THE HALF-BREED DIES GAME.
Kidd was spending the night without any rest. Besides the tumultuous emotions excited by the proximity of the treasure land, the uncontrolability of his forces worried him exceedingly. He was confident that on finding gold, admitting that they penetrated the Firehole country unimpeded, it would be each man for himself. Even now he felt lonely enough. Dan Steelder had determinedly set off on a scouting expedition to see what had befallen Doña Rosario. He had expressly charged his associate to watch Leon well; but lo! That youth had slipped away as well as Lottery Paul, whether in company or separately was unsettled. As for Joe, he was left behind to guard the women and goods. And the departure of Dearborn increased Kidd's misery at being abandoned, for the guide had shown him the promised goal and departed.
"If only in cutting our way through these unknown enemies we lose the bulk of this riffraff," he muttered, "I shall perhaps have a choice few whom I can govern. All may yet be for the best, and Joe and me can set up a hotel for summer tourists, with the richest gold mine in our wine cellar, right there in the heart of the Yellowstone."
Leon had not gone away with the Frenchman, but the latter's departure was directly the cause of his. The Drudge, angered at being divided from the Carcajieu, was only awaiting an opportunity to leave the captain. As payment for his long unremunerated services, he took a horse from Foxface and arms and equipment, passing the outposts with the truth seeming plea that he was sent on a special mission by the leader.
"It's stuck him up high," muttered the outer guard. "The boy is quite handsome all of a sudden!"
In fact, Leon was transformed, for, being of an eagle race, the more doleful he was in captivity, the more haughty and noble he was unfettered.
Long hours of meditation over the wilderness had "soaked" knowledge into him of wood and desert craft almost unawares.
He rode at once into the high grass and canebrake in the wet pits at the bottom of the canyon, for it was so high that he was hidden on the horse's back.
He mocked at the night, confident that he could guide himself by the stars. He ate in the saddle, and though he did not ride fast, kept on ceaselessly till he had gone by the Medicine Rock, where the Half-breeds were showing a fire in their ceremonies, pious perhaps, but assuredly imprudent.
Here he halted. From all Dearborn and Joe had imparted to him, he knew that friends were approaching and from the west. But should he proceed thitherward on the chance of crossing the trail of their outliers, or climb the other side of the giant defile and join Corky Joe, with whom he could be comparatively at ease, and if anything befell Kidd, as free as now?
His brooding was almost tragically put an end to by a gunshot above him, and whilst he instinctively looked up, his poor horse leaped and fell sidewise to the ground. In the flash he had recognised the face of the Frenchman. He threw himself off the dying horse, and none too soon, for a second shot, from a large pistol this time, carried away his hat, and with a fragment of the bullet laid the flesh open on his cheekbone. He stumbled at the shock, and rolled on the grass beside the stiffening horse.
"Aha!" cried Paul, who could be heard descending in the brushwood, "So I have served out my spy this time. Our dear captain, he does so hate to lose a man, that he sends after him. Who is it, anyhow, that I've peppered?"
Leon remained prone, but slewed his gun round ready. As he lay, the dead steed formed a rampart: he was well posted.
"He's my meat," muttered the Frenchman, holding on by a bush and peering down through the gloom.
"Not precisely!" interrupted another voice, on the same level; "It is you, dog, who shall die!"
On this threat from an unexpected quarter, Paul dropped to the next ledge and jumped behind a tree. Leon rose slowly and cautiously, and looked up. By the stranger's voice he had, he believed, recognised Dearborn.
He and the bandit were at the limits of a comparatively clear space. The youth stole off obliquely to the right so as to left flank the Frenchman. He aimed his rifle, and, leaving shelter, cried so loudly that the Englishman could also know him by his voice:
"You are all wrong. Mr. Paul, it is you who must die."
Lottery Paul looked at him steadily and replied:
"Maybe—two to one is odds—but you shall lead the way to Kingdom come."
But before he had time to change the direction of his piece, bearing on the Englishman, Leon fired, knowing what kind of murderous fellow he was.
Over he rolled, clawing up the moss, with a fractured skull.
Dearborn ran up. But at the same time there was a noise in the thicket, and several men appeared. Nothing was more impressive than this peopling of the solitude in such obscurity.
"Drop your guns!" shouted one of the newcomers, authoritatively; "We're all friends here, I reckon."
"Bill Williams!"
It was the Cherokee and Filditch, and his eight or ten men besides.
"What's the meaning of all this?" said Filditch, as there was a group formed around the dead robber and the guide and the servant of Captain Kidd.
"In the first place," said the hunter, "there's your son in that young man. It is a sufficient card of introduction that he has rubbed out one of the vermin anyway, though we are lucky if their confounded rattle of shots does not spoil the scheme."
"My son!"
"Yes, Rosa's brother," went on the hunter. "We won't mind you two. Well, Mr. Dearborn, out of the trap?"
"Yes. I was looking for some of you, when I found there was a horseman below, and, on descending, was in time to see him overturned by a couple of shots from that ruffian. But the boy did not require my intervention. He avenged himself."
"Good boy! Well, now, all your information."
As soon as the hunter learnt details of the arrangement of the enemy, he formed a fresh variation, or rather supplement to the plan.
"Gentlemen," said Bill, thereupon, "over there, across the canyon, are the women and children. We will go straight to their camp. The guard know Leon and Mr. Dearborn, and, anyhow, Joe, their lieutenant, will accept them and remove any doubts. They will say they came back from the captain, who requites every spare hand, and decoy them into the bushes, where they must roaster them. The remainder should be but a gulp and they're gone, to us."
All is fair in war as in love. Dearborn accepted the task.
"Can you spare your son?" asked Jim of Filditch, beside whom stood Leon.
"I would like to go with him, Jim. I want a good deal to see this young lady who was such a comfort to Rosa."
"Go along, then."
Into the fog dived the detachment—Dearborn, Filditch, and Leon; Cherokee Bill as conductor, and a few men.
The others concluded all preparations for the desperate fight.
But it was not till half after ten that the stubborn fog, torn and drifted away by the sun and one of those strong gales which sweep up a canyon so lofty at the sides, melted away like a playhouse gauze and unmasked the sunny landscape.
Spite of this theatrical discovery, no one betrayed himself. Never had the desert seemed more untroubled. An undisturbed calm soothed the majestic solitude, and yet many men, strangers to one another, were straining to fly at the throat with ferocious rage fur gains vaguely defined.
At this moment, a red scout leaped up among the hunters' pickets, with the sign of friendliness and that he was a Blood Indian.
"Well, brother?" demanded Ridge.
"The Half-breeds slipped us during the fog, and have joined the gold robbers though not intermixing."
"They had some suspicion."
"The chiefs conjecture that something evil before them in the mad root swamp appalled them."
"Maybe Ahnemekee is heading them off there."
The scout shook his head as if he did not believe the Crows would venture so near the hallowed ground.
"In any case, we are ready. Return to your comrades and begin the battle. We shall also advance if we are not attacked."
"Good!" and the grinning demon bounded away along the hillside.
Very soon the scream of the grey eagle arose, shrill and prolonged.
Firing was opened with that absence of unison betokening that both sides were irregulars. The sound seemed to approach. All at once the war whoops of the savage union resounded like a cannon shot. The gunfire became more intense, and painful cries were tempering cheers and yells of triumph.
Kidd had indeed found the Crows in the dwarf wood, and feared to cross a mad root (Indian turnip) marsh in their teeth. He began a feigned retreat and enticed them into the mouth of the canyon where the Bois-Brulés fell on them, running down the slopes and almost annihilating them in the charge. The few survivors were carried by the impetus in among the rocks and pools of the bottomland, where they were slaughtered almost to a man. But even as the Canadians raised a cry of victory, the Piegans and their allies were rushing upon the white men in much the same manner. The Half-breeds hastened to coalesce with their confederates, and strengthen them against this onset. There was an obstinate struggle, the Indians seeking to detain the whole whilst they encircled them. Kidd, on the contrary, endeavoured to retire up the canyon and regain the tableland on high, where Joe and the rearguard were posted. It was a natural fort.
But suddenly, out of the most innocent bushes, but which had not been planted there across the way when they passed along, a deadly fire gushed from rifles far more potent than the Indians.
The bandits and the Manitobans were caught between two fires. Nevertheless, whilst the red men seemed the more numerous, the firing elsewhere allowed a sanguine man to believe that these new assailants were so limited in force that they were obliged to ambush themselves.
Kidd flourished his Spanish rapier, rallied his men, and shouted:
"Over them! Through them! It's our only chance. Come on, boys, where we have comrades!" and the column ran into the hunters' fire. At the same time, common enough when an enemy falter, the Indians whooped diabolically and charged the Half-breeds.
They and Kidd had not only the flank but the front fire to sustain, and nearly every second man seemed to fall.
However, those who escaped death, if not wounds, scrambled into the bushes. They were ungarrisoned, being merely a line beyond the real entrenchment, moat, and brushwood chevaux de frize.
The conflict became horrible when the bandits and Half-breeds, now serried together with little order, were brought up, all standing, against the barricades. They gave up hope, and so furiously fought that none dreamt of asking quarter. Forming a rampart of their own dead, and of those of the redskins who had rushed on the guns too rashly, the determined remnant held out, dumb, calm, and gloomy, like men of stone, certain of death, but bravely selling their lives.
Overcome with horror and pity for such a sublime resolution, Jim Ridge unexpectedly sprang over the breastwork, followed by Leon, who knew most of the sufferers, and shouted in a voice everybody heard:
"Quit of shooting! It's too all-fired mean to butcher them when they stand out so well."
On both sides he was obeyed; so much authority was in the voice of one for whom the reds and whites felt a profound respect, and to whom they knew they owed so much of success.
Without any weapons, the Yager, still accompanied by the generous boys, advanced up to the resistants till near enough to pull hair. At the wall of dead men they stopped.
Kidd was binding up a wound; Dagard was the ostensible leader.
"What do you want?" he asked, lowering his rifle and pistol, both hands being thus occupied.
"We come to offer you life. Injins like 'sand' in a man, and your grit is first brand."
"We asked no quarter," was the proud reply. "We would have given none, I daresay. We are not plumb played out, and we mean to die pulling trigger."
"Yes, we are 'on' that," chorused the others.
"Now, don't be silly. I grant you are not used up, and our spoiling your hopes must 'stubborn' ye. But, by the Great Star! You have mighty little to go on with. Look at the slope, full of Injins as a book of letters; not the kind loud on a whoop and singing small when they have revolvers and scalpers to meet. You had better hear my offers, for I am 'white' on this thing, and I am about the only man who can snatch ye out of the burning."
"I'm thankful, old hunter, but your words now are like wheels of the thistledown—they sail away on the wind. You have cut too deep for balsam. You have allied yourself with those reds agin' your colour, and all we want is revenge for your slaughtering our mates."
"Vengeance!" cried his men, and Kidd's.
"But, let me straighten out things," persisted Ridge, "in Heaven's name! I offer you life and freedom too."
"You may straighten out our corpses if you like. Meanwhile, we attach no faith in your words, and pledges, and good-for-nothing advice. Back with you! We are going to hold our end of this unequal combat up to the last."
He lifted his firearms so threateningly that the others interpreted the action as a signal for resumed hostilities. A rattling discharge ensued. Leon threw himself frantically before his granduncle, and received at least one bullet which would not otherwise have missed him. The youth fell, and the Yager dropped also, but this time to shield him and out of prudence. Over their heads a double volley crossed. Upon this sudden aggression, reasonably regarded as treachery, the battle renewed itself with unequalled bloodthirstiness on the confederates' part, and constant resolve on that of the foes.
Meanwhile, though under fire, Jim's first act was to see how his nephew was hurt. He uttered an outcry in joy amid the whizzing bullets, hurtling arrows, and falling boughs severed by the missiles: Leon was pale, but unwounded. The ball had flattened itself on the buckle of his belt, dented it, but not penetrated. The blow was a smart one, and knocked all the breath out of his body; but in a few minutes he came round, and was delighted to find that he had saved the old man's life.
During this the defenders had been hemmed in closely, fairly pushed out of their little fort, and were being mowed down. It was no fight, but carnage—a massacre which gives a name to the spot to this day.
Leon saw that the French Half-breed was literally pulled down, like a bull on whom the dogs cluster, by several of the Piegans and trappers.
"Oh! I must save that brave fellow," cried he.
Springing like a panther into the medley, he pulled off and pushed off the assailants, and embraced the Manitoban with both arms.
"My prisoner!" he shouted.
"His meat!" added Jim Ridge, who had closely followed.
"Back!" said Filditch, running up and repulsing the baffled men, who, however, betook themselves to other game.
Dagard looked sadly about him. Of his own race, hardly another save Margottet was upright anywhere near him. He shook his head despairingly.
"My poor children," said he in French, stifling a sob.
"Come out of this," cried Leon, offering to draw him away.
"I thank you, generous boy," was the answer with a noble courtesy, repulsing him gently, "and you, too, brave old hunter," he subjoined, addressing Ridge, "but your interference is useless. I am catching the hot soup deservedly for having linked myself with a chain gang. Look round! All the boys from Red River are dead, or gasping their last, under our feet. I am not seeking to escape the massacre. But, anyhow, here goes to save my top hair!"
And before anybody could thrust out a hand, he drew one of those pocket pistols, loaded to the muzzle, which frontier men often carry expressly to blow off the skull pan, in order to rend the scalp to shreds and remove the suicide from the tortures. He clapped the muzzle to his forehead, pulled the trigger, and fell headlong in the smoke, uttering one word:
"My country!"
Ridge and the youth recoiled, and even the Piegans were stupefied into inaction.
"Good notion, boys!" cried Captain Kidd in his sarcastic voice, "Let us save our topknots same fashion!"
Half a dozen pistol shots cracked, and as many of the bandits dropped to the earth. But what was the amazement, though only temporary, of the savages, on rushing forward, to find that the supposed suicides had crawled away in the smoke!
With marvellous presence of mind, Kidd, under pretence of imitating the Half-breed's heroism, had turned the act into a "dodge." They heard the laughing, taunting whoop of his little band of survivors as they raced down the slope and glided among the boulders.
Some of the reds took up the chase, and others remained, hewing and hacking the corpses with spite and pitiless malignity.
Ridge collected a few of his immediate followers and hastened after the fugitive gold robber. The whole of the bottomland rang with the yells of the pursuers, the red men delighting in the ruse of Kidd, whom now they believed a foeman worthy of their fiendish ingenuity at the torture stake.