The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

by Joseph A. Altsheler

"Good advice," said Brady. "When the conquerors went down into the land of Canaan they used every chance that nature or circumstance offered them, and why shouldn't we, even though three thousand years or so have elapsed? We will build no fire, but repose calmly in our little clump of trees."

"Good judgment," said Boyd.

"Pleases me," said Will.

All day long and all that night the herd, as wide and dense as ever, was passing. They might have slain enough to feed a great army, but they did not fire a shot. The sight, whether by daylight or moonlight, did not lose its romance and majesty for the lad. It was a black sea, flowing and living, one of the greatest spectacles of the mighty western wilderness, and it was given to him to look upon it.

He grew so used to it by and by that he had no thought of its turning from its course or of its throwing out stragglers like little, diverging currents. It would go on in a vast flood, straight into the unknown, wherever it intended to go.

The horses and mules themselves, though at first uneasy, soon grew used to the passage of the living river, and, since no harm came from it, evidently concluded that none would come. Will walked among them more than once and stroked their manes and then their noses, which they rubbed confidingly against him.

The moon shining that night was very bright, and, the heavens being starred in such brilliant splendor, they saw almost as well as by day. Will, to whom the romantic and majestic appealed with supreme force, began to find a certain enjoyment, or rather a mental uplift, in his extraordinary position. Before him was the great, black and living river, flowing steadily from the unknown into the unknown, to north and to south the rolling plains stretched away to infinity, and behind him, piercing the skies, rose the misty White Dome, a vast peak; now friendly, that seemed to watch over these faithful comrades of his and himself.

None of them slept until late, and they divided the remainder of the night into watches of two hours apiece, Will's running from two until four in the morning. It was Brady whom he succeeded and it required some effort of the will for him to leap at once from his warm blankets and take the place of sentinel in the night, which was now cold, as usual on the plains. But, while averse to bloodshed, he had drilled himself into soldiership in action, always prompt, accurate and thorough, and in less than a minute he was walking up and down, rifle on shoulder, eyes open to everything that was to be seen and ears ready for everything that was to be heard. Stephen Brady, the philosopher, looked at him with approval.

"A prompt and obedient lad is sure to be a good and useful man," he said. "You're as big as a man now, but you haven't the years and the experience. I like you, William, and you are entitled to your share of the Land of Canaan, which, in these later days, may be interpreted variously as the treasures of the spirit and the soul. And now, good-night."

He wrapped himself in his blankets and, sound of body and conscience, he slept at once. Will, walking back and forth, alert, eager, found that nothing had changed while he was in slumber. The buffalo herd flowed on, its speed and its flood the same, while the White Dome towered far into the sky, almost above them, serene, majestic and protecting. It seemed to Will that all the omens were good, that, great though the dangers and hardships might be, they would triumph surely in the end. And the feeling of victory and confidence was still strong upon him when his watch of two hours was finished and he, too, in his turn, slept again.