New National Fourth Reader Part 60

ex pired', _died_.

stat'ue, _a figure carved to represent a living being_.

stag'gered, _walked with trembling steps_.

as cer tained', _found out by inquiring_.

re tain', _keep possession of_.

A STORY OF THE SIOUX WAR.

PART II.

I awoke in the morning and saw the rays of the sun entering the window.

Recalling the incidents of the previous evening, I turned to speak to my young friend.

To my surprise she was gone, and supposing she had risen a short time before, I hurriedly dressed myself and went down stairs to help keep her company.

But she was not there, and father and mother had seen nothing of her.

She had no doubt risen in the night and gone quietly away.

There was something curious and touching in the fact that she had groped about in the darkness, until she found her own clothing, which she put on and departed without taking so much as a pin that belonged to us.

We all felt a strong interest in Chitto, and father took me with him a few days later when he visited Lac Qui Parle. He made many inquiries for the little girl, but could learn nothing about her.

I felt very much disappointed, for I had built up strong hopes of taking her out home with me to spend several days.

Father and I went a number of times afterward, and always made an effort to discover Chitto; but we did not gain any knowledge of her.

On the afternoon of August 19, father was sitting in his accustomed seat in front of the house, and mother was engaged, as usual about her household duties. I was playing and amusing myself as a girl of my age is inclined to do at all times.

The day was sultry and close, and I remember that father was unusually pale and weak. He coughed a great deal, and sat for a long time so still that I thought he must be asleep.

"Mother," said I, "what is that smoke yonder?"

I pointed in the direction of Lac Qui Parle. She saw a dark column of smoke floating off in the horizon, its location being such, that there could be no doubt that it was at the Agency.

"There is a fire of some kind there," she said, while she shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed long and earnestly in that direction.

"The Indians are coming, Edward," she called to father; "they will be here in a few minutes!"

Suddenly, a splendid black horse came galloping from the woods, and with two or three powerful bounds, halted directly in front of me. As it did so, I saw that the bareback rider was a small girl, and she was our little Sioux friend, Chitto.

She made a striking picture, with her long, black hair streaming over her shoulders, and her dress fluttering in the wind.

"Why, Chitto," said I, in amazement, "where did you come from?"

"Must go--must go--must go!" she exclaimed, in great excitement. "Indian soon be here!"

So it seemed that, in the few weeks since she had been at our house, she had picked up enough of the English language to make herself understood.

"What do you mean?" asked mother, as she and I advanced to the side of the black steed upon which the little Sioux sat; "what are the Indians doing?"

"They burn buildings--have killed people--coming this way!"

Chitto spoke the truth, for the Sioux were raging like demons at that very hour at Lac Qui Parle.

"What shall we do, Chitto?" asked my mother.

"Get on horse--he carry you."

"But my husband; the horse can not carry all three of us."

My poor distracted mother scarcely knew what to do. All this time father sat like a statue in his chair. A terrible suspicion suddenly entered her mind, and she ran to him.

Placing her hand upon his shoulder, she addressed him in a low tone, and then uttered a fearful shriek, as she staggered backward, saying: "He is dead! he is dead!"

Such was the fact. The shock of the news brought by the little Indian girl was too much, and he had expired in his chair without a struggle.

The wild cry which escaped my mother was answered by several whoops from the woods, and Chitto became frantic with terror.

"Indian be here in minute!" said she.

Mother instantly helped me upon the back of the horse and then followed herself. She was a skillful rider, but she allowed Chitto to retain the bridle, and we started off.

Looking back I saw a half-dozen Sioux hors.e.m.e.n come out of the woods and start on a trot toward us.

Just then Chitto spoke to the horse, and he bounded off at a terrible rate, never halting until he had gone two or three miles.

Then, when we looked back, we saw nothing of the Indians, and the horse was brought down to a walk; and finally, when the sun went down, we entered a dense wood, where we staid all night.

I shall not attempt to describe those fearful hours. Not one of us slept a wink. Mother sat weeping over the loss of father, while I was heart-broken, too.

Chitto, like the Indian she was, kept on the move continually. Here and there she stole as noiselessly through the wood as a shadow, while playing the part of sentinel.

At daylight we all fell into a feverish slumber, which lasted several hours. When we awoke, we were hungry and miserable.

Seeing a settler's house in the distance, Chitto offered to go to it for food. We were afraid she would get into trouble, but she was sure there was no danger and went.

In less than an hour she was back again with an abundance of bread. She said there was no one in the house, and we supposed the people had become alarmed and escaped.

We staid where we were for three days, during which time we saw a party of Sioux warriors burn the house where Chitto had obtained the food for us.