The Young Ranchers: or, Fighting the Sioux

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE FRIEND IN NEED

While these lively scenes were taking place, Warren Starr was not idle. The report of his gun was plainly heard by the other Sioux and the captive, but the former took it for granted that it was fired by their comrade, and calmly awaited his return with the news of the death of the fugitive.

But as the reader has learned the boot was on the other leg. The youth was unharmed, and his enemy was of no further account.

Actuated by the chivalrous wish to help Tim, he began cautiously picking his way along the slope, at a considerable distance from the base, peering forward and listening intently for sights and sounds that could tell him how his companion had fared.

He had better fortune than he dared expect. The flickering of something among the trees warned him that he was in a delicate position, and his farther advance was with the utmost care, accompanied by glances on every hand, to guard against walking into a trap.

Very soon he reached a point from which he saw all that was going on. Tim was standing defiantly among the Sioux, who appeared to be discussing the question of what to do with him. He identified Starcus, and recognized also the hapless state of affairs.

Much as he regretted the conclusion, Warren Starr was forced, in spite of himself, to see that it was out of his power to raise a finger to help his friend. For one moment he meditated bringing his Winchester to his shoulder and opening fire, but at the best he could not hope to bring down more than two or three before the others would be upon him. With no possible way of escape open, the situation of Tim would be worse than before, for one of the first things done by the Sioux would be to slay him on the spot, whereas they were now likely to spare him for a time, and so long as he had life, so long did hope remain.

Warren would have been as eager to befriend the brave fellow as the latter would have been to aid him; but, as we have said, there was no dodging the fact that it was out of his power. What, therefore, should he do for himself and the other loved ones for whom all this danger had been incurred?

Where were that father, mother, and little sister? They might be in equally sore distress, and longer delay on his part perhaps would decide the question of life or death.

Stealthily withdrawing again, until well beyond sight of the group, he began carefully descending the side of the ridge toward the open prairie. In doing so, he avoided doubling on his own trail, for at any moment some of the Sioux were liable to start out on a tour of investigation, which would bring them face to face with him.

With all his senses on the alert, he threaded his way among the trees and around the rocks and bowlders, until he stood on the base of the elevation, with the broad plain, across which he and his friend had fled in such desperate haste, stretching out before him for many miles.

But another sight interested him. Along the foot of the ridge were scattered nearly a dozen Indian ponies, cropping as best they could the grass, whose tops faintly showed above the thin coating of snow. Their owners had abandoned them in their haste, without thought of securing them to any of the limbs, confident that they would be found within reach when wanted.

They were tough little animals, without saddle or bridle. The majority had a blanket roughly secured over the back, with a thong about the upper part of the neck, which was all that was needed to guide them wherever their masters willed.

But there was one animal worth all the rest for whom the eyes of the youth eagerly searched among the group, scattered at varying distances. He would have given anything for a sight of his own Jack at that moment.

To his astonishment, he saw nothing of him. Through some unaccountable cause, he had vanished as utterly as if he had never existed.

In the vain hope of discovering him, Warren glanced from one to the other, until he had surveyed each one several times over. But there was no mistake; Jack was invisible.

The fact caused him keen regret, but it would not do to tarry, with the certainty that the Sioux would soon learn the truth and be after him like a whirlwind. One or two of their ponies were almost as fleet as Jack, and Warren was a good enough horseman to ride them as well as their masters could without saddle.

Fixing his attention on the best looking animal, which happened also to be the nearest, he moved briskly toward him, with the purpose of bounding upon his back and dashing away; but his abruptness defeated his intention. It frightened the pony, who with a snort threw up his head, trotted several rods out on the prairie, and then turned and looked at him.

The alarm of this animal communicated itself to the others, who also hurriedly trotted beyond his reach.

The situation was critical. The action of the ponies was almost certain to be heard by their owners a short distance off, and they would be quickly on the spot. If they caught sight of the youth on foot trying to steal one, his position would be far more hopeless than when among the rocks and trees.

Seeing his mistake, Warren tried to right matters by a less abrupt approach. He dropped to a slow walk, holding out his hand and uttering soothing words. Had he done this at the beginning, he would have had no trouble in capturing any horse he desired, but the animals identified him as a stranger, and continued shy.

The finest, which he had sought first to catch, closely watched him as he slowly approached, but at the very moment the heart of the youth was beating high with hope, he swung his head around and trotted beyond reach. Warren turned his attention to the one that was nearest, and by a sudden dash aimed to catch his halter, one end of which was dangling in the snow.

As he stooped to grasp the thong, it was whisked from under his hand, and the pony galloped beyond his reach.

The bitter disappointment made Warren desperate. He had undertaken an impossible task. He might succeed had more time been at his command, but the Sioux were liable to appear any minute. It would not do for him to be caught in this situation. He must abandon the attempt and get back among the trees and rocks, where there remained the bare possibility of eluding the red men.

"What the mischief has become of Jack?" he muttered, facing about and breaking into a lope for the ridge. "If he were only in sight, he would come to me at once. Hello! just what I feared!"

At that juncture he detected something moving among the trees. It was not clearly seen, but not doubting that the Sioux were coming, he broke into a run for cover, not daring to risk a shot until partial shelter was secured.

In his affright he did not dare glance to the left even, and held his breath in thrilling expectancy, certain that with every leap he took he would be greeted by a volley, or that the Sioux would throw themselves across his track to shut off all chance of escape.

That they did not do so was not only unaccountable to him, but gave him the hope that possibly he might still elude them. Bending his head, he ran with might and main. The distance was not great, but it seemed tenfold greater than it was, and a slip of the foot, which came near bringing him to his knees, filled his heart with despair and made him certain that he would soon join Tim Brophy.

He heard his pursuers at his heels. Despite his own fleetness, they were outspeeding him. Nothing could save him from being overtaken before reaching the ridge.

Suddenly a peculiarity in the sound made by those at his rear caused him abruptly to halt and look around.

Then, to his unbounded delight and amazement, he recognized his own pony, Jack, striving hard to keep him company.

CHAPTER XXV.
THE PRAIRIE DUEL

Warren Starr could have hugged his pony in his transport of delight. Until a moment before he was sure several of the Sioux were upon him; when, wheeling about, he was confronted by Jack, whom he had been desirous of meeting above every other person or animal in the world.

The action of the horse he understood. On the sudden flight of his master he had attempted to follow him among the rocks and trees of the ridge; the Indians, in the flurry of the occasion, paying no attention to him. Failing, he was making his way back to the open prairie, when the sight of his master sent him galloping after him; Warren being too panic-stricken to suspect the truth until he was well-nigh run down by the faithful animal.

"Heaven bless you, Jack!" he exclaimed, with glowing face and joyous heart; "you are in the nick of time."

Saddle and trappings were unharmed, though the tapering limbs of the creature had been scratched and cut by his attempt to follow his master. The youth was in the saddle in a twinkling, and, but for the sad situation of Tim Brophy, he would have uttered a shout of triumph.

For in truth he felt safe, even though the hostiles were dangerously near. Remembering this, he rode farther out from the ridge, and whooped and swung his arms at the Indian ponies, who dashed still farther out on the plain.

It was inevitable that this tumult should become known to the captors of Tim Brophy. Young Starr expected it, and therefore was not surprised when he saw the figures of several warriors at the base of the ridge. He could not forbear swinging his Winchester over his head and taunting them. They replied with several shots, but the distance was too great for Warren to feel any alarm. He, too, discharged his gun at the group, and acted as if he meant to challenge them to come out and attack him.

If such were his intentions, the challenge was accepted. Several warriors ran out on the prairie, calling to their ponies, in order that they might mount and take up the pursuit. Their action caused the youth no alarm, for the test of speed had already been made, and he feared none of the Indian animals.

The latter may have been under good discipline when their masters were astride of them, but they showed anything but obedience now that they were free from their control. They kept trotting about in circles, and avoided the warriors with a persistency that must have been exasperating to them.

Only one displayed consideration for his master. He was among the fleetest, and after some coy dallying he stood still until the athletic Sioux came beside him. He vaulted upon his back, and then accepted the seeming challenge of the youth.

The latter had checked his steed at a safe distance on the snowy plain, and confronted the Indian party. Looking beyond the warrior nearest him, he strove to catch sight of Tim Brophy; but he was too far off, and the trees interfered with his vision. Before he could continue the scrutiny long, the mounted Sioux demanded his attention.

Prudence would have suggested that now, since young Starr was well mounted, he should take no chances, but scurry away at the top of his speed, leaving the discomfited warrior to nurse his chagrin over the clever trick played upon him.

But the young rancher saw no reason why he should flee from a single buck, no better mounted or armed than himself. He had had enough experience in the Northwest to understand those people well, and thought he knew how to take care of himself. No, he would fight him; and now opened a most extraordinary prairie duel between Warren Starr and his dusky enemy.

The youth glanced at his Winchester, and saw that it was all right, as was the case with his revolver. His saddle was firmly cinched in place, Jack was at his best, and what cared he for a single Indian, even though he was a warrior that had taken the scalp of more than one unoffending pioneer!

Jack stood as motionless as a statue, with his nose toward his enemy. A gentle wind blowing across the prairie lifted his luxuriant mane slightly from his neck and swung his heavy tail to one side. His head was high, and the nostrils seemed to breathe defiance to the dusky foe, who approached at a swinging gallop, as though he meant to ride down the animal and rider.

But he held no such intention. The Sioux required no one to tell him that that stationary figure, sitting so firmly in his saddle, meant to fight.

While more than a hundred yards still separated the combatants the Sioux horseman wheeled to the right, and, without checking his speed, started to describe a long circle around the youth. The latter spoke softly to Jack, who slowly turned, so as to keep his head continually pointed toward the enemy. Evidently the animal understood the situation, and was competent to do his part.

The Sioux at the base of the ridge had given over their effort for the time to capture their ponies. All their attention was centred on the two horsemen out on the prairie.

As yet the Indian made no move to fire. Warren was looking for him to throw himself over the side of his animal, and aim from under his neck, screening his own body meanwhile from the bullet of the young rancher. Instead of doing so, however, he described a complete circle about Warren, coming back to his starting point, while Jack continued to move around, as if on a pivot, keeping his head always facing his foe.

The warrior was starting on his second round, when, without any perceptible movement, he discharged his gun. Warren saw the blue puff of smoke, the report sounding dull and far away in the wintry air.

The bullet did not pass nigh enough for him to be aware how close it was. It would seem that the Indian ought to have done better, for it was noticeable from where Warren sat that in completing his circle he had shortened it, and was now several rods nearer than when he set out to circumnavigate him.

"It is no more than fair to return the compliment," thought Warren, raising his Winchester, taking careful aim, and pulling the trigger. Truth compels us to say, however, that his shot went as wide of the mark as the one aimed at him. Thus far honors were equal between them.

The Sioux continued his trip around the central object, though what he expected or hoped to accomplish by this curious proceeding was more than his antagonist could conjecture.

The advantage during the performance possibly was with young Starr; for, by keeping the nose of Jack pointed toward the other he offered the least possible target to the foe, while the course of the Indian compelled him to hold his pony broadside, himself remaining a conspicuous object on his back.

"I think I can shorten this business," reflected Starr, "by another shot or two. I am standing still, and if I can't bring that fellow off his horse I'm of little account."

But the Sioux was more watchful than he suspected. Hardly was the Winchester raised when, presto! the warrior disappeared. He had flung himself far on the other side of his pony, and was capable of maintaining that situation while making the circuit of the youth.

The latter held his fire. He was confident of being able to hit the other animal, but to his mind that would be taking a dishonorable advantage, though none knew better than he that he was dealing with an enemy to whom treachery was a cardinal virtue.

The horse showed no decrease of his speed, but continued galloping forward with the easy swing shown by the trained circus animal when an equestrian is giving an exhibition. That the rider, from his position on the other side of his body, with his moccason extended over the spine of the animal, was keeping close watch of the youth the latter did not need to be told.

He must have seen Warren, after holding his weapon levelled for a moment, lower it again, disappointed at the vanishing target. The next moment the Sioux discharged his weapon.

CHAPTER XXVI.
ON THE GROUND

The aim of the warrior was better than before, and though it was not fatal, it came startlingly near being so. The bullet nipped the ear of the pony, and cut through the coat of Warren Starr; grazing his shoulder in the passage.

There could be no question that the red man was in dead earnest, and that when he discharged his rifle he meant to kill.

It must not be supposed there was any holding back on the part of the youth; he was equally resolved that, if the chance were given, he would do his best to bring his antagonist from the back of his horse.

The Sioux resumed his circling course, gradually drawing nearer the young man, who continued as alert as at the first; ready to take advantage of any opening that presented itself.

Suddenly the red man wheeled his pony in the opposite direction, doubling on his own course. This compelled him to swing over to the other side in order to continue his use of the animal as a shield. He executed the movement with wonderful deftness, but a singular condition was against him.

Young Starr had just formed the decision that the best, if indeed not the only thing he could do, was to shoot the steed of his foe. This was easy, and with the Indian dismounted he would be at a great disadvantage, though likely still to use the body of his animal as a guard against the marksmanship of his enemy; but the latter counted on the flurry giving him his opportunity.

Thus it happened that at the moment the Winchester was at Warren's shoulder, and his eye was ranging along the barrel, he caught a glimpse of the dusky body in the act of whisking over that of the pony. The glimpse was only momentary, but under the peculiar conditions it was just what was needed. The youth fired, and with such accuracy that the warrior lunged over his steed, and sprawled in the snow on the other side.

The released animal threw up his head with a snort, and trotted toward the ridge as if he, too, had felt the sting of the bullet and was hastening away from a possible repetition.

The sight of the Indian on the ground told the youth of the success of his shot, but it did not lead him to do anything rash, as would have been natural in the flush of triumph. The Sioux was not yet killed, and was still capable of mischief.

Warren rode rapidly a few yards toward him, and then brought Jack to an abrupt halt. He had seen something suspicious in the actions of his enemy.

"Is he shamming?" was the question he asked himself, as he leaned forward, carefully keeping the head and neck of Jack in front of his body, and on the alert against a treacherous shot.

The Sioux seemed to have fallen on his side, with his face turned partly away from the youth. With surprising quickness he shifted his position so as to confront the horseman, and still lay prostrate in the snow, as if unable to rise.

There might be a sinister meaning to this. The pretence of being mortally disabled was an old one with his people, as many a white man has learned when too late. If he were trying the artifice in the present instance, he did it skilfully.

Under the belief that he was powerless to inflict further harm, nothing was more natural than that the youth should ride forward with the purpose of giving him his quietus, disregarding his own safety until a bullet through the body should apprise him of his fatal oversight. It was this fear that checked Warren in the very nick of time.

The one great obstacle in the way of the Sioux successfully playing this ruse was that he was in open view, where no movement on his part could be concealed. Were it in the wood, with rocks and trees at his command, the chances would have been far better for him.

Warren Starr kept his eye fixed on him. It would have been easy, while seated on his own pony, to drive a ball through the miscreant, who was fully exposed to his fire, but it might be after all that he was badly wounded and unable to defend himself. If such were the case he could not commit the cruelty of firing at him again, even though the Sioux would have eagerly seized such a chance against a foe.

It was for the purpose of learning the truth in the matter that Warren watched him with the utmost closeness, holding his own weapon ready to use the instant the other made a hostile demonstration.

The action or rather inaction of the other Sioux at the base of the ridge was suggestive, and increased the suspicion of the young rancher. They were in a direct line with the one on the ground, so that Warren readily saw them without withdrawing his attention from his immediate antagonist.

Instead of rushing out to the help of the latter they remained where they were, and continued the role of spectators. This looked as if they did not believe the fellow was in need of assistance, and they were simply waiting with confidence in the result of the piece of treacherous cunning.

The warrior with his left hand drew his rifle round to the front. The weapon was a magazine one like Warren's, and it was one, therefore, of which it would not do to lose sight.

The gun being in position for use, the owner, apparently with difficulty, raised the upper part of his body, so that it was supported on the left elbow. Then he essayed to call the right hand into play, but appeared to find a difficulty in doing so.

Up to this moment Warren Starr had been trying to learn in what manner the fellow was wounded. The motion of his lower limbs showed no weakness, though it might have been there without appearing, so long as he held his prone position and did not call them into use.

The action now indicated that his right arm was the one that had suffered, since it fumbled awkwardly and refused to give the needed help when called upon.

Still all this might be pretence, intended to deceive the youth into uncovering himself. Warren did not lose sight of that probability.

The action of the Sioux was precisely what it would have been had he, knowing that he was confronted by a merciless enemy, done his utmost, while badly wounded in the right arm, to bring his weapon to bear upon him. There was no hesitation or trouble with the left arm, but it was the other which, from appearances, refused to answer the call upon it.

It was seen to move aimlessly about, but still was unable to help in aiming, and the hand could not manipulate the trigger – an impotence which, if actual, was fatal.

But who can trust an Indian? Knowing that his slightest action could not escape the keen eyes of the youthful horseman a short distance away, was he not likely to direct every movement with the purpose of deceiving him?

The truth must show itself soon; but be it what it might, Warren Starr had the comforting belief that he was master of the situation. He was unharmed, with his ready Winchester in such position that he could use it like a flash. As yet the Sioux had not brought himself to the point of aiming, and Warren was watching him so closely that he could anticipate his firing. He was resolved that the instant he attempted to shoot he would let fly, and end the singular prairie duel.

It has taken considerable time to make all this clear, but the incidents from the fall of the Sioux to the close occupied but a few minutes.

Young Starr spoke in a low voice to his pony, who began moving slowly toward the prostrate Indian, the rider holding his weapon ready as before. Jack took short and very deliberate steps, for he did not like the appearance of things. A man lying on the ground is always a disquieting object to a horse, and this one had already felt the sting of the Indian's anger when the bullet clipped a tiny speck out of his ear. Warren Starr was resolved to learn the truth, and he did so before Jack had advanced a dozen steps.