how many shapeless terrors can spring from the mind of man i never knew till eric and the priest left me alone in the mandane village. ever, on closing my eyes, there rolled and rolled past, endlessly, without going one pace beyond my sight, something too horrible to be contemplated. when i looked about to assure myself the thing was not there—could not possibly be there—memory flashed back the whole dreadful scene. up started glazed eyes from the hearth, the floor, and every dim nook in the lodge. thereupon i would rush into the village road, where the shamefaced greetings of guilty indians recalled another horror.
if i ventured into le grand diable's power a fate worse than la robe noire's awaited me. that there would be a hostile demonstration over the sioux messenger's death i was certain. nothing that i offered could induce any of the indians to act as scouts or to reconnoiter the enemy's encampment. i had, of my own will, chosen to remain, and now i found myself with tied hands, fuming and gnashing against fate, conjuring up all sorts of projects for the rescue of miriam, and[pg 254] butting my head against the impossible at every turn. thus three weary days dragged past.
having reflected on the consequences of their outrage, the mandanes exhibited repentance of a characteristically human form—resentment against the cause of their trouble. unfortunately, i was the cause. from the black looks of the young men i half suspected, if the sioux chief would accept me in lieu of material gifts, i might be presented as a peace-offering. this would certainly not forward my quest, and prudence, or cowardice—two things easily confused when one is in peril—counseled discretion, and discretion seemed to counsel flight.
"discretion! discretion to perdition!" i cried, springing up from a midnight reverie in my hut. every selfish argument for my own safety had passed in review before my mind, and something so akin to judicious caution, which we trappers in plain language called "cowardice," was insidiously assailing my better self, i cast logic's sophistries to the winds, and dared death or torture to drive me from my post. whence comes this sublime, reasonless abandon of imperiled human beings, which casts off fear and caution and prudence and forethought and all that goes to make success in the common walks of life, and at one blind leap mounts the sinai of duty? to me, the impulse upwards is as mysterious as the impulse downwards, and i do not wonder that pagans ascribe one to ormuzd, the other to ahriman. 'tis ours to yield or resist, and i yielded with the[pg 255] vehemence of a passionate nature, vowing in the darkness of the hut—"here, before god, i stay!"
swift came test of my oath. while the words were yet on my lips, stealthy steps suddenly glided round the lodge. a shuffling stopped at the door, while a chilling fear took possession of me lest the mutilated form of my other indian should next be hurled through the window. i had not time to shoot the door-bolt to its catch before a sharp click told of lifted latch. the hinge creaked, and there, distinct in the starlight, that smote through the open, stood little fellow, himself, haggard and almost naked.
"little fellow! good boy!" i shouted, pulling him in. "where did you come from? how did you get away? is it you or your ghost?"
down he squatted with a grunt on one of the robes, answering never a word. the gaunt look of the man declared his needs, so i prepared to feed him back to speech. this task kept me busy till daybreak, for the filling capacity of a famishing indian may not be likened to any other hungry thing on earth without doing the red man grave injustice.
"hoohoo! hoohoo! but i be sick man to-morrow!" and he rubbed himself down with a satisfied air of distension, declining to have his plate reloaded for the tenth time. i noticed the poor wretch's skin was cut to the bone round wrists and ankles. chafed bandage marks encircled the flesh of his neck.[pg 256]
"what did this, little fellow?" and i pointed to the scars.
a grim look of indian gratitude for my interest came into the stolid face.
"bad indians," was the terse response.
"did they torture you?"
he grunted a ferocious negative.
"you got away too quick for them?"
an affirmative grunt.
"le grand diable—did you see him?"
at that name, his white teeth snapped shut, and from the depths of the indian's throat came the vicious snarl of an enraged wolf.
"come," i coaxed, "tell me. how long since you left the sioux?"
"walkee—walkee—walkee—one sleep," and rising, he enacted a hobbling gait across the cabin in unison with the rhythmic utterance of his words.
"walkee—walkee—walkee—one."
"traveled at night!" i interrupted. "two nights! you couldn't do it in two nights!"
"walkee—walkee—walkee—one sleep," he repeated.
"three nights!"
four times he hobbled across the floor, which meant he had come afoot the whole distance, traveling only at night.
sitting down, he began in a low monotone relating how he had returned to la robe noire with the additional ransom demanded by le grand diable. the "pig sioux, more gluttonous than the wolverine, more treacherous than[pg 257] the mountain cat," had come out to receive them with hootings. the plunder was taken, "as a dead enemy is picked by carrion buzzards." he, himself, was dragged from his horse and bound like a slave squaw. la robe noire had been stripped naked, and young men began piercing his chest with lances, shouting, "take that, man who would scalp the iroquois! take that, enemy to the sioux! take that, dog that's friend to the white man!" then had la robe noire, whose hands were bound, sprung upon his torturers and as the trapped badger snaps the hand of the hunter so had he buried his teeth in the face of a boasting sioux.
here, little fellow's teeth clenched shut in savage imitation. then was le grand diable's knife unsheathed. more, my messenger could not see; for a sioux bandaged his eyes. another tied a rope round his neck. thus, like a dead stag, was he pulled over the ground to a wigwam. here he lay for many "sleeps," knowing not when the great sun rose and when he sank. once, the lodges became very still, like many waters, when the wind slumbers and only the little waves lap. then came one with the soft, small fingers of a white woman and gently, scarcely touching him, as the spirits rustle through the forest of a dark night, had these hands cut the rope around his neck, and unbound him. a whisper in the english tongue, "go—run—for your life! hide by day! run at night!"
the skin of the tent wall was lifted by the same[pg 258] hands. he rolled out. he tore the blind from his eyes. it was dark. the spirits had quenched their star torches. no souls of dead warriors danced on the fire plain of the northern sky! the father of winds let loose a blast to drown all sound and help good indian against the pig sioux! he ran like a hare. he leaped like a deer. he came as the arrows from the bow of the great hunter. thus had he escaped from the sioux!
little fellow ceased speaking, wrapped himself in robes and fell asleep.
i could not doubt whose were the liberator's hands, and i marveled that she had not come with him. had she known of our efforts at all? it seemed unlikely. else, with the liberty she had, to come to little fellow, surely she would have tried to escape. on the other hand, her immunity from torture might depend on never attempting to regain freedom.
now i knew what to expect if i were captured by the sioux. yet, given another stormy night, if little fellow and i were near the sioux with fleet horses, could not miriam be rescued in the same way he had escaped? until little fellow had eaten and slept back to his normal condition of courage, it would be useless to propose such a hazardous plan. indeed, i decided to send him to some point on the northern trail, where i could join him and go alone to the sioux camp. this would be better than sitting still to be given as a hostage to the sioux. if the worst happened and i were captured, had i the courage[pg 259] to endure indian tortures? a man endures what he must endure, whether he will, or not; and i certainly had not courage to leave the country without one blow for miriam's freedom.
with these thoughts, i gathered my belongings in preparation for secret departure from the mandanes that night. then i prepared breakfast, saw little fellow lie back in a dead sleep, and strolled out among the lodges.
four days had passed without the coming of the avengers. the villagers were disposed to forget their guilt and treat me less sulkily. as i sauntered towards the north hill, pleasant words greeted me from the lodges.
"be not afraid, my son," exhorted chief black cat. "lend a deaf ear to bad talk! no harm shall befall the white man! be not afraid!"
"afraid!" i flouted back. "who's afraid, black cat? only white-livered cowards fear the sioux! surely no mandane brave fears the sioux—ugh! the cowardly sioux!"
my vaunting pleased the old chief mightily; for the indian is nothing if not a boaster. at once black cat would have broken out in loud tirade on his friendship for me and contempt for the sioux, but i cut him short and moved towards the hill, that overlooked the enemy's territory. a great cloud of dust whirled up from the northern horizon.
"a tornado the next thing!" i exclaimed with disgust. "the fates are against me! a fig for my plans!"[pg 260]
i stooped. with ear to the ground i could hear a rumbling clatter as of a buffalo stampede.
"what is it, my son?" asked the voice of the chief, and i saw that black cat had followed me to the hill.
"are those buffalo, black cat?" and i pointed to the north.
as he peered forward, distinguishing clearly what my civilized eyes could not see, his face darkened.
"the sioux!" he muttered with a black look at me. turning, he would have hurried away without further protests of friendship, but i kept pace with him.
"pooh!" said i, with a lofty contempt, which i was far from feeling. "pooh! black cat! who's afraid of the sioux? let the women run from the sioux!"
he gave me a sidelong glance to penetrate my sincerity and slackened his flight to the proud gait of a fearless indian. all the same, alarm was spread among the lodges, and every woman and child of the mandanes were hidden behind barricaded doors. the men mounted quickly and rode out to gain the vantage ground of the north hill before the enemy's arrival.
another cross current to my purposes! fool that i was, to have dilly-dallied three whole days away like a helpless old squaw wringing her hands, when i should have dared everything and ridden to miriam's rescue! now, if i had been near the sioux encampment, when all the warriors were[pg 261] away, how easily could i have liberated miriam and her child!
always, it is the course we have not followed, which would have led on to the success we have failed to grasp in our chosen path. so we salve wounded mistrust of self and still, in spite of manifest proof to the contrary, retain a magnificent conceit.
i cursed my blunders with a vehemence usually reserved for other men's errors, and at once decided to make the best of the present, letting past and future each take care of itself, a course which will save a man gray hairs over to-morrow and give him a well-provisioned to-day.
arming myself, i resolved to be among the bargain-makers of the mandanes rather than be bargained by the sioux. wakening little fellow, i told him my plan and ordered him to slip away north while the two tribes were parleying and to await me a day's march from the sioux camp. he told me of a wooded valley, where he could rest with his horses concealed, and after seeing him off, i rode straight for the band of assembled mandanes and surprised them beyond all measure by taking a place in the forefront of black cat's special guard. the sioux warriors swept towards us in a tornado. ascending the slope at a gallop, whooping and beating their drums, they charged past us, and down at full speed through the village, displaying a thousand dexterities of horsemanship and prowess to strike[pg 262] terror to the mandanes. then they dashed back and reined up on the hillside beneath our forces. the men were naked to the waist and their faces were blackened. porcupine quills, beavers' claws, hooked bones, and bears' claws stained red hung round their necks in ringlets, or adorned gorgeous belts. feathered crests and broad-shielded mats of willow switches, on the left arm, completed their war dress. the leaders had their buckskin leggings strung from hip to ankle with small bells, and carried firearms, as well as arrows and stone lances; but the majority had only indian weapons. in that respect—though we were not one third their number—we had the advantage. all the mandanes carried firearms; but i do not believe there was enough ammunition to average five rounds a man. luckily, this was unknown to the sioux. i scanned every face. diable was not there.
scarcely were the ranks in position, when both sioux and mandane chiefs rode forward, and there opened such a harangue as i have never heard since, and hope i never may.
"our young man has been killed," lamented the sioux. "he was a good warrior. his friends sorrow. our hearts are no longer glad. till now our hands have been white, and our hearts clean. but the young man has been slain and we are grieved. of the scalps of the enemy, he brought many. we hang our heads. the pipe of peace has not been in our council. the whites are our enemies. now, the young man is dead.[pg 263] tell us if we are to be friends or enemies. we have no fear. we are many and strong. our bows are good. our arrows are pointed with flint and our lances with stone. our shot-pouches are not light. but we love peace. tell us, what doth the mandane offer for the blood of the young man? is it to be peace or war? shall we be friends or enemies? do you raise the tomahawk, or pipe of peace? say, great chief of the mandanes, what is thy answer?"
this and more did the sioux chief vauntingly declaim, brandishing his war club and addressing the four points of the compass, also the sun, as he shouted out his defiance. to which black cat, in louder voice, made reply.
"say, great chief of the sioux, our dead was brought into the camp. the body was yet warm. it was thrown at our feet. never before did it enter the heart of a missouri to seek the blood of a sioux! our messengers went to your camp smoking the sacred calumet of peace. they were sons of the mandanes. they were friends of the white men. the white man is like magic. he comes from afar. he knows much. he has given guns to our warriors. his shot bags are full and his guns many. but his men, ye slew. we are for peace, but if ye are for war, we warn you to leave our camp before the warriors hidden where ye see them not, break forth. we cannot answer for the white man's magic," and i heard my power over darkness and light, life and death, magnified in a way to terrify my own dreams; but black cat[pg 264] cunningly wound up his bold declamation by asking what the sioux chief would have of the white man for the death of the messenger.
a clamor of voices arose from the warriors, each claiming some relationship and attributing extravagant virtues to the dead sioux.
"i am the afflicted father of the youth ye killed," called an old warrior, putting in prior claim for any forthcoming compensation and enhancing its value by adding, "and he had many feathers in his cap."
"he, who was killed, i desired for a nephew," shouted another, "and an ivory wand he carried in his hand."
"he who was killed was my brother," cried a third, "and he had a new gun and much powder."
"he was braver than the buffalo," declared another.
"he had three wounds!" "he had scars!" "he wore many scalps!" came the voices of others.
"many bells and beads were on his leggings!"
"he had garnished moccasins!"
"he slew a bear with his own hands!"
"his knife had a handle of ivory!"
"his arrows had barbs of beavers' claws!"
if the noisy claimants kept on, they would presently make the dead man a god. i begged black cat to cut the parley short and demand exactly what gift would compensate the sioux for the loss of so great a warrior. after another half-hour's jangling, in which i took an animated part, beating down their exorbitant request for[pg 265] two hundred guns with beads and bells enough to outfit the whole sioux tribe, we came to terms. indeed, the grasping rascals well-nigh cleared out all that was left of my trading stock; but when i saw they had no intention of fighting, i held back at the last and demanded the surrender of le grand diable, miriam and the child in compensation for la robe noire.
then, they swore by everything, from the sun and the moon to the cow in the meadow, that they were not responsible for the doings of le grand diable, who was an iroquois. moreover, they vowed he had hurriedly taken his departure for the north four days before, carrying with him the sioux wife, the strange woman and the white child. as i had no object in arousing their resentment, i heard their words without voicing my own suspicions and giving over the booty, whiffed pipes with them. but i had no intention of being tricked by the rascally sioux, and while they and the mandanes celebrated the peace treaty, i saddled my horse and spurred off for their encampment, glad to see the last of a region where i had suffered much and gained nothing.
