by Zane Grey
13
When Allie Lee came back from that black gap in her consciousness shewas lying in a circular tent of poles and hides.
For a second she was dazed. But the Indian designs and trappings inthe tent brought swift realization--she had been brought captive to theSioux encampment. She raised her head. She was lying on a buffalo robe;her hands and feet were bound; the floor was littered with blankets andbeaded buckskin garments. Through a narrow opening she saw that the daywas far spent; Indians and horses passed to and fro; there was a bustleoutside and jabber of Indian jargon the wind blew hard and drops ofrain pattered on the tent.
Allie could scarcely credit the evidence of her own senses. Here she wasalive! She tried to see and feel if she had been hurt. Her arms and bodyappeared bruised, and they ached, but she was not in any great pain. Herhopes arose. If the Sioux meant to kill her they would have done itat once. They might intend to reserve her for torture, but more likelytheir object was to make her a captive in the tribe. In that caseSlingerland would surely find her and get her freedom.
Rain began to fall more steadily. Allie smelled smoke and saw thereflection of fires on the wall of the tent. Presently a squaw entered.She was a huge woman, evidently old, very dark of face, and wrinkled.She carried a bowl and platter which she set down, and, grunting, shebegan to untie Allie's hands. Then she gave the girl a not ungentleshake. Allie sat up.
"Do you--do they mean--to harm and kill me?" asked Allie.
The squaw shook her head to indicate she did not understand, but hergestures toward the things she had brought were easy to interpret. Alliepartook of the Indian food, which was coarse and unpalatable, but itsatisfied her hunger. When she had finished the squaw laboriously tiedthe thongs round Allie's wrists, and, pushing her back on the robe,covered her up and left her.
After that it grew dark rapidly, and the rain increased to a torrent.Allie, hardly realizing how cold she had been, began to warm up underthe woolly robe. The roar of the rain drowned all other sounds outside.She wondered if Slingerland had returned to his cabin, and, if so, whathe had done. She felt sorry for him. He would take the loss hard. But hewould trail her; he would hear of a white girl captive in the Sioux campand she would soon be free. How fortunate she was! A star of Providencehad watched over her. The prayer she had breathed had been answered. Shethought of Neale. She would live for him; she would pray and fight offharm; she would find him if he could not find her. And lying there boundand helpless in an Indian camp, captive of the relentless Sioux, for allshe knew in peril of death, with the roar of wind and rain around her,and the darkness like pitch, she yet felt her pulses throb and thrilland her spirit soar at remembrance of the man she loved. In the end shewould find Neale; and it was with his name trembling on her lips thatshe fell asleep.
More than once during the night she awoke in the pitchy darkness to hearthe wind blow and the rain roar. The dawn broke cold and gray, and thestorm gradually diminished. Allie lay alone for hours, beginning tosuffer by reason of her bonds and cramped limbs. The longer she was leftalone the more hopeful her case seemed.
In the afternoon she was visited by the squaw, released and fed asbefore. Allie made signs that she wanted to have her feet free, so thatshe could get up and move about. The squaw complied with her wishes.Allie could scarcely stand; she felt dizzy; a burning, aching sensationfilled her limbs.
Presently the old woman led her out. Allie saw a great number of tents,many horses and squaws and children, but few braves. The encampment layin a wide valley, similar to all the valleys of that country, exceptthat it was larger. A stream in flood swept yellow and noisy along theedge of the encampment. The children ran at sight of Allie, and thewomen stared. It was easy to see that they disapproved of her. The fewbraves looked at her with dark, steady, unfathomable eyes. The campappeared rich in color--in horses and trappings; evidently this tribewas not poor. Allie saw utensils, blankets, clothing--many things nevermade by Indians.
She was led to a big lodge with a tent adjoining. Inside an old Indianbrave, grizzled and shrunken, smoked before a fire; and as Allie waspushed into the tent a young Indian squaw appeared. She was small,with handsome, scornful face and dark, proud eyes, gorgeously clad inelaborate beaded and fringed buckskin--evidently an Indian princess ora chief's wife. She threw Allie a venomous glance as she went out. Allieheard the old squaw's grunting voice, and the young one's quick andpassionate answers.
There was nothing for Allie to do but await developments. She rested,rubbing her sore wrists and ankles, thankful she had been left unbound.She saw that she was watched, particularly by the young woman, who oftenwalked to the opening to glance in. The interior of this tent presenteda contrast to the other in which she had been confined. It was dry andclean, with floor of rugs and blankets; and all around hung beadedand painted and feathered articles, some for wear, and others for whatpurpose she could not guess.
The afternoon passed without further incident until the old squawentered, manifestly to feed Allie, and tie her up as heretofore. Theyounger squaw came in to watch the latter process.
Allie spoke to her and held out her bound hands appealingly. Thiselicited no further response than an intent look.
Night came. Allie lay awake a good while, and then she fell asleep. Nextmorning she was awakened by an uproar. Whistling and trampling mustangs,whoops of braves, the babel of many voices, barking of dogs, movement,bustle, sound--all attested to the return of the warriors. Allie's heartsank for a moment; this would be the time of trial for her. But theclamor subsided without any disturbance near her tent. By and by theold squaw returned to attend to her needs. This time on the way out shedropped a blanket curtain between the tent and the lodge.
Soon Indians entered the lodge, quite a number, with squaws among them,judging by their voices. A harangue ensued, lasting an hour or more; itinterested Allie, especially because at times she heard and recognizedthe quick, passionate utterance of the young squaw.
Soon Allie's old attendant shuffled in, and unbound her, then, liftingthe curtain she motioned to Allie to come out. Allie went into thelodge. An early sun lighted the place brightly. It was full of Indians.In the center stood a striking figure, probably a chief, tall and lean,with scars on his naked breast. His face was bronze, with deep lines,somber and bitter, and cruel thin lips, and eyes that glittered likeblack fire. His head had the poise of an eagle.
His piercing glance scarcely rested an instant upon Allie. He motionedfor her to be taken away. Allie, as she was led back, got a glimpse ofthe young squaw. Sullen, with bowed head, and dark rich blood thickin her face, with heaving breast and clenched hands, she presented apicture of outraged pride and jealousy.
Probably the chief had decided to claim Allie as his captive, a decisionwhich would be fiercely resented by the young Indian bride.
The camp quieted down after that. Allie peeped through a slit betweenthe hides of which her tent was constructed, and she saw no one butsquaws and children. The mustangs appeared worn out. Evidently thebraves and warriors were resting after a hard ride or fight or foray.
Nothing happened. The hours dragged. Allie heard the breathing of heavysleepers. About dark she was fed again and bound.
That night she was awakened by a gentle shake. A hand moved from hershoulder to her lips. The pale moonlight filtered into the tent. Alliesaw a figure kneeling beside her and she heard a whispered "'Sh-s-s-sh!"Then her hands and feet were freed. She divined then that the youngsquaw had come to let her go, in the dead of night. Her heart throbbedhigh as her liberator held up a side of the tent. Allie crawled out.A bright moon soared in the sky. The camp was silent. The young womanslipped after her, and with a warning gesture to be silent she led Allieaway toward the slope of the valley. It was a goodly distance. Not asound disturbed the peace of the beautiful night. The air was cold andstill. Allie shivered and trembled. This was the most exciting adventureof all. She felt a sudden tenderness and warmth for this Indian girl.Once the squaw halted, with ear intent, listening. All
ie's heart stoppedbeating. But no bark of dog, no sound of pursuit, justified alarm. Atlast they reached the base of the slope.
The Indian pointed high toward the ridge-top. She made undulatingmotions of her hand, as if to picture the topography of the ridges, andthe valleys between; then kneeling, she made a motion with her fingeron the ground that indicated a winding trail. Whereupon she stealthilyglided away--all without a spoken word.
Allie was left alone--free--with direction how to find the trail. Butwhat use was it for her to find it in that wilderness? Still, her starkept drawing her spirit. She began to climb. The slope was grassy, andher light feet left little trace. She climbed and climbed until shethought her heart would burst. Once upon the summit, she fell in thegrass and rested.
Far below in the moon-blanched valley lay the white tents and thetwinkling camp-fires. The bay of a dog floated up to her. It was atranquil, beautiful scene. Rising, she turned her back upon it, with amuttered prayer for the Indian girl whose jealousy and generosity hadfreed her, and again she faced the ridge-top and the unknown wilderness.
A wolf mourned, and the sound, clear and sharp, startled her. Butremembering Slingerland's word that no beast would be likely to harm herin the warm season, she was reassured. Soon she had crossed the narrowback of the ridge, to see below another valley like the one she hadleft, but without the tents and fires. Descent was easy and she coveredground swiftly. She feared lest she should come upon a stream in flood.Again she mounted a slope, zigzagging up, going slowly, reserving herstrength, pausing often to rest and to listen, and keeping a straightline with the star she had marked. Climbing was hard work, howeverslowly she went, just as going down was a relief to her wearied legs.
In this manner she climbed four ridges and crossed three valleys beforea rest became imperative. Now dawn was near, as was evidenced by thepaling stars and the gray in the east. It would be well for her toremain on high ground while day broke.
So she rested, but, soon cooling off, she suffered with the cold.Huddling down in the grass against a stone, and facing the east, shewaited for dawn to break.
The stars shut their eyes; the dark blue of sky turned gray; a palelight seemed to suffuse itself throughout the east. The valley layasleep in shadow, the ridges awoke in soft gray mist. Far down over thevastness and openness of the plains appeared a ruddy glow. It warmed, itchanged, it brightened. A sea of cloudy vapors, serene and motionless,changed to rose and pink; and a red curve slid up over the distanthorizon. All that world of plain and cloud and valley and ridgequickened as with the soul of day, while it colored with the fire ofsun. Red, radiant, glorious, the sun rose.
It was the dispeller of gloom, the bringer of hope. Allie Lee, lost onthe heights, held out her arms to the east and the sun, and she cried:"Oh, God!... Oh, Neale--Neale!"
When she turned to look down into the valley below she saw the whitewinding ribbon-like trail, and with her eyes she followed it to wherethe valley opened wide upon the plains.
She must go down the slope to the cover of the trees and brush, andthere work along eastward, ever with eye alert. She must meet withtravelers within a few days, or perish of starvation, or again fall intothe hands of the Sioux. Thirst she did not fear, for the recent heavyrain had left waterholes everywhere.
With action her spirit lightened and the numbness of hands and feet lefther. Time passed swiftly. The sun stood straight overhead before sherealized she had walked miles; and it declined westward as she skulkedlike an Indian from tree to tree, from bush to bush, along the firstbench of the valley floor.
Night overtook her at the gateway of the valley. The vast monotony ofthe plains opened before her like a gulf. She feared it. She found amound of earth with a wind-worn shelf in its side and overgrown withsage; and into this she crawled, curled in the sand and prayed andslept.
Next day she took up a position a few hundred yards from the trail andfollowed its course, straining her eyes to see before and behind her,husbanding her strength with frequent rests, and drinking from everypool.
That day, like its predecessor, passed swiftly by and left her wellout upon the huge, billowy bosom of the plains. Again she sought ahiding-place, but none offered. There was no warmth in the sand, and thenight wind arose, cold and moaning. She could not sleep. The whole emptyworld seemed haunted. Rustlings of the sage, seepings of the sand,gusts of the wind, the night, the loneliness, the faithless stars anda treacherous moon that sank, the wailing of wolves--all these thingsworked upon her mind and spirit until she lost her courage. She fearedto shut her eyes or cover her face, for then she could not see thestealthy forms stalking her out of the gloom. She prayed no more to herstar.
"Oh, God, have you forsaken me?" she moaned.
How relentless the grip of the endless hours! The black night held fast.And yet when she had grown nearly mad waiting for the dawn, it finallybroke, ruddy and bright, with the sun, as always, a promise of betterthings to come.
Allie found no water that day. She suffered from the lack of it, buthunger appeared to have left her. Her strength diminished, yet shewalked and plodded miles on miles, always gazing both hopelessly andhopefully along the winding trail.
At the close of the short and merciful day despair seized upon Allie'smind. With night came gloom and the memory of her mother's fate. Shestill clung to a strange faith that all would soon be well. Butreason, fact, reality, these present things pointed to certaindoom--starvation--death by thirst--or Indians! A thousand times sheimagined she heard the fleet hoof-beating of many mustangs. Only thetiny pats of the broken sage leaves in the wind!
It was a dark and cloudy night, warmer and threatening rain. Shekept continually turning round and round to see what it was that camecreeping up behind her so stealthily. How horrible was the dark--theblackness that showed invisible things! A wolf sent up his hungry,lonely cry. She did not fear this reality so much as she feared theintangible. If she lived through this night, there would be another likeit to renew the horror. She would rather not live. Like a creature besetby foes all around she watched; she faced every little sound; she peeredinto the darkness, instinctively unable to give up, to end the struggle,to lie down and die.
Neale seemed to be with her. He was alive. He was thinking of her atthat very moment. He would expect her to overcome self and accident andcalamity. He spoke to her out of the distance and his voice had the oldpower, stronger than fear, exhaustion, hopelessness, insanity. He couldcall her back from the grave.
And so the night passed.
In the morning, when the sun lit the level land, far down the trailwestward gleamed a long white line of moving wagons.
Allie uttered a wild and broken cry, in which all the torture shudderedout of her heart. Again she was saved! That black doubt was shame to herspirit. She prayed her thanksgiving, and vowed in her prayers that noadversity, however cruel, could ever again shake her faith or conquerher spirit.
She was going on to meet Neale. Life was suddenly sweet again,unutterably full, blazing like the sunrise. He was there--somewhere tothe eastward.
She waited. The caravan was miles away. But it was no mirage, no trickof the wide plain! She watched. If the hours of night had been long,what were these hours of day with life and the chance of happiness everadvancing?
At last she saw the scouts riding in front and alongside, and theplodding oxen. It was a large caravan, well equipped for defense.
She left the little rise of ground and made for the trail. How uneventhe walking! She staggered. Her legs were weak. But she gained the trailand stood there. She waved. They were not so far away. Surely she wouldbe seen. She staggered on--waved again.
There! The leading scout had halted. He pointed. Other riders crowdedaround him. The caravan came to a stop.
Allie heard voices. She waved her arms and tried to run. A scoutdismounted, advanced to meet her, rifle ready. The caravan feared aSioux trick. Allie described a lean, gray old man; now he was rapidlystriding toward her.
"It's a white gal!" she he
ard him shout.
Others ran forward as she staggered to meet them.
"I'm alone--I'm--lost!" she faltered.
"A white gal in Injun dress," said another.
And then kind hands were outstretched to her.
"I'm--running--away... Indians!" panted Allie.
"Whar?" asked the lean old scout.
"Over the ridges--miles--twenty miles--more. They had me. I got--away...four--three days ago."
The group around Allie opened to admit another man.
"Who's this--who's this?" called a quick voice, soft and liquid, yetwith a quality of steel in it.
Allie had heard that voice. She saw a tall man in long black coat andwide black hat and flowered vest and flowing tie. Her heart contracted.
"ALLIE!" rang the voice.
She looked up to see a dark, handsome face--a Spanish face with almondeyes, sloe-black and magnetic--a face that suddenly blazed.
She recognized the man with whom her mother had run away--the man shehad long believed her father--the adventurer Durade! Then she fainted.
