The Talking Leaves: An Indian Story by William O. Stoddard (manga ebook reader TXT) 📕

"In lodge. Wait there."

That explanation came from Red Wolf, and the Apaches knew exactly where their pale-face friends were at that particular moment, which was the precise thing Murray wanted them to feel sure of, considering what he knew was about to be found out.

All the rest of the village was full of noise, but the dignity of the older men enforced silence in the circle now gathering closely around the chief. Added to the dignity was a large amount of pride over what they had already done, and a little anxiety concerning what it would be best to do next.

Many Bears turned to Murray. "Send Warning gave good council. His head is white. He is wise. Tell Apaches now where all pale-face gone. No come."

"Send Warning can guess. The pale-faces don't like to be killed. Find too many Apaches. Run away and save scalp."

"Ugh! Good. Nobody know where they go. No use follow. Apaches take Lipan prisoners. What Send Warning say about them?"

"Keep them till to-morrow. No hurry. Something else to think of now. More fight, maybe."

The chief nodded his head, but a chorus of "Ughs!" expressed the dissent of his council. They meant to decide the fate of old Two Knives without delay.

Still, three of the older braves insisted upon arguing the case, one after the other; and by the time the last of them ceased speaking, Murray felt pretty safe about To-la-go-to-de. He said to himself, "The old fox has half an hour the start of them now. He is miles and miles away."

Just then Many Bears turned to him with, "What say now? Any words?"

"No. Never speak twice. Apaches do what think best."

"Ugh! Good. Young braves bring out Lipans. No wait. Kill them all right away."

Prisoners of such a sort were likely to be a troublesome burden to a party on the march like that of Many Bears, and the only real question before the council was, after all, in what precise manner the killing should be done.

At that moment, however, a great cry arose from the vicinity of the lodge where the Lipans had been shut up—a cry of surprise, anger, and disappointment. And then the word spread over the whole camp like wildfire,

"The Lipans are gone!"

It was almost beyond belief, and there was a general rush toward that row of lodges, and beyond them into the bushes and through the corral. It came within an ace of stampeding every pony there, and every trace of anything like a "trail" left by the feet of Two Knives and his warriors was quickly trampled out.

The only bit of a "sign" found by anybody was in the shape of more than a dozen thongs of buckskin on the ground in the lodge, all clean cut through with a sharp knife.

That told plainly how the prisoners had released themselves.

The braves who had searched and tied them were positive that not one of them retained a knife, or was left in a condition to make any use of one. They must have had help from somebody, but it was a great mystery who that somebody could be.

Suspicion might have fallen upon Murray and Steve, but it was well known that the latter had remained in his lodge, refusing even to look at the prisoners, while Send Warning had been in council with the chiefs. They believed they knew where he had been all the while, and none of them imagined that Two Knives had been set free before he had lain in that "prison lodge" three minutes.

It was a terrible mortification, but something must be done; and again Murray was asked for advice.

"What do I think? Let me ask you a question. Did the Lipans go away on foot?"

"Ugh! No. Take good horse."

"Did they have any arms? Gun? lance? bow?"

"Ugh! No. Think not."

"They are cunning warriors. Did they ride out among your young men? Send Warning says they would do just what great Apache chief would do."

"Ugh! Good. Pale-face chief very wise. Lipans go all way round. Like snake. Only one thing for us to do. Catch 'em when they come to pass."

"Better ride now," said Murray. "Send Warning and Knotted Cord will ride with Apache braves. No time lose. Want fresh horse."

He afterward explained to Steve that a little seeming activity on their part was needful at that moment of excitement, lest anything unpleasant should be said about them. Besides, he had no fear of any farther collision with the Lipans. The night was too far gone for that, and he had great confidence in the courage and skill of old Two Knives.

In less than twenty minutes after he had given his advice, he and Steve Harrison, mounted on fresh mustangs chosen for them from the corral by Red Wolf himself, were riding across the ford at the head of a strong squad of Apache warriors, commanded by a chief of well-known skill and prowess.

"They will pick up plenty more on the way, Steve, but they won't have much to do."

"No danger of their catching old Two Knives?"

"Not a bit. I'll tell you all about it some other time."

"I've something to tell you, Murray. I can't keep it."

"Out with it, my boy."

"That white daughter of old Many Bears can speak English. She understood what I said and answered me."

It was dark, or Steve would have seen that the face of his friend grew as white as his hair, and then flushed and brightened with a great and sudden light.

For a moment he was silent, and then he said, in a deep, husky voice,

"Don't say any more about it to me, Steve. Not till I speak to you again. I'm in an awful state of mind to-night."

Steve had somehow made up his mind to that already, but he was saved the necessity of saying anything in reply. Red Wolf rode closer to him at the moment and said,

"Knotted Cord is young. Been on war-path before?"

"Say yes, Steve," muttered Murray.

"Yes, I'm young. Seen a good deal, though. Many war-paths."

"What tribe strike?"

"Lipans, Comanches, Mexicans. Followed some Pawnees once. They got away."

Red Wolf's whole manner told of the respect he felt for a young brave who had already been out against the fiercest warriors of the Indian country. He would have given a good many ponies to have been able to say as much for himself.

"Glad come among Apaches. Stay long time. Never go away."

That was a wonderful thing for Red Wolf to say, considering what a bitter prejudice had been taught him against everybody with a white skin. Ni-ha-be would not have believed it unless she had heard him say it.

"Can't promise," replied Steve. "Go when Send Warning say."

No comment could be made by a "young brave" on an appeal to a white-headed "chief" like Murray, and the talk slackened a little.

It would hardly have done so if they could have looked a few miles in front of them just then. The darkness would have prevented their seeing much, but if they had been near the old Lipan camp they would have seen that it was empty.

A few Apaches had taken possession of it at first, but the smouldering camp-fires and blazing wagons gave light enough to the Lipans among the rocks to enable them to send occasional bullets at whatever might be stirring there, and the place was given up as uselessly dangerous. The scattered shots which now and then came from the mouth of the pass told that the beaten warriors of To-la-go-to-de were wide-awake and ready to defend themselves, and their position was well known to be a strong one—not to be attacked without both orders and re-enforcements.

But for one thing that end of the pass would have been already vacant. The pride of the Lipans forbade their running farther without at least an effort to learn what had become of their chief. They felt that they could never look their squaws in the face again unless they could explain that point.

To be sure it was almost a hopeless case, and the Apaches would be upon them in the morning, but they waited.

Everything seemed to be growing darker, and the outlying Lipan sentinels were not in any fault that four men on horseback should get so near them undiscovered. It was very near, and the new-comers must have known there was danger in it, for one of them suddenly put his hand to his mouth and uttered a fierce, half-triumphant war-whoop. It was the well-known battle-cry of To-la-go-to-de himself, and it was answered by a storm of exulting shouts from the warriors among the rocks. Their chief had escaped!

That was true, and it was a grand thing, but he had brought back with him only three men of his "front rank."

The Apaches could hear the whooping, and the foremost of them deemed it wise to fall back a little. Whatever their enemies might be up to, they were men to be watched with prudence as well as courage.

The words of the great chief were few. There was no farther account to be made of Captain Skinner and his miners, he told them. They were cunning, and they had taken care of themselves. It had been well to plunder their camp. He himself owed his safety to their old friend No Tongue, and the Lipans must never forget him. The Yellow Head had probably been killed, and they would not see him again. They must now gather all their horses and other plunder, and push their retreat as far as possible before morning. Some other time they would come and strike the Apaches, but it was "bad medicine" for them just now.

Whatever else that may have meant, according to Indian superstition, every warrior could understand that their losses had weakened them too much to think of fighting another hard battle. It was no disgrace to make a great deal of haste under such circumstances; and so, if Red Wolf and the rest had been near enough at that hour, they would have seen Two Knives and what was left of his band riding steadily on, deeper and deeper, among the mountains.

All the while that Murray had been sitting among the Apache chiefs and answering their questions, and even when he and Steve mounted the mustangs Red Wolf brought them, there had been three pairs of very keen eyes, not to speak of any others, closely watching him.

"He is not an Apache!" exclaimed Ni-ha-be to Rita. "Why do they make a chief of him? He is nothing but an old pale-face!"

"He is wise. He is good. The great chief listens to him. All the warriors listen. They did as he said to-night, and so they beat the Lipans."

"He is not a warrior. He did not go out and fight."

"All warriors do not go always. Some stay in camp. Young squaws like you and me must not talk about chiefs."

That was good Apache teaching, and Ni-ha-be knew it, but she seemed to have formed a strong dislike for Send Warning, and she retorted,

"He is not a chief—only a pale-face. I will talk about him as much as I please. You like him because he is one of your own people."

Rita was silent. There was a very strange feeling in her heart just then, and she was trying to understand it.

For long years, ever since she was a little girl, she had been taught to think of herself as an Apache maiden, the daughter of a great chief, and she had grown to be very proud of it. She had been even ashamed, at times, of the fact that, in some way that she did not quite understand, she was a pale-face also. Ni-ha-be had been apt to throw it at her whenever there was any dispute between them, and that had helped to keep her from forgetting it.

And, now she had seen Send Warning and Knotted Cord, she had felt that a sort of change was coming over her. She was young, but she could see that in some way they were the superiors of all the red warriors around them. They were listened to and looked up to, although they were almost strangers. To her eyes they were better-looking,