a lightning-bolt exploded with a crash, and a cold, purple radiance briefly illuminated our surroundings. the air was filled with trees, wisps of grass, clods of earth. the distorted bodies of a man and a horse lay against the opposite bank of the depression—'twas they, doubtless, had stampeded our mounts. apparently they had been hurled there by some caprice of the wind. i had a vision, too, of the strained faces of my comrades—peter's little eyes very wide, kachina's hair all tumbled about her face, tawannears grimly watchful. then darkness again, and the steady, monotonous roar of the wind, no thing of puffs or gusts, but a stupendous, overpowering blast of sheer strength that no living being could stand up to.
it was tricky and sly, ruthless and resourceful. it dropped pebbles and earth-clods on us. it eddied in the depression and created whirlpools which snatched at us lustfully. and once there was a thud overhead and a crumbling of the bank—and a large tree rolled down upon us, the butt of the trunk missing kachina by a hand's-breadth. but this last attack was really a blessing in disguise, for presently the rain came, and when the wind let up we were able to prop the tree against the bank, and it furnished some slight shelter, stripped though it was of leaves.
the rain was almost more terrible than the wind. for a while, indeed, the wind continued undiminished, lashing us with slanting columns of water that struck like liquid lances, the drops spurting up half a man's stature from the ground after the impact. then, as the wind dropped, the rain came down perpendicularly, whipping our naked bodies with icy rods. a chill permeated the air. we were so cold that our teeth chattered. and the cold and the rain and the darkness continued, hour after hour.
how long it lasted i do not know, but i remember noting the lessening of the downpour, its swishing away in the east and the frosty twinkling of the stars. we were all too exhausted to think of anything except rest and we cowered beneath the tree-trunk, huddling close for warmth, and somehow slept. when we awoke the sun was rising, and the air was fresh and clear. the sky was cloudless and a soft blue. but all around us was strewn the wreckage of the storm.
the bodies of the man and horse the lightning-flash had revealed in the night still lay in two heaps of broken bones and pounded flesh. three other horses, battered beyond recognition, were scattered along the bank of the shallow ravine or river-bed. peering over the top of the bank we discovered that broad patches of the prairie had been denuded of grass, the underlying earth gouged up as though with a plough. the grove in which we had hidden was hacked and torn, an open swath cut through it, many trees down, all more or less mutilated.
of the tonkawas there was not a trace. whatever casualties they had endured, plainly they had fled from so unlucky a spot; and that they had suffered by the storm we were convinced by ascertaining that the dead man the wind had blown into our hiding-place wore the hide cuirass which distinguished these raiders. probably they had continued upon their way south as soon as the rain abated sufficiently.
our horses had vanished with equal completeness. the rain had washed out hoof-prints, and we had no means of tracking them. and i have often reflected upon the oddity of circumstance in twice throwing the spotted stallion in my path, only to separate us without warning after he had fulfilled his mission. i hope that sunkawakan-kedeshka and his mares escaped the storm, and that he lived out his life, free and untamed, leading his herd upon the prairies. but i do not know. destiny had its use for him. he served his dumb turn—and passed on.
yet i like to think—and it may be i have imbibed somewhat of the red man's pagan philosophy from over-much dwelling in his society—that in this shadowy after-world of spirits, in which both red man and white profess belief, man shall find awaiting him the brave beasts that loved him on earth. there i may ride through the fields of asphodels, gripping between my knees the spirit-form of that which was sunkawakan-kedeshka, feeling again the throb and strain of willing muscles, curbing the patient, tireless energy as i used to, watching the velvet ear that ever switched back for a kind word or drooped at a rebuke. but i dream—as old men must.
consider now our plight. we who had been lately so harried by fate were once more exposed to its whimsies. but recently prisoners, next free but weaponless, we were today at liberty and armed, but the horses upon which we had relied to expedite our passage of the plains were gone. also, we required food for we had not eaten since noon of the day previous. our nakedness i do not emphasize because tawannears was an indian and accustomed to it, and peter and i had been habituated to it by years of exposure. for kachina we had saved enough clothing to cover her, although she resented the distinction, and was as ready to bear her share of hardship as any of us.
our food problem was solved temporarily by peter, who insisted, and proved to our satisfaction that the flesh of the horses killed by the storm was still perfectly good. we ate it without avidity, tough, stringy meat, and sodden with moisture, but it sustained us for new efforts.
having unburied our cache of weapons, we examined them carefully and were able to equip ourselves anew, peter carrying the two extra quivers of arrows at his own insistence. the two hide cuirasses, cumbrous garments of the thick neck-hide of the buffalo slowly dried by fire, we discarded as being too hot and confining and stinking of their former wearers. we likewise threw into the bed of the rivulet those knives and tomahawks for which we had no use, retaining four of each, of very fine spanish steel, which the tonkawas must have traded or ravaged from the apache or other southern tribes.
we were none of us disposed to continue eating horse-meat and we were all anxious to get as far as possible from a country which had been so singularly prolific in misfortune for us. so as soon as we had tested our bows and drunk deep of the brown stream that foamed along the gulch, we set out northeastward, aiming to work back to the river we had been following ever since we quit the eastern skirts of the sky mountains. we were governed in adopting this course by the same reasons which had influenced us before: we were afraid to venture away from water, we were more likely to find game near a river, and finally, it served as a guide to us in threading this pathless territory. to be sure, as we had proved already, there was more danger of meeting savages adjacent to a considerable river; but that was a risk we had to take. we were resolved to be doubly vigilant after our experiences with the comanches and tonkawas.
for three days we paralleled the river, pitching our course several miles to the south of it and approaching its banks only when we were driven to do so by need of water. during this time we fed on hares and a small animal which lived in multitudes in burrows under the prairies, besides a few fish which tawannears caught in the river, employing a bone-hook he fashioned himself and a string of rawhide from kachina's shirt. we saw no other men or large animals, and the country gave every indication of having been swept bare by the storm.
on the fourth day we began to sight buffalo, and supped to satisfaction on the luscious hump of a young cow tawannears shot, overjoyed at this welcome change in our diet. but the buffalo were the cause of our undoing. the small scattered herds that we first met were the usual advance-guards of an enormous army, grazing its way northward, and in order not to be delayed by its slow progress we crossed the river to the north bank and hurried east, intending to loop the front of the main herd. this we succeeded in doing, and then decided to remain on that side of the river, inasmuch as we knew we must be far south of the point at which we sought to strike the mississippi, and ought really to be heading rather north of east.
'twas this move which brought fresh trouble upon us, albeit conducing in the long run to our salvation. had we remained on the south bank, we might have run the gauntlet of enemies by other means, but this story must have been shaped differently—additional evidence of the immutable determination of destiny to govern the issue of our lives. and had we not been blinded by our desire for haste and the isolation we had found in the track of the storm we should have realized that the approach of so large a herd would be a bait for the first tribe whose scouts marked it down. but we were blinded—by accident or destiny, as you please.
as i have said, we pushed on north of the river, adhering to our former plan of keeping out of sight of its channel, and scouting carefully the ground ahead. we never gave a thought to what was behind us, and were paralyzed when kachina, idly surveying the country from the summit of one of the long, easy swells which broke the monotony of the level plains, caught tawannears by the arm and pointed westward, too surprised for words, fear and amazement struggling in her face.
it was the middle of the forenoon, a warm, bright summer day, yet not warm enough to bring up the dancing heat-haze which played strange tricks with vision in these vast open spaces. the next swell behind us was some two or three miles distant, and over its crest were galloping a string of tiny figures—horsemen with waving lances and glaring white shields. we were as distinct to them as they were to us, and the fact that they gave no special sign of exultation at seeing us was proof sufficient that they had been following us for some time. they were trailing us, scores of them, ay, hundreds, as they poured over the crest of the swell in a colorful, barbaric stream of martial vigor—and they could travel three feet to our one. of course, they had picked up our trail in riding down to the river to meet the buffalo herd, and had followed it with the insatiable curiosity and rapacious instinct of their race.
so much we reasoned in the first second of discovery. we wasted no time in conversation, but dodged below the crest of the swell and ran at top-speed for the river as offering the nearest available cover under its banks. but the wily savages behind us divined our plan, and when, after we had traveled a mile, tawannears reconnoitered their positions, it was to learn that they had detached a troop to ride diagonally up the slope of the swell and so cut us off from our goal. two hundred of them were abreast of us at that moment less than a mile away.
tawannears halted.
"'tis useless," he said brusquely. "we shall wind ourselves to no purpose. all that is left for us is to sell our lives dearly."
he turned his face skyward and appealed to his gods as a warrior and an equal.
"oh, hawenneyu," he exclaimed, "and you, too, of the honochenokeh, have you permitted tawannears to escape all these perils, to obtain his lost soul, and abandoned him at the end to hanegoategeh? see, tawannears calls upon you for aid. and upon you of the deohako, three sisters of sustenance, our supporters! tawannears calls upon you by right.
"will you desert him when he has toiled and suffered so? will you desert his white brothers who have been loyal through dangers no men ever dared before? will you desert the lost soul who has been true to him in death, who returns with him from the land beyond the sunset, she who has traversed the halls of haniskaonogeh, the dwelling-place of evil, she who has passed with us through the lodge of gaoh, lord of the winds, she who has defied hanegoategeh?
"oh, tharon the sky-holder, tawannears calls upon you to uphold him! but if death must come, then, oh, hawenneyu, let tawannears and his lost soul die together! let the white brothers go with us to the halls of the honochenokeh! let us take with us the spirits of many warriors! grant us a good death, oh, hawenneyu!"
i am a christian, but i thrilled to that prayer, and i called out—"yo-hay!" after the manner of the people of the long house.
kachina notched an arrow, and loosed it into the air.
"whatever the gods say, we fight!" she said. "we fight where the arrow falls."
it quivered into the sod a hundred yards in front of us just under the crest of the swell.
"ja, dot's as goodt a place as any," peter agreed equably. "andt now we fight, eh?"
we trotted up to the arrow and clustered around it as the flanking party of the attackers galloped over the crest between us and the river. they whooped their delight upon seeing they had headed us, and a warrior commenced to ride his pony in furious circles to signal the main body they had us at bay, whilst the rest raced back to engage us. in five minutes they had strung a ring and were drawing in closer and closer toward bowshot distance.
of all the tribes we had seen these men were the handsomest and most imposing. tall, broad-shouldered, their bronze bodies shining with grease, they sat their pad-saddles, stirrupless, as though they were part of the horses under them. their heads were shaven, except for a narrow ridge from forehead to scalplock, which was stiffened with paint and grease until it stood erect in semblance of a horn. their faces were fierce, but intelligent. they proved their reckless valor by the way they overwhelmed us.
as bowmen they had no rivals. we opened upon them as soon as we thought we had a faint chance of driving a shaft or two home; but they, clinging to their horses, shooting sometimes from the opposite sides or even from under their bellies, encumbered, too, with lance and shield, were able to send in shaft for shaft, which we avoided only by rapidly shifting our ground. we saw at once that in an arrow-duel we stood no chance, and as they did not seem anxious to force conclusions immediately, at tawannears' suggestion we suspended our fire. they promptly desisted from their attack, their restless circle hovering round and round us, ready to smother any attempt at escape.
"why do they wait?" cried kachina. "they surely do not fear us!"
"not they!" retorted tawannears. "these people are great warriors."
"who are they?" i asked.
"tawannears never saw them before, brother."
"here comes der chief," spoke up peter.
with hundreds of deep voices chanting rhythmically, a mighty cavalcade came slowly over the summit of the swell, rank on rank of horsemen, the sunlight glinting on the white or painted surfaces of their shields, a forest of feathered lances standing above the horn-like headdresses. leading them all was a warrior taller than the tallest, his chest arched like a demi-cask, the muscles playing on his huge shoulders as he controlled his mettlesome white horse. his face was as gravely handsome as tawannears'; with a high forehead and a jutting, beaked nose; but his eyes were the fierce, watchful eyes of a savage, and his mouth was a cruel, thin line.
"a t'ousandt men!" gasped peter.
the warriors in the circle around us reined in their horses, tossed their lances aloft and joined their voices in the booming chant of their brethren. two of them quirted out of the line and raced up to the chief on the white horse to report. we could see their animated gestures, the frequency with which they pointed at us. the chief raised his hand, the chant was stilled, and he rode through the circle, attended by the two messengers, or sub-chiefs, and halted within hail of us.
tawannears strode forward to meet him, and i marveled at the assurance the seneca conveyed in his attitude. it was as if he were backed by the whole force of the keepers of the western door.
"who are you?" he demanded in the tone of one who holds power, speaking in the same mingled dialect of comanche and dakota he had used with the tonkawas.
the chief on the white horse was manifestly amazed at tawannears' assurance, but he replied quietly in the same tongue:
"they say i am awa, war-chief of the chahiksichahiks.* who are you who walk on the ground with white men?"
* men-of-men, the real name of the pawnee, the latter name, meaning horn-wearers, being their designation by other tribes.
"they call me tawannears, warden of the western door of the long house, war-chief of the hodenosaunee," tawannears shot back.
"tawannears is many moons' journey from his teepee," rejoined awa. "he did not come to our village and ask permission to cross our country."
"why should a chief of the long house ask permission to go on the great spirit's business?" returned tawannears. "we have done your people no harm."
"if that is so," said the chief on the white horse, "render up to my people the maiden who is with you, and you may go free."
"why?" asked tawannears, bewildered.
"every summer tirawa, the old one in the sky, sends my people a maid for a sacrifice. they say the maid with you comes to die on the scaffold under the morning star."
"they say lies," answered tawannears with passion. "you shall not have her alive. she is holy."
awa's reply was a gesture with his hand and a shouted order in his own language. a hundred warriors slipped from their horses in the first rank of the array outside the circle, dropped lances, shields and bows and ran toward us.
tawannears, his face a mask of fury, ripped an arrow from his quiver and drove it at awa's chest; but the chief on the white horse calmly interposed his shield and stopped it neatly, and the charge of warriors on foot compelled the seneca to run back to us. we, who had understood practically nothing of the dialogue which had passed, were uncertain what the situation meant. tawannears, himself, was at a loss.
"fight," he shouted hoarsely. "we must not be captured."
we loosed arrows as rapidly as we could draw from quivers and notch them. 'twas impossible to miss at that point-blank range, and we killed a dozen men before they came to hand-grips. then we used knife and hatchet, kachina as remorselessly as the rest of us, our assailants, evidently under awa's orders, scrupulously refraining from drawing a weapon, lest they harm the girl who was destined for the sacrifice.
back to back, striving to protect kachina, we fought like wolves in famine-time, our arms aching from slaughter, but the pawnee would not give in. they dived betwixt the legs of their comrades who were grappling barehanded against our knives, and so pulled us down. peter was last to go, a dozen men clinging to his limbs. kachina, biting at her captors, was led struggling from the heap of bodies. we others were jerked to our feet, arms pinioned and dragged after her.
the pawnee horsemen crowded around us and the men we had killed. the chief on the white horse stared with satisfaction at kachina's lithe body, hardly covered by the rags of her garments, and grinned amusement when she spat at him, trying to plant her teeth in the arm of one of the men who restrained her. he turned from her to the panting, bleeding warriors who held us, and to the pile of dead around the arrow kachina had shot into the air. it stood there yet, hub of an ill-omened wheel of corpses, its feathers ruffling in the breeze. it seemed to fascinate him. his grin became a frown.
"you have made me pay a price for the girl," he said to tawannears. "that is well. the pawnee are not afraid to pay what tirawa asks. but you shall pay now a price to me."
he drew his own bow from its case, and selected a shaft from the quiver at his side, notched it and aimed it at my chest.
"awa will shoot you, one by one," he announced. "afterward your hearts shall be cut out, and we will make strong medicine with them. this white man shall die first."
i had no more than time to smile at tawannears and peter when he pulled the bow-string taut and loosed. i had braced myself for the shock, knowing the shaft at that range must go clean through me. and certes, the blow was all that i had expected. i staggered before it. had it not been for the warriors who held my arms i must have fallen backward.
involuntarily i had shut my eyes. i opened them again, expecting to be in another world, marveling that the pain of an arrow in my vitals was no worse than a smart rap upon the chest. around me i heard a gusty sigh, the sound made by many people expelling their breath. i looked down, wondering if i could still see myself, if the blood would be spurting or trickling.
but i could find no wound. there was no arrow, no mark, no blood. i felt the savage holding my left arm sag strangely and turned to him. his face was gray, his eyes glazing. the arrow which had struck me was projecting from his side, buried half-way to the head. he collapsed as i looked at him.
there was an audible gasp from the ranks of horsemen. i found awa's face in the throng, and noted that it was almost as ashen as that of the dying man beside me. the chief held the bow stiffly in his left band, right arm crooked as when he had loosed.
tawannears laughed harshly.
"strong medicine awa has made!" he mocked. "he shot at my white brother an arm's-length away, and my brother turned the arrow against the great chief's warrior. will awa try again? shall we make more medicine for him?"
awa's arm was trembling as he returned the bow to its case.
"your white brother has strong medicine," he admitted. "we will carry you all to our village, and our medicine-men shall try their magic upon you. awa is a war-chief, not a maker of magic."
"we are both warriors and medicine-men!" tawannears derided him mercilessly. "shall we make trial of our medicine again?"
awa abruptly reined his horse about, shouted an order and clattered off at the head of his cavalcade. our guards first bound our arms loosely behind us, then tied strips of rawhide betwixt us and themselves, one on either side, and mounted us upon ponies. thus each of us was tied to a pair of the pawnee.
i called to tawannears as he was led by me.
"what happened? my eyes were shut. i——"
"your orenda is powerful, brother," he replied seriously. "it has spread its hand over our heads. hawenneyu has used it to answer the prayer of tawannears."
i was no less puzzled by this, but peter cackled shrilly.
"look adt your chest," he squeaked.
i bent my head. my chest was bare, unscarred. all it showed was the little deerskin pouch guanaea had hung around my neck by a thong the day we left deonundagaa, which had stayed by me through all our adventures. no indian would have dreamed of taking it from me, for it contained my medicine, and the possibilities for evil inherent in interference with another man's medicine were boundless.
i regarded the pouch idly, my mind occupied with the thought that it was practically the only possession with which i had started upon our journey that was still with me—and i was startled to see a slit in its front. i looked at it more closely. yes, there was a slit, such a slit as an arrow-head might make.
what had tawannears said?
"your orenda is powerful, brother."
and what had guanaea said in hanging it there?
"that will protect you against all evils! a most powerful orenda! i had it made by hineogetah, the medicine man."
but that was ridiculous, i told myself! i had worn it to please guanaea, and because her forethought had touched me. but was that a reason for subscribing to gross superstition? this fetched me around to my starting-point. the fact remained that the bag had stopped an arrow. how? my mind cast back for further aid, and memory came to my rescue.
what had it contained?
"the fangs of a bull rattlesnake. that is the spirit to resist evil. the eye-tooth of a wolf. that is the spirit to resist courage."
the eye-tooth of a wolf! that had done it. i wiggled my chest-muscles and felt the protuberance under the draw-string—and beneath it a certain soreness. the arrow had driven head-on into the tooth and been diverted sideways into the warrior on my left. so mysterious as this are the wonders of providence—or destiny—or an iroquois medicine man?
