The Watchers of the Plains Part 39

Out of all the number hanging like dead men upon the trees only one youth finds the torture unendurable.

He cries aloud for mercy, and his shrieks rise high above the pandemonium going on about him.

Instantly he is cut down, the stick is removed from his body, and he is driven from the ceremony by the waiting squaws, amidst a storm of feminine vituperation. He is the only one whose heart is faint. He will never be permitted to fight. He must live with the squaws all his days. He is considered a squaw-man, the greatest indignity that can be put upon him.

Thus are the braves made.

While the Sun-dance was still at its height two men who had taken no part in it, except that of secret spectators, moved quickly and silently away through the forest. Their gait was almost a flight, but not of fear.

Ten minutes of half running and half walking brought them to a spot where two horses were tethered under the guardians.h.i.+p of the fierce General.

Here they mounted, and, without a word, proceeded with all speed in the direction of the Agency.

At the door they halted, and Seth spoke for the first time since leaving the Sun-dance. Parker had already dismounted, but the other remained in his saddle.

"Say, you'll move right off," he said quickly, "an' git Hargreaves an' his wimminfolk clear, too. Guess you'll make the farm 'fore me, sure. Take the bridge for it. Rosebud 'll let you in. Guess you'll find plenty o' company 'fore daylight. Rosie 'll see to the signals."

"Yes," Parker nodded. "They're moving to-night. This is a carefully planned surprise."

Seth glanced at the eastern sky.

"Four hours to daylight," he mused. Then: "Yes, guess there's more'n Black Fox's hand in this. So long."

He rode off with his faithful dog at his heels, making for the ford, and watchful of every shadow as he went. His night's work was yet only half done.

Crossing the river he climbed the opposite bank and rode out upon the prairie. Making a wide detour he came to within a hundred yards of the front of Nevil Steyne's hut. Here he halted and dismounted. Crouching upon the ground he scanned the sky-line carefully in every direction. At last he seemed satisfied, and, flinging his bridle reins to the dog, who promptly took them in his powerful jaws and quietly sat down in front of the horse's head, moved cautiously forward.

In a few moments he came upon two horses standing asleep, tethered by long ropes to picket-pins. One of these he released and led back to his own.

Then he remounted and rode on. Again he circled wide of his destination, and this time struck into the woods that lined the river. His way now lay down the black aisles of tree trunks which he pursued until he came to a spot he was evidently in search of. Then he again dismounted, and, entrusting the two horses to the dog's care, moved forward on foot.

With unerring judgment he broke cover directly in rear of Nevil's log hut.

There was neither window nor door on this side, a fact which he was evidently aware of, for, without hesitation, but with movements as silent as any Indian, he crept round to the front, and sidled to the window. Here there was a light s.h.i.+ning dully, but no means of obtaining a view of the interior. He moved on, and, crouching at the doorway, listened intently. A few seconds satisfied him. Wanaha was inside; she was awake, for he heard her moving about. He knew at once that Nevil was out.

With a satisfied sigh he moved away. This time he walked eastward toward the bridge, keeping close in the shadow of the woods. A couple of hundred yards from the hut he stopped and took up a position just within the shelter of the undergrowth, whence he had a perfect view of the open plain in front, and yet was sufficiently sheltered by the echoing woods to hear the least movement of any one pa.s.sing that way. And so he waited.

Nor did he wait long. Eyes and ears trained to this sort of work were kept ever on the alert. But it was his ears which told him at last of some one approaching. Some one was moving through the woods. The sound was faint and distant, but he heard it. There was no mistake. And he knew it was Nevil Steyne returning home.

Clearing the brush he made his way into the midst of the aisles of leafless tree-trunks. Pausing in the shadow of one of the forest giants he waited. The footsteps came nearer. He s.h.i.+fted his position again; for his ears told him that he was not yet on the track which Nevil would take.

At last, however, he came to a stand, and did not move again. Guided by a wonderful hearing, he knew that he was in a direct line between the man approaching and his home.

He leant against a tree, his eyes and ears straining. Some few yards away there was a shaft of moonlight stretching right across the path which Nevil must take, and on this path Seth kept his eyes.

The man came on all unconscious of who and what was awaiting him. He had no thought of his presence at the Sun-dance having been detected. His thoughts were on what the morrow was to bring forth; on what it would mean to him when Rosebud was removed from his path. She alone stood between him and that which he had schemed for ever since the arrival of the memorable letter from his brother. He was in a mood of intense satisfaction. He knew that at last he was to realize his desires, that at last he was to pay off a long score which he owed Seth of White River Farm.

He stepped into the moonlit patch. The sudden flash of light made him pause. It startled him. He looked beyond apprehensively, then he looked up, and the great moon above rea.s.sured him. He moved on. The next moment he stopped dead. He could proceed no further. A ring of metal was pressing against his forehead, and Seth was behind it, and his smooth, even voice, coldly compelling, held him.

"Say, I've been lookin' fer you," it said. "You're comin' right up to the farm. The Injuns are out. Savee? Jest fer once you're goin' to work on our side. Say, you're goin' to fight 'em--with us."

There was a deathly silence. Neither moved. The gun was pressing the man's forehead still. Nevil stood like one paralyzed.

"Wal?" questioned the cold voice, proceeding from Seth's shadowy figure.

And Nevil was driven to speech.

"I'm not a fighting man. I----"

But his denial was cut short.

"You've jest got ten seconds to make up your mind. You're goin' to fight--for us, or----"

Seth had in no way raised his tones from the cold level of his manner at the beginning. His victim had only a shadowy impression of him. He saw only a hazy outline in the blackness of the forest; and he needed no further sight to convince him. There was sufficient in the tone, and in the pressure of the gun at his head. He knew the rest. Here was a sudden collapse of all his schemes. There could be no resistance. Seth had the drop on him.

"I'll go," he said sullenly.

CHAPTER XXVII

IN DESPERATE PLIGHT

At daylight the truth was known. The greatest Indian rising of two decades had begun.

The Bad-Lands had entered upon a period of slaughter, of wanton ma.s.sacre, which was to form one of the bloodiest pages in the history of Indian warfare.

The first to realize the full terror of the situation were the troops in the small trader's fort overlooking the Reservations. They awoke to find themselves hemmed in by a vast army of red-skinned warriors, entirely cut off from the outside world. The climax of their discovery was reached when an attempt was made to dispatch a telegraphic message to headquarters. The wire was cut.

The next to grasp the situation were the citizens of Beacon Crossing. The railroad track was destroyed, and all telegraphic communication was cut off. A horde of warriors from Pine Ridge Reservation, some thousands strong, threatened the towns.h.i.+p from the east, thus cutting them off from the settlers on the plains.

The full knowledge of these things came in driblets to the refugees gathering at White River Farm, filtering through piece by piece as each party came in. But as yet not an Indian had shown himself in the vicinity of the farm. Already twelve families had sought the shelter of Rube's stockade. And all was in readiness for the siege.

The morning pa.s.sed, and still two families lying farther out than all the others had not yet arrived. It was an anxious waiting.

It was three o'clock in the afternoon when at last one of the missing parties appeared on the horizon. It was at once seen that the two vehicles were being driven at a desperate pace. They were approaching from the north, and even at that distance the lookout could see the drivers flogging their horses into a furious gallop.

Seth pa.s.sed the order to stand by. The defenders responded, and the stockade immediately bristled with rifles.

The wagons came on. Then suddenly a small party of Indians appeared over the horizon, racing in hot pursuit. But evidently the view of the farm altered their plans, for they reined in, halted, and, a moment later, wheeling about, vanished whence they came.

Seth, watching from the top of the stockade, realized something of the significance of their movements. And far graver fears than the manoeuvre seemed to warrant a.s.sailed him.

The late arrivals brought further bad tidings. The Indians on the Cheyenne River Reservation were out, and working in concert with the others. It is a bad business when Indian tribes band together against a common foe.

There was consternation among the women when they heard the news. The men smiled grimly, but there was no lightness in their hearts.

The time of waiting dragged wearily. Every one within the stockade felt the suspense to be far worse than the fiercest fighting. The intangible threat of this unnatural calm was dreadful. Still, the respite was not without its uses. Defences were strengthened with earthworks hastily thrown up on the inside of the stockade, and the upper rooms of the house were made ready for a selected firing party, whilst the women made every preparation for the comfort of their men.

Nevil Steyne moved about bearing his share in the labors. He was morosely silent, and his presence caused much speculation amongst those who knew nothing of what had happened on the previous night. Seth's replies when questioned on the subject were evasive. Rube and Parker were no wiser than the rest, except that Seth had told them that Nevil was his prisoner, and must on no account be allowed to escape.