SITTING-ALWAYS SPEAKS HER MIND
The news of Kiopo's return ran swiftly through the camp. They spoke of it in the tepees as something to be reckoned with. It might mean evil, or it might mean good. Whether good or evil, it was very strange. As for the huskies, they had but one feeling about it: the wolf's return was bad. All that day, and the days that followed, Stickchi's eyes had a wicked glitter; and not a husky of them all but knew that mischief was brewing.
But what the huskies felt did not cause Kiopo any serious discomfort. He was a half-grown cub no longer. The long winter had made a wolf of him. His chest had deepened, his limbs lengthened. He was a creature to be feared. When Dusty Star went through the camp, Kiopo close at his heels, he had reason to be proud of his wolf. The boy held his head high, because of the great pride and gladness that was in his heart. Now that he had Kiopo once more, his heart soared like a hawk. The joy that was in him shone clear in his eyes. He gave a bold look into the faces of every one he met. But when he and Kiopo passed out on to the prairie, suspicious glances followed them, and watched keenly where they went.
Nothing happened that day, or the next; but upon the third day after Kiopo's return, Dusty Star became uneasy. He could not have definitely said what was the matter. But things were in the air. Something new was in the camp. It had not declared itself, but it was none the less there. Beneath the painted coverings of the tepees, he felt that the secret grew.
On the evening of the third day, just after sundown, he was returning from the prairie, after driving his father's ponies in for the night. The camp fires were burning brightly and in the deepening twilight dusky figures were passing to and fro. He noticed that round the tepee of Spotted Owl a small group of people had collected. Inside, a drum was beating softly and very slowly, as if some medicine ceremony were beginning. Dusty Star lingered a little to watch, and then passed on. When he reached the home tepee he found his supper ready. But after he had finished, he did not go immediately to bed as usual. Instead, he went out again into the camp.
The night had fallen now. It was cloudy and very dark. But the glow of the camp fires made a sort of twilight in the camp itself; a twilight that wandered as the fires rose or fell. While he stood intently on the watch, he saw a figure come out from the doorway of his grandmother's tepee. The figure stood quite still, as if it, too, were on the watch. It was muffled in a robe, from head to foot, so that its actual shape was hidden. Dusty Star was surprised. It was not his grandmother's habit to stir abroad after nightfall. She had grave misgivings in the dark. But if it were a late visitor why then was it so carefully covered?
The figure moved and glided away into the darkness. Dusty Star, keeping well within the deepest shadows, followed swiftly in the figure's track. It did not stop till it reached Little Owl's tepee. Dusty Star watched it enter, and then crept close to the back of the lodge. The soft beating of the drum was still audible, but soon after the entrance of the newcomer it ceased. Then a voice spoke.
Dusty Star, crouching close against the bottom of the tepee could hear every word distinctly. The speaker was Spotted Owl.
"The wolf has returned to Running Wolf's lodge," he said. "It is five moons now since he went away. He may have brought back much medicine with him. It may be good medicine. Lone Chief thinks it is a strong medicine—very good, perhaps, if we sent a war party against the Yellow Dogs. But he must be watched."
The voice ceased. Apparently, for the moment, Spotted Owl had nothing more to say.
Then another voice spoke.
"The wolf is always with the boy. They go out upon the prairies together. If the wolf has medicine, he shares it with the boy. The boy knows many things about the wolves."
Several other speakers expressed an opinion that it would be wise to advise Running Wolf to send the wolf away. It was clear that the general feeling of the meeting was that Kiopo should not be injured, and that if he were driven away, no one must attempt it but Running Wolf.
At this point another voice broke in which Dusty Star recognized only too well. The person was no other than Sitting-Always herself. She spoke quickly and with great earnestness.
"The wolf is bad," she said. "Nothing has gone well since he came to the camp. The boy also is bad. He and the wolf are always making medicine. That is why they go alone upon the prairies that they may make medicine together out of sight of the tepees. It will not be sufficient to drive the wolf away. As long as the boy is here, the wolf will come back. He is teaching the boy the wolf medicine. When the boy has learnt it fully, it will be a madness to send war parties against the Gros Ventres. If you destroy the wolf, you will destroy the medicine, and the boy will lose his power. He is Indian now, but there is something in him that is wolf. Either he will carry his medicine to our enemies, the Gros Ventres, or he will go back to the wolves. You must kill the wolf, even if you do not touch the boy. You must kill, kill, kill!"
As Sitting-Always finished her speech, her voice rose to a shrillness that was almost a shout. In the yellow desert of her face her sunken eyes glittered with passion. It was plain to all who saw her that she was very greatly moved. To the one person who heard, but did not see her, it was as if a poisoned arrow had plunged into his heart.
After she had ceased speaking, a low murmur of voices filled the tepee. The passionate words of the old squaw had roused the Indians to a feeling that something must be done. Spotted Owl's next speech showed this very clearly. He did not commit himself so far as to say that the wolf must be killed; but he allowed his hearers to draw their own conclusions. Once the wolf was out of the way, the boy could be dealt with as the tribe should decide. When Sitting-Always heard the concluding words of the speech, a look of evil triumph glimmered in her face.
Dusty Star did not wait to hear any more. Whatever plan his enemies might adopt, there was no time to lose. The secret was out now—the dark, unspoken thing which his sense had warned him was walking in the camp. As he crept away from the tepee, hatred, fear, and anger made his heart feel as if it would burst. Yet it was not so much for himself, as for Kiopo, that his passions were fully roused. He did not doubt that his father and mother would devise some means to protect him from any serious harm, as soon as they realized the threatened danger. But if Kiopo were the cause of that danger, his instinct warned him that neither of them would hesitate a moment to sacrifice the wolf. In all the vast world, he knew that the only friend Kiopo could rely on was himself.
When he got back to the tepee, he saw with alarm that Kiopo was not there. His mother scolded him for staying out so late. His father, already under his buffalo robe, muttered drowsily of a beating in the morning. Dusty Star had his own ideas connected with the morning. His brain was thick with the dust of a great plan. His mother's angry words were like fireflies that darted but did not sting.
Dusty Star went immediately to bed. His mother, having eased her mind, did likewise. Blue Wings and the father were already fast asleep. Very soon the only person still awake in the tepee was Dusty Star himself.
And the night deepened. Out there, in the awful hush of the prairies, you could almost hear the deepening of it from the roots of the camass flowers right up to the very roots of the stars!
In the camp itself only one sound was audible—the low persistent throbbing of a drum.
As the boy listened, the beating of his heart became another drumming; for his instinct told him that it was the medicine-making that would surely send Kiopo to his death.
It was impossible to stay longer in bed. Out there, in the night, things were happening. The evil thing that Sitting-Always had planned, was hatching. When it was fully hatched, Kiopo would be doomed. Dusty Star felt there was not any time to lose. If Kiopo did not return immediately, he might not come back till the dawn. And if he delayed till then, it might be too late to warn him. His enemies might wait for him in ambush and kill him as he returned.
Dusty Star made up his mind. If Kiopo did not come back to him, he must go out to find Kiopo; there was no other way.
He got up softly, took his bow and arrows, and a strip of pemmican that was handy, and passed stealthily out of the tepee.
The night was starlight. Dusty Star saw the world in a vast glimmer. It was the twilight of the stars. He paused a moment, embracing the camp in one swift, sweeping glance that missed out nothing that was important to be seen. All was one deep shadow in which the tepees were lesser shadows that stood up gaunt and black. Dusty Star was not afraid of the shadows. What he dreaded were eyes. You could see the shadows, but the eyes that might lurk in them you could not see. And the eyes you did not see might watch you as you went. He was very anxious. Why of all nights should Kiopo have chosen this one to be out? If they were to escape, it must be to-night. To-morrow it might be too late. Ah! What was that? Surely it was a man's form, black against the glimmer of the prairies! And it moved! It was coming nearer! To his horror Dusty Star saw another form, and then another, moving the direction of the tepee. He cast a fearful glance behind him. Again he distinguished moving figures. There was no mistaking it. A ring of Indians was closing in upon the tepee. He crept to the back of it, in the hope that he might not be seen, for a time, at least, till there was an opportunity to make a dash for freedom. As he crouched on the ground behind the tepee, a cold nose was thrust against his face. Kiopo!... Unknown to him, the wolf had returned after the tepee had been secured for the night, and had lain down to sleep against it.
Dusty Star shivered in an agony of fear. If they were discovered it seemed as if some terrible fate had ordered that Kiopo should return just when he had. The one lucky thing was that they were not inside the tepee. Yet even so, the chances of escape were small indeed with that ring of pitiless enemies steadily closing in.
Kiopo saw them too. More than that, his unfailing instinct warned him what the danger was. He gave a low, rumbling growl. Dusty Star, with his arm tightly about him, whispered to him to keep still. As he looked up, he could see the heads of the approaching Indians black against the stars. They were terribly close now.
Then he heard a slight noise at the front of the tepee, and knew that some one was trying to unfasten the calf-skin flap. He held his breath, dreading from moment to moment that they would be discovered. Kiopo had ceased to growl, because he had realized that absolute silence was necessary for their safety; but Dusty Star could feel how the wolf's heart was throbbing, while his whole body shivered as if ready to spring upon his foes at the slightest hint.
Suddenly it seemed to Dusty Star as if one of the nearer Indians bent forward to look more closely at the back of the tepee. If that were indeed so, they were discovered.
There was no time to make sure. An instant's delay might be fatal. He leapt to his feet and made a blind rush, calling to Kiopo as he did so.
The Indians were taken by surprise. Before they realized what had happened, both boy and wolf were clear of the enclosing ring.
The prairie! To reach that was Dusty Star's one hope. Once out upon that he would trust to his speed and the darkness of the night. He shot forward at a headlong pace, urged by a frenzied fear. Behind him he heard the swish and thud of racing moccasins. Also there were cries. The cries struck terror into him as much as the feet. And they were terribly close.
On he sped, Kiopo running at his side. The fact that they were together seemed to lend him extra speed. He knew without a doubt that they were running for their lives. Had not Sitting-Always cried "Kill! Kill!"?
It was fortunate that his constant going to and fro upon the prairie had made him completely familiar with the lie of the land. If he continued in the same direction as he was going, he knew that he would reach broken ground where it would be impossible to keep up the pace, and not risk a fall. He swerved to the north. To swerve was to lose ground, but he dared not take the risk.
The sound of moccasins drew nearer. It seemed plain that some, at least, of his pursuers had discovered the alteration in his course. With every muscle and nerve strained to the utmost, Dusty Star fled desperately on.
From the sound behind, he judged that the Indian who was gaining was in advance of his companions. Kiopo made the same judgment with even greater exactitude as to actual distance. For a moment or two, the wolf dropped a little behind. Before Dusty Star had grasped what was happening, there was a snarling growl, a noise as of a falling body, and the sound of the moccasins ceased. A second or two afterwards, Kiopo was again running at his side.
After that the sounds of pursuit died gradually away. But for a long time Dusty Star continued his flight. When he felt that he could run no further, he let himself sink to the ground, and lay for a long time, grasping for breath.
When at last his breathing became regular, he felt the dewy vastness of the prairie night cover him as with a robe. The darkness, the quiet, above all, the sense of immense relief after the danger escaped, lulled him, and he slept.
As dawn broke, he was on his feet, for he dared not risk remaining in the open during the day.
By that mysterious means through which the wild creatures convey ideas to each other, Dusty Star made it plain to Kiopo that they must go and hide. Kiopo understood hiding. Half his life long he had either been going into hiding, or coming out. Directly they came upon a deep gully with a thicket at the head of it, both the boy and the wolf knew they had found the place to lie in till the dark.
It did not take Kiopo long to make himself a lair in the centre of the thicket. It was a thorny covert, not too comfortable, but it was safe from prying eyes. As the sun rose higher, the air grew warm. The air was full of a drowsy silence in which tiny noises hummed. First the wolf, and then the boy, settled themselves to sleep.
Towards the middle of the afternoon, Kiopo began to be restless. In other words, his stomach reminded him that it was time to stop feeling empty. He crept cautiously to the edge of the thicket and looked out. Down the gully on one side, far over the prairies on the other, there was nothing moving to be seen. Either the Indians had not started on their search, or else they had not come in this direction. True to his lifelong training, Kiopo examined the country carefully on every quarter before venturing to leave the thicket in search of game. Apparently his observations satisfied him that nothing dangerous was afoot, for Dusty Star, who was now awake, watched him quit the shelter of the bushes and drop over the edge of the gully as quietly as a cloud-shadow floats.
About half-way down the gully a large buck rabbit was washing itself in the sun. The instant Kiopo sighted it, he flattened himself to the ground, and never blinked an eye.
The rabbit, utterly unconscious of the threatened danger, went on licking its paws and drawing them down its face, as if the only important thing in life was to be sure of being clean. And, as it did so, inch by inch and foot by foot, the grey flatness that was Kiopo moved very slowly towards it, and hardly seemed to breathe.
While Dusty Star watched the lithe wolf-body working its way down the gully, creeping nearer and nearer to its kill, he became aware of another similar shape approaching the same spot, but from a different direction and much higher up the further side. The wolfishness of its appearance was made all the greater by the fact that, like Kiopo, it kept very close to the ground in its stealthy onward movement, taking advantage of every bush, and rock, to screen its advance. As Dusty Star watched the two animals approaching the same point from different directions, it seemed almost impossible that neither of them should be conscious of the other's presence. Yet it only needed a few moments' observation to convince him of the fact. He grew more and more excited. Which of the two stalking animals would be the first to catch sight of the other? And what would happen when it did?
Nearer to the prey crept Kiopo; and still nearer to Kiopo crept the other wolf.
Was it a wolf? As it glided over an open piece of ground from bush to bush, Dusty Star started. In the animal's shape and movements there was something strangely familiar. The next moment, he knew in a flash that the supposed wolf was a big husky, and that, moreover, the husky was none other but Stickchi himself.
If he had been excited before, he was doubly excited now. When the moment came that Kiopo found himself face to face with his hated enemy, Dusty Star knew that it must be a fight to the finish.
By this time Stickchi had reached the point where he must come into open view of the lower part of the gully along which Kiopo was travelling. All at once, Dusty Star saw him stop dead, and stiffen into attention. He was too far off to note the sudden rising of the hackles between his massive shoulders or to catch the smothered growl that was rumbling in his throat. But, even at that distance, he could read perfectly what had happened. Stickchi had seen!
And still Kiopo kept moving on, utterly unconscious of the danger in his rear.
Instantly Stickchi altered his tactics. Hitherto he had only watched the game. Now he had a more absorbing interest—Kiopo himself! Dusty Star watched him slightly change his course, and then move forward again with redoubled caution. From this onward, the advantage, what ever might happen afterwards, lay entirely with the husky. Dusty Star's heart began to beat wildly. A lump rose in his throat. Suppose Kiopo should be taken unawares? A wild desire to warn his friend surged through him. But how to convey that warning? If he shouted, his voice might reach other ears than those for whom it was intended, and bring some Indian to the spot. He ran the same risk if he ventured out into the open and tried to warn Kiopo by signs. There seemed nothing to be done but to wait, and let things take their course.
All this time the rabbit had continued washing itself in total unconcern of the two deadly foes advancing upon it from different points, and it was not until Kiopo was close up to it that it realized its danger. In an instant the white tail flashed in the sunlight as it turned to run. It was an instant too late. In two tremendous bounds, the wolf was upon it, and the great jaws snapped.
If Kiopo had started upon his meal at once, it is probable that his enemy might have been able to stalk him to a closer point before he made his rush; but in Kiopo's mind there was a clear idea that the kill must be shared with Dusty Star. If the Little Brother disdained the raw meat, it could not be helped. Kiopo would have behaved in the brotherly manner, and he could not be expected to do any more. He turned therefore with the rabbit in his mouth, to retrace his steps to the thicket. As he did so, the bush to his left opened in its middle and seemed to explode upon him in a hairy mass, with a snarl that was like a roar.
It was not easy to stalk Kiopo, but Stickchi's tactics had been so carefully performed that, for once, the wolf was taken off his guard. Dusty Star, from his look-out, watched the husky leap clean on Kiopo's back, and then saw both animals roll over together. There was a couple of moments of furious struggle and then Kiopo tore himself free.
The sudden attack, the rolling over, the taste of the husky's teeth, had done Kiopo good; it had aroused his fighting instincts to their utmost pitch. Besides, he had been attacked while in possession of his just-killed meat—an unpardonable offence in the law of the wilderness, in which to kill is to possess, and to possess is to make your kill a part of yourself by devouring it!
The instant he had wrenched himself free, he launched his counter attack; that is, he launched the entire weight of his hundred and forty-pound body through the air straight at the husky. Stickchi tried to evade the onset, but he was not quite so nimble as the wolf. Kiopo's charge struck him full on the shoulder, and carried him off his legs. But a husky down is not by any means a husky beaten, and Stickchi showed that, although a bully and sometimes a coward, he could, when necessary, show a fighting spirit that was not easily cowed.
From the point at which Dusty Star stood it was not very easy to follow each movement of the struggle, partly because of the distance, partly owing to the fact that now and then the fighters were so mixed up with each other that it seemed hardly so much like a dog and a wolf fighting with two separate bodies, and sets of legs, as of one wildly-whirling, tumbling mass of bodies, legs, and tails. The excitement was too great to be borne, so throwing all caution to the winds, he ran down into the gully till he was within half-a-dozen yards of the fight.
By this time both animals were bleeding freely, but they fought on in apparent unconsciousness of their wounds. At a glance it was easy to see that their methods of fighting were plainly different; for while the husky's main object seemed to be to close with the wolf and, if possible, to hold him down by sheer force, Kiopo fought in true wolf fashion, springing away after each lashing stroke of his deadly fangs, and returning to the charge in a series of leaps that bewildered his foe by their lightning rapidity.
The end of the fight came more quickly than might have been expected, considering how powerful both animals were. In the most furious whirlwind of struggle, Kiopo's mind had never lost sight of one possibility. He knew, as all wolves know, that the hamstring, or tendon at the back of the leg, is one of the most vital spots in the whole fighting machine. If once that can be cut the result of the fight is only a question of time. At last, the opportunity, so long looked-for, came. There was a tremendous snap of Kiopo's terrible jaws, and Stickchi was disabled. After that, the husky's powers of resistance were speedily exhausted, and the bully Stickchi would bully no more.
After this second kill, Kiopo retired to the thicket to lick his wounds, and Dusty Star went with him.