“Sart’in, I have the highest respect in the world for my top-knot, an’ I ain’t inclined to part with it yet. You bet, none of the painted sarpints get it, without a big tussle. Another thing I’m arter. I want to find out whether the little gal is alive or not. I ’spect, of course, that you want to find that out, yourself, but, Dave, it’s better that I should go. I know thar ain’t any hope of snatching her out of the red-skins’ hands jist now; but I can find out, I guess, whether she’s alive or dead. You know, Dave, thar isn’t a man in the north-west that knows the Crows as well as I do. Are you willin’ to stay behind, look after the camp, an’ let me go?” and the old Indian-fighter laid his hand kindly on the shoulder of the young guide as he spoke.
“Yes, Abe,” said Dave, his voice choked with emotion; “you are right. It is better that you should go than I; for if I saw her in the hands of the red devils, I should do something, not only to endanger my own life but hers. Go, therefore, in Heaven’s name. I will faithfully obey all your instructions.”
“That’s jist as it ought to be,” cried Abe, wringing his hand warmly. “All I’ve got to say is this: I’m going to take advantage of the timber to crawl up the bank of the river and sneak into their camp, for from what I saw on the prairie, I’m satisfied that their head-quarters is up the river. Now it ain’t likely that they’ll keep a very strict guard, ’cos they’ve been fightin’ all night, an’ besides, they won’t expect a visit. If I can only get near enough to hear their talk—you know I know the Crow language as well as I do my own—why then, I shall find out what they’re goin’ to do, an’ perhaps what’s goin’ to become of the little gal. Jist you ambush your men ’bout half a mile above an’ lay low in the bushes till you see me. I’ll lead some of the red imps right into your fire. That’s all I’ve got for to say.”
Then the guide went to the bank of the river, crawled under a wagon and disappeared in the little thicket beyond.
Noiselessly and carefully, Abe, the “Crow-Killer,” threaded his way through the thicket, his ears ever on the alert to catch the slightest sound before him; his keen eyes piercing the dense wood, eager for a sight of the foe.
The line of the savages was some three hundred yards from the camp. Abe, calculating that he must now be near it, proceeded onward with increased caution. In a few steps more he came to where the little thicket ended, and an open glade, perhaps a hundred feet in space, intervened; beyond that, the thicket commenced again; and on the grass by the thicket sat a Crow chief. He was evidently on the watch, and yet his watch was any thing but strict. The savage did not dream of danger and sat lazily cutting the grass around him with his tomahawk, while his eyes were vacantly fixed upon the distant prairie.
To cross the open glade, so near the savage camp, was a dangerous task, but to cross it with the Indian sitting there on the watch was clearly an impossibility.
The old Indian-fighter surveyed the ground before him, long and earnestly.
“Jerusalem!” he muttered, “that durned red Injun is right in my track; if I could get by him, guess I could walk right into the Crow camp, without trouble, but how in creation am I to git across that glade? The cuss has got a carbine t’other side of him too. ’Pears to me, these Crows must have been making a raid on some of Uncle Sam’s wagons. Oh! you long-legged red imp!” and he shook his fist at the unconscious savage, “I’d like for to get hold of your top-knot.”
“Wal,” soliloquized the “Crow-Killer,” “I can’t cross the glade, that’s sart’in; now let’s see if I can’t get round it some way.”