CHAPTER XIV
THE PLIGHT OF THE OGALALAS
TWO anxious days and two terrible nights had passed since High Eagle had crawled successfully through the Pawnee lines. During that time the great host of Pawnee fighting men had made many desperate attempts to enter the Ogalala village. In each attack, however, they had been compelled to recoil before the heroic defense of the Sioux. At the dawn of the third day, therefore, the camp was still in possession of its gallant defenders.
In spite of their apparent success, however, the Ogalalas were in a desperate plight. Many of the warriors had been killed, and many more had been wounded. Thus the Sioux force, which was outnumbered four to one at the beginning of hostilities, had been still further weakened, and most of the boys and all the old men had been called upon to take part in the fight. The food supply was exhausted, and they had already killed several ponies for meat. Fortunately the pool which supplied the water was located close to the edge of the village, and as yet the Pawnees had been unable to gain possession of it.
"My people, over there you see the first light of a new day," Wolf Robe told the Ogalalas as the dawn crept slowly above the rim of the plain. "Two suns have passed since the Wolf People came here to fight us. Well, we are still alive. The Pawnees have made many boasts, but we have laughed at them. Our women and children are safe in the lodges. We have killed many of our enemies. Pretty soon our brothers, the Minneconjoux, will come here. Yes, I am listening for the noise of their ponies. White Otter will lead them to this place. Then you will see how the Pawnees can run. My brothers, we have made a great fight. But I must tell you that it is not over. No, the Wolf People will keep trying to get into the village. Perhaps another sun will pass before the great chief, Curly Horse, and his warriors come here. Yes, perhaps two suns will pass. Well, we will keep off our enemies. They are many more than we are, but that is nothing to a Dacotah. We have plenty of ponies. We can give meat to our people. We have water. The Pawnees cannot get that. Yes, we will keep up the fight until our people come. You have heard the words of Wolf Robe."
"Ogalalas, you have listened to a great war chief," cried Yellow Horse, the medicine-man. "Wolf Robe has led us in many battles. We will keep his words in our hearts. Yes, we will show the boastful Pawnees that it takes many wolves to kill the bear in his den. We are Dacotahs! It is enough. Now it is getting light. We must watch."
As the narrow streak of light gradually broadened and reached across the sky, the Sioux listened expectantly for the first warning yell from their foes. They felt sure that they would make another attack before sunrise, and each moment's delay increased the suspense. However, when darkness finally merged into twilight, a long, quavering cry rose in the south. Then the Ogalalas knew that the expected assault was at hand. An ominous silence followed the signal. The Sioux looked anxiously for their foes. Their efforts were fruitless, however, for the light was still too weak to disclose objects beyond bow-shot, and it was evident that the cautious Pawnees were safely beyond that distance. The stillness was baffling. The Ogalalas were perplexed. They wondered why the Pawnees were delaying their attack. The maneuver made them suspicious.
"My brothers, we must keep watching," cried Wolf Robe. "The Wolf People are very sly. Perhaps they are moving forward like the fox. Then they will rush ahead. If we are not ready, then——"
At that instant he was interrupted by a wild outburst of piercing whoops, and a multitude of yelling horsemen emerged from the shadows and swept toward the camp. Having entirely surrounded the village, they charged with a reckless fury that might have temporarily demoralized the bravest foes. However, the Sioux faced them with the same calm determination that had made their resistance so effective in the previous attacks. Reserving their arrows until the Pawnees were close upon them, their deadly volleys took costly toll of ponies and riders. Although they exposed themselves with great bravery, the invaders were again prevented from reaching the village. Realizing, at length, that they were sacrificing themselves in vain, the Pawnees wheeled and raced from danger. Once beyond bow-shot, they rode furiously around the camp, shaking their weapons and shouting idle threats at the jeering Sioux.
The Ogalalas had repulsed this last attack without losing a man, although a number of warriors had been more or less severely wounded. They knew that they had inflicted heavy punishment upon the Pawnees, and they believed that the latter would be slow to renew the fight. The thought gave them considerable relief. They hoped that a strong force of tribesmen were racing to their aid, and they realized that if they could hold out another day they might be saved.
The Pawnees soon tired of riding around the village, and finally withdrew far out on the plain. Then, leaving a sufficient number of sentinels on each side of the camp, the several war parties united and rode from sight over a distant ridge. The Sioux knew at once that they had gone to hold a council of war, and they hoped that they might decide to abandon the siege.
"No, I do not believe that they will go away," said Wolf Robe. "They have come here to do a great thing. We have killed many of their people. Their hearts are very black against us. We must watch them. Perhaps they will wait until it is dark. But I must tell you that I believe they will make another great fight. Perhaps our brothers, the Minneconjoux, will come before that time. If they do not come here, then I do not know what will happen. I have spoken."
Soon after sunrise the Pawnees reappeared. Once more they separated into four companies. The suspicious Sioux watched them with much anxiety. However, it was soon evident that for the moment, at least, they had no intention of attacking the camp. They sat quietly on the ponies, watching the village like a pack of hungry wolves around a herd of buffaloes.
"Those people are thinking about something," said Yellow Horse. "We must be very cautious."
"Yes, I believe they will try to fool us," declared old Crying Wolf, a warrior who had seen more than ninety winters.
However, as the day wore on, and the Pawnees made no further attempts against the village, the Sioux began to take heart. They believed that their determined foes were waiting to make one supreme effort under cover of the night, and they comforted themselves with the thought that their tribesmen would come to their assistance in the meantime. They felt sure that High Eagle had reached the Minneconjoux and delivered his appeal for aid. They peered anxiously toward the west, therefore, hoping each moment to see the dust signal that would tell them that help was at hand.
Then, when the long day finally passed, and the sun disappeared below the plain, their hopes began to dwindle. The thought of night filled them with dread. They had a gloomy premonition that unless the Minneconjoux arrived before dark, their own efforts would at last prove ineffectual. They believed that the vastly superior strength of their foes would eventually give them the victory. As yet the Pawnees had withdrawn before the deadly volleys that met them at the edge of the camp, but the Sioux feared that in the final attempt they might make one supreme sacrifice to achieve their object. In that event the Ogalalas realized that it would be impossible to keep them from the village. Once they had gained a foothold, their superiority in numbers would soon give them the victory. The bravest Sioux heart faltered at the possibility. They knew that it would mean torture and death for themselves, and captivity and slavish drudgery for their women and children. The peril appalled them. They turned their anxious faces to the sky and asked the Great Mystery to help them. Then they waited calmly for the falling of darkness, determined to meet whatever fate awaited them with the undying courage of their race.
"My people, I must tell you that my heart is heavy," said Wolf Robe, as the light slowly faded from the plain. "I have looked for something, but it has not come. I have listened for something, but I have not heard it. Curly Horse and his warriors are not here. Pretty soon it will be dark. I feel bad about it. Some of our bravest men are dead. Some are hurt and cannot fight. We have used many arrows. The Pawnees are very strong. They are like mad wolves. Their medicine-men will talk to them. They will tell them to do great things. When it is dark I believe they will rush ahead to fight us. Perhaps they will leave their ponies and crawl close to the lodges. We must watch with the eyes of the great war bird, and listen with the ears of the deer. But if they get into the camp, then we must fight until we die. Our women and children are in those lodges. I will ask you to keep thinking about it. Perhaps something has happened to High Eagle. The Minneconjoux have not come. I do not know about that. I have finished."
When Wolf Robe had ceased speaking, several famous warriors ran to the center of the camp and called out in a loud tone so that all might hear. They urged their comrades to be brave, and declared that the odds against them were not sufficient to cause defeat. They reminded their listeners that having successfully repulsed every attack of their foes, there was no reason to believe that they would not be equally successful in the final assault. They declared that they had no doubt that a great Minneconjoux war party was racing to their aid. They recalled many desperate battles with these same hated foes in which they had turned apparent defeat into victory. In this way these stout-hearted men infused their own heroic confidence into the hearts of their tribesmen, and roused them from the depths of gloom to the highest pitch of enthusiasm.
"My brothers, I have listened to the words of those brave men," cried old Crying Wolf. "I am a very old man. My arms are weak. My eyes do not travel far. I am like a crooked stick. But those great words have made me strong. Yes, I am anxious to fight the Pawnees. I cannot send my arrows far, but if any of those people rush into the village I will count another coup before I die. My people, listen to the words of a very old man. Well, I must tell you what is in my heart. I believe that White Otter will do another great thing. Yes, I believe he will bring the great chief, Curly Horse, and his people to help us. I do not believe I will come out of this battle. But I will tell you that I am not afraid. No, I have been in many fights. I have killed many enemies. I have lived a long time. It is enough. Now I will do the best I can. I have finished."
The simple heroism of this famous old warrior found a ready sympathy in the hearts of his people. As he tottered toward the edge of the camp to take his place in the fighting line, his loyal self-sacrifice fired the resolution of the warriors and filled them with a determination to uphold the splendid traditions for which this aged veteran was willing to die.
As the evening shadows gradually closed in about the camp the Pawnees showed sudden signs of renewed activity. They approached nearer to the village, as if they feared that the Sioux might attempt to send away scouts under cover of the dusk. Then riders began to race about the plain, apparently carrying instructions to the various war companies. This maneuver made the Ogalalas believe that their foes had become impatient, and intended to attack them without further delay.
"Those riders are telling the war leaders the words of the great war chief," said Wolf Robe. "Pretty soon they will rush ahead to fight us. Curly Horse and his people are not here. We must make this great fight alone."
A few moments afterward the Pawnees faded from sight in the gathering gloom, and the Sioux increased their vigilance. The thought of what might happen before the dawn of another day filled them with many disturbing misgivings. Still they knew that it would be fatal to give way to those dismal premonitions. Therefore, they fought down their doubts and fortified themselves with the determination to administer a final, crushing defeat to their foes.
During the day Wolf Robe had ordered the women to collect the supply of fire-wood and distribute it in a number of piles along the edge of the camp. Now, as darkness closed down, he appointed a lad, with a buffalo horn containing tinder and several glowing embers, to stand beside each pile of fuel. In the event of the Pawnees dismounting and attempting to steal into the camp under cover of the night, the crafty Ogalala chief planned to ignite his beacons and flood the village and the surrounding plain with light.
Wolf Robe's precaution was a timely one, for the wily Pawnees did exactly what he feared they might attempt. Dismounting some distance from the village, they left their ponies under a strong guard and advanced noiselessly on foot. They were within bow-shot of the camp before the Sioux discovered them. Then, as they heard the alarm, they rushed forward, yelling at the top of their voices to confuse their enemies.
However, the Sioux had already called to the boys with the embers, and before the Pawnees actually reached the edge of the village the dry fuel was blazing fiercely, and the camp was flooded with light. The unexpected illumination completely surprised the invaders, and for a moment they hesitated in bewilderment. The Sioux took advantage of the opportunity, and delivered a furious volley of arrows at short range. Attacked at the very moment when they were attempting to rally from their sudden surprise, the Pawnees fell back in dismay. Then, as the arrows of the Sioux continued to thin their ranks, they recovered from their bewilderment and rushed recklessly to the border of the camp. A desperate struggle immediately followed, as the opposing forces met in a deadly hand-to-hand encounter. Warrior grappled with warrior, and the fight became a series of personal combats. The Sioux were greatly handicapped by the odds against them, but the terrorized cries of the women and children in the lodges gave them courage, and they fought with a strength and courage that astounded their foes. The old men and the boys fought as heroically as the warriors. For a time their gallant efforts seemed of little avail, for the Pawnees were determined to enter the village. In spite of their superior numbers, however, they were unable to fight their way between the valiant Ogalalas. The latter were resolved to die rather than yield a foot of ground, and their indomitable courage made them invincible. At last their heroic struggle was crowned with success, for the Pawnees began to give way. Fearing a trap, Wolf Robe called out and warned his people against leaving the camp to follow them. There was one, however, for whom the caution had no meaning. It was old Crying Wolf. He seemed to have suddenly gone mad from excitement. Whooping shrilly, the aged warrior left the village and hobbled boldly after the retreating Pawnees. As several Ogalalas rushed to his rescue he fell, a bow-shot from the camp, with a Pawnee arrow through his heart.
When their foes had retreated into the night, the Sioux took account of their loss. They found that the encounter had cost them dear, for many prominent warriors had sacrificed themselves to keep the Pawnees from the village. The death of old Crying Wolf filled them with gloom, and they recalled his ominous prophecy on the eve of the battle.
"He was a great man," said Wolf Robe, who had survived the encounter unharmed. "Crying Wolf did many things for his people. But he was very old. He died like a warrior. I believe it is the thing he wanted to do. Now he has gone on the Long Trail. Well, we will talk about him a long time."
However, the Ogalalas found little time to either eulogize the dead or attend the wounded, for it was not long before the night again rang with excited whoops. It was evident that the Pawnees intended to make another attempt to enter the camp. The Sioux threw fresh fuel on the fires, and watched anxiously for their foes to appear within the great circle of light that surrounded the village. The yells were quickly followed by the thunder of hoofs, and the Ogalalas realized that the Pawnees were again relying on their ponies to force their way into the village.
This time the fighting was even fiercer than in the preceding attacks. The reckless bravery of the invaders soon made it evident that they were staking everything on one great final assault. The thought nerved the Sioux to fight as they had never fought before. In spite of their heroism, however, some of the Pawnees found a weak spot in the line of defense, and gained a foothold in the village. Before they could reach the ponies, or the lodges which sheltered the women and children, Wolf Robe led a picked company of warriors to attack them. They fought with a wild fury that finally forced the invaders from the camp. In the desperate encounter, however, Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse were separated from their companions, and surrounded by their foes. The Pawnees instantly recognized these two famous warriors, and, instead of killing them, they made them prisoners, and carried them away before the Ogalalas knew what had happened.
A few moments later word of the capture was carried through the entire force of Pawnees. They immediately abandoned the attack on the camp, and raced away, yelling in triumph. The unexpected maneuver caused wild rejoicing among the Ogalalas, who were still ignorant of the desperate plight of their unfortunate tribesmen.
The Pawnees had already ridden beyond hearing when the first inquiry for Wolf Robe was made. Then, as they were searching for him among the warriors at the edge of the camp, they suddenly missed Yellow Horse. When they failed to find them, the Ogalalas were thrown into a frenzy of despair. At first they believed that both these great men had been killed, but when they did not find them among those who had fallen in the fight, the truth suddenly flashed into their minds.
"Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse have been carried away by the Pawnees!"
When the terrible announcement rang through the camp, the Ogalalas were stunned into silence. It was the crowning shock of the great disaster which had befallen them, and they were unable to rally from the blow. They realized the hopelessness of attempting an immediate rescue, and they feared that to delay would mean certain death to their famous tribesmen. While the principal men of the tribe were gathered in gloomy council, attempting to determine the wisest plan of action, they were roused by a joyous shout from the warriors along the west side of the camp.
"We have heard the bark of the little gray fox!" they cried, excitedly. "Yes, our people are coming. Listen, someone is leading ponies to the camp."
"We must be cautious; perhaps they are Pawnees," warned Spotted Dog, a famous war leader, who had assumed command.
"Well, pretty soon they will come into the light. Then we will see who they are," declared the impatient watchers.
