Bring Me His Ears

by Edward C. Taylor

  CHAPTER XI

  INDIAN COUNTRY

  After an enjoyable supper of antelope meat, Hank Marshall drifted overto visit Zeb Houghton and Jim Ogden, and judging from the hilarityresulting from his call, it was very successful. The caravan was nowapproaching the Indian country and was not very far from the easternmostpoint where traders had experienced Indian deviltry. Neither he nor hisfriends were satisfied with the way guard was kept at night, and hebelieved that a little example was worth a deal of precept. On his wayback to his own part of the encampment he dropped over to pay a shortvisit to some tenderfeet, two of whom were to mount guard that night.Jim Ogden, sauntering past, discovered him and wandered over to borrow apipeful of tobacco.

  "Wall," said Ogden, seating himself before the cheerful fire, "'twon'tbe long now afore we git inter buffaler country, an' kin eat food as isfood. Arter ye sink yer teeth inter fat cow an' chaw a tongue or two,ye'll shore forgit what settlement beef tastes like. That right, Hank?"

  "It's shore amazin' how much roast hump ribs a man kin store awaywithout feelin' it," replied Hank. "But thar's allus one drawback tergittin' inter th' buffaler range; whar ye find buffaler ye find Injuns,an' nobody kin tell what an Injun's goin' ter do. If they only try terstampede yer critters yer gittin' off easy. Take a Pawnee war-party,headin' fer th' Comanche or Kiowa country, fer instance. Thar off ferter steal hosses; but thar primed ter fight. If thar strong enough acaravan'll look good ter 'em. One thing ye want ter remember: if th'Injuns ain't strong, don't ye pull trigger too quick; as long as yerrifle's loaded thar'll be plumb respectful, but soon's she's empty, lookout."

  "I've been expecting to see them before this," said one of the hosts.

  "Wall, from now on mebby ye won't have ter strain yer eyes," Hankremarked. "They like these hyar timber fringes, whar they kin sneakright up under yer nose. They got one thing in thar favor, in attackin'at night; th' twang o' a bowstring ain't heard very fur; but onct yehear it ye'll never fergit th' sound. Ain't that so, Jim?"

  Jim nodded. "Fer one, I'm keepin' an eye open from now on. Wall, reckonI'll be movin' on."

  "Where do you expect to run into Indians?" asked one of the men near thefire.

  Jim paused, half turned and seemed to be reflecting. "'Most any time,now. Shore ter git signs o' 'em at th' little Arkansas, couple o' daysfrom now. May run inter 'em at Turkey Creek, tomorrow night."

  Hank arose, emptied his pipe, and looked at Jim. "Jine ye, fur's ourfire," he said, and the two friends strolled away. They had not beengone long when two shadowy figures met and stopped not far from thetenderfeet's fire, and held a low-voiced conversation, none of which,however, was too low to be overheard at the fire.

  "How'd'y, Tom."

  "How'd'y, Zeb."

  "On watch ter night?"

  "No; you?"

  "No. Glad of it."

  "Me, too."

  "This is whar Taos Bill war sculped, ain't it?"

  "They killed 'im but didn't git his ha'r."

  "How'd it happen?"

  "Owl screeched an' a wolf howled. Bill snuk off ter find out about it."

  "Arrer pizened?"

  "Yes; usually air."

  "Whar ye goin'?"

  "Ter th' crick fer water."

  "I'm goin' ter see th' capting. Good night."

  "Good night; wish it war good mornin', Zeb."

  "Me, too. Good night."

  At that instant an owl screeched, the quavering, eerie sound softened bydistance.

  "Hear that?"

  The mournful sound of a wolf floated through the little valley.

  "An' that? Wolves don't generally answer owls, do they?"

  "Come along ter th' crick, Zeb. Thar ain't no tellin'."

  "I'm with ye," and the two figures moved silently away.

  The silence around the camp-fire was profound and reflective, but therewas some squirming and surreptitious examination of caps and flints. Thequestioning call of the hoot owl was answered by a weird, uncanny,succession of sharp barks growing closer and faster, ending in amournful, high-pitched, long-drawn, quavering howl. The noisy activityof the encampment became momentarily slowed and then went on again.

  The first guard came off duty with an apparent sense of relief and grewvery loquacious. One of them joined the silent circle of tenderfeetaround the blazing fire.

  "Phew!" he grunted as he sat down. "Hear those calls?" His questionremained unanswered, but he did not seem surprised. "When you go on,Doc?" he asked.

  "One o'clock," answered Dr. Whiting. He looked around pityingly."Calls?" he sneered. "Don't you know an owl or a wolf when you hearone?" There was a lack of sincerity in his voice which could not bedisguised. The doctor was like the boy who whistled when going throughthe woods.

  Midnight came and went, and half an hour later the corporal of the nextwatch rooted out his men and led them off to relieve the present guard.He cautioned them again against standing up.

  "To a Injun's eyes a man standin' up on th' prairie is as plain asChimbly Rock," he asserted. "Besides, ye kin see a hull lot better ifyer eyes air clost ter th' ground, lookin' agin' th' horizon. Don't gitnarvous, an' don't throw th' camp inter a scare about nothin'."

  An hour later an owl hooted very close to Dr. Whiting and he sprang tohis feet. As he did so he heard the remarkably well imitated twang of abowstring, and his imagination supplied his own interpretation to thesound passing his ear. Before he could collect his panic-stricken senseshe was seized from behind and a moment later, bound with rawhide andgagged with buckskin, he lay on his back. A rough hand seized his hairat the same instant that something cold touched his scalp. At thatmoment his attacker sneezed, and a rough, tense voice growled achallenge from the darkness behind him.

  "Who's thar?" called Tom Boyd, the clicking of his rifle hammers sharpand ominous.

  The hand clutching the doctor's hair released it and the action wasfollowed by a soft and hurried movement through the woods.

  "Who's thar?" came the low growl again, as Tom crept into the boundman's range of vision and peered into the blackness of the woods.Waiting a moment, the plainsman muttered something about being mistaken,and departed silently.

  After an agony of suspense, the bound man heard the approach of anotherfigure, and soon the corporal of his guard stopped near him and sworevengefully under his breath as his soft query brought no answer.

  "Cuss him," growled Ogden, angrily. "He's snuk back ter camp. I'll peghis pelt out ter dry, come daylight." He moved forward to continue hisround of inspection and stumbled over the doctor's prostrate form. In aflash the corporal's knife was at the doctor's throat. "Who air ye?" hedemanded fiercely. The throaty, jumbled growls and gurgles whichanswered him apprised him of the situation, and he lost no time inremoving the gag and cutting the thongs which bound the sentry. "Thar,now," he said in a whisper. "Tell me about it."

  The doctor's account was vivid and earnest and one of his hands waspressed convulsively against his scalp as if he feared it would leavehim.

  Ogden heard him through patiently, grunting affirmatively from time totime. "Jest what I told th' boys," he commented. "Wall, I reckon theywar scared away. Couldn't 'a' been many, or they'd 'a' rushed us. It wara scatterin' bunch o' bucks, lookin' fer a easy sculp, or a chanct terstampede th' animals. Thievin' Pawnees, I reckon. Mebby they'll comeback ag'in: we'll wait right hyar fer 'em, dang thar eyes."

  "Ain't you going to alarm the camp?" incredulously demanded the doctor,having hard work to keep his teeth from chattering.

  "What in tarnation fer? Jest 'cause a couple o' young bucks nigh got yerh'ar? Hell, no; we'll wait right hyar an' git 'em if they come back."

  "Do you think they will?" asked the doctor, trying to sound fierce andeager.

  "Can't never tell what a Injun'll do. They left ye tied up, an' mebbywant yer h'ar plumb bad. Reckon mebby I ought ter go 'round an' warn th'rest o' th' boys ter keep thar eyes peeled an' look sharp fer 'em;'specially them nigh th' animals. Bet ye stood up when ye heard 'em?"

&nb
sp; "Yes, I did; but I'll never do it again!"

  "Thought so. Now you lay low out hyar till I tells th' others. Be backsoon," and before any reply could be made the corporal had becomeswallowed up in the night. The weather was not warm, yet Doctor Whitingsweat copiously, and after he had been relieved and sent back to theencampment he had great trouble in falling asleep.

  Hank Marshall slipped up behind Jim Ogden as that person came in, andimitated the significant twang. Jim jumped a foot in the air and thenbent over, convulsed with silent laughter.

  "Dang ye, Hank; I don't know how ye do it!" he exclaimed. "I never heardth' like. Thar'll be one bunch o' greenhorns lyin' flat, an' all eyesan' ears from now on. I war weak from laughin' afore I went out tostumble over him. When th' guard war changed they couldn't hardly findhim, he war spread out so flat. Jest like a new born buffaler calf thatits maw has cached in a bunch o' grass. Bet ye could fool an Injun withthat thar twang."

  "I've did it," said Hank, chuckling.

  The next morning Dr. Whiting was quite a hero, and as the caravan leftthe creek he rode by the side of Patience, talking until he hadthoroughly exhausted the subject. After he had left her to gohelter-skeltering over the prairie a mile ahead in eager and hopefulsearch of buffalo, Hank Marshall rode up to the wagon and took hisplace.

  He listened to Patience's excited comment about the doctor's narrowescape, and then, picking up the reins, twanged sharply, winked at her,and rode off to the flanking line. She stared after him for a moment andthen stuffed her handkerchief into her mouth. When she had command overherself again she turned indignantly toward her chuckling uncle.

  "Just the same, it was a mean trick!" she declared.

  "Giddap," said Uncle Joe, and chuckled all the more.

  "But it was!"

  "It learned 'em all a lesson," he replied. "May save their fool lives,and ours, too. Giddap!"

  It was a long haul to Turkey Creek, but the caravan made it and wascorralled before dark. Buffalo signs had been seen shortly before thecreek was reached, and when old Indian signs were found near the campsite, the day's excitement took on new life. A broken lodge-pole, someodds and ends of tanned hides and a discarded moccasin, somehowoverlooked by the Indians' dogs, were discovered near the blackenedspots on the prairie where camp-fires had burned. The night passedquietly, every sentry flat against the earth and trying to rob thesenses of smell and touch to enrich those of sight and hearing.

  In leaving the creek, the two column formation was abandoned and thewagons rolled up the little divide in four evenly spaced divisions.There was some semblance of flankers and a rear guard now, and even thecannons were not forsaken. Then came the great moment.

  Two hours after the creek had been left the first herd of buffalo wassighted. That it was a small one and more likely to provide tough bullrather than fat cow, made no difference; rear guard, flankers, andcannon were forgotten in one mad, frantic, and ridiculous rush. Mendashed off toward the herd without even their pistols. In ten minutes amoderate sized war-party could have swept down on the caravan and hadthings nearly their own way. There would have been no buffalo meat incamp that night except that the experienced hunters with the advanceguard managed to down two cows and three bulls before the yelling,excitement-maddened crowd stampeded the little herd and drove it allover the prairie.

  One tenderfoot, better mounted than his fellows, managed to keep up witha running bull, firing ball after ball into it as fast as he couldre-load. He was learning that a bull-buffalo was a hard animal to kill,and when it finally wheeled and charged him, he also learned that it waswilling to fight when goaded and made desperate with wounds. Anothergreenhorn, to get better aim, dismounted and knelt on the earth. Withthe roar of his gun his horse, with all its trappings, gave one snortand ran away, joining the herd and running with it. It was an hourbefore anyone had time to listen to his entreaties, and then it was toolate to go after the runaway animal. He hoofed it back to the caravan,an angry but wiser man, and was promptly robbed by the man from whom hebought a horse.

  It was an open question whether buffalo tongue or beaver tail was thebetter eating, but no one in the caravan had any fault to find with theportions of buffalo meat which fell to their lot. Despite the toughnessand tastelessness of the old bull meat, it was the first fresh meat theyhad enjoyed since leaving Independence, with the exception of the fewwho had shared in Hank's antelope, and its poor qualities wereoverlooked. No one had a chance to gorge himself and to learn thatovereating of buffalo flesh causes no distress. They found the meat withthe fat and lean more intermixed, juicier, and of a coarser grain thanbeef. The choice bits were from the tongue, the udder came next inmerit, followed by the hump-ribs, tenderloins, and marrow bones. Theywere fortunate in the selection of the bulls which had been killed, forthey were quite fat and in this condition ran the cow meat a close race;all but one old bull, which was tough and stringy beyond belief. Despitethe fact that the next camp spot was not very far ahead, the caravannooned on the open prairie for the cooking of the fresh meat.

  The captain signalled for the four-square corral and the evolution wascreditably performed. The animals were unhitched and staked outside theenclosure and soon many fires were burning around the encampment and thesavory odors of broiling buffalo meat arose on all sides. Coffee potssteeped or boiled at every fire, for coffee was the one unstinted drinkof the caravan. It was not long before the encampment was surrounded bygroups seated around the fires, most of the men eating with theirfingers, Indian fashion, and from the universal satisfaction shown itwas evident that buffalo meat had been given a high place by everypalate. In contrast to a steady diet of bacon it was a feast fit forepicures. The travelers cared little about their good fortune in findingcows with the first small herd, instead of the usual vanguard or outpostof bulls, for the cows had been there and they had obtained two of them.Two hours later the caravan was moving again, and late that afternoonreached the Little Arkansas, where the first trouble with a treacherousriver bed was experienced.

  Knowing what was in store for them, the captain and his lieutenants wentahead with a force of workers to cut a way through the steep banks andto bridge the muddy bed. They found that the banks had been cut by thepreceding caravan, but the causeway by now was useless, except as afoundation for a new one. The stream was not very wide, but made up forthat by the meanness of its bottom. The trees and brush along the banksprovided material for the temporary causeway and it did not take long tobuild up a "bridge."

  The more or less easy-going manner of the captain changed here and hiscommands had a snap to them that should have given them an unquestionedweight. Because of the restricted space chosen for the camp, thecircular corral was formed, and as the divisions reached and crossed thecauseway they fell in behind the last wagon of the one ahead and crawledaround until the circle was complete and compact. All animals were to bestaked outside the circle until twilight and then driven inside andhobbled for the night. Care was taken to see that there were but fewgaps between the wagons and that those were securely closed by chains.

  The length of the first tour of guard duty was increased considerably,for the first watch went on as soon as the wagons stopped. They weregetting fairly into the Indian country now. Directly north of them laythe range of the Pawnees; to the west of that the home of the Cheyennes;directly west of the Little Arkansas roamed the Arapahoes, and to thesouthwest were the Kiowas and Comanches, both of the latter superbcavalrymen. The last three tribes were being stirred by jealous NewMexicans to harass the caravans. And the interest of all these tribes,and of others beyond them in several directions, was centered on theprairie between the Little Arkansas and the valley of the Arkansas,eastward from where the latter river left the mountains. This was thegreat range of the buffalo, and the buffalo was food, clothing,habitation, and figured very largely in other necessaries of the savagetribes.

  The peculiar, curving, and ever-shifting migration of the great herdswas followed by hunting parties, which became war-parties in a wink.Man
y were the bloody battles fought between the tribes on that stretchof prairie between the Little Arkansas and the two Coon Creeks. ThePawnees claimed sovereignty over that part of the country around PawneeRock, but it was one that the tribe did not dare to enjoy with anydegree of permanence. Raiding parties from the south, west, and northconstantly challenged their title, and because of these collisionshardly a hunting party dared show itself unless in strength. There were,it is true, small bands roaming the plains, especially after dark, whichtraveled on foot; but these were out with the avowed and set purpose ofstealing horses, on which, if successful, they made their escape androde home. This especially was a Pawnee trick, and especially adept werethe Pawnees in creeping up to a herd of draft animals and stampeding thewhole bunch. More than one party of traders had thus been left afoot inmid-prairie and forced to abandon what they could not carry on theirbacks. While the Pawnee country was supposed to be north of the Platte,up around the Loup Fork, they often raided in force well into theComanche and Apache country and were as much at home on the south sideof the Arkansas River as on any other part of the plains.

  When the orders came to drive the animals inside the corral and hobblethem, there was a great deal of complaint. It was contended that theycould not get food enough in such a restricted space, crowded as itwould be with horses, oxen, and mules; that they would injure eachother; that there would be great trouble in each man getting his own inthe morning; that they would burst through some weak spot and wanderaway during the night. To all these objections the captain remainedobdurate. Any man who left his animals outside the corral and lost themwould not be given replacements at the expense of other teams, and couldmake what shift he thought best for the transportation of hismerchandise.

  Tom and his trapper friends, with some of the more experienced traders,went among the grumblers and labored with them, preaching that from nowon the utmost, unremitting vigilance would be necessary day and night,for the danger of losing the animals would grow with every mile andwould not cease until the Mexican settlements were nearly in sight. Andthe worse the weather was, the greater would be the need to be alert;for with tumultuous Nature to arouse the excitability of the animals andto mask the movements of the Indians, a savage raid would scarcely failto cause a wholesale stampede unless the strictest watch was maintained.To make up for the poor grazing inside the corralled wagons, thepicketing outside the circle in the evening would be supplemented bymore grazing on the outside before leaving in the morning. This wouldnecessitate later starts, but it could not be avoided.

  Tom and Hank were not quite through eating their evening meal when Pedropaid them a visit.

  "Ah, senores," he beamed, "I haf laughed thees day! Just like my Mexicoeet was to see thee _atejo_ that you haf! Thee _mulera_ weeth her sevenchildr-ren mar-rching behind her like _soldats_!" He leaned back andlaughed heartily, his teeth gleaming like old ivory.

  Hank grinned and glanced at Tom. "If she'd only lead 'em 'round th'customs we'd think a hull lot more o' her. It riles me ter have ter payter git our goods inter a town arter such hard work gittin' 'em _to_it."

  "Ah," replied Pedro, smiling broadly. "That ees thee law," he reprovedthem. "But I deed not know you were going to Santa Fe, senores. Eet wassaid somewhere, by somebody, I do not remember who, that you were goingto thee Senor Bent on thee Arkansas. To hunt and to tr-rap, was eetnot?"

  Tom emptied his pipe and blew through the stem. "No," he said. "We'regoin' ter Santa Fe. After we sell th' goods we aim ter go up ter Bent'sfor th' fall an' winter huntin' an' trappin'. Takes a lot o' money teroutfit two men th' way they should be, fer a hull season in themountains." He grinned. "That's why we're packin' goods ter Santa Fe.Got to raise some money." Arising he nodded to his guest. "Now, if ye'llexcuse me, friend, I'll leave ye with Hank. See ye later, mebby?"

  Pedro nodded and laughed heartily, wagging an accusing finger at theyoung plainsman. "Ah, what should keep a br-rave _caballero_ from soocha senorita! Pedro has eyes, senor; an' Pedro, he weesh you ver' _mucho_luck. He weesh you so ver' _mucho_ luck that per-rhaps he can get youpast those customs. Of thees we weel talk more, eh?"

  Hank slapped his leg and pushed his plug of tobacco into the visitor'shands. "Smoke some of that thar Virginny, friend," he urged. "Ye'll findit some better than that thar husk, or willer bark you people smoke." Helooked at his partner and chuckled. "These hyar young fellers, now; tharjest ain't no holdin' 'em."

  Pedro thought that this particular young "feller" was going to be heldvery securely before he saw Santa Fe, but he grinned and waved his hand,and after Tom had disappeared among the wagons he turned toward thehunter.

  "Has Senor Boyd ever been een our Santa Fe?" he asked in politecuriosity.

  Hank nodded carelessly. "He war thar some years back."

  "Perhaps then I can show heem a new way to thee city," said Pedro,significantly. "One that my br-rother knows ver' good. Thee knowledge ofthees tr-rail ees of _mucho_ less cost than thee customs that you an' melike so leetle. But of thees we weel talk more some other time. I mustleeve you, senor. _Adios._"

  "_Adios_, senor," beamed Hank, again offering the plug.

  After a quiet night and a somewhat later start than usual, the day's runto Cow Creek began, and not five miles from the camp site a sizable herdof buffalo was sighted. The same thing took place again, the sameconfusion, the same senseless chasing without weapons, but this timethere was added the total abandonment of several wagons while thedrivers, unhitching one animal, grabbed guns and joined in the attack,not realizing that mules hardly were suited for chasing an animal which,clumsy as it appeared, nearly equalled a horse in speed when oncestarted on its awkward gallop. But in the results of the chase there wasone noticeable difference between this and the previous hunt, for thegreen nimrods had asked questions of the hunters since their first tryat the prairie cattle, and they had cherished the answers. They nolonger fired blindly, after the first flush of their excitement dieddown, for now they ranged up alongside their lumbering victims from therear and aimed a little behind the short ribs, or a few inches abovethe brisket and behind the shoulder. And this hunt was a great successfrom the standpoint of the plainsmen who had bought Colt's newfangledrepeating pistols, for they proved their deadliness in such capablehands, and speeded up the kill.

  A group of tenderfeet watched an old hunter butcher a fat cow in almostthe time it takes to tell of it, slitting the skin along the spine fromthe shoulder to the tail, and down in front of the shoulder and aroundthe neck. He removed it as far down as the brisket and laid the freedskin on the ground to receive the fleece from along the spine, theprotruding hump ribs, which he severed with a tomahawk; and then headded the liver, tongue, kidneys, certain parts of the intestine, andone shoulder. Severing the other shoulder and cutting the skin free onboth sides of the body, he bundled up the choice cuts in it, carried itto his horse and returned to camp. In a few moments the butcheringbecame general, and soon the triumphant hunters returned to the wagonswith fresh meat enough to provide an unstinted feast for the entirecaravan.

  The journey was resumed and the twenty miles to Cow Creek was made ingood time. Here the difficulties of the Little Arkansas were again metand conquered and the wagons corralled before dark.

  It was at this camp that Tom and Hank became certain that they werebeing spied upon by Pedro and his companions. Seated around their fire,smoking with deep content after a heavy meal of fresh buffalo meat, Hankbegan to push his foot back and forth on the ground, making deeper anddeeper, longer and longer, the groove his moccasin heel was slowlywearing in the soft earth. Finally his foot touched his companion's kneebut, without pausing, kept wearing down the groove.

  "Th' geese went over early this year," he said, looking up at the starrysky. "Reckon we'll have th' hot weather a leetle ahead o' time on th'Dry Route."

  Tom did not change a muscle as the familiar, warning sentence struck hisears. "Yes," he replied. "Be glad when I gits inter Santa Fe, with th'cool mountains all around. Reckon you'll spend mos
t o' your time playin'_monte_, an' be clean busted when it's time ter hit th' trail ferBent's."

  Hank laughed softly. "Did I hear ye say Jim Ogden had some good likker?"he asked.

  "That's what I said."

  "'Tain't none o' that thar Taos lightnin'?" skeptically inquired Hank.

  "How could it be, him jest a-comin' from Missouri?"

  "Wall," chuckled Hank, slowly rising. "Reckon I'll wander over an' seefer myself. Jim must be considerable lonesome, 'bout now."

  "Must be, with only Zeb, Alonzo, Enoch, and a passel o' them fooltenderfeet a-settin' 'round his fire," snorted Tom. "Go ahead an' gityer likker; I'll wait fer ye hyar."

  It was only a few minutes later when Hank returned, shaking his head."All gone," he mourned, and sat down again, regarding the dying embers."Jest my luck."

  Tom laughed. "Yer better off without it," he replied, and communed withhis thoughts.

  Minutes passed in reflective silence and then Jim Ogden loomed up besidethem. "Come on over," he invited, grinning. "Thar warn't no use showin'a bottle with them thirsty greenhorns settin' 'round ter lick it up. Nowthat thar gone, we'll pass it 'round."

  Hank looked knowingly at his partner as he hastily arose, and the threewent off together. When half way to the other fire Jim spoke in a lowvoice.

  "He war thar, Hank; layin' in that little gully, watchin' ye like ye warpizen." He turned to Tom. "Shall we go an' drag him out?"

  "No," answered Tom. "Let him think we don't know nothin' about it. Himan' his trail inter Santa Fe! Reckons mebby that if them barefootsoldiers try ter take us in front o' th' caravan they'll get a goodlickin'; but if he can coax us off from th' rest, he kin run us inter anambush. If thar's airy way inter Santa Fe that we don't know, I'm dangedif _he_ knows it! Let him spy on us, now that we know he's doin' it.Thankee, Jim."

  By the time they had reached Jim's little fire a figure was wrigglingdown the gully, and at an opportune time arose to hands and knees andscurried to the shelter of Franklin's wagons, a smile on its face. Nowit was certain that Tom Boyd was going through to Santa Fe, and allwould be well. He chuckled as he recalled what he had said about theMexican troops not meeting the caravan until Point of Rocks was reached;they would meet the train at any point his messenger told them to.

  At Cow Creek another quiet night was followed by another delayed startand shortly after noon the vanguard raised a shout of elation, whichsent every mounted man racing ahead; and the sight repaid them for theirhaste.

  Under their eyes lay the Arkansas River, dotted with green islands, itschannel four or five hundred yards wide, and so shallow that at normalstage it was formidable at many points. While its low, barren banks,only occasionally tinted with the green of cottonwoods, were desolate inappearance, they had a beauty peculiar and striking. As far as the eyecould see spread the sand-hills and hillocks, like waves of some palesea, here white and there yellow, accordingly as to how the light wasreflected from them. Its appearance had been abrupt, the prairie floorrising slightly to the crumbling edge, below which and at some distanceflowed the river, here forming the international boundary between Texasand the United States. While territorially Texas lay across the river,according to Texan claims, actually, so far as supervision wasconcerned, it was Mexico, for the Texan arm was yet too short todominate it and the ordinary traveler let it keep its original name.

  While its northern bank was almost destitute of timber, the southern oneshowed scattered clumps of cottonwood, protected from the devastatingprairie fires from the North not only by the river itself, but also bythe barren stretch of sand, over which the fires died from starvation.To the right of the caravan lay the grassy, green rolls of the prairie,to an imaginative eye resembling the long swells of some great sea; onthe left a ribbon of pale tints, from gleaming whites to light goldswhich varied with the depths of the water and the height and position ofthe sun. Massive sand dunes, glittering in the sunlight made a rampartwhich stretched for miles up and down the river and struck the eye withthe actinic power of pure, drifted snow. Here the nature of the prairiechanged, losing its rich, luxuriant verdure, for here the short buffalograss began to dominate to a noticeable extent.

  The excitement spread. Eager couriers raced back to the plodding caravanto tell the news. Some of the more impressionable forthwith rode towardthe river, only a few yards away, hot to be the first to splash in itswaters; but they found that prairie air was deceptive and that thejourney over the rolling hillocks was a great deal longer than they hadthought. But a few miles meant nothing to them and they pushed on,careless of Comanche, Kiowa, or Pawnee Picts, some with their guns emptyfrom the salute they had fired at sight of the stream. The caravan keptstolidly on, following a course roughly paralleling the river and notstopping until evening found it on the far side of Walnut Creek afterthey had crossed a belt of such poor grass that they had grave doubtsabout the pasturage at the encampment; and the flinty, uncompromisingnature of the ground down the slope of the little divide, in whichseemingly for eternity was graven the strands of the mighty trail,seemed to justify their fears. But then, while they were worrying themost, the grass improved and when they had crossed the creek not farfrom its mouth they found themselves in a little, timber-fringed valleythick with tall grass. And they now had entered one of the great dangerspots of the long trail.

  Hank Marshall got his fire started in a hurry while his partner lookedafter the pack mules; and when Tom came back to attend to the fire andprepare the supper, Hank dug into his "possible" sack and produced someline and a fish hook. Making a paste of flour, he mixed it with somedried moss he had put away and saved for this use. Rolling the littledoughballs and hardening them over the fire he soon strode off up thecreek, looking wise but saying nothing; and a quarter of an hour laterhe returned with three big catfish, one of which he ate after he hadconsumed a generous portion of buffalo hump-ribs; and he followed thefish by a large tongue raked out of the ashes of the fire. To judge fromhis expression he had enjoyed a successful and highly gratifying day,and since he was heavy and drowsy with his gorging and had to go onwatch that night, he rolled up in his blanket under a wagon and despitethe noise on all sides of him, fell instantly asleep. He had "sethisself" to awaken at eleven o'clock, which he would do almost on theminute and be thoroughly wide awake.

  Fearing for the alertness of the sentries that night, a number ofplainsmen and older traders agreed upon doing duty out of their turnsand followed Hank's example, "settin'" themselves to awaken at differenthours; and despite these precautions had a band of Pawnees discoveredthe camp that night they most certainly would have been blessed withsuccess; and no one understood why the camp had not been discovered, forthe crawling train made a mark on the prairie that could not be missedby savage eyes miles away.

  Because of the height and the luxuriance of the grass within the corralthe morning feeding, beyond the time needed for getting ready to leave,was dispensed with and the train got off to an early start, fairlyembarked on the eastern part of the great buffalo range and a section ofthe trail where Indians could be looked for in formidable numbers.

  This great plain fairly was crowded with bison and was dark with them asfar as the eye could see. They could be numbered by the tens ofthousands and actually impeded the progress of the caravan andthreatened constant danger from their blind, unreasoning stampedes whichthe draft animals seemed anxious to join. Because of the matted hair infront of their eyes their vision was impaired; and the keenness of theirscent often hurled them into dangers which a clearer eyesight would haveavoided. So great did this danger become shortly after the train hadleft the valley of the Walnut that the rear guard, which had grownslightly as the days passed, now was sent out to protect the flanks andto strengthen the vanguard, which had fallen back within a few hundredfeet of the leading wagons. Time after time the stupid beasts barelywere kept from crashing blindly into the train, and the wagoners had themost trying and tiring day of the whole journey.

  Several bands of Indians at times were seen in th
e distance pursuingtheir fleeing game, but all were apparently too busy to bother with thecaravan, which they knew would stop somewhere for the night. No longerwas there any need to freight buffalo meat to the wagons; for so many ofthe animals were killed directly ahead that the wagoners only had tocheck their teams and help each other butcher and load. This constantstopping, now one wagon and now another, threw the train out of allsemblance of order and it wandered along the trail with its divisionsmixed, which caused the sweat to stand out on the worried captain'sforehead. His lieutenants threatened and swore and pleaded and at last,after the wagons had all they could carry of the meat, managed to getfour passable divisions in somewhat presentable order.

  While the caravan shuffled itself, chased buffalo out of the way, turnedaside thundering ranks of the formidable-looking beasts, and had a timehectic enough to suit the most irrational, Pawnee Rock loomed steadilyhigher, steadily nearer, and the great sand-hills of the Arkansasstretched interminably into the West, each fantastic top a glare ofdazzling light.

  Well to the North, rising by degrees out of the prairie floor, andgradually growing higher and bolder as they neared the trail and theriver, were a series of hills which terminated abruptly in a rocky clifffrowning down upon the rutted wagon road. From the distance the miragemagnified the ascending hills until they looked like some detachedmountain range, which instead of growing higher as it was approached,shrunk instead. It was a famous landmark, silent witness of many bloodystruggles, as famous on this trail as was Chimney Rock and CourthouseRock along the great emigrant trail going up the Platte; but compared tothem in height it was a dwarf. Here was a lofty perch from which theeagle eyes of Indian sentries could descry crawling caravans and packtrains, in either direction, hours before they reached the shadow of therocky pile; and from where their calling smoke signals could be seen formiles around.

  Two trails passed it, one east and west; the other, north and south. Theformer, cut deep, honest in its purpose and plainness, here crossed thelatter, which was an evanescent, furtive trail, as befits a pathway totheft and bloodshed, and one made by shadowy raiders as they flitted toand from the Kiowa-Comanche country and the Pawnee-Cheyenne; only markedat intervals by the dragging ends of the lodgepoles of peacefullymigrating Indian villages, and even then pregnant with danger. Othereyes than those of the prairie tribes had looked upon it, other bloodhad been spilled there, for distant as it was from the Apaches, andstill more distant from the country of the Utes, war parties of boththese tribes had accepted the gage of battle there flung down. On therugged face of the rock itself human conceit had graven human names, andto be precise as to the date of their foolishness, had added day, month,and year.

  While speaking of days, months, and years it may not be amiss to saythat regarding the latter division of time the caravan was fortunate.Troubles between Indians and whites developed slowly during the historyof the Trail, from the earlier days of the fur trains and the first ofthe traders' caravans, when Indian troubles were hardly more than anoccasional attempted theft, in many cases successful, but seeminglywithout that lust for blood on both sides which was to come later. Afterthe wagon period begun there was a slight increase, due to the needwhich certain white men found for shooting game. If game were scarce,what could be more interesting when secure from retaliation by thenumber of armed and resolute men in the caravans, than to pot-shoot somecurious and friendly savage, or gallantly put to flight a handful ofthem? The ungrateful savages remembered these pleasantries and wereprone to retaliate, which caused the death of quite a few honest andinnocent whites who followed later. The natural cupidity of the Indianfor horses, his standard of wealth, received a secondary urge, whichlater became the principal one, in the days when theft was regarded as amaterial reward for killing. While they may have grudged these periodiccrossings of the plains as a trespass, and the wanton slaughter of theirmain food supply as a constantly-growing calamity, they still werekeener to steal quietly and get away without bloodshed, and to bartertheir dried meat, their dressed hides, their beadwork, and othermanufactures of their busy squaws than to engage in pitched battle atsight. Had Captain Woodson led a caravan along that same trail twenty orthirty years later, he would have had good reason to sweat copiously atthe sight of so many dashing savages.

  The captain knew the Indian of his day as well as a white man could. Heknew that they still depended upon trading with the fur companies, withfree trappers and free traders, and needed the white man's goods andgood will; they wanted his trinkets, his tobacco to mix with their innerbark of the red willow; his powder, muskets, and lead, and, most of all,his watered alcohol. He knew that a white man could stumble into theaverage Indian camp and receive food and shelter, especially among thosetribes not yet prostituted by contact with the frontier; that such aman's goods would be safe and, if he minded his own business, that hewould be sent on his way again unharmed. But he also knew their lust forhorses and mules; he felt their slowly growing feeling of contempt formen who would trade them wonderful things for worthless beaver, mink,and otter skins; and a fortune in trade goods for the pelt of a singlesilver fox, which neither was warmer nor more durable than the pelt ofother foxes. And he knew the panicky feeling of self-preservation whichmight cause some greenhorn of the caravan to shoot true at the wrongtime. So, without worrying about any "deadly circles" or about anyperiod of time a score or more years away, he sweat right heartily. Andwhen at last he drew near to Ash Creek, the later history of whichmercifully was spared him, he sighed with relief but worked with theenergy befitting a man who believed that God helped those who helpedthemselves; he hustled the caravan down the slope and across the streamwith a speed not to be lightly scorned when the disorganized arrangementof the train is considered; and he halted the divisions in a circularformation with great dispatch, making it the most compact and solid wallof wagons seen so far on the journey.