CHAPTER XIV
THE PLIGHT OF THE OGALALAS
TWO anxious days and two terrible nights had passed since High Eagle had crawled successfully through the Pawnee lines. During that time the great host of Pawnee fighting men had made many desperate attempts to enter the Ogalala village. In each attack, however, they had been compelled to recoil before the heroic defense of the Sioux. At the dawn of the third day, therefore, the camp was still in possession of its gallant defenders.
In spite of their apparent success, however, the Ogalalas were in a desperate plight. Many of the warriors had been killed, and many more had been wounded. Thus the Sioux force, which was outnumbered four to one at the beginning of hostilities, had been still further weakened, and most of the boys and all the old men had been called upon to take part in the fight. The food supply was exhausted, and they had already killed several ponies for meat. Fortunately the pool which supplied the water was located close to the edge of the village, and as yet the Pawnees had been unable to gain possession of it.
"My people, over there you see the first light of a new day," Wolf Robe told the Ogalalas as the dawn crept slowly above the rim of the plain. "Two suns have passed since the Wolf People came here to fight us. Well, we are still alive. The Pawnees have made many boasts, but we have laughed at them. Our women and children are safe in the lodges. We have killed many of our enemies. Pretty soon our brothers, the Minneconjoux, will come here. Yes, I am listening for the noise of their ponies. White Otter will lead them to this place. Then you will see how the Pawnees can run. My brothers, we have made a great fight. But I must tell you that it is not over. No, the Wolf People will keep trying to get into the village. Perhaps another sun will pass before the great chief, Curly Horse, and his warriors come here. Yes, perhaps two suns will pass. Well, we will keep off our enemies. They are many more than we are, but that is nothing to a Dacotah. We have plenty of ponies. We can give meat to our people. We have water. The Pawnees cannot get that. Yes, we will keep up the fight until our people come. You have heard the words of Wolf Robe."
"Ogalalas, you have listened to a great war chief," cried Yellow Horse, the medicine-man. "Wolf Robe has led us in many battles. We will keep his words in our hearts. Yes, we will show the boastful Pawnees that it takes many wolves to kill the bear in his den. We are Dacotahs! It is enough. Now it is getting light. We must watch."
As the narrow streak of light gradually broadened and reached across the sky, the Sioux listened expectantly for the first warning yell from their foes. They felt sure that they would make another attack before sunrise, and each moment's delay increased the suspense. However, when darkness finally merged into twilight, a long, quavering cry rose in the south. Then the Ogalalas knew that the expected assault was at hand. An ominous silence followed the signal. The Sioux looked anxiously for their foes. Their efforts were fruitless, however, for the light was still too weak to disclose objects beyond bow-shot, and it was evident that the cautious Pawnees were safely beyond that distance. The stillness was baffling. The Ogalalas were perplexed. They wondered why the Pawnees were delaying their attack. The maneuver made them suspicious.