THE RIVER TAKES ITS TOLL
Pitamakan and I rode in the lead with the chiefs, because in a way we were the guides of the relief party. Behind us came the different bands of the I-kun-uh-kah-tsi, or All Friends Society, each one herding its extra horses. Our pace was so fast that there was little opportunity for talk; and Pitamakan and I had no desire to do so. Our thoughts were with our little camp of besieged people.
At noon we halted for a short rest. The chiefs at once gathered in a circle and began to plan just what should be done at the mouth of the Musselshell; that is, if Far Thunder and his engagés still held the barricade. Pitamakan and I told how they would be suffering from want of water and urged that we ride as straight as we could to their relief.
Then up spoke Heavy Runner, chief of the Braves, and the war chief of the Pikuni:
"It is true," he said, "that Far Thunder and his people, if still alive, must be choking from need of water, but for their own good and the good of all the Blackfoot tribes they must choke a little longer. Should we go charging straight to their barricade, the enemy would see us from far off and have plenty of time to retreat from the bank of the river into the grove, and there make a good fight, kill many of us, perhaps, and escape in the darkness. What we must try to do is to give the cut-throats a lesson that they and their children and their children's children will remember as long as the sun makes the days. I therefore propose that we ride down Crooked Creek into Upon-the-Other-Side Bear River, right into the stream bed, and follow it to the edge of the big grove. There half of us will leave our horses and go on and surprise the enemy under the edge of the bank of Big River and drive them out upon the open flat away from the grove. There we afoot and the other half of us on horseback and Far Thunder with his loud-mouth gun will just let one or two of the cut-throats escape to tell his people what the Pikuni did to their warriors."
Without exception the chiefs approved this plan, but Pitamakan and I made objections. "It is a roundabout way," said Pitamakan, "to go clear to the mouth of this creek and then down the winding bed of the other stream. We haven't the time to do it."
"If Far Thunder and those with him are still alive, their sufferings from need of water are something terrible," I said. "Chiefs, let us leave Crooked Creek right here and strike straight across the plain as soon as possible!"
"I shall say a few words about this!" White Wolf exclaimed. "I have a big interest in that little party down there in the barricade; my own sister is there. And yet I say that as she is suffering, so must she suffer a little longer for the good of the Pikuni. But not much longer. In a time like this what is one horse to any of us? Nothing! We will leave our tired horses right here, and if a Crow or other war party comes along and takes them—well, we shall probably recover them some day. Upon our fresh horses we can go this roundabout way and certainly arrive at the head of the big grove before sundown. Then we will wipe out those cut-throats, every last one of them, before it becomes too dark for us to shoot straight. Come! let us hurry on!"
"Yes! We will do that! There's nothing the matter with the bird's head!" cried Heavy Runner as he sprang up, and all laughed and cheered as we mounted our fresh horses. The chief's slang expression was a favorite one of the Blackfeet, and equivalent to our saying, "I don't care; everything goes with me!"
Away we went, leaving behind us more than three hundred fine horses, fast buffalo-runners every one of them. Occasionally during the afternoon we cut bends, but for the most part we followed the straight northeast course of the valley and at about five o'clock entered the valley of the Musselshell.
