The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

"Bear in mind, Heraka," he said, "that I cannot see and so it was not so easy for me to balance myself. Even you, O chief, might have fallen."

"It is true," said Heraka. "Inmutanka, take the bandage from his eyes."

They were welcome words to Will, who had endured all the tortures of blindness without being blind. He felt the hands of the elderly Indian plucking at the bandage, and then it was drawn aside.

"Thank you, Dr. Inmutanka," he said, but for a few moments a dark veil was before his eyes. Then it drifted aside, and he saw that it was night, a night in which the figures around him appeared dimly. Heraka stood a few feet away, gazing at him maliciously, but during that long and terrible ride, the prisoner had taken several resolutions, and first of them was to appear always bold and hardy among the Indians. He stretched his arms and legs to restore the circulation, and also took a few steps back and forth.

He saw that they were in a small open space, surrounded by low bushes and he surmised that there was a pool just beyond the bushes as he heard the ponies drinking and gurgling their satisfaction.

"The ride has been long and hard," he said to Heraka, "and I am now ready to eat and drink. Bid some warrior bring me food and water."

Then he sat down and rejoiced in the use of his eyes. Had they been faced by a dazzling light when the bandage was taken off he might not have been able to see for a little while, but the darkness was tender and soothing. Gradually he was able to see all the warriors at work making a camp, and Heraka, as if the captive's command had appealed to his sense of humor, had one man bring him an abundance of water in a gourd, and then, when a fire was lighted and deer and buffalo meat were broiled, he ate with the rest as much as he liked.

After supper Inmutanka replaced with a fresh one the bandage upon his head, from which the pain had now departed. Will was really grateful.

"I want to tell you, Dr. Inmutanka," he said, "that there are worse physicians than you, where I come from."

The old Sioux understood his tone and smiled. Then all the Indians, most of them reclining on the earth, relapsed into silence. Will felt a curious kind of peace. A prisoner with an unknown and perhaps a terrible fate close at hand, the present alone, nevertheless, concerned him. After so much hardship his body was comfortable. They had not rebound him, and they had even allowed him to walk once to the bushes, from which he could see beyond the clear pool at which the Indians had filled their gourds and from which the ponies drank.

One of these ponies, Heraka's own, was standing near, and Will with a pang saw bound to it his own fine repeating rifle, belt of cartridges and the leather case containing his field glasses. Heraka's look followed his and in the light of the fire the smile of the chief was so malicious that the great pulse in Will's throat beat hard with anger.

"They were yours once," said Heraka, "the great rifle that fires many times without reloading, the cartridges to fit, and the strong glasses that bring the far near. Now they are mine."

"They are yours for the present. I admit that," said the lad, "but I shall get them back again. Meanwhile, if you're willing, I'll go to sleep."

He thought it best to assume a perfect coolness, even if he did not feel it, and Heraka said that he might sleep, although they bound his arms and ankles again, loosely, however, so that he suffered no pain and but little inconvenience. He fell asleep almost at once, and did not awake until old Inmutanka aroused him at dawn.

After breakfast he was put on the pony again, blindfolded, and they rode all day long in a direction of which he was ignorant, but, as he believed, over low hills, and, as he knew, among bushes, because they often reached out and pulled at his legs. Nevertheless his sense of an infinite distance being created between him and his own world increased. All this traveling through the dark was like widening a gulf. It had not distance only, but depth, and the weight it pressed upon him was cumulative, making him feel that he had been riding in invisible regions for weeks, instead of two days.

Being deprived of his eyes for the time being, the other four primal senses again became more acute. He heard a wind blowing but it was not the free wind of the plains that meets no obstacle. Instead, it brought back to him a song that was made by the moving air playing softly upon leaf and bough. Hence, he inferred that they were still ascending, and had come into better watered regions where the bushes had grown to the height of trees now in full leaf.

Once they crossed a rather deep creek, and deliberately letting his foot drop down into it, he found the water quite cold, which was proof to him that they were going back toward the ridges, and that this current was chill, because it flowed from great heights, perhaps from a glacier. They made no stop at noon, merely eating a little pemmican, Will's share being handed to him by Inmutanka. He ate it as he rode along still blindfolded.

The ponies, wiry and strong though they were, soon began to go much more slowly, and the captive was sure that the ascent was growing steeper. He was confirmed in this by the fact that the wind, although it was mid-afternoon, the hottest part of the day, had quite a touch of coolness. They must have been ascending steadily ever since they began the march.

He soon noticed another fact. The ears that had grown uncommonly acute discerned fewer hoofbeats about him. He was firm in the belief that the band had divided and to determine whether the chief was still with them, he said:

"Heraka, we're climbing the mountains. I know it by the wind among the leaves and the cool air."

"Wayaka is learning to see even though his eyes are shut," said the voice of the chief on his right.

"And a part of your force has left us. I count the hoofbeats, and they're not as many as they were before."

"You are right, the mind of Wayaka grows. Some day – if you live – you will know enough to be a warrior."

Will pondered these words and their bearing on his fate, and, being able to make nothing of them, he abandoned the subjective for the objective, seeking again with the four unsuppressed senses to observe the country through which they were passing.

The next night was much like the one that had gone before. They did not stop until after twilight, and the darkness was heavier than usual. The camp was made in a forest, and the wind, now quite chill, rustled among the trees. Although the bandage was removed, Will could not see far in the darkness, but he was confident that high mountains were straight ahead.

A small brook furnished water for men and ponies, and the Indians built a big fire. They were now but eight in number. Inmutanka removed the last bandage from Will's head, which could now take care of itself, and as the Sioux permitted him to share on equal terms with themselves, he ate with a great appetite. Heraka regarded him intently.

"Do you know where you are, Wayaka?" he asked.

"No," replied Will, carelessly, "I don't. Neither am I disturbed about it. You say that I shall never see my own people, but that is more than you or I or anyone else can possibly know."

A flicker of admiration appeared in the eyes of Heraka, but his voice was even and cold as he said:

"It is well that you have a light heart, because to-morrow will be as to-day to you, and the next day will be the same, and the next and many more."

The Sioux chief spoke the truth. They rode on for days, Will blindfolded in the day, his eyes free at night. He thought of himself as the Man in the Deerskin Mask, but much of the apprehension that must overtake the boldest at such a moment began to disappear, being replaced by an intense curiosity, all the greater because everything was shut from his eyes save in the dusk.

But he knew they were in high mountains, because the cold was great, and now and then he felt flurries of snow on his face, and at night he saw the loom of lofty peaks. But they did not treat him unkindly. Old Inmutanka threw a heavy fur robe over his shoulders, and when they camped they always built big fires, before which he slept, wrapped in blankets like the others.

Heraka said but little. Will heard him now and then giving a brief order to the warriors, but he scarcely ever spoke to the lad directly. Once in their mountain camp when the night was clear Will saw a vast panorama of ridges and peaks white with snow, and he realized with a sudden and overwhelming sinking of the heart that he was in very truth and fact lost to his world, and as the Sioux chief had threatened, he might never again look upon a white face save his own. It was a terrifying thought. Sometimes when he awoke in the night the cold chill that he felt was not from the air. His arms were always bound when he lay down between the blankets and, once or twice, he tried to pull them free, but he knew while he was making it that the effort was vain and, even were it successful and the thongs were loosened, he could not escape.

At the end of about a week they descended rapidly. The air grew warmer, the snow flurries no longer struck him in the face and the odors of forest, heavy and green, came to his nostrils. One morning they did not put the bandage upon his face and he looked forth upon a wild world of hills and woods and knew it not, nor did he know what barrier of time and space shut him from his own people.

CHAPTER XII

THE CAPTIVE'S RISE

Will did not know just how long they had been traveling, having lost count of the days, but he knew they had come an immense distance, perhaps a thousand miles, maybe more, because the hardy Indian ponies always went at a good pace, and he felt that the distance between him and every white settlement must be vast.

The sun at first hurt the eyes that had been bandaged so long in daylight, but as the optic nerves grew less sensitive and they could take in all the splendor of the world, he had never before seen it so beautiful. He was like one really and truly blind for years who had suddenly recovered his sight. Everything was magnified, made more vivid, more intense, and his joy, captive though he was, was so keen that he could not keep from showing it.

"You find it pleasant to live," said Heraka.

"Yes," replied the lad frankly, "I don't mind admitting to you that I like living. And I like seeing, too, in the bright sunshine, when I've been so long without it. You warned me, Heraka, that I would not know my fate, nor whence nor when it might come, but instinct tells me that it's not coming yet, and as one who can see again I mean to enjoy the bright days."

"Wayaka is but a youth. If he were older he would fear more."

"But I'm not older. This, I suppose, is where we mean to stay awhile?"

"It is. It is one of our hidden valleys. Beyond the stretch of forest is a Sioux village, and there you will stay until your fate befalls you."

"I imagine, Heraka, that you did not come here merely to escort me. So great a chief would not take so long a ride for one so insignificant as I am. You must have had another motive."

"Though Wayaka is a youth he is also keen. It is part of a great plan, of which I will tell you nothing, save that the Sioux are a mighty nation, their lands extending hundreds of miles in every direction, and they gather all their forces to push back the whites."

"Then your long journey must be diplomatic. You travel to the farthest outskirt in order to gather your utmost forces for the conflict."

Heraka smiled rather grimly.

"Wayaka may be right," he said. "He is a youth of understanding, but in the village beyond the wood you are to stay until you leave it, but you will not know in what manner or when you will depart from it."

Will inferred that his departure might be for the happy hunting grounds rather than for some other place, but it could not depress him. He was too much suffused with joy over his release from his long blindness and with the splendor of the new world about him to feel sadness. For a while nothing can weigh down the blind who see again. It was surely the finest valley in the world into which they had come!

Heraka gave the word and he and his men rode forward toward the strip of wood that he had indicated. All the ponies, although strong and wiry, were thin and worn by their long journey, and some of the Indians, despite their great endurance, showed signs of weariness. Little as they displayed emotion, their own eyes had lighted up at sight of the pleasant place into which they had come.

Will could not tell the length of the valley owing to its curving nature, but he surmised that it might possibly be twenty miles, with a general average width of perhaps two or three. All around it were high mountains, and on the distant and loftier ones the snow line seemed to come further down than on those he had seen with his comrades. Quick to observe and to draw conclusions the fact was another proof to him that they had been traveling mostly north. The trees in the valley were chiefly of the coniferous type, fir, pine and spruce. Despite the warmth of the air all things wore for him a northern aspect, but he made no comment to Heraka.

They reached the strip of wood, and one of the warriors uttered a long cry that was answered instantly from a point not far ahead. Then young Indian lads came running, welcoming them with shouts of joy, and, with this escort, they rode into the village, which was well placed in a grassy opening in the very center of the forest.

Will saw an irregular collection of about a hundred tepees, all conical, most of them made from the skin of the buffalo, though in some cases the hides of bear and elk had been used. All were supported on a framework of poles stripped of their bark. The poles were about twenty feet in length, fastened in a circle at the bottom and leaning toward a common center, where they crossed at a height of twelve or thirteen feet. The diameter of the tepees at the bottom was anywhere from fifteen to twenty feet, and hence they were somewhat larger than the usual Sioux lodges.

All the tepees had an uncommon air of solidity, as if the poles that made their framework were large, strong, and thrust deep in the earth. The covering skins were sewed together with rawhide strings as tight and secure as the work of any sailor. One seam reaching about six feet from the ground was left open and this was the doorway, over which a buffalo hide or other skin could be lashed in wintry or stormy weather.

At present all the tepees were open, and Will saw many squaws and children about. Just beyond the village and at the edge of the forest ran a considerable creek, evidently fed by the melting snows on the high mountains, and, on extensive meadows of high grass beyond the creek, grazed a great herd of ponies, fat and in good condition. Will decided at once that it was a village of security and abundance. The mountains must be filled with game, and the creek was deep enough for large fish.

He had been left unbound as they descended into the valley and, deciding that he must follow a policy of boldness, he leaped off the pony when they entered the village, just as if he were coming back home. But the old squaws and the children did not give him peace. They crowded around him, uttering cries that he knew must be taunts or jeers. Then they began to push and pull him and to snatch at his hair. Finally an old squaw thrust a splinter clean through his coat and into his arm. The pain was exquisite, but, turning, he took her chin firmly in one hand and with the other slapped her cheeks so severely that she would have fallen to the ground if it had not been for the detaining grasp on her chin.

The crowd, with the instinct for the rough that dwells in all primitive breasts, roared with laughter, and Will knew that his bold act had brought him a certain measure of public favor. Heraka with a sharp word or two sent all the women and children flying, and then said in tones of great gravity to Will:

"Here you are to remain a prisoner, the prisoner of all the village, until we choose your fate. You will stay in a tepee with Inmutanka, but everybody will watch you, the men, the women, the girls and the boys. Nothing that you do can escape their notice, and you will not have the slightest chance of flight."

"If I am to be anybody's guest," said Will, "I'd choose to be old Dr. Inmutanka's. He has a soul in his body."

"You are not a guest, you are a slave," said Heraka.

Will did not appreciate the full significance of his words then, because Inmutanka was showing the way to one of the smaller tepees and he entered it, finding it clean and commodious. The ground was covered with bark, over which furs and skins were spread and there was a place in the center for a fire, the smoke to ascend through a triangular opening in the top, where it was regulated by a wing worked from the outside.

Inmutanka, who undoubtedly had a kind heart, pointed to a heap of buffalo robes in the corner, and Will threw himself upon them. All the enormous exhaustion of such a tremendous journey suddenly became cumulative and he slept until Inmutanka awoke him a full fifteen hours later. Then he discovered that the old Indian really knew a little English, though he had hidden the fact before.

"You eat," he said, and gave him fish, venison and some bread of Indian corn, which Will ate with the huge appetite of the young and strong.

"Now you work," said Inmutanka, when he had finished.

Will stared at him, and then he remembered Heraka's words of the day before that he was a slave. He was assailed by a sickening sensation but he pulled himself together bravely, and, having become a wise youth, he resolved that he would not make his fate worse by vain resistance.

"All right," he said, "what am I to do?"

"You be pony herd now."

"Well, that isn't so bad."

Inmutanka led the way across the creek, or rather river, and Will saw that the herd on the meadows was quite large, numbering at least a thousand ponies, and also many large American horses, captured or stolen. They grazed at will on the deep grass, but small Indian boys carrying sticks watched them continually.

"You take your place here with boys," said Inmutanka, "and see that ponies don't run up and down valley."

He gave him a stick and left him with the little Sioux lads. Will considered the task extremely light, certainly not one that had a savor of slavery, but he soon found that he was surrounded by pests. The Indian boys began to torment him, slipping up behind him, pulling his hair and then darting away again, throwing stones or clods of earth at him, and seeking to drive ponies upon him.

Will's heart was suffused with anger. They were younger and smaller than he, but they had an infinite power to vex or cause pain. Nevertheless he clung to his resolution. He refused to show anger, and while it was by no means his disposition to turn one cheek when the other was smitten, he exhibited a patience of which he had not believed himself capable. He also showed a power that they did not possess. When some of the younger and friskier ponies sought to break away from the main herd and race up the river he soothed them by voice and touch and turned them back in such an amazing manner that the Indian boys brought some of the older warriors to observe his magic with horses.

Will saw the men watching, but he pretended not to notice. Nevertheless he felt that fate, after playing him so many bad tricks, was now doing him a good turn. He would exploit his power with animals to the utmost. Indians were always impressed with an unusual display of ability of any kind, and they felt that its possessor was endowed with magic. He walked freely among the ponies, which would have turned their heels on the Indian lads, and stroked their manes and noses.

The warriors went away without saying anything. The Indian boys returned to the village shortly after noon, but their place was taken by a fresh band, while Will remained on duty. Nor was he allowed to leave until long after twilight, when, surprised to find how weary he was, he dragged his feet to the tepee of Inmutanka, where he had venison, pemmican and water.

"Not so bad," he said to the old Indian. "I believe I'm a good herd for ponies, though I'd rather do it riding than walking."

"To-morrow you scrape hides with squaws," said Inmutanka.

Will was disappointed, but he recalled that after the threat of Heraka he should not expect to get off with such an easy task as the continual herding of ponies. Scraping hides would be terribly wearying and it would be a humiliation to put him with the old squaws. Nevertheless his heart was light. The fate of the white captive too often was speedy and horrible torture and death. He felt that the longer they were delayed, less was the likelihood that he would ever have to suffer them at all.

He was awakened at dawn, and as soon as he had eaten he was put to his task. Fresh buffalo hides were stretched tightly and staked upon the ground, the inner side up, and he and a dozen old squaws began the labor of scraping from them the last particles of flesh with small knives of bone.

He cut his hands, his back ached, the perspiration streamed from his face, and the squaws, far more expert than he, jeered at him continually. Warriors also passed and uttered contemptuous words in an unknown language. But Will, clinging to his resolution, pretended to take no notice. Long before the day was over every bone in him was aching and his hands were bleeding, but he made no complaint. When he returned to the tepee Inmutanka put a lotion on his hands.

"It good for you, but must not tell," he said.

"I wouldn't dream of telling," said Will fervently. "God bless you, Inmutanka. If there's any finer doctor than you anywhere in the world I never heard of him."

But he had to go back to the task of scraping the skins early in the morning, and for a week he labored at it, until he thought his back would never straighten out again. He recalled that first day with the pony herd. The labor there was heaven compared with that which he was now doing. Perhaps he had been wrong to show his power with animals: If he had pretended to be awkward and ignorant with horses they might have kept him there.

He made no sign, nor did he give any hint to Inmutanka that he would like a change. He judged, too, that he had inspired a certain degree of respect and liking in the old Indian who put such effective ointment on his hands every night that at the end of a week all the cuts and bruises were healed. Moreover, he had learned how to use the bone scrapers with a sufficient degree of skill not to cut himself.

But he was still a daily subject of derision for the warriors, women and children. It was the little Indian boys who annoyed him most, often trying to thrust splinters into his arms or legs, although he invariably pushed them away. He never struck any of them, however, and he saw that his forbearance was beginning to win from the warriors, at least, a certain degree of toleration.

When the scraping of the skins was finished he was set to work with some of the old men making lances. These were formidable weapons, at least twelve feet long, an inch to an inch and a half in diameter, ending in a two-edged blade made of flint, elk horn or bone, and five or six inches in length. The wood, constituting the body of the lance, had to be scraped down with great care, and the prisoner toiled over them for many days.

Then he began to make shields from the hide that grew on the neck of the buffalo, where it was thickest. When it was denuded of hair the hide was a full quarter of an inch through. Then it was cut in a circle two or two and a half feet in diameter and two of the circles were joined together, making a thickness of a full half inch. Dried thoroughly the shield became almost as hard as iron, and the bullet of the old-fashioned rifle would not penetrate it.

He also helped to make bows, the favorite wood being of osage orange, although pine, oak, elm, elder and many other kinds were used, and he was one of the toilers, too, at the making of arrows. Mounted on his wiry pony with his strong shield, his long lance, his powerful bow and quiver of arrows, the Sioux was a formidable warrior, and Will understood how he had won the overlordship of such a vast area.

A month, in which he was subjected to the most unremitting toil, passed, yet his spirit and body triumphed over it, and both grew stronger. He felt now as if he could endure anything and he knew that he would be called upon to endure much.