The Story of Red Feather by Edward Sylvester Ellis (reading well txt) 📕

he made the discovery that neither the brother nor sister was in the cabin he would have seen a picture of as blank amazement as ever held a person speechless.

This was not caused so much by what the children had done as by the course of the Sioux themselves, for nothing was plainer to the chieftain than the manner in which Melville and Dot had escaped.

They had been on the alert, and when the warriors hastened to the top of the hill Melville Clarendon was bright enough to seize the opportunity thus given. He had quietly stepped out of the front door, where, in the gloom and the absorbing interest of the red men in another direction, neither he nor the little girl attracted notice. The two were doubtless making all haste from the endangered spot.

But the chieftain was astounded over another discovery: in order to make his search absolutely thorough he had caught up a smouldering brand, quickly fanned it into a flame, and then explored the upper and lower storys. Not a nook or corner was left unvisited, and a hiding cat would have been brought to light.

That which almost knocked Tall Bear breathless was the fact that he found nothing of the remains of Red Feather, who had entered the chimney before the eyes of five of his own warriors.

The inference was certain: Red Feather had not been killed, but had gone out of the front door just as the children had done.

Tall Bear was still far from suspecting the whole truth, though, had he been left with nothing else on his mind for a short time only, he must have divined, or at least suspected, what actually took place.

But a party of horsemen were approaching, and must already be close at hand. They required attention, for if they should prove to be enemies, the chief would have his hands full. His position, with a lighted torch within the building, was not the most prudent he could take, and as he came outside he flung the light to the ground where it sputtered out in the darkness.

Tall Bear's pony was standing where he had left him, and vaulting lightly upon his back, he sent him on a gallop to the top of the hill, to learn something about the new-comers.

The main party of warriors were some distance off, awaiting the signal to know whether they were to fight or to join the parties whose identity was still in doubt. The couple whom Tall Bear had despatched to reconnoitre were still absent, so that he found himself alone on the elevation.

It is at such times that the American Indian displays a wonderful keenness of sight and hearing. The chief sat motionless, peering into the gloom and listening. None could know better than he that he had taken a most dangerous position.

If the horsemen, who could not be far off, were hostile, they would surround the hill whereon they last saw the Sioux, and unless Tall Bear kept his wits about him he was likely to be shut in on every hand.

But it would have been hard for the most skilful Indian scout to take him unawares. He was certain to see and hear the approach of any one as soon as the latter could see or hear him, and the chieftain was not the one to fall asleep under such circumstances.

Darting his penetrating glances here, there, and everywhere, he suddenly fixed them upon a point directly ahead. Something was vaguely assuming form in the gloom, and a minute later he observed a man walking toward him.

Tall Bear leaned forward over the neck of his pony, that he might not lose the advantage of an inch of space. The stranger was advancing without any more noise than if he was a shadow, and he was alone, or, if he had any companions, they were so far behind when he was in full view as to be invisible.

The man on foot came to a halt while still too far off to be more than faintly visible, and emitted a low tremulous whistle. Tall Bear promptly answered in the same manner, and then the other ran forward to his side. He was one of the two scouts the chief had sent out, and he brought important tidings.

The party of horsemen which caused the Sioux such concern were white men--every one--under the leadership of the famous frontier scout Nat Trumbull. The warrior had ventured near enough to the company to recognize his voice when he gave the order for his men to move around to the south and approach the house from that direction.

Trumbull was a veteran who had done good service during the lurid summer of 1862, when the Sioux desolated a large portion of the Minnesota frontier, and Tall Bear feared him more than any white man living. He knew that if Trumbull and his rangers got a chance at the Sioux they would force matters without mercy. No sooner, therefore, did the Sioux scout tell what he had learned than Tall Bear made up his mind that the best place for him and his warriors was somewhere else. When he asked after the other scout who accompanied the one that returned, the chieftain was told that he had ventured so near the white men that he narrowly escaped capture, and was forced to dodge off in another direction.

That was enough. Tall Bear wheeled his pony like a flash, and galloped toward the point where he knew his warriors were awaiting the news with as much anxiety as his own.

Such tidings travel fast, and within five minutes after the return of the scout with his message Tall Bear and his warriors were riding as if for life from the neighborhood.

It may as well be explained how it was that the relief which Melville Clarendon expected hours before was so delayed that, but for an unexpected occurrence, it would have arrived too late.

You have learned that Mr. Clarendon and his wife left their home early that morning and hurried northward over the ten miles between them and Barwell.

All went well until they had passed half the distance, when the sudden appearance of three mounted Indians showed that they were not likely to get through without trouble. The settler at once came to a halt and prepared to make the best defence possible. The animals were gathered near the wagon, where Mr. Clarendon made his wife crouch down to escape the flying bullets, and, loaded gun in hand, he waited the attack that was sure to come.

A skilful marksman in the situation of Mr. Clarendon generally considers himself the equal of three mounted men on the open plain, and the conduct of the warriors showed that they held the settler in respect. Keeping beyond easy range, they circled about the wagon and its inmates as if looking for an opening, and finally all three brought their guns to their shoulders and let fly.

The volley killed one of the horses, which dropped dead as he stood near the wagon.

The settler instantly returned the shot, and--rather curiously--though the distance was considerable, he brought down the pony of the nearest Indian, which made such a frenzied leap that his rider was thrown. Mr. Clarendon at first thought it was he who had been struck; but he quickly sprang to his feet and vaulted upon another pony behind one of his comrades.

The Sioux continued circling around the settler at a still greater distance, and sent in another volley, which did no harm. At last they concluded the risk of a charge and attack too great, and drew off, finally disappearing in the distance.

Mr. Clarendon waited an hour or more, expecting them to return, but they did not, and he resumed his journey to the settlement.

Having but a single horse, he was obliged to leave part of his load behind, and such slow progress was made in his crippled condition that the day was well gone before he reached Barwell.

There he was startled to learn that his children had started homeward early in the day, and were still absent. He set about organizing a rescue party at once. Fortunately, Nat Trumbull and several of his rangers were present, and they eagerly gave their help. Within half an hour after the father received the alarming tidings Trumbull was cantering southward with a dozen tried men and true, and among them was Archibald Clarendon himself.

Although the escape of the three parties from the beleaguered cabin may strike you as wonderful, yet, after all, there was nothing very remarkable in it.

Red Feather would have forgotten his lifelong training, had he failed to see and take instant advantage of the providential diversion when the Sioux, in the gathering darkness, made all haste to the top of the hill to learn about the horsemen approaching from the north.

Had the Sioux suspected that the brain of one of their shrewdest chiefs was helping the boy and girl, they would have been far more vigilant; but, as it was, they must have believed that nothing could draw the lad outside of his shelter until the appearance of his friends.

Red Feather was standing as before at one of the upper windows when the stampede took place to the crest of the hill. He read its meaning, and saw his golden opportunity.

"Now we go," he said in an undertone; "me carry pappoose (child)--you come 'long--put blanket round--den look like Indian."

There was another reason for using the blanket; the air was cold enough to require it.

Melville was quick to catch the idea, and, whipping a quilt from the bed, he gathered it about his shoulders, so that it came almost to his crown. His straw hat would have been too conspicuous, and he held that in front of his breast, under the blanket, to be put in its proper place again when it should become safe to do so.

"I'm ready," he said, standing erect, and looking at Red Feather as well as he could in the gloom.

"Me too."

The chief had lifted Dot in his arms, and he covered her with his thick blanket, doing so with such skill that hardly any one would have suspected the nature of the precious burden he carried next to his heart.

Not a minute was lost. Red Feather passed down the steps, paused in front of the door, and waited for Melville to unfasten it. The youth donned his hat, flung aside his blanket, and set his gun down to give his arms play. The heavy bar was lifted from its place, and then, in obedience to an odd whim, he thrust the end of the leathern string through the orifice above the latch.

He gathered his blanket about his shoulders and head as before, doffing his hat and returning it to its hiding-place, and paused for the chieftain to precede him.

Red Feather stood a minute on the threshold, peering out in the darkness. Everything looked favorable, and he stepped forward. Melville was directly behind him, and softly closed the door as he left the cabin.

The Sioux, instead of walking straight away from the building, moved stealthily along the front, passed around the corner, and started southward. By this means he interposed the cabin between himself and the party on the hill.

The youth was almost on his heels. His heart beat fast, and he was eager to break into a run that would quickly increase the distance between him and the war-party. He was about