The War Trail

by Elmer Russell Gregor

"Ho, old man, you were very fierce," White Otter said, softly. "You were a good hunter. If I had not come here you would have had something good to eat. Well, I saw you. I came here to get meat for my grandfather, the great chief Wolf Robe. When I saw that buck I decided to take it. That is why I killed you. But you must not feel bad about it. You have done many bad things to my people. Yes, that is why I felt like killing you. You have killed many young ponies. You have driven away many deer. You have made it hard for our hunters to find meat. Now you know why I killed you. But you must not feel bad about it. Now I am going to do something good for you. I am going to give you some meat to take with you on the Long Trail. Then I am going to tell my people about you. I will speak good words about you. Now you must feel good about this thing."

Having complied with the ancient custom of his people, White Otter opened the carcass of the deer and placed the entrails beside the lynx. Then he packed the buck upon his pony with a long lariat of twisted rawhide and rode from the park.

When he reached the edge of the timber, White Otter stopped to search the plain. A prairie wolf trotted slowly from sight over a rise of ground. It was the only sign of life on the vast sage-grown waste. Assured that there was nothing to fear, White Otter set out upon his journey.

White Otter had covered two thirds of the distance to the Sioux camp when his pony suddenly turned its nose toward the wind and whinnied shrilly. White Otter looked about him with considerable alarm. He felt certain that other horses were somewhere in the vicinity. The possibility roused his suspicions. He dismounted and grasped his pony by the nose to keep it silent. It was snorting and nervously watching a low grassy knoll several arrow flights away.

"There are horses behind that hill," White Otter told himself.

Two possibilities suggested themselves. Perhaps there was a small bunch of stray ponies grazing on the opposite side of the hill. Perhaps his foes had discovered him and were lying in ambush behind the knoll. The thought made him uneasy, as the day was far spent, and he was still a considerable distance from his people. He had great confidence in the ability of his pony, however, which was one of the best in the entire Sioux tribe. He believed that in an open chase he would have little difficulty in keeping well beyond range of any pursuers who might set out upon his trail.

"I will find out about this thing," he declared.

He planned to ride about the knoll at a safe distance in the hope of discovering what lay hidden on the other side. As he was about to mount his pony, however, he saw a warrior rise to his feet, and stand boldly outlined on the top of the hill. It was an entirely unexpected maneuver, and White Otter instantly became suspicious. He feared that it was a trick to lead him into a trap. He looked anxiously about the plain to make sure that other crafty foes were not circling around behind him to cut off his retreat. He saw no one except the mysterious stranger on the top of the hill. He seemed to be watching White Otter as intently as the latter was watching him. For some time neither moved.

White Otter finally decided that, as the unknown scout was too far away to be identified, it would be foolish to waste more time watching him. He determined to continue on his way toward the Sioux camp. If he learned that he was being followed he planned to turn aside on a false trail until it grew dark. Then he would circle back toward the Ogalala village.

As White Otter mounted his pony and started away, however, the warrior on the knoll suddenly showed signs of life. The Sioux had ridden less than an arrow flight when the sentinel disappeared over the brow of the hill. White Otter felt quite certain that his pursuit had begun. He watched anxiously over his shoulder for the first glimpse of his foes. The Crows had lately been seen in that vicinity, and he wondered if a company of those hated enemies were about to come racing along his trail. He did not force his pony, however, as he was eager to learn the identity of his pursuers before he raced away for the Sioux camp.