CHAPTER XVI
A BAFFLING TRAIL
WHITE OTTER felt certain that the Pawnees had been warned of the approaching Sioux war party, and he believed that they would ride furiously to reach their own territory before the Dacotahs overtook them. He realized, therefore, that it would be foolhardy to attempt to come up with them before they arrived at their permanent camp. However, the thought of what might happen to Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse in the meantime filled him with despair. He knew only too well the intense hatred that the Sioux and the Pawnees held for each other, and he feared that the latter might take sudden vengeance upon their helpless captives. His one hope was that the war chiefs would insist that the prisoners be spared until they reached the camp, so that the entire Pawnee nation might participate in their punishment and death. Still, he realized that even if his unfortunate tribesmen reached the Pawnee village in safety his chances for saving them were slight indeed. He feared that the Pawnees would waste little time in putting them to death, and he knew that unless he arrived at the hostile camp soon after his foes he might be too late.
"We must keep near the Wolf People," he told Little Raven. "If they take those two brave warriors to the camp, perhaps they will kill them before we come to that place. Well, we must be near enough to do something."
"You are the leader," replied Little Raven, "I will listen to your words."
At daylight they searched the plain for signs of the Pawnees. When they failed to discover them, they separated and reconnoitered in different directions. It was not long until White Otter found the fresh tracks of the Pawnee ponies. He immediately called Little Raven, and they hurried away on the trail.
"Perhaps some scouts are watching," suggested White Otter. "We must look sharp."
"Yes, we will keep watching ahead," replied Little Raven.
The day was more than half gone before they saw anything to awaken their suspicions. Then they suddenly discovered that the trail divided into three distinct branches. The main trail continued toward the south, another trail turned abruptly toward the west, and a third trail swerved toward the east. White Otter regarded them in dismay. He instantly recognized the unexpected maneuver as a wily bit of stratagem to confuse the Sioux war party. It was evident that the crafty Pawnees feared pursuit, and hoped in this manner to throw their enemies from their trail. However, it was also possible that they hoped to induce the Sioux force to separate into smaller companies to follow them. Then they might suddenly unite, and attack one of the weakened commands. But whatever was the reason for the ruse, it completely bewildered the anxious young Ogalala.
"This thing fills my heart with clouds," he told Little Raven. "I do not know about it. The Wolf People have fooled us. It is bad. I do not know what to do."
Little Raven remained silent. He realized that in such a predicament he must submit to the greater experience of White Otter. The loyal Minneconjoux had implicit confidence in the ability of his friend. He believed that the sharp-witted Ogalala would eventually think of a way to overcome the difficulty. Many moments passed while they sat quietly on their ponies, gazing gloomily at the confusing trails. Then White Otter determined on a plan of action.
"There is only one thing to do," he said. "We must find out if these trails go far. You must go one way and I will go another way. Perhaps we will come together. But if these trails do not turn before the sun goes away, then we will come back here and talk about it. Perhaps the Pawnees are watching to see someone do this thing. I will tell you to be very cautious."
"I will use my eyes," Little Raven promised.
A moment later they separated. White Otter followed the trail toward the west, and Little Raven turned toward the east. They rode until sunset, and then, as the tracks showed no signs of turning to join the original trail toward the south, the discouraged young scouts returned to the place where they had parted. It was dark when they finally met.
"My brother, I must tell you something bad," White Otter said, disconsolately. "That trail does not turn around. There is only one thing to do. I must follow it."
"White Otter, I must tell you that I saw the same thing," replied Little Raven. "I went a long way but those tracks went straight ahead. When the sun went away I thought about your words. Then I turned around and came here. Now you must tell me how to do this thing."
For some moments White Otter remained silent. It was evident that the baffling maneuver of his foes had greatly upset him. He knew that it meant a delay, and he realized that each lost moment weakened his chance of saving the Ogalala prisoners. Still, he knew that it would be fatal to give way to his fears.
"Yes, I will tell you how to do this thing," he assured Little Raven. "We must wait here until it is light. Then we will go different ways. We will follow those trails and find out where they go. If they come back to this straight trail, then we will leave three stones in three tracks. That will tell us that we are both on that trail. If I find those stones, I will keep going until I come up with you. If you find those stones, then you must keep going until you find me. I have finished."
"My brother, I have listened to your words—now I know what to do," said Little Raven. "But I must tell you that I am heavy in my heart. Perhaps we will not see each other again. Perhaps the Pawnees will kill us. Well, I will not think about it."
"You are a warrior," White Otter reminded him. "A warrior wipes those things from his heart."
Fearing that Pawnee scouts might follow the trail back under cover of the night, to learn if they were followed, the wily young Sioux made a long detour and camped farther to the west. They muzzled and picketed the ponies, and took turns watching until the faint gray streak in the east finally ended their suspense.
"Now we must go away," White Otter said soberly. "Little Raven, you are my brother. You are very brave. You are going to do a hard thing. Perhaps you will be killed. I will take your hand."
"White Otter, you have called me your brother—it is true," replied Little Raven. "Yes, we are going away from each other. Perhaps we will never meet again. Well, I will do the best I can. Now I will take your hand."
They stood a moment, silently clasping hands. Then they mounted their ponies and rode away. The eastern sky was tinged with gray, but the plain was still dark. They rode rapidly toward the place where each had abandoned his search the day before.
Darkness had already given way to daylight when White Otter reached the grassy swale where he had ended his reconnoissance the previous day. He immediately set out on the trail, riding slowly, and keeping a sharp watch for Pawnee scouts. There was constant peril of running into an ambush, and, wherever the plain offered suitable concealment for his foes, he made a wide detour, and kept safely out of arrow-range. As the trail continued directly toward the west, he feared that this company of Pawnees were actually from another village. The possibility caused him much concern. He realized that once the main force of his foes divided into different bands, it might be necessary to visit each camp before he could locate his tribesmen. In that event he felt certain that his efforts would be useless, as he had little doubt that Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse would have already met their fate before he could even find them. Therefore, the anxious lad rode along with a heavy heart, and a mind filled with all sorts of disquieting misgivings.
The day was far advanced when he finally learned that his long detour had been in vain. The trail suddenly ended in an intricate maze of tracks, which scattered in all directions. As White Otter realized how easily he had fallen into the wily trap that had been set for him, a great rage entered his heart, and his eyes flashed threateningly. He knew at once that the Pawnees had simply separated temporarily to delay their pursuers. Having lured them a day's journey from the real trail, they had scattered and gone to join the main command. White Otter saw it all plainly enough now, but he feared that the trick had already achieved its purpose. He believed that the delay would prove fatal to Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse.
For a moment the discouraged Ogalala lost heart. It seemed mere folly to continue in the face of the unexpected difficulties that beset him. Still, he banished all idea of turning back. He had given his word to his grandmother, and even if he could not save Wolf Robe, he was determined to rush into the Pawnee village and avenge him. The frantic appeals of old Singing Wind rang in his ears, and the memory of her grief restored his confidence. He told himself that he might still save the Ogalala war chief. The possibility drove him to action. Wheeling his pony, he raced madly toward the east.
White Otter knew that there were two things to do. The first was to return to the main trail of the Pawnees and leave a sign to warn the Sioux war party from repeating his blunder. The second was to find Little Raven. He felt sure that the false trail which the Minneconjoux had followed would either end in a hopeless tangle of tracks, or eventually return to the original trail. Therefore, he hoped to find Little Raven somewhere along the route taken by the main company of Pawnees.
It was almost dark when White Otter again returned to the place where the false trails began. His heart burned with anger as he realized the time he had lost, each precious moment a link in the chain that was dragging Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse to their doom. Still, he hoped that in spite of the delay he might yet arrive at the Pawnee village in time to aid his tribesmen. It was barely possible that the Pawnees might spare the captives for several days, and White Otter strengthened his confidence with the thought.
Aware that there was not an instant to lose, he proceeded to leave a warning for the war party. Riding to a little patch of willows, he selected a long, slender branch, and peeled the bark from one end. Then he stuck it in one of the hoof-prints, with the peeled end pointing in the direction of the Pawnee village. Next, he placed a barrier of small stones across each of the false trails. Then he mounted his pony and galloped along the original trail.
When night finally closed down, White Otter dismounted to follow the tracks of the Pawnee ponies. He moved slowly forward, listening and watching for some evidence of Little Raven. As time passed and he failed to find him he began to worry. He wondered whether the fearless lad had fallen into the hands of the Wolf People. He tried to reassure himself with the possibility that the trail toward the east had actually continued to another camp.
Then a sound came out of the night, a short distance ahead of him, and he instantly drew his pony from the trail, and prepared his bow. As he listened the noise was repeated, and he recognized it as the attempt of a muzzled pony to call to one of its kind. His own horse tried to reply, but he instantly grasped its nostrils and smothered it with a heavy fold of buckskin. Then he imitated the bark of the little gray fox. In a few moments he received a crude reply. He knew at once that it came from Little Raven.
"Ho, my brother, I see that you have come back; it is good," White Otter called softly.
"My ears tell me that you are my brother, White Otter," replied Little Raven.
A moment afterward they met. Little Raven said that the tracks which he had followed had rejoined the main trail at that very spot. He declared that he had seen nothing but antelope and buffaloes and some stray prairie wolves.
"Perhaps they were Pawnee scouts," White Otter suggested.
"No, I came close to those animals, and I know that they were wolves," Little Raven assured him.
"Well, now we know about this thing," said the Ogalala, "we must go on. Perhaps the Pawnees have reached their camp. Perhaps they have sent Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse on the Long Trail. But we must not wait. Now I will go to that village and do the thing I have set out to do. If my grandfather is not there, then I will rush into the camp and throw myself away. But I will kill many Pawnees before I die. My brother, this is how it is in my heart to do. If you feel different, then you must turn back. I have finished."
"My brother, you have spoken brave words," declared Little Raven. "But I must tell you that I will not turn around. Perhaps we will help Wolf Robe and Yellow Horse. But if they have been sent away, then I will go into the camp to die with you. This is how the thing is in my heart."
"You are as brave as your brother, Sun Bird," said White Otter. "If you come out of this thing, you will be a great warrior. Yes, I will tell all the Dacotahs about you. Now we will go."
As they cantered boldly forward into the night, the long, dismal wail of the prairie wolf sounded some distance away toward the west. White Otter instantly stopped his pony to listen. In a few moments an answer came from the east. The calls were so perfect, however, that the keen ears of the Ogalala could find no reason to suspect them. Still, he was suspicious. He was unable to overcome a disturbing premonition that had worried him throughout the day; he felt almost certain that both Little Raven and he had been watched by Pawnee scouts.
"I believe that the Pawnees are telling about us," White Otter whispered, uneasily.
"Do your ears tell you that?" inquired Little Raven.
"No, my ears tell me that it is the cry of the wolf, but my heart tells me a different thing," replied White Otter.
They waited some moments longer, but the calls were not repeated. Then the two daring young scouts resumed their perilous advance through the darkness. They had not gone far, however, when the lonely cry in the west was repeated. This time they did not stop, but listened anxiously as they cantered along. There was no answer from the east, and Little Raven felt somewhat reassured.
"I believe it is a wolf," he told White Otter.
The Ogalala made no reply.
