CHAPTER VI. The Bundle of Sage Brush
"By the way," said Lieutenant Perkins, before they had gone many steps on their road, "who is this young fellow, Winged Arrow, or whatever you call him, anyway? Was he richly dressed?"
"I don't see what his clothes had to do with that," said Arthur. "Of course he was richly dressed, if it took the last cent he had. An Indian will put all he has on his back, even if his stomach goes empty."
"This fellow didn't, I tell you," said Guy. "The most I could see of his uniform was buckskin; and it was fixed up in a way that must have taken some squaw a year or more to turn it out so neatly. I saw his pants, or a portion of them that was not covered up by his leggings, and they were the costliest kind of broadcloth; much better than those we wear,—we mounted Lieutenants who draw $1500 a year."
"I wonder if his father is rich," said Perkins.
"There!" exclaimed Guy. "I knew there was something I had forgotten. I never thought to ask him who his father was."
"You made a mistake there," said Arthur. "He must be a man of some note in the tribe, or his son would not be allowed to meet an enemy on the lines. You say that there were Sioux watching you all the time?"
"Yes, and he showed me the hiding place of one of them; but you might as well look for a needle in a haystack as to try to make him out. My horse smelled him, however, and that was the reason he ran away with me."
The boys had by this time reached the guide's headquarters, and there they found the man of whom they were in search sitting on an empty cracker box, smoking his pipe. We ought rather to have said "the boy," for Cyrus was about their own age. No one knew what his other name was, whether Cyrus was his given or surname, and, as he did not volunteer the information, no one cared to ask him. He had been born on the plains, for no one could have learned so much unless he had been; and the boys had told one another confidentially that there was a story back of it. He was talkative enough whenever he was approached on any other subject, but the moment they tried to pry into his parentage Cyrus closed his mouth and would say nothing more. He was very friendly with all the young officers, accepted the cigars and tobacco which they offered him, and gave them "points" when they went out on a scout after Indians; but who his father was was a question he would not answer. He was taller than any boy in the party, and the muscles on his arms were something to wonder at.
"Halloo!" said he, knocking the ashes from his pipe and filling up for a fresh smoke, "Guy got a reprimand. I can see it plainly enough. Why didn't you obey the Adjutant's orders, and come in when your game flew off over the ridge?"
"Well, there is once that you are mistaken," said Guy. "I told the officer of the day just why I did not come back, and he said that the next time the Colonel trusted me I was to do just as I was told."
"Kendall is the officer of the day, is he not?" replied Cyrus. "That is the first time I ever knew of him letting a young officer off so easily. You must have seen something over there."
"Yes, I did; and I want to know if you ever heard of, or have seen something, I don't care what it was, which was given to a white man that would save his life if he were to fall into the hands of the Sioux?"
"I certainly have," replied Cyrus.
"What was it?" asked all the boys at once.
"Have you found such a thing?"
"No; but I had something given to me. It was a letter which Winged Arrow's father had written to him to come home."
"Where is the letter?"
"The Colonel's got it and I don't know whether he means to give it up or not. I tell you it put him on nettles too. It tells of a massacre that is to come off very shortly. The Colonel says that the next time we go out after a load of wood we have got to look out."
"I know pretty nearly all the Sioux that there are in that camp, but I never heard of Winged Arrow before," said Cyrus. "What sort of a looking chap was he? Tell me all about the history of that letter, and then I will tell you some more."
Once more Guy began and told his story, and Cyrus seemed to take it all as a matter of course, for he never expressed surprise at anything the young officer told him. When Guy had finished his tale, Cyrus lighted his pipe and sat with his elbows on his knees, looking thoughtfully at the floor.
"So it seems that we young officers have got some friends in the camp of the Sioux all unbeknown to us," said Guy, after waiting for Cyrus to say something. "They don't want us all killed off."
"Well, that stands to reason," said Cyrus. "This Winged Arrow has been under instruction of white people all the time for eight years, as you say, and he doesn't want to see any of your kind hurt. That letter will save the life of anybody who falls into the hands of the Sioux."
"Do you know that to be a fact?" asked Arthur, who, like all the rest of the party, was greatly astonished.
"Yes, sir; I know it is so," said Cyrus, emphatically. "Mine was saved once by a simple bunch of sage brush which I had in one of my pockets."
"Oh, go on and tell us all about it," chorused the boys, looking around for some place to sit down. "I don't see what there could have been in a lot of sage brush to save your life."
"It is not a long story, so you need not get ready for an all night's entertainment," returned Cyrus. "You know I have always been kind of friendly toward the Indians; whether Sioux or Pawnee, it made no sort of difference to me, for I live a good deal like them myself. About two years ago we had some war on with the Sioux, about some land, of course, and I was off scouting by myself to see what I could find. I was not attached to any post then. One day I was within hearing of a tremendous fight that came off between our fellows and the Sioux, but I did not go near the battlefield until it was all over. The next day I went up and found that our men had been victorious. The dead and wounded Indians were buried where they had fallen, and our own people had disappeared. They had been carried away by our fellows so that the reds could not dig them up and mutilate them.
"I was just about mounting my horse to go on again, when I heard a groan coming from a thicket close at my side, mingled with the cries in the Sioux tongue of 'Water! Water!' I tell you I did not feel safe in going up to find out what the matter was, for the Indians, even though they are wounded unto death, have a way of keeping a weapon in their hands ready to be the death of any one who comes near them; but finally I made out to see the man, and there was not anything in the shape of a revolver or knife near him. He was shot through both hips, but had managed to drag himself out of sight there in the thicket where he had lain undisturbed by our forces when they were burying the dead. When I came up to him he held out his hands piteously and begged for water. He saw that I was supplied, for he had his eyes on my canteen, and although somebody might call me a fool for doing it, I took it off and gave it to him. He was a human being and somehow I could not bear to knock him in the head. He seemed greatly surprised at that, and grateful too; and after a little while I began a conversation with him. He told me that he had been shot out there on the plains, but had dragged himself to those bushes without a weapon of any kind, and that nothing remained for him but to lie there and die. Of course I could not do anything for him, for he was shot in such a way that he could not sit upright on a horse. I left him the little grub I had and promised that if I could find any one to send after him, I would do it; but that was all in my one eye. I supposed when I left him it would be the last of him.
"Just as I was about to get on my horse and ride away from him, he thrust his hand into his medicine sack and drew out something wrapped up in buckskin, which he held toward me. I said nothing, but took it, and when I was a little way off I unrolled the thing, and found that I had a handful of sage grass. My first impulse was to drop it, for I did not believe that it would be of any use to me; but in time I happened to remember that such things HAD served prisoners in some way or another and saved their lives."
"Why, how would it do that?" said Arthur.
"I do not know," replied Cyrus, "whether it is a sign from one Indian to another, or some medicine which they think will protect anybody who has it,—it is beyond me quite. It did not protect this Indian; for if it had, the white man's bullet that shot him through the hips would have been turned away and never hit him at all. Well, I took it, put it in one of my pockets, and started on the trail of our forces, intending to overtake them as soon as I could, when the first thing I knew I ran plump into a squad of about twenty warriors; or, rather, they ran into me, for they came over a hill and surrounded me before I could think twice. 'Well' said I, 'You are gone up this time. It is no use trying to get away, but some of these savages will go before you do.' So I cut loose with my rifle—"
"Do you mean to say that you shot while the Indians were all around you?" exclaimed Guy in astonishment.
"Certainly," replied Cyrus. "I supposed that if I was caught alive, there could be only one case for me, and that was to be tortured, so I determined to do what damage I could before I went. I got two of the warriors, and I did not make any mistake about it either, and then somebody shot my horse through the head and I came to the ground. Before I could say 'General Jackson' I was disarmed and my hands tied behind my back. I was done for at last."
The boys waited impatiently for Cyrus to go on with his story, but he leaned his elbows on his knees and took a few long pulls at his pipe. At length Guy began to grow indignant.
"Well, it seems as though the Indians left a great deal of you, if they did burn you to death," said he. "Didn't they leave enough of you to finish your tale?"
Cyrus laughed heartily.
"I was just going over in my mind the way things happened there during the next few minutes," said he, when he had sobered down. "They all began shouting at once, and I knew by the noise they made that we were safe from our boys, and that I had nobody to rescue me. Some began shouting out one thing and some another, but I knew from what they said that they were in favor of disposing of me at once, because they did not think it safe to take me to their village. They put a lariat around my neck, jumped on their horses and started for a little grove of willows about five miles off; and although I was a pretty fair runner, I was completely whipped by the time we got there. I tried my level best to make them listen to me, but I might as well have shouted against the roar of Niagara. When we got to the willows I could not say a word. They untied my hands and while some proceeded to cut the fuel with which they were about to torture me, the others peeled off my clothes; and they went into every pocket to see what I had that was worth stealing. Presently one of them took up my pants which had my pipe, tobacco, and money in them, and the first thing he drew out was that roll of buckskin which contained the sage brush that the wounded Indian had given me. The grunt he gave when he unrolled it was enough to bring all the Indians about him. The shouting instantly ceased. They examined the sage brush, turned it on all sides to see if there was anything more with it, and at last looked at me.
"'Have you fellows got so that you can listen to a white man at last?' said I, 'I know where I got that, and who gave it to me. If you will go with me I will show him to you.'
"They could understand me well enough when they were not shouting so as to drown my words. One of them, who spoke a little better English than the rest, ordered me to tell my story; but I told him that I could speak his own language better than he could, and so spoke to him in his own dialect. When I got through they wanted to hold a consultation and they drew off several feet, this time leaving me untied. When they came back they allowed me to put on my clothes and told me to lead them to their wounded comrade. If I had been a tenderfoot then I should have been in a fix, for the prairie on all sides looked the same; but there were certain little landmarks which I remembered, and in process of time I brought them to the bush which concealed the man of whom I was in search. One would have thought from the anxiety they showed to meet the man, that there would have been a big jubilee over finding him; but they did not act so at all. They simply exchanged a few words with him and then came back to me. My horse, weapons, and every thing I had lost by them was restored, all except my sage brush, which I wanted more than I did anything else. Then they told me I could go; and I lost no time in getting out of there. That letter of yours, Lieutenant, might do the same thing for any one who happened to have it about him; and for that reason I would like to see it. Don't you think the Colonel would give it up if you asked him?"
Cyrus, who had allowed his pipe to go out while he was talking, struck a match on the floor and turned toward Guy for an answer.