Dusty Star Part 18

Instantly Spotted Eagle ordered a strong war-party to start off, in order to meet the advance guard of the enemy, and, if possible, drive them back. Dusty Star's father, Running Wolf, as one of the leading braves, was a member of the party.

At sundown, a solitary Indian came galloping into camp. He was the bearer of terrible news. The war-party had encountered the enemy, and had given battle shortly after noon; but, owing to the fact that the Yellow Dogs greatly outnumbered them, they had been defeated and finally put to flight. But in spite of their victory he did not know whether they would continue their advance immediately or not. It was best to be prepared for the worst.

When the news became known, panic seized the camp. Terrified squaws ran from tepee to tepee, uttering shrill screams and tearing their hair. To their cries were added the neighing of ponies driven into camp, the barking of huskies, and the beating of drums.

During the evening, the remainder of the defeated war-party returned.

Fully a third of its members were missing. Among the missing was Running Wolf.

Nikana did not run, nor scream. She walked restlessly up and down in front of her tepee, holding Blue Wings closely in her arms, and filled with a horrible fear.

The night which followed the defeat was one of terrible anxiety. With the exception of the children and the animals, hardly any one slept.

From moment to moment no one could say what might happen. If their enemies were already in the neighbourhood, they might attack at any instant. People wandered aimlessly about, or squatted at the entrances of the tepees, listening uneasily to the slightest sound, even if it were nothing more than the howling of some distant coyote far off upon the prairie that set every ear straining lest it should be an Indian signal for the gathering to attack. And when, at long intervals, a flock of wild geese would approach with shrill, honking call out of the vast darkness of the North, the cry seemed to carry evil tidings of their approaching doom. When the first streaks of dawn brightened above the Eastern hills, a feeling of relief pa.s.sed through the camp that, if the dreaded attack were indeed preparing, at least it would not be launched under cover of the dark.

And with the dawn, came a sudden ray of hope. From Look-out b.u.t.te a scout came galloping into camp. Far to the south-west several Indians had been sighted. It was almost certain that Lone Chief was one of them.

The news ran through the camp like wild-fire. But was Dusty Star coming too? Or, if not of the party, would it be found that he was following with the wolf? The excitement and suspense were tremendous. People crowded to the western side of the camp, some even going out to wards Look-out b.u.t.te in order to be the earliest to receive the fateful news.

They had not long to wait. Soon the little party was seen rounding the southern slope of the hill. And Lone Chief was indeed one of the party.

He had fallen in with them on his homeward route, a day's journey from the camp. But he came without either Dusty Star or the wolf. And when at last he had arrived, and in a few short words had announced the failure of his mission, a feeling of gloom that was almost despair spread over the whole tribe.

In vain Spotted Eagle, and some of the other chiefs, attempted to give them fresh courage. The deep superst.i.tion of the Indian mind had settled darkly upon them. If the wolf-medicine did not come, they said, it showed clearly that the Great Spirit had refused to give them protection.

After that, things went from bad to worse. And although the day went by without any fresh signs of the enemy's approach, the camp was filled with disquieting rumours, and gave itself up more and more to the despondency of fear.

Another night of suspense pa.s.sed, and still there were no signs. Hope began to rise that the Yellow Dogs, in spite of their victory, had suffered so severely that they would not dare to attack the main camp.

It was possible that some of their allies had failed at the last moment.

And then, just as the feeling began to be general, the new hope was dashed to the ground by the news that the enemy was again in motion and was moving rapidly south in force.

If it had not been for the courage and coolness of Spotted Eagle and Lone Chief, the tribe would have been thrown into a state of more hopeless desperation than before; but they summoned all the chiefs together and gave them the command of strong parties which should post themselves on the outskirts of the camp, in order to show the enemy that they were fully prepared to do battle without waiting for the attack upon the camp itself. Orders were also given that no fires were to be lighted if the enemy did not appear before nightfall. Scouting parties were then to be sent far out on the northern prairie so as to prevent all possibility of a surprise attack.

The afternoon pa.s.sed into evening. The short-lived northern twilight darkened swiftly down the prairies, and it was night. And above, in the enormous hollow of the sky, the stars glittered like many camp-fires, and ever and again the flocks of travelling voices came honking out of the north, and filled the silence with a wandering cry.

CHAPTER XXV

HOW DUSTY STAR DANCED WITH THE WOLVES

After Lone Chief had left him in order to carry his refusal back to the tribe, Dusty Star was not happy in his mind. Wherever he went, whatever he did, the vague unhappiness went with him. The forest was the same; the creatures were the same, and yet, somehow nothing was quite as it had been before. Even Carboona, that colossal Sameness, seemed to hold something uneasy sitting in its heart. In vain he went and sat on his favorite look-out places above the runways, and secretly observed the coming and going of stealthy feet. Equally in vain was the long conversation he had with Goshmeelee, who gave him her views about the increasing difficulty of finding grubs in the cedar swamp, and the other important matters.

And the growing unhappiness of the boy was shared by the wolf, who now ceased to make long expeditions and did his hunting nearer camp.

When once Dusty Star had convinced himself that he had done wrong in refusing to help his people, he did not waste any time in making up his mind. He would go back. He would follow Lone Chief along the vast distances that lay out there to the east. But he would not go alone.

Where he went, Kiopo should go too. They would carry the medicine between them that should bring deliverance to his tribe. But first he must say good-bye to his friends, whom he might not see for a very long time, if indeed he ever saw them again. Out there in the east many things might happen. And Baltook and Goshmeelee would not be there to understand.

It was with a heavy heart that he climbed up to the den of the Silver Fox. To his great disappointment, he found that Baltook was not at home.

Boola was, however, and the family. Without saying a word to her, he made Boola understand. She gazed at him with a look in her eyes which said as plainly as any expression could: "Don't do it!"

Dusty Star stroked her glossy fur affectionately, and felt the heaviness sit heavier in his heart. And then, because the shadows were lengthening, he went slowly down the hill. And far above him, in the golden silences, Boola lifted her voice and howled.

With Goshmeele the case was different. _She_ did not content herself with merely looking. She told him very plainly that he was a fool to go.

Even if grubs were scarce, she said, there were fat frogs by the stream borders, and the berries were not yet over, if you were energetic enough to search for them, and knew where to look. Dusty Star explained that it was not a question of food, but of feeling. To which Goshmeelee replied that food _was_ feeling, and that a stomach without plenty of berries in it was a feeling that could keep you from going to sleep. She either couldn't or wouldn't understand that there was such a thing as duty. But she _did_ understand that what Dusty Star had in his mind meant a deal of exercise; and that a lot of walking walked the meat clean off your bones. "Stay here and get fat," was her unalterable opinion as to the best thing to do. And when she found that Dusty Star was obstinate, she growled at him in affectionate remonstrance, and let him dig his hands into the deep places of her fur. And the good healthy smell of her warm bearishness tickled his nose, and made him feel at home, and inclined to keep hidden in Carboona from all the worry and tongue-wagging of the stormy Indian world.

But then the memory of Lone Chief, and of the strong things he had said, came to him, and teased his brain even more than the smell of Goshmeelee tickled his nose.

So, without any more argument with her, he got up, and ran away quickly till he was hidden among the trees. And after he was gone, Goshmeelee watched the way he had disappeared, and then began solemnly to lick the places where he had disarranged her fur.

After leaving her, Dusty Star did not return to camp. Once he had started to say good-bye, meant with him that the departure had already begun. There was no need to go back for Kiopo. Before leaving he had made the wolf clearly understand that they were going upon a long journey; also, that although he expected him to remain near at hand, he did not wish him to be too close while he paid his good-bye visits to the foxes and the bear. And Kiopo did what was expected of him, and kept discreetly out of sight.

So now, Dusty Star went on swiftly through the forest, not in the least doubting that, although Kiopo was out of sight, he was within earshot in case of need, and that the great pads of his feet carried him softly along the trail.

When the last glimmer of twilight departed, Dusty Star camped for the night. The camping was very simple. It only meant finding a sheltered place among the tree-roots, eating some of the food he had brought with him, and settling himself for sleep. And as he settled down, he felt rather than saw the big wolf-shape that stole softly into camp and lay down within reach of his arm.

In spite of their journey having begun, the travellers lay still within the edges of Carboona--the strange and lonely land. Voices out of Carboona travelled to them darkly, at long intervals, like voices of departing and farewell. There was the far-off bark of a fox, signalling to its mate; or the dreary hooting of an owl. But Dusty Star slept soundly, and if the voices reached him, it was only in his dreams. Once only he woke, and that was not because of a sound, but of a touch. A cold nose touched his cheek. Instantly he was wide-awake, thinking it was Kiopo warning him of some danger. But the wolf was sleeping where he had lain down, and had not stirred. Dusty Star waited expectantly. But though he kept absolutely still, his mysterious visitor made no other sign. Once only a twig cracked faintly under the pressure of a stealthy foot; but the darkness was too dense for Dusty Star to detect the secret movement of the black robe with the silver tips, as it drifted softly away. But long, long afterwards, when countless moons had come and gone, Dusty Star, remembering, was sure that it was Baltook who had brought his cold nose to him as a token of farewell.

The morning song of little Kilooleet, the white-throated sparrow, was already trickling through the maple leaves, when the travellers started again upon their way. As on their first coming into the region, so now, at their departing, the small grey people in the underground doorways watched the great shapes furtively, and made disturbed noises at each other after they were gone. And in the little damp corridors, where the darkness was twisty because of many roots, the tiny feet pattered nervously, and the tiny whiskers twitched.

From the summit of a bare-topped hill, up which they had been mounting slowly from the lower forest levels, Dusty Star paused for the first time to look back. There, in the distance, with the morning mists lying in white streaks along its sides, rose the great heights of Carboona against the autumn sky. Would he ever see it again--or was he gazing at its s.h.i.+ning peaks and precipices for the last time? A dim fear of the unknown crept into him--of the unseen things that lay in wait behind him in the world. And Carboona had become, in a strange manner, his home--his wolf-home, where, with Kiopo, he had learned those forgotten secrets which are the medicine of the wolves. And now they were looking at it together perhaps for the last time! As he turned away, to continue his journey, his eyes were troubled as if they were seeking an unfamiliar trail.

Between the forest and the prairies lay a tract of broken country full of ravines and rocky hills. It was a barren, treeless region, where the water-courses dried up in the summer, or shrank to muddy pools. With the exception of a few rabbits and prairie dogs, game was scarce. Now and then a wolf or coyote would wander across its barren b.u.t.tes, scenting the hungry air; but usually retreating with stomachs as light as when they entered it. During the greater part of the year, the larger animals gave it a wide berth. Indians avoided it also. They called it the Bad Lands. But in spite of its reputation among the human kind, the beasts had their uses for it at certain times of the year. It had seen many a fierce battle when the wolves and coyotes followed the mating call. The Wild Kin made their marriages there, but mostly settled their breeding haunts far enough away. It was not a good place to be born in. But animals hunted to the death, or those whose limbs were stiffened with old age, knew in some mysterious way that they could crawl there to die.

But a use that was neither for mating nor dying, was one of which even the Indians knew very little, and the reason for which even the Wild Kin itself was in the dark.

Hunters crossing the borders of the Bad Lands in the late Summer or the Fall, would sometimes stop to listen to a sound that rose, and died, and swelled again, in strange discords that set Indian pulses throbbing in an uncomfortable way. Sometimes the sound would seem to be a series of single notes, from a solitary voice. At others, the notes crowded thickly together as if from a mult.i.tude of throats. Indians who were deeply religious declared that it was the wolves making medicine, when the Great Spirit walked across the Bad Lands at the falling of the year.

Dusty Star and Kiopo reached this haunted region just at sundown. The great bare b.u.t.tes stood up redly in the sunset light. The deep stillness was unbroken by the slightest sound. As far as the eye could reach there was not a sign of a living thing. They had travelled steadily all day since early dawn, and Dusty Star was glad to rest. He still had some food left over from the previous day, the fruits of Kiopo's hunting, so he had only to look out for a convenient spot for camping, and settle down for the night. As soon as he had found one near a small spring, Kiopo went off. That was nothing extraordinary, Dusty Star watched him lift his nose to try the air, and then trot quietly down the creek bed to the south. He knew by his movements that he was off to hunt.

After he had finished his supper, Dusty Star lay down in the place he had chosen, and dropped instantly to sleep. He seemed to have been asleep a long time when he woke suddenly to find Kiopo standing over him in the moonlight. The wolf was plainly uneasy. He was making the half-whining, half-growling sound which was always a sign that something unusual was taking place.

Dusty Star sat up, and looked about him. In the intense clearness of the cloudless night every object was distinctly visible. The b.u.t.tes stood out in huge silver ma.s.ses, washed by the light of the moon. Their hollows and ravines were deep in shadow; but neither in light nor shadow was there anything which gave sign of life. Yet Dusty Star felt as if, in spite of the apparent stillness, sound had lately travelled through the air. The silence was not empty.

As he listened, he heard a long wolf-howl rise and fall in the distance.

It had scarcely died away when it was followed by another, and then another. Then a whole chorus of howls filled the night with a loud and desolate clamour. At once he knew what he was listening to. It was the singing of the Wolves.

He listened for some time, s.h.i.+vering a little in spite of himself. He was not afraid. But he was deeply stirred. Something in him answered to the wolf voices. Kiopo's uneasiness had communicated itself to him also.

He could not explain it. He felt as if he were inside Kiopo's mind; rather, that they shared one mind, and that the soul of the wolf-world was calling to it.

With one accord, they set off in the direction of the cries.

The sound came from the eastward. But, owing to the broken nature of the country, it seemed sometimes to come from every side at once. In that hollow land, full of echoes, the ears were not always the safest guides.

But Kiopo did not travel by ear alone. His nose quested the distances.

It met the things that went walking in the wind. And surer even than his nose was the Wisdom of the Wild Things, which was an extra sense to him, and which mankind has put to sleep with its making of machines. So he trotted steadily east without being bewildered by the echoes, and Dusty Star followed, confident in his lead.

They came at last to the foot of a big b.u.t.te, which Kiopo immediately began to ascend. The cries were very clear now. The moonlit air was filled with a chorus of high-pitched, vibrating sounds. As they climbed, Dusty Star noticed that they did not mount alone. He counted no fewer than four other wolves, besides Kiopo, moving swiftly up the hill. If he saw them, Kiopo paid no attention. Even when one of them drew a little closer than the others, he did not attempt to drive it off. And the low growl that rumbled in his throat seemed a recognition rather than a threat.

At the top of the hill, they came upon a wide, open s.p.a.ce. Dusty Star saw to his wonder that it was crowded with wolves. They formed a wide, irregular circle, composed of single animals, and of little groups of five or six. In the centre of the circle sat a large wolf by himself.