The Lure Of The Mississippi Part 6

"It would be gross carelessness," he said, "to betray our presence in that way. The man who wishes to carry his scalp out of an Indian war must not take chances. I'm also afraid that you boys would get sick if you filled up on choke-cherries; you had better starve awhile."

As the heat of the day decreased, the mosquitoes became very annoying.

Both lads were tired and sleepy from the excitement of the day, but there could be no thought of sleeping. They had to keep off the hungry insects with pieces of green brush.

The Indian and Barker had each gone to one end of the timber to watch for unbidden guests, while the boys were on guard in the middle of the margin of the timber.

When at last the sun was approaching the horizon, it seemed to the lads that it was several days since Mr. Barker had told them to roll up their blankets and come away.

When the sun was turning red, Tatanka came back from his watch and gave the call of Bob-White. The boys at once forgot all fatigue and ran to their horses.

"Indians, from the east," Tatanka whispered. "We must get away. I will take Mehunka's horse to him."

The trapper, although nearly sixty years old, sprang into the saddle like a young man, when his three friends met him at the western point of the timber.

Before they doubled a low hill, which would hide the lake from their view, Tatanka stopped behind some box-elder bushes.

"Look," he said as he pointed eastward, "there they are."

A dozen Indians, some on horseback and others on a stolen farm-wagon, were just stopping to make camp at the eastern end of the timber, a quarter of a mile away.

"Won't they follow us!" asked Bill. "They might easily find our trail."

"No," grunted Tatanka, with plain contempt. "See what they are doing."

One of the men was pouring something out of a jug and each took a drink out of a tin cup.

"See," continued the scout-"they have found a jug of whiskey. They won't see any trail. If they were in the Chippewa country, they would be scalped."

"Have they any white captives?" asked Barker.

"No, let the dogs alone," and with those words, he led the way around a low hill.

The four travelers rode slowly and silently over the prairie. The sounds of the summer night began to fill the air. Overhead a pair of night-hawks, swooping with a loud whirr close by the heads of the horses and uttering their harsh "Paint, paint," followed the riders. In the scattered groves which they pa.s.sed, some little tree-frogs piped their monotonous trill, while the undefinable songs of crickets and gra.s.shoppers filled the air, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere.

An hour they had been riding almost in silence, when there was a thud and a sprawl on the gra.s.s. Little Tim's eyes had closed in sleep and he had fallen off his horse.

"We must find a place to spend the night," said the trapper. "The little fellow is all in."

"No, I'm awake now," piped up little Tim, as he picked up Meetcha and climbed back in the saddle. "I can ride all right now, Mr. Barker."

The first house they reached had been burnt and the ruins were still smoldering.

Tatanka dismounted and examined the place for wounded or hidden fugitives, but there was only the silence of death and desolation.

A few miles farther, they came to a cabin in a small natural grove.

"That's d.i.c.kman's place," the trapper told his companions. "He has a fine field of corn and his wife is a good housekeeper. Let us see what we can find."

The door stood open and most of the windows in the two-room cabin were broken.

"Ugh," grunted the Indian, "the thieves have been here. We shall find nothing to eat."

"Wait a minute," said Barker. "Let me look in the smoke-house in the hollow; perhaps the robbers didn't find it. Here, boys," he laughed, as he returned with a ham and a side of bacon, "this will help us out.

"Now, Tim, get some green corn and, Bill, you go and milk the two cows in the yard. They must have been in the woods when the Sioux raided the place. Tatanka may listen for bad sounds, but I think we are safe here and we shall soon have a real supper."

In a few minutes Barker had closed the door, hung a blanket over the two windows, lit a candle and started a fire in the kitchen stove. Soon the corn was boiling and slices of bacon sizzled in the pan. Bill came in with a pail of milk and Tatanka came in and reported, "No Dakotahs here."

No supper ever tasted so good to Bill and Tim, and the trapper-cook kept putting slices of bacon in the pan, while his hungry guests helped themselves as quick as the white slices curled and browned.

After supper the lads spread their blankets on the floor, tied Meetcha in the small woodshed and found a gunny-sack for him to sleep on.

After the two men had watered the horses at a near-by pond, tied them in the straw-shed, and provided them with plenty of hay, they sat down on the gra.s.s to smoke.

"The boys are asleep," remarked Tatanka, as he filled his pipe a second time with a mixture of killikinnick and tobacco.

"They are my boys now," replied Barker, "and I shall look after them. I can't understand that man Hicks. I declare if I don't almost believe he wanted the lads to get killed. I'd like to break his crooked old bones."

"He is a bad man," Tatanka a.s.sented. "He hides some evil plan in his heart, but I cannot tell what it is."

"He does have some evil plan," exclaimed the trapper as he struck the ground with his fist. "I reckon he will try to take the boys away from me, if he can find us."

"He is a coward," continued the Indian; "he will not come alone, he will bring other bad men to help him. We must be on our guard."

"Tatanka," said Barker, "I don't know yet what I shall do, but Hicks will not get these lads unless he can take them from me. Will you stand by me?"

"Tatanka never deserted a friend," the Indian replied.

"We must sleep now," said the trapper after a long silence. "We may have another fight to-morrow."

"I sleep in the shed with the horses," remarked the Indian, as he bade his friend good-night. "The Dakotahs might come and steal them, if we do not watch."

The trapper went into the house, set a strong pole against the door and spread his blanket near the boys.

CHAPTER VI-DANGEROUS TRAVELING

The Great Dipper had swung only halfway around the Polar Star when Tatanka rapped at the cabin door.

"My friend," he called, "I think we should saddle our horses and ride away. At daybreak the bands of Dakotahs will again start to kill all white men they can find and to burn their houses. We should travel a good stretch before the sun rises, and, may be, in that way we can leave behind us the part of the country to which the war has spread."

The trapper, like most men who have lived much alone in a wild country, was a light sleeper and was awake at once.

"Yes," he replied, "we should travel a good stretch by starlight.

Perhaps we can thus avoid falling in with any more Sioux warriors.