The Border Watch: A Story of the Great Chief's Last Stand

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER II

  THE SILVER BULLET

  The village, the largest belonging to the Wyandots, the smallest, butmost warlike of the valley tribes, lay in a warm hollow, and it did notconsist of more than a hundred and fifty skin tepees and log cabins. Butit was intended to be of a permanent nature, else a part of its houseswould not have been of wood. There was also about it a considerable areaof cleared land where the squaws raised corn and pumpkins. A fine creekflowed at the eastern edge of the clearing. Henry and his comradespaused, where the line of forest met the open, and watched the progressof the army across the cleared ground. Everybody in the village, itseemed, was coming forward to meet the chief, the warriors first andthen the old men, squaws and children, all alive with interest.

  Timmendiquas strode ahead, his tall figure seeming taller in the lightof the torches. But it was no triumphant return for him. Suddenly heuttered a long quavering cry which was taken up by those who followedhim. Then the people in the village joined in the wail, and it came overand over again from the multitude. It was inexpressibly mournful and thedark forest gave it back in weird echoes. The procession poured on in agreat horde toward the village, but the cry, full of grief and lamentstill came back.

  "They are mournin' for the warriors lost in the East," said Tom Ross. "Ireckon that after Wyomin' an' Chemung, Timmendiquas wasn't able tobring back more than half his men."

  "If the Wyandots lost so many in trying to help the Iroquois, won't thatfact be likely to break up the big Indian league?" asked Paul.

  Tom Ross shook his head, but Henry answered in words:

  "No, the Indians, especially the chiefs, are inflamed more than ever bytheir losses. Moreover, as Timmendiquas has seen how the allied SixNations themselves could not hold back the white power, he will be allthe more anxious to strike us hard in the valley."

  "I've a notion," said Shif'less Sol, "that bands o' the Iroquois,'specially the Mohawks, may come out here, an' try to do furTimmendiquas what he tried to do fur them. The savages used to fightag'in' one another, but I think they are now united ag'in' us, on an'off, all the way from the Atlantic to the Great Plains."

  "Guess you're right, Sol," said Long Jim, "but ez fur me, jest now Iwant to sleep. We had a purty hard march to-day. Besides walkin' we hadto be watchin' always to see that our scalps were still on our heads,an' that's a purty wearyin' combination."

  "I speak for all, and all are with you," said Paul, so briskly that theothers laughed.

  "Any snug place that is well hid will do," said Henry, "and as theforest is so thick I don't think it will take us long to find it."

  They turned southward, and went at least three miles through heavy woodsand dense thickets. All they wanted was a fairly smooth spot with thebushes growing high above them, and, as Henry had predicted, theyquickly found it--a small depression well grown with bushes and weeds,but with an open space in the center where some great animal, probably abuffalo had wallowed. They lay down in this dry sandy spot, rolled intheir blankets, and felt so secure that they sought sleep withoutleaving anyone to watch.

  Henry was the first to awake. The dawn was cold and he shivered a littlewhen he unrolled himself from his blanket. The sun showed golden in theeast, but the west was still dusky. He looked for a moment or two at hisfour friends, lying as still as if they were dead. Then he stretched hismuscles, and beat his arms across his chest to drive away the frost ofthe morning that had crept into his blood. Shif'less Sol yawned andawoke and the others did likewise, one by one.

  "Cold mornin' fur this time o' year," said Shif'less Sol. "Jim, lightthe fire an' cook breakfast an' the fust thing I want is a good hot cupo' coffee."

  "Wish I could light a fire," said Long Jim, "an' then I could give you acup shore 'nuff. I've got a little pot an' a tin cup inside an' threepounds o' ground coffee in my pack. I brought it from the boat, thinkin'you fellers would want it afore long."

  "What do you say, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol. "Coffee would be pow'fulwarmin'. None o' us hez tasted anything but cold vittles for more'n aday now. Let's take the chances on it."

  Henry hesitated but the chill was still in his blood and he yielded.Besides the risk was not great.

  "All right," he said; "gather dead wood and we'll be as quick about itas we can."

  The wood was ready in a minute. Tom Ross whittled off shavings with hisknife. Shif'less Sol set fire to them with flint and steel. In a fewminutes something was bubbling inside Jim Hart's coffee pot, and sendingout a glorious odor.

  Shif'less Sol sniffed the odor.

  "I'm growin' younger," he said. "I'm at least two years younger than Iwuz when I woke up. I wish to return thanks right now to the old Greekfeller who invented fire. What did you say his name was, Paul?"

  "Prometheus. He didn't invent fire, Sol, but according to the story hebrought it down from the heavens."

  "It's all the same," said the shiftless one as he looked attentively atthe steaming coffee pot. "I guess it wuz about the most useful tripPromethy ever made when he brought that fire down."

  Everyone in turn drank from the cup. They also heated their driedvenison over the coals, and, as they ate and drank, they felt freshstrength pouring into every vein. When the pot was empty Jim put it onthe ground to cool, and as he scattered the coals of fire with a kick,Henry, who was sitting about a yard away suddenly lay flat and put hisear to the earth.

  "Do you hear anything, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol, who knew the meaningof the action.

  "I thought I heard the bark of a dog," replied Henry, "but I was notsure before I put my ear to the ground that it was not imagination. NowI know it's truth. I can hear the barking distinctly, and it is comingthis way."

  "Some o' them ornery yellow curs hev picked up our trail," saidShif'less Sol, "an' o' course the warriors will follow."

  "Which, I take it, means that it is time for us to move from our presentabode," said Paul.

  Long Jim hastily thrust the coffee pot, not yet cold, and the cup backinto his pack, and they went towards the South at a gait that was half arun and half a walk, easy but swift.

  "This ain't a flight," said Shif'less Sol. "It's just a masterlyretreat. But I'll tell you, boys, I don't like to run away from dogs. Ithumiliates me to run from a brute, an' an inferior. Hark to theirbarkin'."

  They now heard the baying of the dogs distinctly, a long wailing crylike the howling of hounds. The note of it was most ominous to Paul'ssensitive mind. In the mythology that he had read, dogs played a greatrole, nearly always as the enemy of man. There were Cerberus and theothers, and flitting visions of them passed through his mind now. He wasaware, too, that the reality was not greatly inferior to his fancies.The dogs could follow them anywhere, and the accidental picking-up oftheir trail might destroy them all.

  The five went on in silence, so far as they were concerned, for a longtime, but the baying behind them never ceased. It also grew louder, andHenry, glancing hastily back, expected that the dogs would soon comeinto sight.

  "Judging from their barking, the Wyandots must love dogs of uncommonsize and fierceness," he said.

  "'Pears likely to me," said Shif'less Sol. "We're good runners, all fiveo' us. We've shaken the warriors off, but not the dogs."

  "It's just as you say," said Henry. "We can't run on forever, so we mustshoot the trailers--that is--the dogs. Listen to them. They are not morethan a couple of hundred yards away now."

  They crossed a little open space, leaped a brook and then entered thewoods again. But at a signal from Henry, they stopped a few yardsfurther on.

  "Now, boys," he said, "be ready with your rifles. We must stop thesedogs. How many do you think they are, Tom?"

  "'Bout four, I reckon."

  "Then the moment they come into the open space, Tom, you and Paul andJim shoot at those on the left, and Sol and I will take the right."

  The Indian dogs sprang into the open space and five rifles crackedtogether. Three of them--they were four in number, as Tom had said--werekilled instantly, but t
he fourth sprang aside into the bushes, where heremained. The five at once reloaded their rifles as they ran. Now theyincreased their speed, hoping to shake off their pursuers. Behind themrose a long, fierce howl, like a note of grief and revenge.

  "That's the dog we did not kill," said Paul, "and he's going to hangon."

  "I've heard tell," said Tom Ross, "that 'cordin' to the Indian belief,the souls o' dead warriors sometimes get into dogs an' other animals,an' it ain't fur me to say that it ain't true. Mebbe it's really a deadInjun, 'stead o' a live dog that's leadin' the warriors on."

  Paul shuddered. Tom's weird theory chimed in with his own feelings. Thefourth dog, the one that had hid from the bullets, was a phantom,leading the savages on to vengeance for his dead comrades. Now and thenhe still bayed as he kept the trail, but the fleeing five sought in vainto make him a target for their bullets. Seemingly, he had profited bythe death of his comrades, as his body never showed once among thefoliage. Search as they would with the sharpest of eyes, none of thefive could catch the faintest glimpse of him.

  "He's a ghost, shore," said Tom Ross. "No real, ordinary dog would keepunder cover that way. I reckon we couldn't kill him if we hit him, 'lesswe had a silver bullet."

  The savages themselves uttered the war cry only two or three times, butit was enough to show that with the aid of the dog they followedrelentlessly. The situation of the five had become alarming to the lastdegree. They had intended to pursue, not to be pursued. Now they werefleeing for their lives, and there would be no escape, unless they couldshake off the most terrible of all that followed--the dog. And at leastone of their number, Silent Tom Ross, was convinced thoroughly that thedog could not be killed, unless they had the unobtainable--a silverbullet. In moments of danger, superstition can take a strong hold, andPaul too, felt a cold chill at his heart.

  Their course now took them through a rolling country, clad heavily inforest, but without much undergrowth, and they made good speed. Theycame to numerous brooks, and sometimes they waded in them a littledistance, but they did not have much confidence in this familiar device.It might shake off the warriors for a while, but not that terrible dogwhich, directed by the Indians, would run along the bank and pick up thetrail again in a few seconds. Yet hope rose once. For a long time theyheard neither bark nor war cry, and they paused under the branches of agreat oak. They were not really tired, as they had run at an easy gait,but they were too wise to let pass a chance for rest. Henry was hopefulthat in some manner they had shaken off the dog, but there was no suchbelief in the heart of the silent one. Tom Ross had taken out hishunting knife and with his back to the others was cutting at something.Henry gave him a quick glance, but he did not deem it wise to ask himanything. The next moment, all thought of Tom was put out of his mind bythe deep baying of the dog coming down through the forest.

  The single sound, rising and swelling after the long silence was uncannyand terrifying. The face of Tom Ross turned absolutely pale through thetan of many years. Henry himself could not repress a shudder.

  "We must run for it again," he said. "We could stay and fight, ofcourse, but it's likely that the Indians are in large numbers."

  "If we could only shake off the hound," muttered Tom Ross. "Did you pay'tention to his voice then, Henry? Did you notice how deep it was? Itell you that ain't no common dog."

  Henry nodded and they swung once more into flight. But he and Shif'lessSol, the best two marksmen on the border, dropped to the rear.

  "We must get a shot at that dog," whispered Henry. "Very likely it's abig wolf hound."

  "I think so," said Shif'less Sol, "but I tell you, Henry, I don't liketo hear it bayin'. It sounds to me jest ez ef it wuz sayin': 'I've gotyou! I've got you! I've got you!' Do you reckon there kin be anything inwhat Tom says?"

  "Of course not. Of course not," replied Henry. "Tom's been picking uptoo much Indian superstition."

  At that moment the deep baying note so unlike the ordinary bark of anIndian dog came again, and Henry, despite himself, felt the cold chillat his heart once more. Involuntarily he and the shiftless one glancedat each other, and each read the same in the other's eyes.

  "We're bound to get that dog, hound, cur, or whatever he may be!"exclaimed Henry almost angrily.

  Shif'less Sol said nothing, but he cast many backward glances at thebushes. Often he saw them move slightly in a direction contrary to thecourse of the wind, but he could not catch a glimpse of the body thatcaused them to move. Nor could Henry. Twice more they heard the war cryof the savages, coming apparently from at least a score of throats, andnot more than three or four hundred yards away. Henry knew that theywere depending entirely upon the dog, and his eagerness for a shotincreased. He could not keep his finger away from the trigger. He longedfor a shot.

  "We must kill that dog," he said to Shif'less Sol; "we can't run onforever."

  "No, we can't, but we kin run jest as long as the Injuns kin," returnedthe shiftless one, "an' while we're runnin' we may get the chance wewant at the dog."

  The pursuit went on for a long time. The Indians never came into view,but the occasional baying of the hound told the fleeing five that theywere still there. It was not an unbroken flight. They stopped now andthen for rest, but, when the voice of the hound came near again, theywould resume their easy run toward the South. At every stop Tom Rosswould turn his back to the others, take out his hunting knife and beginto whittle at something. But when they started again the hunting knifewas back in its sheath once more, and Tom's appearance was as usual.

  The sun passed slowly up the arch of the heavens. The morning coolnesshad gone long since from the air, but the foliage of the great forestprotected them. Often, when the shade was not so dense they ran oversmooth, springy turf, and they were even deliberate enough, as the hourspassed, to eat a little food from their packs. Twice they knelt anddrank at the brooks.

  They made no attempt to conceal their trail, knowing that it wasuseless, but Henry and Shif'less Sol, their rifles always lying in thehollows of their arms, never failed to seek a glimpse of the relentlesshound. It was fully noon when the character of the country began tochange slightly. The hills were a little higher and there was moreunderbrush. Just as they reached a crest Henry looked back. In the farbushes, he saw a long dark form and a pointed gray head with glitteringeyes. He knew that it was the great dog, a wolf hound; he was sure now,and, quick as a flash, he raised his rifle and fired at a point directlybetween the glittering eyes. The dog dropped out of sight and the fiveran on.

  "Do you think you killed him, Henry?" asked Shif'less Sol breathlessly.

  "I don't know; I hope so."

  Behind them rose a deep bay, the trailing note of the great dog, but nowit seemed more ferocious and uncanny than ever. Shif'less Sol shuddered.Tom Ross' face turned not pale, but actually white, through its manylayers of tan.

  "Henry," said Shif'less Sol, "I never knowed you to miss at that rangeafore."

  The eyes of the two met again and each asked a question of the other.

  "I think I was careless, Sol," said Henry. His voice shook a little.

  "I hope so," said Shif'less Sol, whose mind was veering more and moretoward the belief of Tom Ross, "but I'd like pow'ful well to put abullet through that animal myself. Them awful wolf howls o' his hit onmy nerves, they do."

  The chance of the shiftless one came presently. He, too, saw among thebushes the long dark body, the massive pointed head and the glitteringeyes. He fired as quickly as Henry had done. Then came that silence,followed in a few minutes by the deep and sinister baying note of thegreat hound.

  "I reckon I fired too quick, too," said Shif'less Sol. But the handsthat grasped his rifle were damp and cold.

  "'Tain't no use," said Tom Ross in a tone of absolute conviction. "I'veseen you and Henry fire afore at harder targets than that, an' hit 'emevery time. You hit this one, too."

  "Then why didn't we kill the brute?" exclaimed Henry.

  "'Cause lead wuzn't meant to kill him. Your bullets went right
throughhim an' never hurt him."

  Henry forced a laugh.

  "Pshaw, Tom," he said. "Don't talk such foolishness.'"

  "I never talked solider sense in my life," said Ross.

  Henry and Shif'less Sol reloaded their rifles as they ran, and both weredeeply troubled. In all their experience of every kind of danger theyhad met nothing so sinister as this, nothing so likely to turn thecourage of a brave man. Twice sharpshooters who never missed had misseda good target. Or could there be anything in the words of Tom Ross?

  They left the warriors some distance behind again and paused for anotherrest, until the terrible hound should once more bring the pursuers near.All five were much shaken, but Tom Ross as usual in these intervalsturned his back upon the others, and began to work with his huntingknife. Henry, as he drew deep breaths of fresh air into his lungs,noticed that the sun was obscured. Many clouds were coming up from thesouthwest, and there was a damp touch in the air. The wind was rising.

  "Looks as if a storm was coming," he said. "It ought to help us."

  But Tom Ross solemnly shook his head.

  "It might throw off the warriors," he said, "but not the dog. Hark,don't you hear him again?"

  They did hear. The deep booming note, sinister to the last degree, cameclearly to their ears.

  "It's time to go ag'in," said Shif'less Sol, with a wry smile. "Seems tome this is about the longest footrace I ever run. Sometimes I like torun, but I like to run only when I like it, and when I don't like it Idon't like for anybody to make me do it. But here goes, anyhow. I'llkeep on runnin' I don't know whar."

  Sol's quaint remarks cheered them a little, and their feet becamesomewhat lighter. But one among them was thinking with the utmostconcentration. Tom Ross, convinced that something was a fact, waspreparing to meet it. He would soon be ready. Meanwhile the darknessincreased and the wind roared, but there was no rain. The country grewrougher. The underbrush at times was very dense, and one sharp littlestony hill succeeded another. The running was hard.

  Henry was growing angry. He resented this tenacious pursuit. It hadbeen so unexpected, and the uncanny dog had been so great a weaponagainst them. He began to feel now that they had run long enough. Theymust make a stand and the difficult country would help them.

  "Boys," he said, "we've run enough. I'm in favor of dropping down behindthese rocks and fighting them off. What do you say?"

  All were for it, and in a moment they took shelter. The heavy clouds andthe forest about them made the air dim, but their eyes were so used toit that they could see anyone who approached them, and they were gladnow that they had decided to put the issue to the test of battle. Theylay close together, watching in front and also for a flank movement, butfor a while they saw nothing. The hound had ceased to bay, but, after awhile, both Henry and Sol saw a rustling among the bushes, and they knewthat the savages were at hand.

  But of all the watchers at that moment Silent Tom Ross was the keenest.He also occupied himself busily for a minute or so in drawing the bulletfrom his rifle. Henry did not notice him until this task was almostfinished.

  "Why, in the name of goodness, Tom," he exclaimed, "are you unloadingyour rifle at such a time?"

  Tom looked up. The veteran scout's eyes shone with grim fire.

  "I know what I'm doin'," he said. "Mebbe I'm the only one in this crowdwho knows what ought to be did. I'm not unloadin' my rifle, Henry. I'mjest takin' out one bullet an' puttin' in another in its place. Seethis?"

  He held up a small disc that gleamed in the dim light.

  "That," said Tom, "is a silver bullet. It's flat an' it ain't shapedlike a bullet, but it's a bullet all the same. I've been cuttin' it outuv a silver sixpence, an' now it exactly fits my rifle. You an' Sol--an'I ain't sayin' anything ag'in' your marksmanship--could shoot at thatdog all day without hurtin' him, but I'm goin' to kill him with thissilver bullet."

  "Don't talk foolishness, Tom," said Henry.

  "You'll see," said the veteran in a tone of such absolute convictionthat the others could not help being impressed. Tom curled himself upbehind one rock, and in front of another. Then he watched with the fullintensity that the danger and his excitement demanded. He felt that alldepended upon him, his own life and the lives of those four comrades sodear to him.

  Tom Ross, silent, reserved, fairly poured his soul into his task.Nothing among the bushes and trees in front of them escaped hisattention. Once he saw a red feather move, but he knew that it was stuckin the hair of an Indian and he was looking for different game. Hebecame so eager that he flattened his face against the rock and thrustforward the rifle barrel that he might lose no chance however fleeting.

  Silent Tom's figure and face were so tense and eager that Henry stoppedwatching the bushes a moment or two to look at him. But Tom continued tosearch for his target. He missed nothing that human eye could see amongthose bushes, trees and rocks. He saw an eagle feather again, but it didnot interest him. Then he heard the baying of a hound, and he quiveredfrom head to foot, but the sound stopped in a moment, and he could notlocate the long dark figure for which he looked. But he never ceased towatch, and his eagerness and intensity did not diminish a particle.

  The air darkened yet more, and the moan of the wind rose in the forest.But there was no rain. The five behind the rocks scarcely moved, andthere was silence in the bushes in front of them. Tom Ross, intent asever, saw a bush move slightly and then another. His eyes fastened uponthe spot. So eager was he that he seemed fairly to double his power ofsight. He saw a third bush move, and then a patch of something darkappear where nothing had been before. Tom's heart beat fast. He thoughtof the comrades so dear to him, and he thought of the silver bullet inhis rifle. The dark patch grew a little larger. He quivered all over,but the next instant he was rigid. He was watching while the dark patchstill grew. He felt that he would have but a single chance, and that ifever in his life he must seize the passing moment it was now.

  Tom was staring so intently that his gaze pierced the shadows, and nowhe saw the full figure of a huge hound stealing forward among thebushes. He saw the massive pointed head and glittering eyes, and hisrifle muzzle shifted until he looked down the barrel upon a spotdirectly between those cruel eyes. He prayed to the God of the white manand the Manitou of the red man, who are the same, to make him steady ofeye and hand in this, their moment of great need. Then he pulled thetrigger.

  The great dog uttered a fierce howl of pain, leaped high into the air,and fell back among the bushes. But even as he fell Tom saw that he wasstiffening into death, and he exclaimed to his comrades:

  "It got him! The silver bullet got him! He'll never follow us any more."

  "I believe you're right," said Henry, awed for the moment despite hisclear and powerful mind, "and since he's dead we'll shake off thewarriors. Come, we'll run for it again."