Dusty Star Part 11

The thing had been done so rapidly, that from the moment when the Indian's shape darkened the doorway till that when the whole party moved noiselessly down the valley with their captive in their midst, the thin shadow of a rampike falling on the moonlit s.p.a.ce in front of the tepee had scarcely s.h.i.+fted its black finger an inch towards the east.

In spite of the fact that it was night, the Indians travelled quickly, owing to the moonlight. It was only under the trees, or in the shadow of some great rock, that the darkness made it necessary to slacken the pace. As they went, Dusty Star kept listening backward along the trail.

Suppose, at the last moment, Kiopo should have returned? Finding the hut empty, Dusty Star knew that he would start instantly in pursuit. But suppose he did not come back in time to get the scent before it faded from the trail? Even _his_ fine nose would not serve him on a cold trail. Once only, when they were nearing the end of the valley, Dusty Star caught a faint wolf-howl very far behind; but whether this was Kiopo's voice or not, it was impossible to say.

It was evident that the Indians had some idea that the wolf might follow them, for it was plain, by the speed with which they were travelling, that they were anxious to push on with the least possible delay. They were among the spruce woods now, and the air was full of the unmistakable smell of the trees, with that peculiar tang one could never forget. They travelled in single file. Even when it was so dark that Dusty Star could scarcely see his captors before, or behind, the deer-skin thong about his chest was always there to prove their presence as it tightened or slackened according to the pace, or the unevenness of the ground.

At dawn, they reached the thin edges of the forest. Dusty Star's heart sank. If Kiopo had caught them up in the thick woods, there would have been some chance of escape under cover of his whirlwind method of attack which would have suggested a pack of wolves rather than one. But now, in the more open country and the growing light, this would not be possible.

The Indians quickened their pace. In the day-light, Dusty Star recognised them as belonging to the same tribe as those who had followed him and Kiopo a few days earlier; Yellow Dogs every man of them, under the leaders.h.i.+p of Double Runner.

It was near noon before they reached the head of a long lake. Dusty Star could see the water glimmering far away to the south over the tops of the red Indian willows. Without pausing for an instant, the Indians pushed their way through the thicket, their moccasins sinking deeply in the spongy ground between the willow roots. Then they pulled out a slender canoe of birch-bark concealed among the reeds.

Dusty Star had never seen a canoe before. It struck him with astonishment; and when his captors forced him to get in, and he found himself floating on the water, his astonishment was mingled with fear, especially when, urged by the vigorous strokes of the Indian paddles, the canoe shot out into the open. Once out upon the lake he was utterly amazed. Prairie-bred, he had never imagined it possible that so much water could exist. And it was deep, very deep! When you looked down, you could not see any bottom. And the thin sides of the canoe seemed a poor protection from the rippling vastness of that inland sea. The waves struck the bows with a husky noise. Dusty Star dreaded that at any moment, the canoe might be engulfed. Already the willow-thicket where they had embarked seemed a long distance away. A feeling of despair took hold of him. The thicket was the last place where Kiopo could find the trail; for, as Dusty Star knew too well, all trails die out upon the running watery smell.

When at last the Indians reached the end of their journey, Dusty Star found himself in a large camp near a stream which flowed into the river down which they had come from the lake.

Their arrival caused a great deal of excitement among the inhabitants, who came crowding round to examine the captive. It was evident to Dusty Star that they had already received the news of Kiopo's attack upon the Indian who had jumped the gorge. As he looked at the hostile faces crowded about him, as if he were some strange wild animal, his heart sank. In spite of his youth, he knew only too well what Indian vengeance meant. After he had been sufficiently examined, the deer-skin thong with which he was bound was fastened to one of the lodge-poles, and he knew that, unless a miracle happened, he was a prisoner whose chance of escape was small indeed.

When night came on, he was ordered to enter the lodge, which he found he was to share with Double Runner, and another Indian; and, after they were all inside, the door-flap was securely fastened.

Notwithstanding his long journey and the anxiety of the last few days, he found it difficult to sleep. All night long he kept waking up with a start, and then dropping off again into uneasy slumbers, in which the dread of the uncertain fate in store for him oppressed him with terrible dreams.

Next morning he was let out again, and the day pa.s.sed without any sign as to what his enemies intended to do with him. And at night he was imprisoned as before. Food was given to him as often as was necessary, and, although he was kept a close prisoner, carefully guarded day and night, he was not subjected to any ill-treatment.

Day after day pa.s.sed, and it became evident that the Yellow Dogs were preparing for some great ceremony. Plentiful game of all sorts was brought into camp, and there was much boiling of tongues and other Indian dainties, filling the air with a juicy smell. The forest people wrinkled their noses in the tainted breeze, and the word travelled.

CHAPTER XVI

"THE GRIZZLY"

It was old Kitsomax, the mother of the Chief, Spotted Calf, who first brought the alarming news which spread terror through the camp.

Among all the inhabitants she was the one person who had showed any kindness towards Dusty Star. His friendlessness and helplessness had appealed to the old woman's heart. A son of hers had died when he was just Dusty Star's age, and in the little lonely captive she fancied she saw a resemblance to her own boy. Only dread of what the tribe might do, if she were discovered, prevented her from contriving his escape. Yet she bided her time. If circ.u.mstances should favour her, she knew what she would do.

On the day before the ceremony she had gone down late in the evening to bring water from the stream. As she was dipping her bucket, stooping very low, she heard a twig snap. Looking up quickly she saw an enormous grizzly come out between the alder bushes on the other side of the stream. She was so terrified, she said, that, for the moment, she could not rise, but kept crouching on the bank hoping the bear had not seen her. But when she heard him growl softly and deeply, she knew that he had scented her. Without daring to draw up the bucket, she had sprung to her feet and fled.

That same night, Dusty Star was wakened by a loud breathing sound close to his head, so near that it sounded as if it were in the lodge itself.

He was very much frightened, but lay absolutely still. Something seemed to brush the outside of the elk-skin covering of the lodge, and then moved heavily away. Almost directly afterwards, a great clamour arose among the huskies. It continued some time before all was quiet. But as the huskies were continually making disturbances in the night for very little reason, the Indians did not come out.

Next day, unmistakable signs showed that a large bear had visited the camp. Two huskies had been killed, and a third carried off into the woods.

It was plain to Dusty Star that the Indians were very much alarmed. This was partly accounted for (as he gathered from their talk) by the fact that there existed a legend in the tribe of a great medicine grizzly which haunted the lower slopes of the mountains, and which was supposed to be the spirit of Catawa, a famous chief who had been murdered treacherously many moons ago during one of the tribal feasts. The year before, at the same time of the year, a grizzly had visited their camp on the Potamac, and had destroyed one of the tepees. And hunters, coming over the mountains had brought disquieting accounts of a huge grizzly, of ferocious habits, whose range extended from the western slopes of Mount Hunting-Wolf to the northern bank of Potamac. This, they firmly believed, was the dreaded Catawa. And now, Catawa was come again.

Some said that it would be wise to have a special grizzly-bear dance in the festival in order to make a strong medicine that should drive Catawa away; but others were firmly of the opinion, that the bear dance would only infuriate the grizzly, and that it would be wiser to postpone the festival until he had left the neighbourhood.

They were still discussing the question, when Double Runner rushed breathlessly into camp. He said he had gone up the mountains to cut lodge-poles when he had come upon an enormous grizzly feeding among the raspberry bushes on a hill to the northward of the camp. The bear had seen him, and had immediately given chase, and it was only by putting forth his utmost speed that he had been able to escape.

This alarming news settled the disputed matter of the festival; and it was decided that it could not be held until the grizzly had either been killed, or driven far away from the neighbourhood of the camp.

To do this; it would be necessary that all the able-bodied men, young and old, should form themselves into a strong war-party, and go out to attack the grizzly wherever he might be found.

This plan was immediately carried out, and in a very short time, the camp was empty except for the squaws and children and a few of the very oldest men. As usual, Dusty Star was left fastened surely by the deer-skin thong.

The day was very warm, and so he sat just outside the tepee observing the sleepy life of the camp as it went leisurely on through the long pa.s.sing of the drowsy afternoon. Kitsomax sat a few feet away, busily softening a tanned buckskin, which she worked skilfully with her skinny hands. Several times, Dusty Star noticed that her eyes were upon him instead of the buckskin, and that then her gaze wandered uneasily round the camp, as if to see whether any one were watching her. The air was very still. Apart from the camp, nothing living could be seen, except a pair of buzzards circling high up in the eastern blue.

Suddenly Kitsomax, after a swift glance all round, leant towards him, speaking rapidly.

"They will hold the festival after Catawa is driven away. And then they will kill you, because your wolf killed Little Owl; and because Double Runner says you belong to the wolves. But I, Kitsomax, do not believe you intended to harm us. If they had not followed you, your wolf would not have attacked. If you do as I tell you, you may yet escape before the festival begins. You must ..."

Here the old squaw broke off suddenly, and bent over her work. Turning his head, Dusty Star saw that a woman had come out from a neighbouring tepee, and was looking in their direction.

After that, Kitsomax did not say any more, and Dusty Star went on staring into the forest, where the shadows looked so cool under the trees. The words the squaw had said kept on running in his head. "They will kill you, because your wolf killed Little Owl." The thing of which the great fear had haunted him since his captivity was true then! The thing Kiopo had done was to be avenged by his own death. He shuddered as he thought of the terrible fate in store for him. He knew that Indian vengeance could be more cruel than the wolves. He longed to ask Kitsomax if she had heard what had happened to the wolf; but whenever he turned to do so, it seemed to him that some one was looking their way.

And the thing she had told him was a terror which grew. And although he looked straight into the forest, he saw it merely as a dense green ma.s.s.

What he saw was the terror--the thing that should happen when the Indians returned.

But all at once the vacancy of his gaze vanished. From the shadow of the trees, he saw a large form slowly detach itself. It made a few paces towards the camp, and then turned back into the forest.

He looked round the camp. No one else seemed to have noticed. The squaws continued their occupations just as before. Dusty Star kept his eyes continually moving along the line of trees, always returning to the spot where the thing had disappeared. And although he saw nothing more, he was convinced he had not been mistaken. The shape had been that of a bear.

A long time had pa.s.sed when one of the squaws suddenly screamed. Looking in the direction of the cry, Dusty Star saw an enormous grizzly walking slowly towards the tepees.

Instantly the whole camp was in wild confusion. Squaws ran in every direction, s.n.a.t.c.hing up their babies, and screaming at the tops of their voices. Several of the more courageous old men advanced towards the grizzly, waving their arms and trying to frighten him back; but when, growling fiercely, he broke into a run towards them, they turned and joined the women in their flight. It was in vain that the huskies circled round him in a snarling, furious ring. He broke the neck of one which had rashly ventured within the range of his deadly fore paw, and wounded another. As he charged the pack, it broke before his murderous onset and fled yelling into the woods.

Dusty Star ran quickly into the tepee and began feverishly to try to unfasten the thong which bound him, while the screaming of the women, and the yelping of the huskies continued. Presently, a sharp, rending noise told him that the grizzly had attacked either a tepee, or one of the parfleches in it. The tearing noise continued for some time and then ceased. After that there was silence in the camp, the inhabitants having by this time taken refuge in the woods. And still the thong resisted his utmost efforts to unfasten it. Then, just as he was about to peep out to see what was happening, he heard something approaching.

Instantly he crawled under a buffalo robe, and lay there, shaking from head to foot. Something entered the tepee. Dusty Star did not dare to look. He felt the thong that bound him violently tugged: he heard, or thought he heard, a m.u.f.fled growl. The next moment, the robe was s.n.a.t.c.hed from his head, and he saw--not the grizzly--but old Kitsomax with a hunting knife in her hand.

"Quick! Quick!" she cried. "I have cut the thong. He is coming! He is coming!"

Dusty Star leaped from the couch. As he did so, Kitsomax gave a scream.

The entrance of the tepee was filled by a huge form. The little red eyes of the grizzly were glaring at them in fury.

For a moment the bear seemed to hesitate. Then he turned towards Kitsomax. Instantly Dusty Star stepped forward, and gave a short bark like a coyote. The grizzly turned savagely in his direction. With a marvelous quickness in one so old, Kitsomax darted out of the tepee.

In thus turning the bear's attention from the old squaw to himself he was well aware that he had risked his own life. Yet he felt he could not have done otherwise, since she had willingly taken the same risk in coming to set him free, instead of escaping with the other squaws while there was yet time.

Seeing itself balked of one prey, the bear now concentrated his rage upon the other. He made a furious rush.

If Dusty Star had been a fraction of a second too late, the delay would have cost him his life; but even as the furry Terror hurled itself upon him, he made one of his swift wolf-leaps to the other side of a pile of skins. The grizzly turned like a flash. It was amazing that so huge a body could move with such terrible ease and quickness. But quick though the bear was, the boy was quicker. He knew that death was hard upon him.

A false, or undecided movement, and nothing could save him from those murderous claws. All the muscles of his lithe body were contracted in preparation for the final rush for life. Before the grizzly could cut him off, Dusty Star seemed not so much to run, as to _shoot_ himself out from the lodge.

The big paw missed its mark by a hair's breath--no more. Only one of the frightful hooked claws touched with its tip the spot where Dusty Star's buckskin s.h.i.+rt bulged slightly from his back. It rent it as clean as the slash of a tomahawk, but failed to reach the skin. Dusty Star felt the slash, and bounded for his life. He could see Kitsomax's stooping form already half-way towards the forest.