Beyond the sunset

by Arthur D. Howden Smith

"Would you leave us weaponless, too?" he howled. "We will first come and take what we require!"

I thought he was in earnest now, but when Tawannears repeated his play of breaking off negotiations, it had the same effect as the first time; and the upshot of it all was that we agreed to accept six quivers, four bows, two cuirasses, and ten knives and eight hatchets. This was more than we needed, of course, but we had to ask for so much to carry out the pretense of our numbers.

After the terms of the trading had been arranged we came to the question of the means of putting the deal into effect. The Tonkawa chief wanted us to drive the horses over to his side of the river—having first suggested that his band come across and receive their new mounts at the edge of the wood, in order to save us trouble!—and receive the weapons there. But Tawannears finally engaged him to the stipulation that the trade was to be completed in midstream, betwixt four persons on a side, the others of both sides, as he put it, to retire out of arrow-shot from the banks.

This much accomplished we returned to our friends, rounded up twenty head and brought them to the margin of the bank, Kachina and Peter helping us to handle the herd. The Tonkawa had observed the terms of the agreement, in so far as the retirement of the main body a long bow-shot from the bank; but the four waiting at the water's edge, with the complement of arms, all carried their own weapons, and there was some delay whilst Tawannears rode forward and demanded that they throw down everything, except the goods intended for us.

This created a delay, and Kachina drew my attention to the sudden darkening of the western sky. The day had been murkily close, with a sweating heat. Now the sun was obscured by a haze, and in the west a rampart of leaden-black clouds was heaping above the horizon, lapping over like a series of gigantic waves that tumbled and struggled amongst themselves, lashing out convulsively in long, inky streamers. The air was soggy. Not a breath was stirring.

"A storm is coming," she said. "We must be quick."

"Yes," I agreed, "but we cannot take chances with these people. They are treacherous."

"The storm will be worse than the Tonkawa," she affirmed, shrugging her shoulders.

I did not believe her, nor did I give a second thought to what she had said. My attention was confined to the four warriors with whom Tawannears was arguing, and I attached far more importance to what they did than to the approaching storm. As a matter of fact, I was correct in my suspicions, for subsequent events proved that they were meditating a surprise assault upon us, planning to stampede the horses to their side of the stream, and relying upon flight to save them from the friends they still supposed us to have concealed in the wood.

Tawannears spoke forcibly to the Tonkawa chief, who was one of the four representatives of his side, and as Peter and I began to drive the horses back toward the wood, he yielded. The four, accompanied by Tawannears, rode into the current, the trade-weapons wrapped in three bundles, one carried by each of the chief's assistants. We turned the horses with some difficulty and met them half-way. The chief, I think, smelt a rat as soon as he realized Kachina to be a woman.