The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

But the bull did not fall. No arrow had yet touched a vital spot. Bellowing with pain and rage, he whirled, and catching sight of Will, who was only a few yards away, charged. Pehansan and Roka uttered warning shouts, and the youth, who in his enthusiasm had gone too near, made a convulsive leap to one side. Had he been on hard ground and in his moccasins he might easily have escaped that maddened rush, but the long and delicate snowshoes caught in a bush, and he fell at full length on his side. Then it was the very completeness of his fall that saved him. The infuriated beast charged directly over him, trampling on the point of one snowshoe and breaking it, but missing the foot. Will was conscious of a huge black shape passing above him and of blood dripping down on his body, but he was not hurt and he remembered to cling to his bow.

The raging bull, feeling that he had missed his prey, turned and was about to charge again. Will would not have been missed by him a second time. The youth would have been cut to pieces as he struggled for his balance, but Pehansan did a deed worthy of the bravest of the brave. Far more agile on the snowshoes than Will, he thrust himself in front of the animal, waved his bow and shouted to attract his attention. The bull, uttering a mighty bellow, charged, but the brave Crane half leaped, half glided aside, and his arrows thudded in the great rough neck as the beast rushed by.

When the monster turned again, Will, although he was compelled to lean against a bush for support, had drawn a fresh sheaf of arrows from the quiver, and he sent them home in a stream. Roka from another point was doing the same and Pehansan from a third place was discharging a volley. The great beast, encircled by stinging death, threw up his head, uttered a tremendous bellow of agony and despair and crashed to the earth, where he breathed out his life.

Will, trembling from his exertions and limping from the broken snowshoe approached cautiously, still viewing that huge, hairy form with wonder and some apprehension. Nor were Roka and Pehansan free from the same nervous strain and awe.

"What is it?" asked Will, "a mammoth or a mastodon?"

"Don't know mammoth and don't know mastodon," replied Pehansan, shaking his head, "but do know it is the biggest of all animals my eyes have ever seen."

"It is a woods or mountain buffalo that has far outgrown its kind, just as there are giants among men," said Roka.

"If this were a man and he bore the same relation to his species he would be thirteen or fourteen feet tall," said Will, his voice still shaking a little. "Why, he'd make most elephants ashamed to be so puny and small."

"He, too, like the bears, came out of the far North," said Pehansan. "Maybe there is not another in the world like him."

"That hide of his is thick with arrows," said Will, "but in so big a skin I don't think the arrow holes will amount to much. We ought to have it. We must carry so grand a trophy back to the village to-night."

Roka shook his head.

"Not to-night," he said. "We three be strong, but we cannot move the body of this mighty beast, and so we cannot take off the skin."

"I will go to the village and bring many people," said Pehansan.

Again the wise Roka shook his head.

"No," he said, "we three will stay by the bull. You are fast on your snowshoes, Pehansan, and you can shoot your arrows swift, hard and true, but you would never reach the village, which is many miles from here. The fierce wild animals would devour you. We must clear the snow away as fast as we can and build fires all about us. The beasts have already scented the dead bull, and will come to eat him and us."

The shadows of the twilight were falling already, and they heard the faint howls of the meat-eaters on the slopes. Will and his comrades, taking off their snowshoes, worked with frantic energy, clearing away the snow with their mittened hands, bringing vast quantities of the dead wood, lighting several fires in a circle about the bull, and keeping themselves, with the surplus wood, inside the circle. Then, while Will fed the fires, Roka and Pehansan carefully cut the arrows out of the body.

"We may need them all before morning," said Roka.

"It is so, if the growling be a true sign," said Pehansan.

The two warriors partly skinned the body and cut off great chunks of meat, which they broiled over the fires, and all three ate. Meanwhile, Will, bow and arrows ready, watched the bushes beyond the circle of flame. If his situation had been nearly primitive in the day it was wholly primitive at night. The mighty bull buffalo was to him truly a mammoth, and beyond the circle of fire, which they dreaded most of all things, the fierce carnivora were waiting to devour the hunters and their giant prize alike. When a pair of green eyes came unusually near Will fired an arrow at a point midway between them, and a terrific howling and shrieking followed.

"It was one of the great wolves, I think," said Roka, "and your arrow sped true. The others are devouring him now. Listen, you can hear his big bones cracking!"

Will shuddered and threw more wood on the fires. What a blessed thing fire was! It saved them from the freezing night and it saved them from the teeth of the wild beasts, which he knew were gathering in a great circle, mad with hunger. The flames leaped higher, and he caught glimpses of dusky figures hovering among the bushes, wolves, bears and he knew not what, because imagination was very lively within him then and he had traveled back to a primordial time.

The night became very dark and the snow hardened again under the cold that came with it. Will, crouched by one of the fires with his bow and arrows ever ready in his hands, heard the sounds of heavy bodies, either sinking into the snow or crushing their way through it. The wind rose and cut like a knife. Despite his heavy buffalo robe overcoat he moved a little closer to the fire, and Pehansan and Roka almost unconsciously did the same. They were all sitting, and the great body of the slain bull towered above them. The sound of the wind, as it swept through the gorges, was ferocious like the growling of the beasts with which it mingled.

"The spirits of evil are abroad to-night," said Roka. "The air is full of them and they rush to destroy us, but Manitou has given us the fire with which to defend us."

A long yell like that of a cat, but many times louder, came from a point beyond and above them, where a tree of good size grew about fifty yards away. Roka seized a piece of burning wood and held it aloft.

"It's a monstrous mountain lion stretched along a bough," he said. "Look closely, Waditaka, and you will see. At a long distance you are the best bowman of us all. Can you not reach him with an arrow from your great elkhorn bow?"

"I think so," replied Will, concentrating his gaze until he could make out clearly the outlines of the giant cat. "He's a monster of his kind. All the animals in this region seem to be about twice the size of ordinary types."

"But if the arrow touches the heart the big as well as the little will fall."

"True, Roka, and while you hold that torch aloft I can mark the spot on his yellowish hide beneath which his heart lies. Steady, now, don't let the light waver and I think I can reach the place."

He fitted the arrow to the string, bent the great bow and let fly. The arrow sang a moment through the air, and then it stood out, buried to the feathers in the body of the lion. The wounded beast uttered a scream so fierce that all three shuddered and drew a little closer together, and then launched itself through the air like a projectile. It struck in the snow somewhere, disappeared from their sight, and they heard terrible sounds of growling and fighting.

"Your arrow went straight to its heart," said Roka. "The spring was its last convulsion of the muscles and now the other beasts are fighting over its body as they eat it."

"I don't care how soon this night is over," said Will. "All the meat-eating wild beasts in the mountains must be gathering about us."

"It is not a time for sleep," said Roka gravely. "While Manitou has given us the fire to serve as a wall around us, he tells us also that we must watch every minute of the night with the bows and arrows always in our hands, or we die."

"Aye," said Pehansan, "there is one that comes too near now!"

He sent an arrow slithering at a bulky figure dimly outlined not more than ten yards away. At so short a distance a Sioux could shoot an arrow with tremendous force, and there followed at once a roar of pain, a rush of heavy feet, and a wild threshing among the bushes.

"I know not what beast it was," said Pehansan proudly, "but like the other it will soon find a grave in the stomachs of the great wolves."

They did not see any more figures for an hour or two, but a dreadful howling came from the great beasts, from every point in the complete circle about them. The three watched closely, eager to speed more arrows, but evidently the carnivora had taken temporary alarm and would not come too near lest the flying death reach them again. Roka cut fresh pieces from the buffalo and roasted them over one of the fires.

"Eat," he said to his comrades. "It is as wearing to watch and wait as it is to march and fight. Eat, even if you are not hungry, that your strength may be preserved."

Will, who at any other time would have found the meat of the bull too tough before pounding, ate, and he ate, too, with an appetite, Roka and Pehansan joining with vigor.

The odor of the cooking steak penetrated the darkness about them and they heard the fierce growling of bears and the screaming of great cats. Will was growing so much used to these terrible noises, he felt so much confidence in their ring of fire that he laughed, and his laugh had a light trace of mockery.

"Wouldn't they be glad to get at us?" he said, "and wouldn't they like to sink their teeth in the giant bull here? Why, there's enough of him to feed a whole gang of 'em!"

"But he'll feed our people down in the village," said Pehansan, who was also in good spirits. "Still the wild beasts are coming nearer. It is great luck that we have so much wood for the fires."

He and Will built the fires higher, while Roka sent two or three arrows at the green or yellow eyes in the dark. The roars or fierce yells showed that he had hit, and they heard the sound of heavy bodies being threshed about in the dusk.

"We are not eaten but some of our enemies are," said Will. "It would be a good plan, wouldn't it, to slay them whenever we can in order that they may be food for one another?"

"It is wisely spoken," said Roka. "We will shoot whenever we see a target, but we will never neglect the fires because they are more important even than the arrows."

All through that dark, primordial night, in which they were carried back, in effect, at least ten thousand years, they never relaxed the watch for a moment. Now and then they sent arrows into the dusk, sometimes missing and sometimes hitting, and the growling of the bears and wolves and the screaming of the great cats was almost continuous. The darkness seemed eternal, but at length, with infinite joy, they saw the first pale streak of dawn over the eastern mountains.

"Now the fierce animals will withdraw farther into the forest," said Roka. "Beyond the reach of our arrows they will be, but they will not depart wholly."

"Someone must go to the village for help," said Will, "help not only for us, but to take away two or three tons of this good meat. Why, the bull looks even bigger this morning than he did last night. One of my snowshoes is broken, but, if Pehansan will lend me his, I'll make the trip."

"You will not," said Roka. "Despite your skill with the bow and arrow you would be devoured before you had gone a mile. The fierce beasts would be in waiting for you and you would no longer have a ring of fire to protect you."

"Then what are we to do, Roka? We can't stay here forever within the ring of fire, living on steaks cut from the bull."

"Waditaka has become a great young warrior and he thinks much. Few as young as he is think as much as he does."

"I don't grasp your meaning, Roka."

"Perhaps it would be better to say that no one thinks of everything."

"I'm still astray."

"We'll call the people of the village to us."

"If you had the voice of old Stentor himself, of whom you never heard, you couldn't reach the village, which you know is more than twenty miles away."

"We will not call with our voices, Waditaka. Behold how clear the morning comes! It is the light of bright winter and there is no light brighter. The sun is rising over the mountains in a circle of burning gold and all the heavens are filled with its rays."

"You're a poet, Roka. The spell has fallen upon you."

"Against the shining blaze of the sky the smallest object will show, and a large object will be seen at a vast distance. Bring our blankets, Pehansan, and we will spread them over the little fire here."

Will laughed at himself.

"The smoke signals!" he exclaimed. "How simple the plan and how foolish I was not to think of it!"

"As I told you," said Roka, "one young warrior, no matter how wise, cannot think of everything. We will talk not with our mouths but with the blankets."

In this case the signals were quite simple. Pehansan passed the blanket twice rapidly over the fire, allowing two great coils of smoke to ascend high in the air, and then dissipate themselves there. After five minutes he sent up the two smoky circles again. The signal meant "Come."

"We will soon see the answer," said Roka, "because they are anxious about us and will be looking for a sign."

All three gazed in the direction of the village, the only point from which the reply could be sent, and presently a circle of smoke, then two, then three, rose there. Pehansan, in order to be sure, sent up the two circles again, and the three promptly replied.

"It is enough," said Roka joyfully. "Now they will come in great force on their snowshoes, and we will be saved with our huge prize."

They waited in the utmost confidence and at times Pehansan sent up the two rings again to guide the relief band. But the people from the village had a long distance to travel, and it was noon when they saw the dark figures among the undergrowth and hailed them with joyous cries. At least thirty had come, a few young warriors – there were few in the village – but mostly old men, and the dauntless, wiry old squaws.

They exclaimed in wonder and admiration over the mighty beast the three had killed, and among the bushes about the campfire they found great skeletons, all eaten clean by the huge mountain wolves.

"Truly you were saved by fire," said old Xingudan, who had himself headed the relieving party.

With so many to lift and pull they were able to remove the entire robe from the giant buffalo, the finest skin that many of them had ever seen. It was so vast that it was a cause of great wonder and admiration.

"It belongs," said Xingudan, "to Waditaka, Pehansan and Roka, the three brave warriors who slew the buffalo."

"The three live in different lodges and they will have to pass it one to another for use," said Inmutanka.

Will glanced at Roka, who understood him, and then he glanced at Pehansan, who also understood him.

"It is the wish of the three of us," said the youth, "that this great skin be accepted by the brave and wise Xingudan, whose knowledge and skill have kept the village unhurt and happy under conditions that might well have overcome any man."

A look of gratification, swift but deep, passed over the face of Xingudan, but he declined the magnificent offer. Nevertheless the three insisted, and old Inmutanka observed wisely that the skin should go only in the lodge of the head chief. At last Xingudan accepted, and Will, although he had not made the offer for that purpose, had a friend for life.

The band began to cut up the vast body, which, when the flesh was well pounded and softened by the squaws, would alone feed the village for quite a period. The task could not be finished that day, but they built such a ring of great fires for the night that the fierce carnivora did not dare to come near. The next day they reached the village with the great bull, carried in many sections.

Will's nerves had been attuned so highly during the terrible siege that he collapsed to a certain extent after his return to the village, but he suffered no loss of prestige because of it, as everybody believed that he and his comrades had been besieged by evil spirits, and Pehansan and Roka as well were compelled to take a long rest. He remained in the lodge a whole day, and Inmutanka brought him the tenderest of food and the juices of medicinal herbs to drink, telling him it was said on every side that the prophecy had come true, and his craft and skill had saved the village in the terrible winter.

The second day he was in the village, where the women and old men were pounding and drying the flesh of the buffalo, but only the most skilful were permitted to scrape the vast skin, which, when it was finally cured, would make such an ornament as was never before seen in the lodge of a Sioux chief. But Will, Pehansan and Roka were not allowed to have a share in any work for a long time. They were three heroes who had fought with demons and who had triumphed, and for a space they were looked upon as demi-gods.

Nevertheless, they had their full share in the hunt. The wise old Xingudan, backed by the equally wise old Inmutanka, forbade any expeditions far from the village unless they were made in great force, and their judgment was soon proved by the fact that many bears, wolves and mountain lions of the greatest size were slain. Numerous fires, however, made the region immediately about the lodges safe, and as the river flowed almost at their feet the women could break the thick ice and catch fish, without fear of the wild beasts.

It was during this interval that Will began to think again very much of the faithful white friends whom he had lost, the redoubtable scout, the whistling and cheerful Little Giant, and the brave and serious Brady. Heraka had told him that they were dead, but he could not believe it. He began to feel that he would see them again, and that they would renew the great quest. He had preserved the map with care, but he had not looked at it for a long time. Yet he remembered the lines upon it as well as ever. As he had reflected before, if it were destroyed, he could easily reproduce it from memory.

Then his three lost friends became vague again. The months that had passed since his capture seemed years, and he was so far away from all the paths of civilization that it was like being on another planet. He had never yet learned exactly where he was, but he knew it must be in the high mountains of the far north, and therefore toward the Pacific coast.

Then all these memories and mental questions faded, as the life of the village became absorbing again. Frightened herds of elk and moose, evidently chased by the great carnivora or in search of food, came into the valley and the Indians killed as many as they needed. They might have killed more, but Xingudan forbade them.

"Let them take shelter here," he said, "and grow more numerous. It is not to the interest of our people that the big deer should decrease in numbers, and if we are wise we will let live that which we do not need to eat."

They saw the wisdom of Xingudan's words and obeyed him. Perhaps there was not another Indian village in all North America which had greater plenty than Xingudan's in that winter, so long and terrible, in the northern mountains. Big game was abundant, and fish could always be obtained through holes in the thick ice that invariably covered the river. Their greatest difficulty was in keeping the horses, but they met the emergency. Not only did the horses dig under the snow with their sharp feet, but the Indians themselves, with Will at their head, uncovered or brought much forage for them.

Will understood why such sedulous care was bestowed upon the ponies, which could be of little use among the great mountains. When spring was fully come they would go eastward out of the mountains, and upon the vast plains, where they would hunt the buffalo. Then he must escape. Although he was an adopted Sioux, the son of Inmutanka, and had adapted himself to the life of the village, where he was not unhappy, he felt at times the call of his own people.

The call was especially strong when he was alone in the lodge, and the snow was driving heavily outside. Then the faces of the scout, the Little Giant and the beaver hunter appeared very clearly before him. His place was with them, if they were still alive, and in the spring, when the doors of ice that closed the valley were opened, he would go, if he could.

But the spring was long in coming. Xingudan himself could not recall when it had ever before been so late. But come at last it did, with mighty rains, the sliding of avalanches, the breaking up of the ice, floods in the river and countless torrents. When the waters subsided and the slopes were clear of snow Xingudan talked of moving. The lodges were struck and the whole village passed out of the valley. The tall youth, dressed like the others and almost as brown as they, who had been known among white people as Will Clarke, but whom the Indians called Waditaka, wondered what the spring was going to bring to him, and he awaited the future with intense curiosity and eagerness.