The Buffalo Runners: A Tale of the Red River Plains

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  A MIDNIGHT CHASE, AND DAN IN EXTREMITY.

  For some time they advanced in absolute silence, dipping their paddlesso as to make no noise whatever; Dan following as close as possible inthe wake of the chief, for it was one of those nights which peopledescribe as being so dark that one cannot see one's hand before one'sface.

  On reaching the lower end of the lake-like expansion where the rivernarrowed suddenly and the stream began to be felt, it was discoveredthat the enemy was in advance of them--that, anticipating some suchattempt at escape, they had stationed an ambush at the narrows to cutoff their retreat.

  Archie was naturally the first to make this discovery, being in the bowof the canoe. He heard no sound, but suddenly there loomed out of thedarkness another canoe close to them--so close that they were on thepoint of running into it when the sharp-witted boy saw it, and, with anadroit turn of his paddle prevented a collision. Then he ceased topaddle, and held his breath. Not knowing what to do next he wisely didnothing, but left matters to Oke and fate!

  As they passed, the steersman in the strange canoe uttered something ina low tone. Evidently he mistook them for his friends.

  "Sh!" was Okematan's prompt reply--or the Indian equivalent for thatcaution.

  They glided silently and slowly past, but the suspicion of the strangeIndian had obviously been aroused, for the paddles of his canoe wereheard to gurgle powerfully. Hearing this, Okematan made a stroke thatsent his canoe ahead like an arrow, and Archie, who appreciated thesituation, seconded the movement.

  "Stop!" exclaimed the strange Indian, in the Saulteaux tongue, but theCree chief did not feel the duty of obedience strongly upon him justthen. On the contrary, he put forth all his strength, but quietly, forhe remembered that Dan Davidson was behind.

  As there was now no need for concealment, the pursuer uttered a shrillwar-whoop which was immediately answered and repeated until the woodsrang with the fiendish sound, while half-a-dozen canoes dashed out fromthe banks on either side, and sought to bar the river.

  "Now, Arch-ee," said the Cree chief in a low voice, "paddle for yourlife and be a man!"

  "I'll be two men, if you like, Oke," answered the boy, whose courage wasof that type which experiences something almost like desperate glee inthe presence of imminent danger.

  The canoe, obedient to the double impulse and the power of the current,was soon out of hearing of the pursuers.

  "O! if I only had a paddle I might help you," said Little Bill eagerly.

  "Yes, an' bu'st your biler, or explode your lungs, or something o' thatsort," said his brother. "No, no, Little Bill; you sit there like alord or an admiral, an' leave men like Oke an' me to do all the dirtywork."

  While he spoke thus flippantly it is but justice to say that Archie wasnever more anxiously in earnest in his life, and that he strained at hispaddle with a degree of energy that made him, perhaps, more than equalto many an average man. So that the canoe forged well ahead of thepursuers and finally got to a part of the river where three isletsdivided it into several channels, rendering further pursuit in the darkuseless if not impossible.

  Their comrades, however, were not so fortunate. Left behind by thesudden spurt of his leader, Davidson and his companion exertedthemselves to overtake him, but the canoes of the enemy, which were justtoo late to cut off the retreat of Okematan, were in time to interceptthe second canoe. In this emergency Dan swerved aside, hoping to get tothe bank before the Saulteaux could discover his exact whereabouts. Hisintentions were thwarted by the want of caution in his companion.

  "Iss it to the land ye are going?" asked Fergus.

  "Yes--it's our only chance," whispered Dan.

  "It iss my opeenion--" murmured the Highlander.

  "Hush!" ejaculated Dan.

  But the caution came too late. A listening Red-skin overheard thesounds, and, with a sudden dash was alongside of them. He did not,however, know the vigour of the men with whom he had to deal. While hewas in the very midst of a triumphant war-whoop, Dan cut him over thehead with the paddle so violently that the instrument became splinters,and the whoop ceased abruptly. At the same time Fergus caught hold ofthe bow of the enemy's canoe with an iron grasp, and, giving it a heavethat might have put Samson to shame, fairly overturned it.

  "Ye can wet your whustle now--whatever," he muttered.

  As he spoke, the canoe ran with extreme violence against the invisiblebank. At the same moment a random volley was fired from the canoes inrear. Fear lest they should wound or kill a comrade probably causedthem to send the whizzing bullets rather high, but for one instant theflame revealed the position of the fugitives, and those who had reservedtheir fire took better aim.

  "Take to the bush, Fergus!" cried Dan, as he grasped his gun and leapedinto the shallow water.

  The Highlander stooped to lay hold of his weapon, which lay in the bowof the canoe, just as another volley was fired. The act was the meansof saving his life, for at least half-a-dozen bullets whizzed close overhis head. Before he could recover himself a strong hand grasped hisneck and flung him backwards. Probably a desperate hand-to-hand fightwould have ensued, for Fergus McKay had much of the bone, muscle, andsinew, that is characteristic of his race, but a blow from an unseenweapon stunned him, and when his senses returned he found himself boundhand and foot lying in the bottom of a canoe. He could tell from itsmotion, that it was descending the river.

  Meanwhile Dan Davidson, under the impression that his comrade was alsoseeking safety in the bush, did his best to advance in circumstances ofwhich he had never yet had experience, for, if the night was dark on theopen bosom of the river, it presented the blackness of Erebus in theforest. Dan literally could not see an inch in advance of his own nose.If he held up his hand before his face it was absolutely invisible.

  In the haste of the first rush he had crashed through a mass of smallshrubbery with which the bank of the stream was lined. Then on passingthrough that he tumbled head over heels into a hollow, and narrowlymissed breaking his gun. Beyond that he was arrested by a tree withsuch violence that he fell and lay for a minute or two, half-stunned.While lying thus, experience began to teach him, and common sense tohave fair-play.

  "A little more of this," he thought, "and I'm a dead man. Besides, ifit is difficult for me to traverse the forest in the dark, it is equallydifficult for the savages. My plan is to feel my way step by step, withcaution. That will be the quietest way, too, as well as the quickest.You're an excited fool, Dan!"

  When a man begins to think, and call himself a fool, there is some hopeof him. Gathering himself up, and feeling his gun all over carefully,to make sure that it had not been broken, he continued to advance withexcessive caution, and, in consequence, was ere long a considerabledistance from the banks of the river, though, of course, he had but ahazy idea as to what part of the country he had attained, or whither hewas tending.

  As the first excitement of flight passed away, Dan began to feel uneasyprickings of conscience at having so hastily sought safety for himself,though, upon reflection, he could not accuse himself of having desertedhis comrades. Okematan and the boys, he had good reason to believe--atleast to hope--had succeeded in evading the foe, and Fergus he supposedhad landed with himself, and was even at that moment making good hisescape into the forest. To find him, in the circumstances, he knew tobe impossible, and to shout by way of ascertaining his whereabouts healso knew to be useless as well as dangerous, as by doing so he wouldmake his own position known to the enemy.

  He also began to feel certain pricking sensations in his right leg aswell as in his conscience. The leg grew more painful as he advanced,and, on examination of the limb by feeling, he found, to his surprise,that he had received a bullet-wound in the thigh. Moreover hediscovered that his trousers were wet with blood, and that there was acontinuous flow of the vital fluid from the wound. This at onceaccounted to him for some very unusual feelings of faintness which hadcome over him, and which he had
at first attributed to his frequent andviolent falls.

  The importance of checking the haemorrhage was so obvious, that he atonce sat down and did his best to bind up the wound with the red cottonkerchief that encircled his neck. Having accomplished this as well ashe could in the dark, he resumed his journey, and, after several hoursof laborious scrambling, at last came to a halt with a feeling of veryconsiderable, and to him unusual, exhaustion.

  Again he sat down on what seemed to be a bed of moss, and began tomeditate.

  "Impossible to go further!" he thought. "I feel quite knocked up.Strange! I never felt like this before. It must have been the tumblesthat did it, or it may be that I've lost more blood than I suppose.I'll rest a bit now, and begin a search for Fergus by the first streakof dawn."

  In pursuance of this intention, the wearied man lay down, and puttinghis head on a mossy pillow, fell into a profound sleep, which was notbroken till the sun was high in the heavens on the following day.

  When at last he did awake, and attempted to sit up, Dan felt, to hissurprise and no small alarm, that he was as weak as a child, that hisleg lay in a pool of coagulated gore, and that blood was still slowlytrickling from the wound in his thigh.

  Although disposed to lie down and give way to an almost irresistibletendency to slumber, Dan was too well aware that death stared him in theface to succumb to the feeling without a struggle. He therefore made amighty effort of will; sat up; undid the soaking bandage, and proceededto extemporise a sort of tourniquet with it and a short piece of stick.

  The contrivance, rude as it was, proved effectual, for it stopped thebleeding, but Dan could not help feeling that he had already lost somuch blood that he was reduced almost to the last stage of exhaustion,and that another hour or two would probably see the close of his earthlycareer. Nothing, perhaps, could have impressed this truth upon him soforcibly as his inability to shout when he tried to do so.

  In the faint hope that Fergus might be within call, he raised his voicewith the full knowledge that he ran the risk of attracting a foe insteadof a comrade. The sound that complied with the impulse of his willwould have made him laugh if he had not felt an amazing andunaccountable disposition to cry. Up to that period of his life--almostfrom his earliest babyhood--Dan Davidson's capacious chest had alwayscontained the machinery, and the power, to make the nursery or thewelkin ring with almost unparalleled violence. Now, the chest, thoughstill capacious, and still full of the machinery, seemed to have totallylost the power, for the intended shout came forth in a gasp and ended ina sigh.

  It was much the same when he essayed to rise. His legs almost refusedto support him; everything appeared to swim before his eyes, and he sankdown again listlessly on the ground. For the first time, perhaps, inhis life, the strong man had the conviction effectually carried home tohim that he was mortal, and could become helpless. The advantage ofearly training by a godly mother became apparent in this hour ofweakness, for his first impulse was to pray for help, and the resultingeffect--whether men choose to call it natural or supernatural--was atleast partial relief from anxiety, and that degree of comfort whichalmost invariably arises from a state of resignation.

  After a brief rest, the power of active thought revived a little, andDan, again raising himself on one elbow, tried to rouse himself to thenecessity of immediate action of some sort if his life was to be saved.

  The spot on which he had lain, or rather fallen down, on the precedingnight happened to be the fringe of the forest where it bordered on anextensive plain or stretch of prairie land. It was surrounded by adense growth of trees and bushes, except on the side next the plain,where an opening permitted of an extensive view over the undulatingcountry. No better spot could have been chosen, even in broad daylight,for an encampment, than had been thus fallen upon by the hunter in thedarkness of night.

  But the poor man felt at once that this advantage could be of no availto him, for in the haste of landing he had thought only of his gun, andhad left his axe, with the bag containing materials for making fire, inthe canoe. Fortunately he had not divested himself of his powder-hornor shot-pouch, so he was not without the means of procuring food, but ofwhat use could these be, he reflected, if he had not strength to usethem?

  Once again, in the energy of determination, he rose up and shoulderedhis gun with the intention of making his way across the plain, in thehope that he might at all events reach the wigwam of some wanderingIndian, but he trembled so from excessive weakness that he was obligedto give up the attempt, and again sank down with feelings akin todespair.

  To add to his distress, hunger now assailed him so violently that hewould have roasted and eaten his moccasins--as many a starving man haddone before him, though without much benefit--but even this resource wasdenied him for the want of fire, and raw moccasin was not onlyindigestible but uneatable!

  Still, as it seemed his only hope, he gathered a few dry twigs andsticks together, drew the charge from his gun and sought to kindle somemossy lichen into flame by flashing the priming in the pan of the lock.Recent rains had damped everything, however, and his attempts provedabortive. Fortunately the weather was warm, so that he did not sufferfrom cold.

  While he was yet labouring assiduously to accomplish his purpose, thewhir of wings was heard overhead. Glancing quickly up, he perceivedthat a small flock of willow-grouse had settled on the bushes close tohim. He was not surprised, though very thankful, for these birds werenumerous enough and he had heard them flying about from time to time,but that they should settle down so near was exceedingly opportune andunexpected.

  With eager haste and caution he rammed home the charge he had sorecently withdrawn--keeping his eyes fixed longingly on the game all thetime. That the birds saw him was obvious, for they kept turning theirheads from side to side and looking down at him with curiosity. By goodfortune grouse of this kind are sometimes very stupid as well as tame.They did not take alarm at Dan's motions, but craned their necks andseemed to eye him with considerable curiosity. Even when he tried totake aim at them their general aspect suggested that they were asking,mentally, "What next?"

  But Dan found that he could not aim. The point of the gun waveredaround as it might have done in the hands of a child.

  With a short--almost contemptuous--laugh at his ridiculous incapacity,Dan lowered the gun.

  Stupid as they were, the laugh was too much for the birds. They spreadtheir wings.

  "Now or never!" exclaimed Dan aloud. He pointed his gun straight at theflock; took no aim, and fired!

  The result was that a plump specimen dropped almost at his feet. If hehad been able to cheer he would have done so. But he was not, so hethanked God, fervently, instead.

  Again the poor man essayed to kindle a fire, but in trying to do thiswith gunpowder he made the startling discovery that he had only one morecharge in his powder-horn. He therefore re-loaded his gun, wiped outthe pan and primed with care, feeling that this might be the last thingthat would stand between him and starvation. It might have stoodbetween him and something worse--but of that, more hereafter.

  Starving men are not particular. That day Dan did what he would havebelieved to have been, in him, an impossibility--he drank the blood ofthe bird and ate its flesh raw!

  "After all," thought he, while engaged in this half-cannibalistic deed,"what's the difference between raw grouse and raw oyster?"

  It is but right to add that he did not philosophise much on the subject.Having consumed his meal, he lay down beside his gun and slept thesleep of the weary.