The Young Ranchers: or, Fighting the Sioux

One fact was apparent to him, and he considered it no unimportant advantage. The pursuers would advance at a speed that must bring them into sight before they could surprise the fugitives.

A glance around showed that the rancher could not have selected a better place for defence. The bowlders were on all sides, there being a natural amphitheatre several rods in extent. Kneeling behind these the whites had a secure protection against their enemies, unless they should make an overwhelming rush – a course of action which is never popular with the American Indian, inasmuch as it involves much personal risk to the assailants.

It was at his suggestion that the others seated themselves on the ground while holding their conference. When the Sioux should appear it would be on the trail made by the party, so that the Irishman knew where to look for them. He, too, crouched down, with the muzzle of the Winchester pointed between two of the bowlders, ready to fire on the first glimpse of a target.

Even the pony was forced to lie down near the lifeless body of his comrade. So it was that anyone might have passed near the irregular circle of bowlders without a suspicion of who were within it.

"I have but the one proposition to make," said Warren, seeing that his father was waiting for him to speak, "and that is to stay here and fight it out. We are strong enough to hold the Sioux at bay for a good while, perhaps long enough to discourage them."

"And what have you to say, Molly?"

"I cannot feel as hopeful as Warren, but it really seems to me that that is the only recourse left to us."

"I do not agree with either of you," remarked the rancher, feeling that the time had come to announce his decision. "I formed my plan some minutes ago. It is the only one that offers the slightest hope, and I shall insist on its fulfilment to the letter. It is that Warren shall leave at once, find his pony if he can, mount him, and ride with all haste to the fort for assistance. Tim will stay behind with us to help fight. The time for discussion is past; we must act. Warren, make ready to leave this minute."

CHAPTER XXXII.

AWAY! AWAY!

When George Starr announced his decision to any member of his family no one presumed to question it. Had the son been disposed to do so in this instance he would have refrained, for he believed, with his parent, that he had made known their last and only hope.

"I will go, father!"

He was in the act of rising to his feet, when Tim Brophy discharged his rifle.

"I plugged him," was his comment, as he peered through between the bowlders; "the spalpeen wasn't ixpicting the same, but that one won't bother us any more."

Being in the act of rising at this moment, Warren shrank back again, undecided for the moment what to do, but hesitation was fatal, as his father saw.

"Go," he said; "don't lose an instant; they are not on that side; you can slip off without being seen."

The youth saw the force of the words. Crouching as low as possible, with the Sioux rifle in his hand, he passed between the bowlders opposite to the point at which Tim had fired, and which, therefore, was in the direction of the open prairie.

The move was one of those in which success depends wholly upon promptness. The Sioux would speedily dispose themselves so as to prevent anyone leaving, as soon as they found that the parties whom they were seeking were at bay among the bowlders. Fortunate, therefore, was it that no delay took place in the flight of young Starr, even though, when he started, the enemy was at the gate.

It required no very skilful woodcraft for him to get away, since it was not anticipated by the Sioux, and he had the best means for concealing himself.

There had been one idea in the mind of the rancher, which he would have carried out but for the sudden appearance of the Indians; that was for his son to take the remaining pony with him. The fugitives could make no use of him, and should it prove that Jack was gone, his owner would not be without the means of pushing to Fort Meade for help. Circumstances, however, prevented that precaution. It never would have done to attempt to take the remaining pony. Warren quickly vanished among the trees and bowlders, and the Rubicon was crossed.

But Jack was found just where he had been left, patiently awaiting the return of his master. The pursuit of Tim Brophy by the Sioux had led them in a different direction, though, had the flight of Warren been postponed for a short time, the steed must have fallen into the hands of the enemy.

The heart of the youth gave a bound of delight when he came upon the animal.

"Follow me, Jack," he said cheerily; "if you ever did your best, now is the time. The lives of us all depend upon you. Have a care, my boy, or you will slip."

In his eagerness the youth descended the slope faster than was prudent. Jack did slip, but quickly recovered himself, and no harm seemed to have been done.

It was but a short way to the edge of the prairie, where the pause was long enough to see that the trappings were right, when the young rancher swung himself into the saddle, twitched the rein, and said:

"Come!"

The gallant fellow, with a sniff of delight, sprang away, and sped with a swiftness which few of his kind could surpass. The snowy plain stretched in front, and he darted over it as though his hoofs scorned the earth. The still air became a gale, which whistled about the ears of the youth, who felt the thrill that comes to one when coursing on the back of a noble horse to whom the rapid flight is as pleasant as to the rider.

It was now near meridian. A long distance remained to be passed, and since a goodly portion of it was rough and precipitous, the young rancher felt little hope of reaching Fort Meade before nightfall.

"If we could have such travelling as this," he reflected, "we would be there in a few hours, but there are places where you will have to walk, and others where it will be hard work to travel at all."

It was a discomforting thought, but it was the fact; since the youth was not following the regular trail leading from the ranch to the fort at the foot of the Black Hills. But his familiarity with the country and the daylight ensured him against going astray; he was certain to do the best possible thing under the circumstances.

Two miles had been passed at this brilliant pace, and Warren was as hopeful as ever, when he became aware of an alarming truth, and one which caused a feeling of consternation – Jack was falling lame. That slip made in descending the lower part of the ridge, just before his owner mounted him, was more serious than he had suspected. It had injured the ankle of the horse so that, despite the gallantry with which he struggled, it not only troubled him, but with every leap he made over the plain it grew worse.

It was a condition of things enough to cause consternation on the part of the rider, for it put an end to his hope of reaching the fort that day. True, he could continue the advance on foot, but, doing his utmost, he could not arrive before late at night – so late, indeed, that no help would be sent out before the morning, and they could not reach the beleaguered fugitives until late on the following day.

"Can they hold out until then?"

That was the question which was ever in the young rancher's mind and which he dare not answer as he believed the probabilities required.

There was no getting away from the fearful truth. The vigilance of his father and Tim might enable them to stand off the Sioux as long as daylight lasted. Each had an excellent magazine rifle, for it will be remembered that he had exchanged weapons with his young friend, but there was not only a formidable party of bucks surrounding them, shutting off all possibility of their slipping off during the darkness, but other Sioux were in the neighborhood who could be readily summoned to the spot.

Darkness is the favorite time with the red men when moving against an enemy, and they would probably make no determined demonstration until the night was well advanced. Then, when they should rush over the bowlders, nothing could save the fugitives. Should this emergency arise, Warren Starr felt that everything was lost, and he was right.

He weakly hoped that Jack would recover from his lameness, but all know how vain is such an expectation. The injury rapidly grew worse, so that when the animal dropped his gait to a trot and then to a walk, Warren had not the heart to urge him farther.

Slipping from the saddle he examined the hurt. It was near the fetlock of the left hind leg. The skin was abraded; the ankle evidently had been wrenched. It was swollen, and when the youth passed his hand gently over it, the start and shrinking of the creature showed that it was excessively painful to him.

"It's no use, Jack," said the lad; "I know you would give your life for me, but you can't travel on three legs, and I'm not going to make you suffer when it can do us no good."

Manifestly there was but one course open – that was to abandon the pony and press on as fast as he could on foot. Jack could get along for a day or two, and his master would not forget to look after him on the first opportunity.

There was no call to burden himself with the saddle and bridle, but they would prove an incumbrance to the animal if left upon him, and his owner was too considerate to commit the oversight.

In riding so fast the young rancher had followed the general course of the ridge, so that on halting he was quite near it. He now turned to his right, calling upon Jack to follow.

The action of the pony was pitiful. When he bore a part of his weight on the limb, after the brief halt, it had become so painful as to be almost useless. Nevertheless he hobbled forward until the foot of the slope was reached.

Here Warren removed the trappings. His blanket being rolled behind the saddle, he spread it over the back of the horse and secured it in place.

"It is all I can do for you, Jack," he said tenderly, "and it will give you protection against the cold. You will be able to find a few blades of grass here and there where the snow has not covered them, and the buds of the trees will give some help. The snow will prevent your suffering much from want of water. Perhaps a good long rest will improve your ankle so that you can use it. If it does," and here the young rancher spoke impressively, as though he expected his steed to understand his words, "I want you to start for the fort; don't forget that!"

He touched his lips to the forehead of his faithful ally, who looked after his young master, as he walked away, with an expression almost human in its affection. But there was no help for it, and with a sad heart, but the determination to do his utmost, Warren Starr resumed his journey toward Fort Meade.

Not long after parting with his pony he came upon something which caused him surprise. In the snow directly in front appeared the footprints of a single horse that had passed over the ground on a run, taking the same direction that the youth was following.

His experience with horses told the youth at a first glance that the animal was travelling at his utmost speed. The trail swerved inward from the open plain, as though the rider had sought the base of the ridge for his protection.

Had there been several ponies coursing ahead of him, he would not have found it so hard to understand matters, for he would have concluded that they were an independent party, making all haste to reach some point, but he could not read the meaning of a single warrior speeding in this fashion.

"Whoever he was he lost no time," mused Warren, breaking into a loping trot, for his own haste was great.

Had he not known that poor Jared Plummer was no longer among the living, he would have thought it possible that he was making for Fort Meade. He wondered whether it could not be a white man engaged on a similar errand.

The probabilities were against this supposition. He knew of no rancher in the neighborhood of his old home, and it would seem that no white man would ride with such desperation unless pursued by a relentless enemy, and he saw no evidence of such a contest of speed.

True, the pursuers might have been farther out on the prairie, but their trail would have joined that of the fugitive ere long, so as to make the line more direct; but though the young rancher trotted a full half mile before checking himself and looking around, he discovered no signs of others.

The last advance of Warren brought him close to the precipitous section which, knowing well, he had feared would prove too difficult for his pony. Raising his eyes to survey it and fix upon the best line to follow, he caught sight of the horseman he had been following.

His animal was on a deliberate walk, and coming directly toward him. The youth stopped short. As he did so he perceived that he was an Indian warrior. Warren brought his rifle round in front, with no intention of running from him or taking advantage of the cover near at hand.

The Indian raised his hand, and oscillated it as a signal of comity. As he did so the two were so near that the youth perceived that the arm was bandaged. Something familiar in the appearance of the horseman struck him at the same moment, and the young rancher lowered his weapon with the exclamation:

"Starcus!"

It was he, and as he rode forward he had a strange story to tell Warren Starr.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

BREAD CAST UPON THE WATERS

When the Sioux who had rushed out on the open plain to the help of the wounded Starcus gathered around him they were quick to perceive that his life was due to the mercy of his conqueror, but their hostility toward the latter was not diminished one whit by the discovery; they were as eager for his life as ever, and proved it by firing several shots after him as he rode away.

The wounded arm was bandaged in a piece of the lining of Warren Starr's coat. The crimson stain showed through the cloth, though the flow of blood was checked. Sound and unhurt as was Starcus in all other respects, he was unable to use the injured limb, and was therefore as useless in any impending hostilities as if out of existence.

As the party moved back toward the base of the ridge there was a consultation among them as to what was best to do. Starcus expressed a more venomous rancor than ever against the white people, and especially against the one that had brought him low. He regretted that he was to be helpless for weeks to come, with a permanent injury for life.

When the leader of the band suggested that he should return to the nearest village and remain until able to take the warpath again, he vehemently opposed it. He was not willing to retire in such a humiliating manner, but the leader insisted, and after sulking a while the "civilized" Indian consented.

Being a capital horseman, he leaped unassisted upon his pony, and unwilling in his anger so much as to bid the warriors good-by, he struck the animal into a swift gallop, heading toward the village, where he was expected to stay until fully recovered.

The action of the warrior was singular. After riding some distance he glanced behind him at the ridge he had left. He seemed to be in an irritable mood, for he uttered an impatient exclamation and urged his beast to a faster gait. His wound pained him, but the agitation of his mind and his own stoical nature caused him to pay no heed to it. Indeed nothing more could be done for the hurt.

When he looked back the second time he had reached a point for which he had been making since his departure. He was out of sight of any of his people who might be watching him.

An abrupt change in the course of his pony was instantly made, and he sent him flying at the height of his speed. Strange as it may seem, he was aiming for the same point toward which Warren Starr started some time later.

He did not spare his animal. He went like a whirlwind, and as though his life depended upon reaching his destination without delay. Warren Starr read the trail aright when he interpreted it as meaning that the pony before him was going as fast as he could.

Starcus was picking his way, still mounted, over the rough section where the youth had expected to meet great difficulty with his animal, when he suddenly discovered that white people were immediately in his front. He drew up, and was in doubt for a minute whether to flee or hold his ground.

A squad of cavalry from Fort Meade confronted him. They numbered nearly twenty, under the command of a young lieutenant, a recent graduate of West Point. They were accompanied by a couple of Indian scouts familiar with the country.

Starcus was quick to make a signal of friendship, and then rode forward to meet the soldiers, who had halted upon seeing him.

The Sioux was well known to the two Indians, the officer, and several of the cavalry. They knew he had joined the hostiles, and were therefore suspicious of him. This fact rendered his self-imposed task one of considerable difficulty. But after a while he convinced them of his honesty.

The lieutenant had been sent out by the commandant at Fort Meade to bring in the rancher and his family, their scouts having reported them in imminent danger. Starcus explained that the parties for whom they were looking were at no great distance, having left the ranch the night before to hasten to the fort. One of the ranchmen had been killed, and the rest were in great peril. Starcus said he had started to ride to the fort for help, and it was most fortunate that he encountered it so near, when the passing moments were beyond importance.

The young officer was sagacious. He could have asked some very embarrassing questions relating to the wound of the messenger, but he wisely forbore. It is not best at all times to let a person know how much is plain to you and how much you suspect. Evidently Starcus was earnest in his desire to befriend the imperilled ones; the fact that he was journeying alone in the direction of the fort constituting the strongest evidence.

He explained that the ridge where he believed the whites were doing their best to escape the Sioux was much more approachable from the other side. He described the ground minutely, and the two scouts present confirmed the accuracy of his statements.

When the lieutenant proposed that Starcus should act as their guide the truth could no longer be kept back. He made a clean breast of everything.

He had been with the hostiles. He was among the fiercest. He had tried to shoot young Starr, who, more fortunate than he, brought him wounded from his horse. When he lay on the ground, at his mercy, the young man rode up, spoke words of kindness, and bandaged his wound.

And in doing this the youth proved more of a conqueror than he had done by his excellent marksmanship. He won the heart of the Indian, who was now eager to prove his gratitude by any act in his power. He unhesitatingly answered that he would serve as the guide to the cavalry.

But once again the officer displayed rare tact. If Starcus was sincere in his newly awakened friendship for the whites, it might be in his power to accomplish a great deal of good by going among his people and using persuasion and argument; but if he should appear as an active ally of the whites such power would be gone, and it would be unsafe at any time in the future to trust himself among them.

"No," replied the lieutenant; "return to your own people; do what you can to show them the mistake they are making in taking the warpath; you may effect much good. My guides will do as well as you to direct us to the spot where the whites are in urgent need of our help. You say it is not far, and I am hopeful that we shall be in time to save them."

Accordingly Starcus parted from the cavalry, and was on his return to join his people and to attempt to carry out the wise suggestion of the officer, when he encountered the young rancher making all haste on foot to secure the help which was much nearer than he had dared to hope.

After exchanging friendly greetings, Starcus told the story which the reader has just learned.

Warren listened with amazement and delight. He had, indeed, heaped coals of fire upon his enemy's head by his forbearance, and the bread cast upon the waters had returned before many days.

"You have acted nobly," was the comment of the youth.

"Can it undo the harm of the last few days?" asked the Indian, with a troubled expression.

"Far more, for I am sure the timely news given to the lieutenant will save my people."

"And yet I was their enemy."

"And are now their friend. You lost your head in the frenzy that is spreading like a prairie fire among your people; your footsteps were guided by Providence, otherwise you would have missed the cavalry; they would have ridden to the ranch, and my folks would have been left as much without their help as though the soldiers had stayed at the fort. Besides," added the young rancher, "you can do as the officer suggested – show your own people the right course for them to follow."

"I will try," replied Starcus firmly; "I cannot understand how it was my senses forsook me, but they have come back, and," he said, with a meaning smile, "I think they will stay."

"I am sure of that, and you will do much good."

"Well, good-by," said Starcus, reaching down his unwounded arm. "I hope we shall meet again under pleasanter conditions."

Warren warmly pressed the hand and stood for a minute gazing after the strange fellow, who rode toward the nearest Indian village with the determination to carry out his new intentions.

It may as well be said that he honestly did so, and there is little doubt that his work was effective in more than one respect, and did much to ameliorate many phases of the sad incidents that speedily followed.

Left alone once more, the young rancher stood for some minutes in doubt as to his right course. It was idle to push on to the fort on foot, and he was at much disadvantage, now that he had no animal at command. He decided to follow the cavalry.

He had forgotten to ask Starcus how far off they were, but judged the distance was not great. The trail of the Indian's horse gave him the necessary guidance, and he broke once more into his loping trot, despite the rough nature of the ground.

A half-hour sufficed to take him to the scene of meeting, when he turned and began following the footprints of the horses at a faster gait than before.

Inasmuch as he was now a goodly number of miles from the bowlders where his friends were at bay before the attacking Sioux, he hardly expected to reach the place in time to take a hand in the decisive scenes or even to witness them. Starcus had left such accurate directions, and the Indian guides were so familiar with everything, that little delay was probable.

The distant sound of firing spurred him to still greater speed, and he ran so fast and hard that ere long he was compelled to drop to a walk to regain his breath.

Great as was his hope, he felt much misgiving. The cavalry might arrive in time, but in the flurry sad mishaps were probable. It might be that his father or mother or Dot or Tim had fallen before the vigilance of the assailants. He could not feel any real happiness until he learned beyond peradventure that all was well.

The shot fired by Tim Brophy the instant he caught sight of the warrior hurrying along the trail, with no thought that he was so close to the whites, was the best thing in every way that could have happened, for it not only wiped out the rash miscreant, but told those immediately behind him that the fugitives were at bay and ready to fight to the bitter end.

There was an instant withdrawal beyond reach of the rifles, of whose effectiveness they had received more than one striking example that night.

It took a considerable while for the Sioux to learn the whole truth. The fugitives had intrenched themselves in what was undoubtedly the most secure position near, and were on the watch. Gradually working round so as to enclose them against flight, the trail of the young rancher was discovered. A little investigation made known that he had mounted his pony and started off for assistance.

But help was no nearer than Fort Meade, and, as the Indians naturally thought, it could not possibly arrive before the morrow. If this were so, abundant time remained in which to encompass the destruction of the defenders. The Sioux decided to maintain watch, but to defer the decisive assault until late at night.