fierceexcitement, but when he opened his eyes again much time hadpassed. The sun was far down in the west and the dusky shadowswere advancing. Over the low hill where Custer had made his laststand the Sioux swarmed, scalping until they could scalp nomore. Behind them came thousands of women and boys, shoutingfrom excitement and the drunkenness of victory.
It was all incredible, unreal to Dick, some hideous nightmarethat would soon pass away when he awoke. Such a thing as thiscould not be! Yet it was real, it was credible, he was awake andhe had seen it--he had seen it all from the moment that thefirst trooper appeared in the valley until the last fell underthe overwhelming charge of the Sioux. He still heard, in thewaning afternoon, their joyous cries over their great victory,and he saw their dusky forms as they rushed here and there overthe field in search of some new trophy.
Dick was not conscious of any physical feeling at all--neitherweariness, nor fear, nor thought of the future. It seemed to himthat the world had come to an end with the ending of the day.
The shadows thickened and advanced. The west was a sea ofdusk. The distant lodges of the village passed out of sight.The battlefield itself became dim and it was only phantomfigures that roamed over it. All the while Dick was unnoticed,forgotten in the great event, and as the night approached thedesire for freedom returned to him. He was again a physical being,feeling pain, and from habit rather than hope he pulled once moreat the rawhide cords that held his wrists--he did not know thathe had been tugging at them nearly all afternoon.
He wrenched hard and the unbelievable happened. The rawhide,strained upon so long, parted, and his hands fell to his side.Dick slowly raised his right wrist to the level of his eyes andlooked at it, as if it belonged to another man. There was a redand bleeding ring around it where the rawhide had cut deep,making a scar that took a year in the fading, but his numbednerves still felt no pain.
He let the right wrist sink back and raised the left one. It hadthe same red ring around it, and he looked at it curiously,wonderingly. Then he let the left also drop to his side, whilehe stood, back against the tree, looking vaguely at the dimfigures of the Sioux who roamed about in the late twilight stillin that hideous search for trophies.
It was while he was looking at the Sioux that an abrupt thoughtcame to Dick. Those were his own wrists at which he had beenlooking. His hands were free! Why not escape in all thisturmoil and excitement, with the friendly and covering night alsoat hand. It was like the touch of electricity. He was instantlyalive, body and mind. He knew who he was and what hadhappened, and he wanted to get away. Now was the time!
The rawhide around Dick's waist was strong and it had beensecured with many knots. He picked at it slowly and withgreatest care, and all the time he was in fear lest the Siouxshould remember him. But the sun was now quite down, the lastbars of red and gold were gone, and the east as well as the westwas in darkness. The field of battle was hidden and only voicescame up from it. Two warriors passed on the slope of the hilland Dick, ceasing his work, shrank against the trunk of the tree,but they went on, and when they were out of sight he began againto pick at the knots.
One knot after another was unloosed, and at last the rawhide fellfrom his waist. He was free, but he staggered as he walked alittle way down the slope of the hill and his fingers were numb.Yet his mind was wholly clear. It had recovered from the greatparalytic shock caused by the sight of the lost battle, and heintended to take every precaution needed for escape.
He sat down in a little clump of bushes, where he was quite lostto view, and rubbed his limbs long and hard until the circulationwas active. His wrists had stopped bleeding, and he bound aboutthem little strips that he tore from his clothing. Then he threwaway his cap--the Sioux did not wear caps, and he meant to lookas much like a Sioux as he could. That was not such a difficultmatter, as he was dressed in tanned skins, and wind and weatherhad made him almost as brown as an Indian.
Midway of the slope he stopped and looked down. The night hadcome, but the stars were not yet out. He could see only the nearlodges, but many torches flared now over the battle field and inthe village. He started again, bearing away from the hill onwhich Custer had fallen, but pursuing a course that led chieflydownstream. Once he saw dusky figures, but they took no noticeof him. Once a hideous old squaw, carrying some terrible trophyin her hand, passed near, and Dick thought that all was lost. Hewas really more afraid at this time of the sharp eyes of the oldsquaws than those of the warriors. But she passed on, and Dickdropped down into a little ravine that ran from the field. Hisfeet touched a tiny stream that trickled at the bottom of theravine, and he leaped away in shuddering horror. The soles ofhis mocassins were now red.
But he made progress. He was leaving the village farther behind,and the hum of voices was not so loud. One of his greatestwishes now was to find arms. He did not intend to be recaptured,and if the Sioux came upon him he wanted at least to make afight.
A dark shape among some short bushes attracted his attention. Itlooked like the form of a man, and when he went closer he sawthat it was the body of a Sioux warrior, slain by a distantbullet from Custer's circle. His carbine lay beside him and hewore an ammunition belt full of cartridges. Dick, withouthesitation, took both, and felt immensely strengthened. Thetouch of the rifle gave him new courage. He was a man now readyto meet men.
He reached another low hill and stood there a little while,listening. He heard an occasional whoop, and may lights flaredhere and there in the village, but no warrior was near. He sawon one side of him the high hill, at the base of which the firstcavalrymen had appeared, and around which the army had ridden alittle later to its fate. Dick was seized with a suddenunreasoning hatred of the hill itself, standing there black andlowering in the darkness. He shook his fist at it, and then,ashamed of his own folly, hurried his flight.
Everything was aiding him now. If any chance befell, that chancewas in his favor. Swiftly he left behind the field of battle,the great Indian village, and all the sights and sounds of thatfatal day, which would remain stamped on his brain as long as helived. He did not stop until he was beyond the hills inclosingthe valley, and then he bent back again toward the Little BigHorn. He intended to cross the river and return toward thevillage on the other side, having some dim idea that he mightfind and rescue Albert.
Dick was now in total silence. The moon and the stars were notyet out, but he had grown used to the darkness and he could seethe low hills, the straggling trees, and the clumps ofundergrowth. He was absolutely alone again, but when he closedhis eyes he saw once more with all the vividness of reality thatterrible battle field, the closing in of the circle of death, thelast great rush of the Sioux horde, and the blotting out of thewhite force. He still heard the unbroken crash of the rifle firethat had continued for hours, and the yelling of the Sioux thatrose and fell.
But when he opened his eyes the silence became painful, it was soheavy and oppressive. He felt lonely and afraid, more afraidthan he had even been for himself while the battle was inprogress. It seemed to him that he was pursued by the ghosts ofthe fallen, and he longed for the company of his own race.
Dick was not conscious of hunger or fatigue. His nerves werestill keyed too high to remember such things, and now he turneddown to the Little Big Horn. Remembering the terrible quicksand,he tried the bank very gingerly before he stepped into thewater. It was sandy, but it held him, and then he waded inboldly, holding his rifle and belt of cartridges above his head.He knew that the river was not deep, but it came to his waisthere, and once he st
epped into a hole to his armpits, but he keptthe rifle and cartridges dry. The waters were extremely cold,but Dick did not know it, and when he reached the desired shorehe shook himself like a dog until the drops flew and then beganthe perilous task of returning to the village on the sidefarthest from Custer's battle.
He went carefully along the low, wooded shores, keeping well inthe undergrowth, which was dense, and for an hour he heard andsaw nothing of the Sioux. He knew why. They were stillrejoicing over their great victory, and although he knew littleof Indian customs he believed that the scalp dance must be inprogress.
The moon and stars came out. A dark-blue sky, troubled byoccasional light clouds, bent over him. He began at last to feelthe effects of the long strain, mental and physical. His clotheswere nearly dry on him, but for the first time he felt cold andweak. He went on, nevertheless; he had no idea of stopping evenif he were forced to crawl.
He reached the crest of a low hill and looked down again on theIndian village, but from a point far from the hill on which hehad stood during the battle. He saw many lights, torches andcamp fires, and now and then dusky figures moving against thebackground of the flames, and then a great despair overtook him.To rescue Albert would be in itself difficult enough, but how washe ever to find him in that huge village, five miles long?
He did not permit his despair to last long. He would make thetrial in some manner, how he did not yet know, but he must makeit. He descended the low hill and entered a clump of bushesabout fifty yards from the banks of the Little Big Horn. Here hestopped and quickly sank down. He had heard a rustling at thefar edge of the clump, and he was sure, too, that he had seen ashadowy figure. The figure had disappeared instantly, but Dickwas confident that a Sioux warrior was hidden in the bushes notten yards away.
It was his first impulse to retreat as silently as he could, butthe impulse swiftly gave way to a fierce anger. He rememberedthat he carried a rifle and plenty of cartridges, and he wasseized with a sudden vague belief that he might strike a blow inrevenge for the terrible loss of the day. It could be but alittle blow, he could strike down only one, but he was resolvedto do it--he had been through what few boys are ever compelledto see and endure, and his mind was not in its normal state.
He turned himself now into an Indian, crawling and creeping withdeadly caution through the bushes, exercising an infinitepatience that he might make no leaf or twig rustle, and now andthen looking carefully over the tops of the bushes to see thathis enemy had not fled. As he advanced he held his rifle wellforward, that he might take instant aim when the time came.
Dick was a full ten minutes in traveling ten yards, and then hesaw the dark figure of the warrior crouched low in the bushes.The Sioux had not seen him and was watching for his approach fromsome other point. The figure was dim, but Dick slowly raised hisrifle and took careful aim at the head. His finger reached thetrigger, but when it got there it refused to obey his will. Hewas not a savage; he was white, with the civilized blood of manygenerations, and he could not shoot down an enemy whose backwas turned to him. But he maintained his aim, and using someold expression that he had heard he cried, "Throw up your hands!"
The crouching figure sprang to its feet, and a remembered voiceexclaimed in overwhelming surprise and delight:
"Dick! Dick! Is that you, Dick?"
Dick dropped the muzzle of his rifle and stared. He could nottake it in for the moment. It was Albert--a ragged, dirty,pale, and tired Albert, but a real live Albert just the same.
The brothers stared at each other by the same impulse, and thenby the same impulse rushed forward, grasped each other's hands,wringing them and shouting aloud for joy.
"Is it you, Al? How on earth did you ever get here?"
"Is it you, Dick? Where on earth did you come from?"
They sat down in the bushes, both still trembling with excitementand the relief from suspense, and Dick told of the fatal day, howhe had been bound to the tree on the hill, and how he had seenall the battle, from its beginning to the end, when no whitesoldier was left alive.
"Do you mean that they were all killed, Dick?" asked Albert inawed tones.
"Every one," replied Dick. "There was a ring of fire and steelaround them through which no man could break. But they werebrave, Al, they were brave! They beat off the thousands of thatawful horde for hours and hours."
"Who led them?"
"I don't know. I had no way of knowing, but it was a gallant manwith long yellow hair. I saw him with his hat off, waving it toencourage his men. Now tell me, Al, how you got here."
"When they seized us," replied Albert, "they carried me, kickingand fighting as best I could, up the river. I made up my mindthat I'd never see you again, Dick, as I was sure that they'dkill you right away. I expected them to finish me up, too, soon,but they didn't. I suppose it was because they were busy withbigger things.
"They pushed me along for at least two miles. Then they crossedthe river, shoved me into a bark lodge, and fastened the door onme. They didn't take the trouble to bind me, feeling sure, Isuppose, that I couldn't get out of the lodge and the village,too; and I certainly wouldn't have had any chance to do it if abattle hadn't begun after I had been there a long time in thedarkness of the lodge. I thought at first that it was the Siouxfiring at targets, but then it became too heavy and there was toomuch shouting.
"The firing went on a long time, and I pulled and kicked for anhour at the lodge door. Because no one came, no matter howmuch noise I made, I knew that something big was going on, andI worked all the harder. When I looked out at last, I saw manywarriors running up and down and great clouds of smoke. Isneaked out, got into a smoke bank just as a Sioux shot at me,lay down in a little ravine, after a while jumped up and ranagain through the smoke, and reached the bushes, where I layhidden flat on my face until the night came. While I was there Iheard the firing die down and saw our men driven off after beingcut up badly."
"It's awful! awful!" groaned Dick. "I didn't know there were somany Sioux in the world, and maybe our generals didn't, either.That must have been the trouble."
"When the darkness set in good," resumed Albert. "I started torun. I knew that no Sioux were bothering about me then, but Itell you that I made tracks, Dick. I had no arms, and I didn'tknow where I was going; but I meant to leave those Sioux somegood miles behind. After a while I got back part of my courage,and then I came back here to look around for you, thinking youmight have just such a chance as I did."
"Brave old Al," said Dick.
"You came, too."
"I was armed and you were not."
"It comes to the same thing, and you did have the chance."
"Yes, and we're together again. We've been saved once more, Al,when the others have fallen. Now the thing for us to do is toget away from here as fast as we can. Which way do you thinkthose troops on your side of the village retreated?"
Albert extended his finger toward a point on the dusky horizon.
"Off there somewhere," he replied.
"Then we'll follow them. Come on."
The two left the bushes and entered the hills.
Chapter XXBright Sun's Good-by
Dick and Albert had not gone far before they saw lights on thebluffs of the Little Big Horn. Dick had uncommonly keen eyes,and when he saw a figure pass between him and the firelight hewas confident that it was not that of a Sioux. The clothing wastoo much like a trooper's.
"Stop, Al," he said, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder."I believe some of our soldiers are here."
The two crept as near as they dared and watched until they sawanother figure pause momentarily against the background of thefirelight.
"It's a trooper, sure," said Dick, "and we've come to our ownpeople at last. Come, Al, we'll join them."
They started forward on a run. There was a flash of flame, areport, and a bullet whistled between them.
"We're friends, not Sioux!" shouted Dick. "We're escaping fromthe savages! Do
n't fire!"
They ran forward again, coming boldly into the light, and no moreshots were fired at them. They ran up the slope to the crest ofthe bluff, leaped over a fresh earthwork, and fell among a crowdof soldiers in blue. Dick quickly raised himself to his feet,and saw soldiers about him, many of them wounded, all of themweary and drawn. Others were hard at work with pick and spade,and from a distant point of the earthwork came the sharp reportof rifle shots.
These were the first white men that Dick and Albert had seen innearly two years, and their hearts rose in their throats.
"Who are you?" asked a lieutenant, holding up a lantern andlooking curiously at the two bare-headed, brown, and half-wildyouths who stood before him in their rough attire of tannedskins. They might readily have passed in the darkness for youngSioux warriors.
"I am Dick Howard," replied Dick, standing up as straight as hisweakness would let him, "and this is my brother Albert. We werewith an emigrant trail, all the rest of which was massacred twoyears ago by the Sioux. Since then we have been in themountains, hunting and trapping."
The lieutenant looked at him suspiciously. Dick still stooderect and returned his gaze, but Albert, overpowered by fatigue,was leaning against the earthwork. A half dozen soldiers stoodnear, watching them curiously. From the woods toward the rivercame the sound of more rifle shots.
"Where have you come from to-night? And how?" asked thelieutenant sharply.
"We escaped from the Sioux village," replied Dick. "I was in onepart of it and my brother in another. We met by chance or luckin the night, but in the afternoon I saw all the battle in whichthe army was destroyed."
"Army destroyed! What do you mean?" exclaimed the officer."We were repulsed, but we are here. We are not destroyed."
The suspicion in his look deepened, but Dick met him withunwavering eye.
"It was on the other side of the town," he replied. "Anotherarmy was there. It was surrounded by thousands of Sioux, but itperished to the last man. I saw them gallop into the valley, ledby a general with long yellow hair."
"Custer!" exclaimed some one, and a deep groan came from themen in the dusk.
"What nonsense is this!" exclaimed the officer. "Do you daretell me that Custer and his entire command have perished?"
Dick felt his resentment rising.
"I tell you only the truth," he said. "There was a great battle,and our troops, led by a general with long yellow hair, perishedutterly. The last one of them is dead. I saw it all with my owneyes."
Again that deep groan came from the men in the dusk.
"I can't believe it!" exclaimed the lieutenant. "Custer andwhole force dead! Where were you? How did you see all this?"
"The Sioux had tied me to a tree in order that the Indian boysmight amuse themselves by grazing me with arrows--my brother andI had been captured when we were on the plains--but they wereinterrupted by the appearance of troops in the valley. Then thebattle began. It lasted a long time, and I was forgotten. Abouttwilight I managed to break loose, and I escaped by hiding in theundergrowth. My brother, who was on the other side of town,escaped in much the same way."
"Sounds improbable, very improbable!" muttered the lieutenant.
Suddenly an old sergeant, who had been standing near, listeningattentively, exclaimed:
"Look at the boy's wrists, lieutenant! They've got just themarks than an Indian rawhide would make!"
Dick impulsively held up his wrists, from which the bandages hadfallen without his notice. A deep red ring encircled each, andit was obvious from their faces that others believed, even if thelieutenant did not. But he, too, dropped at least a part of hisdisbelief.
"I cannot deny your story of being captives among the Sioux," hesaid, "because you are white and the look of your eyes is honest.But you must be mistaken about Custer. They cannot all havefallen; it was your excitement that made you think it."
Dick did not insist. He was the bearer of bad news, but he wouldnot seek to make others believe it if they did not wish to doso. The dreadful confirmation would come soon enough.
"Take them away, Williams," said the lieutenant to the sergeant,"and give them food and drink. They look as if they needed it."
The sergeant was kindly, and he asked Dick and Albert manyquestions as he led them to a point farther back on the bluffbeyond the rifle shots of the Sioux, who were now firing heavilyin the darkness upon Reno's command, the troops driven off fromthe far side of the town, and the commands of Benteen andMcDougall, which had formed a junction with Reno. It was evidentthat he believed all Dick told him, and his eyes became heavywith sorrow.
"Poor lads!" he murmured. "And so many of them gone!"
He took them to a fire, and here both of them collapsedcompletely. But with stimulants, good food, and water theyrecovered in an hour, and then Dick was asked to tell again whathe had seen to the chief officers. They listened attentively,but Dick knew that they, too, went away incredulous.
Throughout the talk Dick and Albert heard the sound of pick andspade as the men continued to throw up the earthworks, and therewas an incessant patter of rifle fire as the Sioux crept forwardin the darkness, firing from every tree, or rock, or hillock, andkeeping up a frightful yelling, half of menace and half oftriumph. But their bullets whistled mostly overhead, and once,when they made a great rush, they were quickly driven back withgreat loss. Troops on a bluff behind earthworks were a hard nuteven for an overwhelming force to crack.
Dick and Albert fell asleep on the ground from sheer exhaustion,but Dick did not sleep long. He was awakened by a fresh burst offiring, and saw that it was still dark. He did not sleep againthat night, although Albert failed to awake, and, asking for arifle, bore a part in the defense.
The troops, having made a forced march with scant supplies,suffered greatly from thirst, but volunteers, taking buckets,slipped down to the river, at the imminent risk of torture anddeath, and brought them back filled for their comrades. It wasdone more than a dozen times, and Dick himself was one of theheroes, which pleased Sergeant Williams greatly.
"You're the right stuff, my boy," he said, clapping him on theshoulder, "though you ought to be asleep and resting."
"I couldn't sleep long," replied Dick. "I think my nerves havebeen upset so much that I won't feel just right again formonths."
Nevertheless he bore a valiant part in the defense, besidesrisking his life to obtain the water, and won high praise frommany besides his stanch friend, Sergeant Williams. It was wellthat the troops had thrown up the earthwork, as the Sioux,flushed with their great victory in the afternoon, hung on theflanks of the bluffs and kept up a continuous rifle fire. Therewas light enough for sharpshooting, and more than one soldier whoincautiously raised his head above the earthwork was slain.
Toward morning the Sioux made another great rush. There hadbeen a lull in the firing just when the night was darker thanusual and many little black clouds were floating up from thesouthwest. Dick was oppressed by the silence. He rememberedthe phases of the battle in the afternoon, and he felt that itportended some great effort by the Sioux. He peeped carefullyover the earthwork and studied the trees, bushes, and hillocksbelow. He saw nothing there, but it seemed to him that he couldactually feel the presence of the Sioux.
"Look out for 'em," he said to Sergeant Williams. "I thinkthey're going to make a rush."
"I think it, too," replied the veteran. "I've learnt somethingof their cunnin' since I've been out here on the plains."
Five minutes later the Sioux sprang from their ambush and rushedforward, hoping to surprise enemies who had grown careless. Butthey were met by a withering fire that drove them headlong tocover again. Nevertheless they kept up the siege throughout allthe following day and night, firing incessantly from ambush, andat times giving forth whoops full of taunt and menace. Dick wasable to sleep a little during the day, and gradually his nervesbecame more steady. Albert also took a part in the defense, and,like Dick, he won many friends.
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nbsp; The day was a long and heavy one. The fortified camp was filledwith the gloomiest apprehensions. The officers still refused tobelieve all of Dick's story, that Custer and every man of hiscommand had perished at the hands of the Sioux. They were yethopeful that his eyes had deceived him, a thing which couldhappen amid so much fire, and smoke, and excitement, and thatonly a part of Custer's force had fallen. Yet neither Custer norany of his men returned; there was no sign of them anywhere, andbelow the bluffs the Sioux gave forth taunting shouts andflaunted terrible trophies.
Dick and Albert sat together about twilight before one of thecamp fires, and Dick's face showed that he shared the gloom ofthose around him.
"What are you expecting, Dick?" asked Albert, who read hiscountenance.
"Nothing in particular," replied Dick; "but I'm hoping that helpwill come soon. I've heard from the men that General Gibbon isout on the plain with a strong force, and we need him bad. We'reshort of both water and food, and we'll soon be short ofammunition. Custer fell, I think, because his ammunition gaveout, and if ours gives out the same thing will happen to us.It's no use trying to conceal it."
"Then we'll pray for Gibbon," said Albert.
The second night passed like the first, to the accompaniment ofshouts and shots, the incessant sharpshooting of the Sioux, andan occasional rush that was always driven back. But it wasterribly exhausting. The men were growing irritable and nervousunder such a siege, and the anxiety in the camp increased.
Dick, after a good sleep, was up early on the morning of thesecond day, and, like others, he looked out over the plain in thehope that he might see Gibbon coming. He looked all around thecircle of the horizon and saw only distant lodges in the valleyand Sioux warriors. But Dick had uncommonly good ears, trainedfurther by two years of wild life, and he heard something, a newnote in the common life of the morning. He listened with theutmost attention, and heard it again. He had heard the samesound on the terrible day when Custer galloped into thevalley--the mellow, pealing note of a trumpet, but now veryfaint and far.
"They're coming!" he said to Sergeant Williams joyfully. "I hearthe sound of a trumpet out on the plain!"
"I don't," said the sergeant. "It's your hopes that aredeceivin' you. No, by Jove, I think I do hear it! Yes, there itis! They're comin'! They're comin'!"
The whole camp burst into a joyous cheer, and although they didnot hear the trumpet again for some time, the belief that helpwas at hand became a certainty when they saw hurried movementsamong the Sioux in the valley and the sudden upspringing offlames at many points.
"They're goin' to retreat," said the veteran Sergeant Williams,"an' they're burnin' their village behind 'em."
A little later the army of Gibbon, with infantry and artillery,showed over the plain, and was welcomed with cheers that camefrom the heart. Uniting with the commands on the fortifiedbluff, Gibbon now had a powerful force, and he advancedcautiously into the valley of the Little Big Horn and directlyupon the Indian village. But the Sioux were gone northward,taking with them their arms, ammunition, and all movableequipment, and the lodges that they left behind were burning.
Dick led the force to the field of battle, and all his terriblestory was confirmed. There were hundreds of brave men, Custerand every one of his officers among them, lay, most of themmutilated, but all with their backs to the earth.
The army spent the day burying the dead, and then began thepursuit of the Sioux. Dick and Albert went with them, fightingas scouts and skirmishers. They were willing, for the present,to let their furs remain hidden in their lost valley until theycould gain a more definite idea of its location, and until thedangerous Sioux were driven far to the northward.
As the armies grew larger the Sioux forces, despite the skill andcourage of their leaders, were continually beaten. Their greatvictory on the Little Big Horn availed them nothing. It becameevident that the last of the chiefs--and to Dick and Albert thiswas Bright Sun--had made the last stand for his race, and hadfailed.
"They were doomed the day the first white man landed in America,"said Dick to Albert, "and nothing could save them."
"I suppose it's so," said Albert; "but I feel sorry for BrightSun, all the same."
"So do I," said Dick.
The Sioux were finally crowded against the Canadian line, andSitting Bull and most of the warriors fled across it for safety.But just before the crossing Dick and Albert bore a gallant partin a severe skirmish that began before daylight. A small Siouxband, fighting in a forest with great courage and tenacity, wasgradually driven back by dismounted white troopers. Dick, askirmisher on the right flank, became separated from his comradesduring the fighting. He was aware that the Sioux had beendefeated, but, like the others, he followed in eager pursuit,wishing to drive the blow home.
Dick lost sight of both troopers and Sioux, but he became awareof a figure in the undergrowth ahead of him, and he stalked it.The warrior, for such he was sure the man to be, was unable tocontinue his flight without entering an open space where he wouldbe exposed to Dick's bullet, and he stayed to meet hisantagonist.
There was much delicate maneuvering of the kind that must occurwhen lives are known to be at stake, but at last the two camewithin reach of each other. The Sioux fired first and missed,and then Dick held his enemy at the muzzle of his rifle. He wasabout to fire in his turn, when he saw that it was Bright Sun.
The chief, worn and depressed, recognized Dick at the samemoment.
"Fire," he said. "I have lost and I might as well die by yourhand as another."
Dick lowered his weapon.
"I can't do it, Bright Sun," he said. "My brother and I owe youour lives, and I've got to give you yours. Good-by."
"But I am an Indian," said Bright Sun. "I will never surrenderto your people."
"It is for you to say," replied Dick.
Bright Sun waved his hand in a grave and sad farewell salute andwent northward. Dick heard from a trapper some time later of asmall band of Sioux Indians far up near the Great Slave Lake, ledby a chief of uncommon qualities. He was sure, from thedescription of this chief given by the trapper, that it wasBright Sun.
Their part in the war ended, Dick and Albert took for their pay anumber of captured Indian ponies, and turning southward found theold trail of the train that had been slaughtered. Then, with theponies, they entered their beloved valley again.
No one had come in their absence. Castle Howard, the Annex, theSuburban Villa, the Cliff House and all their treasures wereundisturbed. They carried their furs to Helena, in Montana,where the entire lot was sold for thirty-two thousand dollars--agreat sum for two youths.
"Now what shall we do?" said Albert when the money was paid tothem.
"I vote we buy United States Government bonds," replied Dick,"register 'em in our names, and go back to the valley to hunt andtrap. Of course people will find it after a while, but we mayget another lot of the furs before anyone comes."
"Just what I'd have proposed myself," said Albert.
They started the next day on their ponies, with the pack poniesfollowing, and reached their destination in due time. It wasjust about sunset when they descended the last slope and oncemore beheld their valley, stretching before them in all itsbeauty and splendor, still untrodden by any human footsteps savetheir own.
"What a fine place!" exclaimed Albert.
"The finest in the world!" said Dick.
The End
The Last of the Chiefs: A Story of the Great Sioux War Page 19
