CHAPTER X. OLD ABE ON A CRUISE.
After a very brief debate, the Crow chiefs decided to give up the attack on the wagon-train and return to their homes, being fully satisfied there was but little chance of success in continuing the fight with the pale-faces.
Not a single word was said respecting the fate of the “Black Dog”; all accepted the story of the “White Vulture” that the Dog chief had fallen into the swift waters; and though of course the braves were too sensible not to know that the “White Vulture” must have had some agency in the matter, yet the explanation was reasonable and probably would satisfy the friends and relatives of the dead brave at home.
The council broke up, and braves were dispatched to call in the warriors to prepare for the march. Hardly had they departed when two mounted Indians, bearing the body of the young brave slain on his post in the little glade by the “Crow-Killer,” dashed into the camp.
The warriors crowded around and examined the body with wonder. That a foe should dare to slay one of their pickets, and accomplish it, too, without exciting the slightest alarm, was a puzzle to them.
The old chief, the “Thunder-Cloud,” carefully examined the body; he could see no other wound save the single knife-thrust through the heart—a blow evidently driven home by a powerful and practiced arm.
There was silence in the throng.
“The ‘Crow-Killer’!” said the old chief. He had often seen the deadly effects of the old Indian-fighter’s arm, and rightly guessed who had slain the young brave.
Within half an hour, the “Crow-Killer,” from his hiding-place, had the satisfaction of seeing the red braves gather in their warriors, mount their horses and depart, taking a course that led to the west; but no sign did he see of Leona. Yet it was evident from the words of the chiefs, that she was a prisoner in their hands.
“I’m sart’in that she’s in their hands,” he reflected, as the last of the red chiefs disappeared from the little glade and was hid from his eyes by the thicket which cut off his view of the distant prairie to the west. “Now, the best thing I can do is to get back to the wagons as soon as possible. I’ll send Dave on with the train to Montana, and then I’ll trail the red devils an’ try an’ sneak the little gal out of their clutches. That will be no easy matter, I’m afeard; but, thar’s nothin’ like tryin’. I’ve been wanting to go to the Crow nation for a long time; now hyar’s a chance. First, to rescue the little gal; second, to find out ’bout my Injun wife. The sooner I’m off for camp the better.”
Carefully through the timber the guide retraced his steps.
When the “Crow-Killer” reached the glade where he had slain the Crow warrior, he halted for a moment in the timber at its edge.
“’Pears to me,” he said, talking low to himself, as usual, “that the other side of this leetle opening in the timber would be just the place for Dave to ambush himself. I’m downright sorry that I hain’t had a chance to lead a dozen or so of the red devils into his fire, but, what can’t be cured must be endured, as I’ve hearn say. Guess I’ll find out whether Dave’s thar or not.”
Putting his hands to his mouth, Abe gave a short quick bark like a coyote.
In a second the bark was repeated on the other side of the glade from the thicket.
Fearlessly the “Crow-Killer” stepped from the timber into the open space, and as he did so, Dave, rifle in hand, stepped from among the bushes on the opposite side of the glade while behind him appeared some four of the emigrants.
“Are the Indians near?” questioned Dave, as he met the “Crow-Killer” in the center of the little opening and wrung him warmly by the hand.
“Nary Injun,” responded the old hunter. “They’ve taken the back track an’ gone off, bag an’ baggage, for the mountains.”
“And Leona?” anxiously questioned the young guide.
“I hain’t seen her,” said Abe.
The expression of disappointment upon the manly features of Dave was painful to behold. The old guide hastened to relieve his mind.
“Don’t look or feel downhearted, man. Though I hain’t seen her, yet I’ve hearn of her.”
“You have?” cried Dave, eagerly.
“You bet! But ’tain’t much consolation for you. She’s in the hands of the Crows, an’ they’re carrying her off for the mountains.”
Then the “Crow-Killer” told Dave all that he had witnessed from his hiding-place. When he had finished his story, Dave for a few minutes was silent, apparently in deep thought.
“Abe, what shall I do?” he asked, at length.
“I s’pose you want my honest advice,” said the “Crow-Killer.”
“Yes,” responded the young guide.
“Wal, the case is jist hyar; the Crows are carrying the gal off to their lodges in the mountains, in the Crow nation, probably to the village of the ‘Thunder-Cloud.’ When they get thar, of course they’ll celebrate their capture of the fur-wagons; then they’ll probably marry the little gal to the ‘White Vulture’; that’s the programme, I think.”
“But, if we with a small party follow them instantly, we might be able to rescue Leona from their hands,” said Dave, eagerly.
“Small chance of that, Dave,” replied the “Crow-Killer,” shaking his head gravely. “The Injuns are sixty or seventy strong, an’ they won’t let the grass grow under their feet now, till they reach home. If we follered an’ come up with ’em, the chances are, ten to one, that we’d all be wiped out. Besides, Dave,” and the “Crow-Killer” laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder, “you forget the wagon-train. We’ve pledged our word to take the train safe to Montana, to guide it an’ fight for it, an’ you know, Dave, a man ain’t got much left in this world arter he loses his word. It’s a hard thing, I know. You love the little gal, an’ it’s a hard thing to go on an’ leave her helpless, as it ’pears, in the hands of these red devils; but, thar’s women and children in that ’are train, an’ our word is pledged to put ’em through to Montana.”
“I know it! I know it!” cried the young man, wrestling with the agony of pain that thrilled through his heart, as he thought of the peril of his Leona, the only woman in the world that he had ever loved. “I know our word is pledged, but, to think of Leona being borne away helpless in the hands of these red demons! Oh, Abe! show me some way that I can at least risk my life in an attempt to save her.”
“Don’t take it so hard, Davy, lad,” said the “Crow-Killer,” in a voice that showed his deep feeling for the young hunter. “I’ve got a plan in my head that I think will help us a little. Two days’ travel due north will bring the train to Fort Benton. At Fort Benton you can get guides to take our places. Now, this is the way we’ll fix it. I’ll speak to the emigrants, explain how the matter stands, an’ ask ’em to let me off now. I don’t think they’ll hesitate for a minute to do it; then I’ll foller the Crows. I know the country as well as I do my own hand; I’ve been in the village of the ‘Thunder-Cloud’ before, though it were years ago. You carry the train on to Fort Benton, get the guides thar for ’em, then strike down the Missouri. The Injun village is ’bout a hundred miles, as the crow flies, from the fort; it lies in a leetle plain, between the Missouri and the mountains. The country is all timbered and fine for scouting. It will take you two days to reach Fort Benton, an’ then two days more to get to the Injun village. When you get near the village, you foller the river all the time. Jist hide your horse in the timber an’ scout in on foot. I’ll keep a look-out for you. Now, what do you think of the plan? My idea for you to go on with the train an’ let me foller the Crows is ’cos I know the country out thar so much better than you do, an’ I can see exactly how things air, afore you come.”
“I agree with you!” cried Dave, shaking the old hunter’s hand warmly. “I will go on with the train, and then will join you on the Missouri. I feel sure we shall save her from the hands of these red devils.”
“Yes, an’ cunning alone can do it, for in that country of theirs, the Crows can whip ten times their number easy; but if we use our heads I think we can flax ’em.”
To the men of the train, Abe briefly explained his plan to rescue Leona from the hands of the Crows. The emigrants willingly gave their consent to his departure, for not a man was there—Dick Hickman alone excepted—but would have risked their lives for the captive girl. So the wagon-train again proceeded on its march for golden Montana.
With a hearty shake of the hand, Abe and Dave parted—Dave riding on with the train, and Abe, mounted on the trusty roan mare, heading westward on the trail of the Crows.
“Guess I needn’t to hurry myself much,” said the “Crow-Killer,” as, holding his steed by the spot where the Indians had been camped, he watched the white-topped wagons as they disappeared in the distance over the rolling prairie.
Finally the last one was lost to sight, and he remained alone upon the prairie.
“I reckon I shan’t bother myself much to foller their trail,” soliloquized the old guide. “The Injuns, of course, are going to the village of the ‘Thunder-Cloud,’ an’ I think I could find that in the darkest night I ever did see. So I’ll ride on slowly an’ not worry myself. It’s ’bout two days’ journey, if the Crows travel fast, an’ I kinder think they will. So, old hoss, you an’ I will take it easy.”
And so the hunter journeyed on leisurely. For the first five miles the trail led by the bank of the Yellowstone; then the river turned abruptly to the south, and the trail, parting from it, led across the prairie, westward.
At sundown the hunter selected a convenient clump of timber, let his horse feed on the fresh young prairie-grass, made a scanty meal from a store of sun-dried beef and some hard crackers that he carried, soldier-fashion, in his saddle-bags; then, after a careful survey of the country around, went to sleep.
Early at sunrise on the following morning the “Crow-Killer” awoke, made another scanty meal, mounted his horse and again rode on the trail.
The savages had not even taken the trouble to conceal their tracks, confident, doubtless, in the number of their band and the improbability of any one following in pursuit. So the old hunter had but little trouble in following the plainly-defined trail.
On the evening of the second day, thinking that he was within ten miles of the Indian camp, the old guide dismounted and halted for the night.
The third morning’s light found him again in the saddle.
The surface of the country had greatly changed, and showed that he was at the base of the Rocky Mountains; though on the east bank of the river, beyond the timber that fringed the stream, commenced the vast prairie that extended eastward to the junction of the Yellowstone and the Missouri rivers, and which is commonly called the valley of the Yellowstone, as fertile a spot of land as the sun ever shone upon.
The “Crow-Killer” recrossed the river, made a circuit around the Indian village so as to approach it from the north, as Dave would come up the bank of the river from the north and it would clearly be an impossibility for the guide to meet him if he remained south of the Indian village.
The “Crow-Killer” accomplished his purpose; he could easily tell the position of the village, by the smoke arising from it and floating on the clear mountain air.
The guide carefully hid his horse in a thicket on the river’s bank, some three miles from the Indian settlement, and then carefully approached it on foot.
The country was rough and uneven, and, as the “Crow-Killer” had said, excellent for scouting. The village lay in a little hollow, near the Missouri, surrounded on all sides, except the one washed by the river, by hills heavily timbered.
The scout had got within a mile or so of the village—he could tell its position by the smoke—and was proceeding cautiously along through a little glade between two rocky hills, when he was suddenly startled by a noise in the shrubbery right before him. Hardly had he stopped, and before he could turn to retreat, forth from the thicket came a huge grizzly bear, who made directly for the hunter. Abe did not dare to use his rifle, for the report would bring the Indians upon him—flight was his only hope, for a man stands but little chance for his life in a close encounter with the brown monarch of the Rocky Mountains.
Luckily a tree was near at hand, a good-sized oak. Dropping his rifle, the “Crow-Killer” sprung for the tree, and soon ensconced himself in its lower branches.
The grizzly came to the foot of the tree and looked upward; then, to Abe’s dismay, forth from the thicket marched dismay, forth from the thicket marched another grizzly, if any thing larger than the first.
“Wal, I’m in for it!” thought Abe. “I’d rather fight the Injuns than these durned brutes. If I ain’t in a pesky difficulty then my name’s not Abe.”
The second grizzly joined the first at the bottom of the tree, and then both beasts looked up at the hunter and licked their jaws as if they expected he would soon fall into them.
Luckily for the man, as it proved, the oak was a small tree, and but one of the bears could ascend it at a time, for the grizzly is a tree-climber as well as his brother, the black bear.
Abe watched the grizzlys closely; he knew their habits well; these were evidently hungry, and would soon ascend the tree for their prey.
How repulse the attack of the brutes? All of the bear kind have very tender noses; the grizzly ascending the tree could not very well begin an attack until he reached the limbs. So the hunter drew his sharp knife, cut a heavy club from a convenient branch, and trimming it of its limbs, awaited the bear’s approach.
Bruin stood upon his hind legs a moment, and then, hugging the tree-trunk in his strong paws, began his slow ascent.
As the ugly creature came within reach, Abe dealt it a terrific blow with the club on the tender snout, that brought a howl of agony from the mountain king and drove him back. Again he came on; again the strong arm of the “Crow-Killer” brought the heavy club down upon his nose; this time a shower of blows followed the first, and the bear, howling with agony, relinquished the assault and descended hastily to the ground, where he rolled around and rubbed his nose with his great paws, evidently in extreme pain.
The hunter chuckled with delight.
Then the second bear, not understanding the cause of his companion’s defeat, ascended the tree; the same reception that the first bear met with was accorded to the second, and he, too, speedily retreated from the shower of blows rained down upon his tender snout.
The two bears held a sort of a consultation at the foot of the tree, rubbing their noses in a comical way, and evidently greatly astonished at their defeat, and then, as if fully satisfied, they trotted off to the thicket from which they came, and left the “Crow-Killer” master of the field.
The guide had great difficulty to refrain from saluting the departing brutes with a yell of triumph, but the near neighborhood of the Indians checked him.
After being fully satisfied that the grizzlys really had retired, Abe descended from his perch, picked up his rifle, and again resumed his advance toward the Crow village.