The Young Ranchers: or, Fighting the Sioux

Where were the rest? Why did they content themselves with this simple act, when they might have done a thousandfold worse? How soon would the rest be on the spot? Was there no hope now of escape for the miserable fugitives?

These and similar thoughts were passing through her mind, when she heard her husband calling to her in a cautious voice. Not daring to reply, through fear of attracting the attention of their enemies, she threaded her way through the timber, and reached his side at the moment his heart was filled with despair at the belief that something frightful had taken place.

The joy of the rancher, on clasping his beloved wife once more in his arms, caused him to forget everything else for the moment, but she quickly made known the startling incident that had occurred.

"Heavens!" he muttered, "they have traced us after all, but where are the rest?"

"They must be near," she replied, laying her hand on his arm. "Listen!"

They did so, but heard nothing more.

"We must cross at once," he whispered.

No time was lost in following the prudent suggestion. The wife was helped upon the back of the mare, Dot still remaining asleep, and the husband, mounted on Dick, placed himself in front.

"There is only one place, and that lasts but for a few steps, where you will have to raise your foot to protect it from the water," he said, as they were about to enter the stream.

"I will remember," she nervously replied; "don't wait."

Once again the faithful pony entered the water, the mare so close behind that husband and wife could have touched each other, and the fording of the current began.

The rancher did not forget that it was impossible in the darkness to follow precisely his own course. Having emerged at a different point from where he entered, he was in reality following a different course, which might be the same as if it were a half mile farther up or down stream.

This proved to be the case, though the disappointment was of an agreeable nature, for the ponies struck a shallower part than that which was first forded. At no portion did the water do more than barely touch the bodies of the animals, and then only for a few steps. Once the mare slipped on a smooth stone, and came within a hair of unseating her rider, but the latter's skill enabled her to retain her seat, and a few minutes later the two came out on the other side, without a drop of moisture on their garments.

"Thank Heaven!" was the fervent ejaculation of the husband as the fact was accomplished. "It is better than I expected."

"But don't forget that they may have done the same thing, and perhaps are awaiting us near at hand."

"You may be right, Molly, and we cannot be too careful."

The words were barely uttered when the splashing of water behind them left no doubt that the Sioux were again on their trail.

"Quick!" whispered the husband; "dismount; you can't ride the mare among the trees; she will follow, and don't fail to keep close behind Dick."

It was important, above all things, to leave the spot before the red men landed. Otherwise, they would hear the horses and locate them without difficulty.

A disappointment awaited our friends. It will be remembered that the fringe of timber on the other side was quite narrow, and they naturally supposed it corresponded on the farther shore. But after threading their way for double the distance, they were surprised to find no evidence of the open plain beyond.

The rancher dared not continue farther while there was reason to fear their pursuers were near. The brushing of the branches against the bodies of the animals and the noise of their hoofs could be detected in the silence, and was sure to betray the fugitives to any Sioux within a hundred yards.

The wife understood why the halt was made. Her husband stole back and placed himself by her side.

"You must be wearied with carrying Dot so long," he said sympathizingly.

"It is quite a trial," she replied, in the same guarded voice, "but there is no help for it, and I beg you to give the matter no thought."

"Let me take her a while."

"No, that will not do; you must hold your gun ready for instant use, and you could not do so with her in your arms. It is not so hard when we are sitting on the mare, for it is easy to arrange it so that she supports most of her weight."

"You are a good, brave woman, Molly, and deserve to be saved."

"Sh!" she admonished; "I hear something."

He knew she was right, for he caught the sound at the same moment. Someone was stealing through the wood near them. It was a person, beyond question, for a horse would have made more noise, and the sounds of his hoofs would have been more distinct than anything else. That which, fell upon their ears was the occasional crackling of a twig, and the brushing aside of the obtruding limbs. No matter with what care an Indian warrior threaded his way through the timber in this dense gloom, he could not avoid such slight evidences of his movements – so slight, indeed, that but for the oppressive stillness and the strained hearing of the husband and wife they would not have detected them.

Confident that the red man could not trace them in the gloom, even though so dangerously near, the dread now was that the ponies would betray them. Those watchful animals often prove the most valuable allies of the fleeing fugitive, for they possess the power of discovering impending danger before it can become known to their masters. But when they make such discovery they are apt to announce it by a stamp of the hoof or with a sniffing of the nostrils, which, while serving the master well, has the disadvantage also of apprising the enemy that his approach has become known.

Stealing from his position beside his wife, the rancher stepped to the mare and passed his hand reassuringly over her mouth, doing the same with his own pony. This action was meant as a command for them to hold their peace, though whether it was understood to the extent that it would be obeyed, remains to be seen.

CHAPTER XVII.

THROUGH THE WOOD

Even in that trying moment, Starr could not help reflecting upon the peculiar turn matters had taken. He failed to understand the action of the solitary Sioux on the other side, who had contented himself with the simple theft of the pack-pony, when he might have done tenfold more injury to the fugitives.

And now, judging from the slight sounds that reached him, there was another single warrior prowling through the wood, instead of several. It might be, however, that his companions were near, awaiting the result of his reconnoissance, and would descend upon the whites the instant the way opened.

But these speculations were cut short by the alarming discovery that some strange fatality was bringing the scout fearfully close to where the husband and wife were standing beside their animals, hardly daring to speak in the most guarded whispers.

It must have been that the ponies understood what was expected from them, for they gave not the least sound. There was not a stamp of a hoof, and their breathing was as gentle as an infant's. So long as they remained mute it would seem that the peril must pass by.

And so it ought to have done, for assuredly the Indian could have gained no clew to the whereabouts of the fugitives from them or their animals.

But all the same, George Starr was not long in making the uncomfortable discovery that the red man was at his elbow, and the crisis was upon him.

The rancher knew where the miscreant was, and he determined to chance it. He silently clubbed his Winchester, brought it back over his left shoulder, and, concentrating his utmost strength in his arms, brought down the butt of this weapon with resistless force.

It could not have been better aimed had the sun been shining. It crashed on the crown of the unsuspecting Sioux, who sank silently to the earth, and it is enough to say that the "subsequent proceedings interested him no more."

"Sh!" whispered the husband; "there may be others near us; do you hear anything?"

Neither could catch any suspicious noise, and he concluded it was best to move on. If they should remain where they were when daylight came, all hope would be gone. The situation would be hardly improved if they stayed any longer in the gloom, after what had taken place.

Making known his purpose to his wife, he placed himself at the head of Dick, and holding his bit, started forward. The mare followed the moment she heard what was going on, and the mother with her child walked between.

But less than twenty steps were taken, when the leader paused abruptly, alarmed by an altogether unexpected discovery. The twinkle of a light appeared among the trees in front, so directly in their path that, had they continued straight forward, they would have stepped into the blaze.

This was cause for astonishment, and suggested that the fugitives had struck a place where other Sioux had gathered, probably a number who knew nothing of what had taken place a short time before. If this were true, there ought not to be much difficulty in working past them.

Still, critical as was the situation, he felt that the chance to learn something ought not to be thrown away. Whispering to his wife to remain where she was, he left her and stole forward until he could gain sight of the blaze and those surrounding it.

There was the fire made by a number of sticks heaped against the trunk of a tree, and burning vigorously, but to his surprise, not an Indian was in sight. How many had been gathered there, how long since they had left, whether they would return, and if so, how soon? All these were questions that must be left to some other time before even attempting to guess the answers.

He waited some minutes, thinking possibly the missing warriors would return, but not one showed up, and he felt it would not do to tarry longer. A goodly portion of the night had already passed, and Fort Meade was still a long distance away, with a dangerous stretch of country to pass.

It seemed to the husband and wife that they hardly breathed, as they moved through the wood. He held his pony by the rein with his left hand, while he used the right, grasping the Winchester, to open the way in front. They could do nothing more, listening meanwhile for the sounds of danger which they expected to hear every moment.

But lo! while they were advancing in this guarded manner, they suddenly came out of the wood and into the open country again.

The husband uttered another exclamation of thankfulness, and checked the animals.

"Now it looks as if we had a chance to accomplish something," he said, "and I am sure you are in need of rest."

"I am somewhat weary, but I can stand a great deal more, George; give no thought to me, but think only of the peril from which we must escape this night or never."

He gently took the little Dot, swathed as she was in the heavy blanket, and held her while his wife remounted the mare, without help. We have said she was an excellent horsewoman, as she had proved before this eventful night.

"Now," said he, when she was firmly seated and extended her arms to take the child, "I am going to use my authority as a husband over you."

"Have I not always been an obedient wife?" she asked, with mock humility.

"No man was ever blessed with a better helpmate," was the reply.

"I await your commands, my lord."

Instead of passing the child to her, he reached up his rifle.

"What is the meaning of that?" she asked wonderingly.

"Lay it across the saddle in front, where its weight will not discommode you. I shall carry Dot."

"But think, George, of the risk it involves. I assure you that it will be no task for me to take care of her now that I am in the saddle again."

"All discussion is ended," he replied, with a severity which she well knew was assumed, though she did not dispute him. She accepted the weapon and placed it in position as he directed. Then supporting the precious child with one arm, he mounted his pony and placed himself by her side.

"We will ride abreast; if any emergency calls for the use of my gun, I can pass Dot to you in an instant; you must remember too, that I have a revolver, which may serve me better in any sudden peril."

"I obey," she replied, "but you will not deny me the right to think you are committing a mistake; since, however, it is actuated by love, I appreciate it."

"I assure you," he said with deep feeling, "that aside from the consideration due you, I am acting for the best. I wish you, as long as possible, to remain at my side. We have made so many turnings and changes in our course that I have lost all idea of the points of the compass; I do not know whether we are going toward Fort Meade or straying off to the right or left, with the probability that in the morning we may be far out of the way. Help me to keep our bearings."

And husband and wife rode out on the prairie in the darkness and falling snow.

CHAPTER XVIII.

NIGHT AND MORNING

By this time the snow lay to the depth of several inches on the earth. It was still falling, and the cold was increasing. The flakes were slighter, and there were fewer of them. His knowledge of the weather told the rancher that the fall would cease after a while, with a still further lowering of the temperature. Thanks, however, to the thoughtfulness of his wife more than himself, they were so plentifully provided with blankets and extra garments that they were not likely to suffer any inconvenience from that cause.

Fortunately for them and greatly to their relief, the stretch of prairie which they had struck continued comparatively level. Occasionally they ascended a slight elevation or rode down a declivity, but in no case for more than two hours was either so steep that the ponies changed their gait from the easy swinging canter to a walk.

Once, after riding down a slight decline, they struck another stream, but it was little more than a brook, so strait that a dozen steps brought them out on the other side with little more than the wetting of their animals' hoofs.

They rode side by side, for the mare was as fleet and enduring as the horse. Now and then they glanced back, but saw nothing to cause alarm, and hope became stronger than before.

"We are doing remarkably well," said the husband, breaking the silence for the first time in a half hour.

"Yes," was the thoughtful reply; "we must have travelled a good many miles since the last start, and there is only one danger that troubles me."

"What is that?"

"The probability – nay, the almost certainty – that we are not journeying toward the fort."

"I have thought much of that," replied the husband, giving voice to a misgiving that had disturbed him more than he was willing to admit; "it is as you say, that the chances are against our proceeding in a direct line, but it is equally true that the general course is right."

"How can you know that?"

"Because we have crossed two streams that were in our path, and they remain behind us."

"But," reminded the thoughtful wife, "you forget that those same streams are very winding in their course. If they followed a direct line, we could ask no more proof that we are on the right track."

"True, but it cannot be that they take such a course that we are travelling toward the ranch again."

"Hardly as bad as that, but if we are riding at right angles in either direction, we shall be in a sad plight when the morning comes. The sun will take from us all chance of dodging the Sioux so narrowly as we have done more than once since leaving home."

"We must not forget the peril of which you speak; at such times I trust much to the instinct of the animals."

"And would not that, in the present case, lead them to go toward rather than from home?"

"I'm blessed if I thought of that!"

The rancher was filled with dismay for the moment, and brought Dick down to a walk.

"No," he added the next moment, striking him into a gallop again, "if they were left to themselves they would try to make their way to the ranch, but they have been under too much guidance, and have been forced to do too many disagreeable things, for them to attempt that. I am sure we are nearing Fort Meade."

"I trust so," was the response of the wife; which remark did anything but add to the hopefulness of her husband.

The animals now began to show signs of fatigue. The snow balled under their hoofs, causing a peculiar jolting to the riders, when it became so big that the weight broke it or made their feet slip off, when new gatherings commenced immediately to form.

After being forced to a canter the horses would drop of their own accord to a walk, and soon they were left to continue at their own gait.

"How far, Molly, do you think we have come?" asked the rancher.

"It must be fifteen miles, and possibly more; if it were in a direct line, adding what we made before crossing the last stream, it would be safe to wait until morning."

Again the wife gave expression to the thought that was in her husband's mind. He had been asking himself for the last half hour whether it would not be wise to come to a halt for daylight. The rest thus secured to the animals would enable them to do much better, when the right course could be determined with absolute certainty, and a few hours' brisk riding ought to take them beyond all fear of their harassing enemies.

There remained the haunting fear of their being on the wrong course. If daylight found them little nearer the fort than when at the ranch, their situation would be most critical. But all speculation on that important matter must remain such until the truth could be learned.

One reason why the rancher did not propose a halt before it was hinted at by his wife, was that no suitable place presented itself. It would not do to camp in the open plain, where there was no shelter for them or their animals; they must keep on until the ground changed.

That change came sooner than they anticipated. The ponies were plodding forward with their loads, when, before either of the riders suspected it, they were on the edge of another growth of timber, which promised the very thing they sought.

"Here we are!" said Mr. Starr, "and I think we can say that the journey will be suspended until daylight."

"If there is another stream, George, I shall feel safer if we place ourselves on the other side before we halt for the rest of the night."

"I don't view another fording with much pleasure, but we can soon find out how it is."

The character of this timber differed from that which they had already passed, in that it abounded with so many bowlders and rocks that, after penetrating it a short way, it became too dangerous for the ponies to persevere. They were liable at any moment to break a limb.

"Remain here a few minutes while I investigate," said the rancher, passing the sleeping Dot to his wife.

He penetrated more than a hundred yards, without coming upon any water. He did not go farther, for he was satisfied there was none near them. The ground not only grew more rocky and precipitous as he advanced, but steadily rose, so as to show that he was at the base of a ridge over which it was a difficult matter to make their way. It would have been folly to try it in the darkness, and on his return he sought some spot favorable for going into camp.

He was more successful than he expected. A mass of rocks was found, whose tops projected sufficiently to afford a fair shelter. The snow, slanting from the other direction, left a comparatively large surface bare. Here the ponies were drawn to one side and their trappings removed. There were not enough spare blankets to cover them as the fugitives wished to do, but they were too tough to suffer much.

Then the blankets were distributed, and so placed that when the husband and wife huddled together against the base of the rocks, they, as well as Dot, were quite comfortable. The rancher might have gathered wood and started a fire, but it was not needed, and they feared the consequences of such a proceeding. They were so worn out with the trials and toil of the night, that they soon sank into a deep slumber which lasted till morning. Then, upon awaking, the first act of the rancher was to ascertain his bearings, so far as it was possible to do so.

The result was the disheartening conviction that they were no nearer Fort Meade than when they forded the last stream early on the preceding night.

CHAPTER XIX.

A STARTLING SURPRISE

We must not forget that young Warren Starr and Tim Brophy have an important part to play in the incidents we have set out to relate.

We left them in the wooded rocky section, where they had spent the night together in the rude shelter erected a year before when on their hunting excursions. They were awakened by the frenzied cry of the young Irishman's horse, and appeared on the scene just in time to save the pony from a grizzly bear, who made things exceedingly lively for the young gentlemen themselves.

But relieved of their peril, they sat down like sensible persons to make their morning meal from the lunch brought thither by Tim. They ate heartily, never pausing until the last particle of food was gone. Then they rose like giants refreshed with new wine.

"Now," said Warren, "we will mount the ponies, and instead of making for the fort will try to find the folks."

"I'm wid ye there, as I remarked previously," was the response of the brave young rancher, who was ever ready to risk his life for those whom he loved.

"It will be an almost hopeless hunt, for father could give me only a general idea of the course he meant to take, and we are likely to go miles astray."

"We shall have to depind on Providence to hilp us, though it may be the folks are in no naad of our assistance."

"I pray that such may be the case," was the fervent response of Warren, accompanied by a sigh of misgiving. "I think we shall be able to take care of ourselves, but father is in a bad fix with mother and Dot on his hands. I hope Plummer has joined them."

"He niver will do the same," remarked Tim gravely.

"Why do you say that?"

"He has been killed by the spalpeens, for if he hadn't, he would have showed himsilf before we lift the ranch."

"It looks that way, but you cannot be certain."

"I wish I couldn't, but he must have larned of thim being so near the house as soon as mesilf, or very nearly so, and he would have been back before me. That he didn't come is proof to my mind that he niver will – ye may depind on the same."

This brief conversation took place while the youths were saddling and mounting their horses. They made certain that everything was secure, and then, carefully guiding their animals among bowlders to the open prairie, paused a moment to decide upon the best course to take.

To the northwest stretched the white plain in gentle undulations, and in the clear sunlight, miles away in the horizon, rose the dark line of a wooded ridge, similar to the others described, and which are so common in that section of the country. They agreed that the best course was to head toward it, for it seemed to them that the rancher had probably crossed the same at some point, or if he had not already done so, would ride in that direction. Possibly, too, the father, despite the wishes he had expressed, would suspect such a movement on the part of his son. If so, the probability of their meeting was increased.

The air was clear, sharp, and bracing, with the sun shining from an unclouded sky. It was a time to stir the blood, and had not the young ranchers been oppressed by anxiety for their friends, they would have bounded across the plain in the highest possible spirits. The ponies, having no such fear, struck into a swinging gallop of their own accord, which continued without interruption until more than half the intervening distance was passed. All this time the youths were carefully scanning the wooded ridge, as it rose more distinctly to view; for they could not forget that they were more likely to meet hostiles than friends in that section, and approaching it across an open plain, must continue conspicuous objects to whatever Sioux were there.

"Tim," said Warren, as they rode easily beside each other, "unless I am much mistaken, a fire is burning on the ridge."

"Where?"

"Almost directly ahead, but a little to the left; tell me whether you can make it out."