Dusty Star Part 17

CHAPTER XXIII

LONE CHIEF GOES WEST

Many moons had come and gone since Dusty Star and Kiopo disappeared into the West. To those who asked questions, none made answer. That was partly because the folk who knew were not asked. The folk who knew, not being asked, kept that knowledge to themselves. Baltook could have told; Boola also. Goshmeelee herself was a storehouse of information. But none of these were likely to travel hundreds of miles east to carry news to those who did not come to them. Even Lone Chief himself, popularly supposed to know all things, if only he could be persuaded to tell them, did not know.

One evening, in late summer, an Indian came riding into camp. He had ridden fast and far, and his pony was exhausted. He brought disquieting news. The Yellow Dogs, their deadly enemies, were gathering in the North. The Sarcees, allies of the Yellow Dogs, were also on the war-path. Trouble would come from the north, even before the wild geese.

Hastily the old Chief, Spotted Eagle, summoned a gathering of the braves. But first he sent an urgent message to Lone Chief. And Lone Chief, already knowing of the threatening danger, came. So when Spotted Eagle made a solemn speech of few words but very packed with information, Lone Chief was not surprised. How did he know?... In the vast solitudes of the North West, long before Telegraph wires were invented, news travelled in peculiarly wireless ways along the fine waves of the air for those whose minds were the right sort of receivers.

And Lone Chief had that sort of mind which was always receiving. But though he came, he sat in silence at the meeting, and let other people talk. And not till every one else had spoken, some suggesting one thing, and some another, did Lone Chief open the outside of his mouth and astonish his hearers with the inside of his mind.

"You will never be able to defeat the Yellow Dogs without the strong medicine," he said. "The strong medicine departed from you, when you drove Dusty Star's wolf into the west. Dusty Star and his wolf are a powerful medicine. You have none left to you which is as strong as theirs. Unless they bring it back to you, you will lose your scalps to the Yellow Dogs."

After Lone Chief had ceased speaking, great astonishment filled his audience; yet because it was Lone Chief who had said the marvellous thing, they were forced to believe it, even against their will.

But when Spotted Eagle and the rest of the company had discussed the matter very gravely, and had solemnly asked him on behalf of the whole tribe, to find Dusty Star, and beg him to come back, Lone Chief shook his head, and swept his hand towards the West.

"Out there," he said, "is the land of the buffalo; and beyond the land of the buffalo, is the land of the timber-wolves, and the country of the Cariboo. Dusty Star might have stayed with the buffalo; but the wolf would seek his own kindred; and the wolf-kindred make long journeys on the trails of the Cariboo. How do I know that they have not taken a trail--Dusty Star and the Wolf? And the journeying Cariboo have a thousand trails to the great Lake of the sunset where all trails have an end."

Yet though Lone Chief spoke so discouragingly, throwing whole prairies along his tongue, to show the difficulty of finding what had once disappeared into them, he knew in his heart that the Chief would still believe him capable of finding Dusty Star. And so when Spotted Eagle again urged him earnestly to go out into the West to recover the lost medicine, Lone Chief shook his head despondingly, but nevertheless promised to go.

The next morning, very early, anxiously watching eyes saw the famous medicine man issue from his tepee, and travel steadily westward, till the enormous distances of the prairie swallowed him up.

Fortunately for Lone Chief, he was accustomed to long journeys. But whereas, in the journeys he was used to making, he went for no particular reason except that the great distances had made a nest in his brain and kept chirping there like birds, the present journey he was taking for a very big reason, firmly believing that unless he could find Dusty Star a terrible fate must fall upon his tribe.

Day after day, he travelled west, on and on towards the sunset-place, deeper and deeper into the heart of the old buffalo land. And he saw the great herds of buffalo, thousands and thousands of them, more than man could count; because it was a time long and long ago before the White Man had become Lord of the prairie, and the freight cars had thundered their cotton-goods and kerosene along the iron trails of the Middle West.

But Lone Chief did not waste his time among the buffalo, because he knew that Dusty Star would not be there, that it was only in the timber-wolf country that he would have a chance to come upon him, if he had not already started for the land of the Cariboo. But if you think that Lone Chief went wandering into the foothills all by chance, you are mistaken, for he had a way of doing things quite his own. And his way was this: To listen out for the news that is always pa.s.sing through the wilderness though it is never printed, nor do they shout it from the tops of the trees. For if anything strange or dangerous has lately gone along the trails, word of it goes abroad, and the wild creatures flash the message to each other without a sound.

For a long time, Lone Chief did not get any news. Then one day, towards sunset, he caught a thin strand of a message as it drifted through the trees. Thin though it was, Lone Chief read it. It told him that Something had happened lately--for all he knew, might be _still_ happening--along the secret trails.

For a long time after receiving the message. Lone Chief stood perfectly still. His eyes and his ears were not the only parts of him working: he used his nose, too, like the animals, in case the thing might have spilled a little of itself into the wind. Yet though he looked and listened and smelt, he got no certain information as to what the thing was. He was now less than half-a-day's journey from Carboona, and might reasonably be supposed to be within hail of some of its folk; but darkness closed down before he could get sight or wind of them, and because it was night, he lay down, sensibly, and went to sleep.

He was awake very early in the morning, at the hour when forest people smell the dawn before they see it. For a time, he lay still flat on his back, gazing up into the old darkness of the trees where the twilight was beginning. That was his way of learning the things that come to you if you do not walk about. And as he lay, it came to him clearer and clearer that he was near the end of his journey. And out of sight, with faint rustlings and fine foot-falls, the hunting-beasts came back along the trails. Yet Lone Chief never moved. As he lay there, wrapped in his elk-skin-robe, he might had been a log. And no eyes saw him, and only one nose smelt him, and that belonged to Baltook, the silver fox.

Now Baltook's acquaintance with Dusty Star had taught him the human smell. It had also taught him another thing: that things which smell like that are not necessarily enemies, and may possibly be friends. So instead of turning tail immediately, Baltook drew cautiously nearer, so that his eyes might complete the information which had been given to him by his nose. Nearer and nearer he came, setting each paw delicately down on the fir needles, so that not a whisper of sound gave warning of his approach. As for _seeing_ him, one would have needed sharp eyes for that, as the black robe with the frosted surface made itself part of the darkness of the trees.

And yet for all Baltook's cunning, and delicately treading, Lone Chief knew that something was stealthily drawing near. In spite of that, he made no movement. Was not his hunting knife at his belt; and his bow and arrows within reach of his arm? And was he not prepared for whatever might happen? So he simply obeyed the law of the forest: Lie still!

When the silver-powdered robe was within a dozen feet of him, Lone Chief slowly turned his head. The movement was so quiet that Baltook was not startled. Only with eyes, ears and nose, he drank in everything that was to be known of Lone Chief by that method. And Lone Chief looked straight into the s.h.i.+ning eyes of the fox. And though he asked no questions, and got no answers in the ordinary sense, he learned something that told him what he most wanted to know. And when at last Baltook, having gratified his curiosity, turned on his tracks and disappeared softly through the trees, Lone Chief noted the way he went, and followed in the same direction.

He had not gone very far before he came upon a big black body sitting in an open place, rocking itself gently to and fro. Lone Chief waited a little, and then came up-wind very slowly. And because he came up-wind, Goshmeelee did not smell his coming, but went on rocking peacefully, as if that was the only common-sense way of being happy in the world. In these early Fall days, Goshmeelee often amused herself in this way. The rocking helped her to feel the comfort of her large body all the better--to get closer to herself, as it were, and feel good and pleasant down to her very toes. Lone Chief watched her for some time, without moving, and then came slowly forward till he stood within six feet of the old bear's nose.

Goshmeelee stopped rocking, and fixed her little black eyes upon him in amazement. She had grown used to Dusty Star, whose comings and goings did not upset her in the least; but to be suddenly confronted by the same sort of animal in a larger size was distinctly disturbing when one wasn't expecting it.

Lone Chief and Goshmeelee went on looking at each other for some time, and never said a word. But Lone Chief knew by the look in her eyes that she had seen something like him before, and _she_ knew perfectly well, by the look in _his_, that this wasn't the first time he had come upon a bear. And another thing was, that they each of them knew they had nothing to fear from the other. So, after a little time, Lone Chief turned away quietly and Goshmeelee watched him vanish among the trees.

And now Lone Chief felt that he was not far away from the thing that Baltook knew, and the thing which Goshmeelee knew likewise; and the further he went, the nearer he came to it, though as yet it was out of sight behind the spruces and the pines. Suddenly, upon the very edge of Carboona, he came upon it and his journey was at an end.

Two days after Goshmeelee's strange warning, Dusty Star had gone down to the spring to drink. As he raised his head, he caught a glimpse of the tall figure coming through the trees. His heart gave a jump, lest it should be one of the dreaded Yellow Dogs; but when, almost directly afterwards he recognized the famous medicine-man, he went boldly forward to meet him.

They looked at each other silently for a little, and then in a very few words, Lone Chief explained why he had come. When he had finished, Dusty Star shook his head.

"I cannot come," he said. "And if I did, what could I do? Besides, I would not come without Kiopo. And they wished to kill Kiopo. That is why we left my people--so that Kiopo should not die."

"But that is many moons ago," Lone Chief said. "They do not want to kill Kiopo now. I have told them that he is the Medicine Wolf, and that those who would destroy him are the enemies of the tribe."

"They hated us!" Dusty Star replied quickly. "They would hate us still, only that you have told them we can be of use!"

As he spoke, his eyes shone. It was not a good s.h.i.+ning. He, too, had learnt to hate.

In vain Lone Chief explained, argued, protested. Dusty Star stood his ground. In spite of all the Medicine-man could say, he refused absolutely to come. Lone Chief was annoyed at the boy's firmness, but he was also surprised. In the interval since he had last seen him, it was only too plain that the boy had learnt many things; among others, he had learnt to be a man.

It was a long time before Lone Chief gave up the attempt to bring the boy to a more reasonable frame of mind. He stayed all day. At nightfall he made his camp beside Dusty Star's. At dawn he was still there, ready, with an Indian's doggedness to begin the argument all over again. But in the morning, something happened. Kiopo came back.

He had been out hunting, and as soon as he set his eyes on Lone Chief, he showed his teeth in a threatening snarl.

By this time the wolf had every reason to distrust human beings. Dusty Star was the one great exception. In the Indian before him, Kiopo saw an enemy. If Dusty Star had not held him back, he would have flown at him.

And the wolf's return seemed to make the boy all the firmer in his refusal. Faced by the pair of them, Lone Chief realized at last that he was powerless. He knew that he would be forced to return to the tribe, and confess the failure of his mission. Whatever the coveted wolf-medicine might perform, it was not for them. They had lost it in the moons. And in spite of his great wisdom, and his ancient cunning, he was uneasy. He felt that he was in the presence of a great and peculiar power. In all of his wide experience he had never come across anything like it before. There was something about the wolf that seemed more than the mere animal. There was something in Dusty Star that seemed uncannily related to the wolves. He was relieved when at length he turned from the camp, and found himself out of sight of it once more, among the endless ranks of the trees.

CHAPTER XXIV

EVIL DAYS

The Maple leaves were yellowing in the Fall. The hollow seed-cups of the wild parsley were turning old and grey. Up the slopes of the northern b.u.t.tes, the shumack flared like a shout of flame. Over a thousand leagues of prairie the days carried the warmth and stillness of that mysterious season called the Indian Summer; but the nights had cold in them, and the middle sky had voices. For the geese were coming now--driving out of the north in great arrow-heads of flight--and the nightwind pa.s.sed with a dry whisper, like the running of antelope through dead gra.s.ses, over a thousand leagues.

The camp of Dusty Star's people was feverishly astir. The air was filled with rumours. Scouts coming from the north-east brought disquieting tidings. There was a great movement among the Yellow Dogs. Scattered bands were coming in daily to join the main body. It could mean only one thing--the gathering for the final attack.

And still Lone Chief did not come back.

Day after day, scouts watched from the summit of Look-out Bluff, scanning the western prairie eagerly for signs of the returning Medicine-man. Day after day, they returned with heavy faces to the anxiously waiting tribe.

And as the days pa.s.sed, the rumours grew more black. The Senakals were in movement now. They were allies of the Yellow Dogs, related to them by ties of blood. The Senakals were a powerful tribe. If they joined forces with the Yellow Dogs, the strength of the enemy would be enormously increased.

It was late October now, or, as the Indians named the season, When-the-Geese-fly-South. In the rich meadows along the Wide-Water river, the bunch-gra.s.s was very long, and on the slopes of the eastern hills the huckleberries were large and ripe. But no Indian ponies grazed in the meadows now, having been brought closer into camp: for fear of a hostile raid; nor, in the early morning or late evening, were any parties of squaws to be seen out on the prairies, going to the hills, or returning with baskets full of fruit.

Among all the families in the camp, that of Dusty Star was the most disturbed. His parents had always hoped that, sooner or later, he would come back. His mother, especially, had grieved for his absence, and had looked anxiously for his return. It was a pity, she said, they had not taken his part about Kiopo. Only then, who could possibly have foreseen that all this medicine power which Lone Chief made so much of would be discovered in the wolf? But, even so, she thought, they might have been kinder to Dusty Star himself, and have tried more fully to understand his feelings for the wolf. And after all, was it not his father who had presented him with the creature in the beginning, when it was nothing but a little compact bundle of fat and fur, not yet very steady on its legs? She was now quite clear in her own mind that they had been decidedly to blame. Day after day, she waited anxiously for tidings of Lone Chief, and, as night after night brought no news of his whereabouts, her anxiety grew.

The only person who clung stubbornly to her old opinions was Sitting-Always. But that was only to be expected, since she was so very like her name. Once the mind of the old squaw had laid an opinion, she would sit on it like a broody hen, till it went addled in her head. She had never really liked Dusty Star, and she had always hated the wolf. If the wolf _had_ a medicine (which, for her part, she very much doubted) as everybody said, she had made up her mind that it was a bad medicine, and could not help the tribe. As a protest against all this nonsense about the wolf, she painted her face with an extra coat of yellow, and sat in a bad temper at the door of her tepee.

Things were in this state, when, one morning early, a scout came into camp. He brought alarming tidings. He had rashly crossed the border of the Yellow Dog country, and had been seen and chased. Fortunately his pony was a very swift one, and he had reached the Wide-Water river in time to swim across, and so escape. All day he had lain hidden in the willow thickets of the southern bank, and had only dared to leave them after dark. He said that his pursuers were in advance of a large body of Indians who were camped to the north-west of the Sokomix hills.