Glad were his faithful followers and the terrified Crows to hear and obey the signal; yet did they not leave the scene without further loss, for ere they got behind the circle around which the camp–fires shed their uncertain light, another volley was fired after them by the enemy, and although none were killed by this second discharge, many were so grievously wounded that they were with difficulty borne off by their companions. It was some relief to them in their hasty retreat to find that they were not pursued. Mahéga placed himself in the rear; he even lingered many yards behind the rest, crouching now and then behind tree or bush in hopes of being able to slake his burning thirst for revenge—but in vain; War–Eagle was too sagacious to pursue by night, in an unknown and broken country, an enemy who, although dismayed and panic–struck, still out–numbered his band in the proportion of three to one.
“Bloody–hand, the great warrior of the Osages, will not come again soon to visit the Lenapé camp,” said War–Eagle, in answer to Ethelston’s congratulations, as they stood surrounded by their victorious handful of men on the spot whence they had just driven the enemy with so much slaughter. “Let Attō count the dead,” continued the chief, “and bring in the wounded, if any are found.”
“War–Eagle,” said the missionary, who from his concealment had been an unwilling spectator of the late brief, but sanguinary skirmish, “forbear to exercise here the cruel usages of Indian war; let the wounded be cared for, and the dead be put to rest in peace below the earth.”
“The ears of War–Eagle are open to the Black Father’s words,” replied the chief sternly; “if any wounded are found, they shall suffer no further hurt: but the scalps of the dead shall hang on the medicine–pole of the Lenapé village, that the spirits of Tamenund and his fathers may know that their children have taken vengeance on the forked–tongued Washashee.”
Further conversation was interrupted by a cry uttered by Attō, who had found the body of the unhappy Delaware slain by Mahéga. The whole party hastened to the spot; and War–Eagle, without speaking a word, pointed to the reeking skull whence the fierce Osage had torn the scalp.
Paul Müller, feeling that all reply would be ill–timed and unavailing, turned away, and walked towards the feeding–place of the horses, while the Delawares scalped and threw into an adjacent hollow the bodies of the Crows and Osages who had fallen. Of the latter they counted two, and of the former ten, besides a much greater number whom they knew to have been borne off mortally wounded.
As the missionary strolled onward, accompanied by Ethelston, a low moan caught his ear, and, stooping down, he discerned an Indian coiled up in a position indicative of intense agony under the branches of a juniper. They carried him back to the camp–fire, and on examining him by its light, he proved to be a young Crow warrior, shot through the body, who had dragged himself with difficulty for some distance, and had then fallen exhausted to the ground. Doubtless he expected to be immediately scalped and despatched; nor could he for some time be induced to believe that those into whose hands he had fallen were indeed endeavouring to alleviate his sufferings.
War–Eagle, faithful to his promise, rendered every assistance in his power to the worthy missionary while thus employed; but it might easily be seen, by the scornful curl of his lip, that he looked upon this care of an enemy wounded in battle as an absurd and effeminate practice.
Day broke, and the dispirited band of Crow and Osage warriors returned from their fruitless expedition, only to find a worse disaster at home. Great, indeed, was their dismay, when they were met by a scout from their village, who informed them that a party of white men had stormed the Osage camp by night, and still retained possession of it, having destroyed the greater proportion of those left to defend it. In his description of the attack, the height, the strength, the daring and impetuous courage of the young warrior who had led it were painted in colours exaggerated by terror; yet the Osage chief had no difficulty in recognising the hated rival who had struck and disgraced him, and who was now master of the fate of her for whose sake he had toiled, and plotted, and suffered so much.
Stung to the quick by these suggestions of wounded jealousy and pride, he ground his teeth with fury that would not be repressed, and he swore that before two suns had risen and set, either he or his rival, or both, should see the light of day no more. His position was now precarious in the extreme, all his goods and ammunition having fallen into the enemy’s hands, excepting that which he and his few remaining followers had about their persons. He knew that if he no longer possessed the means of making presents, the Crows would abandon, if not betray him at once, and he resolved to strike some sudden and decisive blow before that thought should obtain possession of their minds.