Two Arrows: A Story of Red and White

by William O. Stoddard

This state of things continued, and grew worse and worse every minute, until a good long hour after the main body had moved away along Sile's trail towards the notch. Then, altogether unexpectedly, but as by one impulse, all the Apache horse-guard gave a sudden start and turned their heads in one direction.

Over the crest of the nearest knoll, stirring and clear and sweet, came the sound of a cavalry bugle. It was the signal to "charge," and was followed by the swift rush of Captain Grover and his men. In an instant they were between the feeding quadrupeds and their astonished keepers, and it was all in vain for the young hot-heads in their amazement to attempt to rally. One only wheeled his pony at once and rode away at the top of his speed. The nine or ten who dashed in the other direction suddenly all drew rein as they discovered the odds against them. A line of iron veterans, thirty strong, was thundering forward, and not an Apache was fool enough to fire a shot and be cut down for it.

There was just enough of bewildered, leaderless indecision to settle the matter. The sabres swept flashingly around the squad of redskins, and all they had to do was to surrender. It is a mere novelist's blunder to suppose and to write that red men have not sense enough to give it up when there is no use in fighting any more. They can do it as readily as any white man in the world, and the reason why they do not do it more frequently is because they generally keep a good chance to run away, and make a treaty afterwards as to what presents they are to have for making peace. There was no time given the young braves to strike a bargain. They were all disarmed, and then, dreadfully to their disgust, they were all dismounted and tied up.

"The plunder'll do well enough where it is," said Captain Grover, as he detailed Garry and a guard of four men to watch the prisoners. "If any of those chaps gets loose you'll have to shoot him. Men, by fours, left! Forward!"

The pony-rider who escaped was sure to carry the news of the disaster, and of the arrival of the blue-coats, but several things could happen before the Apache chief received it. He had no spy-glass, and he was eagerly waiting such information as might be obtained by the brave standing face to face with Yellow Pine.

That very cunning Apache found himself talking under difficulties. He could see distinctly that there were more than a few rifles at the barrier, but he could get no farther. The tall pale-face in front of him kept back any other information than that all the Apaches in this world or any other would be killed in case of an attack then and there. He even referred to Sile's exploit as an example, and to the lesson given by Two Arrows to the scout, and all the wild blood in the Apache brave was set boiling by that somewhat imprudent reference. He was a large, powerfully built warrior, and he had been as truthful as could be expected when he signified that he was unarmed. He kept up the idea of a "flag of truce" talk until sure he could gain no more by it, and then he uttered a shrill whoop and stooped, quick as a flash, for a long knife hidden in his leggings. He meant to carry back the scalp of Yellow Pine as a trophy of that conversation, but had not asked anybody how well Pine could box. The latter had no time to draw any weapon except his fist, but that was a hard one, and it struck the Apache on the side of his head as he was rising, knife in hand. Over and over he rolled, while Pine threw himself flat upon the earth, at the same moment digging both hands into the pockets of his pantaloons. His enemy recovered himself instantly and sprang to his feet with another whoop, lifting his long, glittering knife for a rush upon the prostrate pale-face. It might have been a perilous rush, for Pine's hands came right out of his pockets, and each held a short-barrelled "Derringer" pistol, ready cocked. They are terrible weapons, but the miner had no occasion to use either of them. The line of the barrier and of the adjacent rocks seemed to dance with blue flashes and with puffs of white smoke. Within three seconds not less than a score of rattling reports awoke the echoes of the notch, and every blue tube they came from had been aimed by a good marksman. After all was over, the prevalent opinion was that not one of them had missed. At all events Yellow Pine was safe to jump up and run for the barrier, followed by hasty shots from startled and galloping horsemen, all as useless as so many pebbles. His arrival was greeted by all the shouting and whooping which could possibly be performed by the red and white garrison of the notch, aided by One-eye with a vigor that shook him all over. Even then, however, the voice of the Big Tongue could be distinguished from the rest.

If the volume of sound did nothing else it deeply impressed the mind of the Apache chief with an idea of the strength of the force opposed to him. So had the promptness and number and accuracy of the rifle-shots which had prevented him from getting any report from his too treacherous "flag of truce" brave. As for him, Na-tee-kah had been watching Two Arrows and had seen the Apache fall just as his rifle went off. That was enough, and she was again proud of her brother. It was in vain for Ha-ha-pah-no to say,

"Ugh! Heap shoot. All kill him. Go dead a heap."

She as well as Na-tee-kah was taking every opportunity for practising all the small English words she could pick up, and some of her greatest successes would have puzzled a dictionary.

The Apaches were all but silent and drew back a little at the end of their burst of angry whooping and useless shooting. They drew back still farther because of a steady whizzing of bullets from the barrier. It was too far for good marksmanship, but the rifles made nowadays will send a piece of lead a mile and hurt something with it.