Ted Strong in Montana Part 63

"I will do what my sister wishes," said the Indian girl simply, trying to rise. But the effort was too much for her, and she sank back, the blood spurting freshly from the wound.

"That won't do," said Stella, easing the girl back, and rolling up her jacket and placing it under her head. "You are not able to leave here yet. At least, you cannot ride."

The Indian girl was perfectly pa.s.sive under Stella's guidance, and did not think of having a will of her own.

"I wish one of the boys had come with me," Stella said to herself.

"Something always happens when I go away alone. I must get word to them somehow."

"I am going to fire my revolver to bring help," said she to Singing Bird. "You will not be frightened."

The other girl shook her head.

Stella fired her revolver three times, and waited for an answer, but none came.

After waiting a while longer, she fired three more shots.

"No shoot again. Need bullets for wolves. Come around soon," said Singing Bird.

The day was going fast, and soon it would be dark. She could not leave the girl to go for help, for with the dark the wolves would come.

Singing Bird had fallen into a feverish doze, and Stella arose and gathered up some dry wood from about the spring, and carried it to where the girl was lying.

Stella had some matches in her outfit, and when it got dark she intended lighting the fire, hoping that the boys would see it when they came to look for her when she did not return at dark.

Again she brought water from the spring, and sat down beside her new-found friend to bathe her head and reduce her fever.

As darkness fell she heard vague rustlings in the tall gra.s.s, and looked carefully about. In the dim light she saw pale-green lights moving about, and knew that the wolves had smelled blood, and were gathering.

But she was not afraid. She knew that she could keep them away with the fire and her revolver.

One of the wolves came quite close to the little camp and set up a howl, and the Indian girl awoke.

"White girl go to her friends," she said to Stella. "Leave Singing Bird to die as the Great Manitou intended."

"Indeed, I will not. I will stay with you until my friends come to me, and then we will take you with us and nurse you."

Stella thought it was time to light the fire, and as its flames leaped high, she felt more at ease.

When the wolves came close to the camp she fired her revolver at them, and drove them away.

The hours pa.s.sed silently, Stella rising occasionally to replenish the fire and look at Singing Bird, who seemed to be sleeping. As a matter of fact, the young Indian, who had been reared out-of-doors, and was perfectly healthy, was recovering rapidly from her wound, although had it not been for Stella she would probably not have survived the night, for what the chill night air would not have done the wolves would have finished.

It was long past midnight when out of the west rose a clear, welcome shout that sounded as the sweetest music to her ear, the Moon Valley yell, and she answered it, while the Indian girl sat up and smiled at her.

They had been found at last.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

"THE WOOFER" APPEARS.

Presently Stella heard the clatter of many pony hoofs on the turf, then a succession of yells, and Ted, Ben, and Bud galloped into the circle of light made by her fire.

"h.e.l.lo, what have we here?" asked Ted, riding up and flinging himself from the saddle.

"I found this Indian girl, Singing Bird, daughter of Cloud Chief, lying here with a wound in her breast that would have killed an ordinary mortal, but I think she is getting better."

"We got worried about you when you did not return for supper, and started out to find you. If we hadn't seen the reflection of your fire against the sky we would have pa.s.sed you by. How did this happen?"

"She tells me she is the squaw of Running Bear, with whom you had an argument at the beef issue."

"Yes, I remember him. What about him? Why is he not here to take care of his wife?"

"He shot her and left her here to die, because he was tired of her, and, she says, because she would not reveal to him a secret."

"He certainly is a precious scoundrel, and deserves worse than I gave him, and if I ever meet him again I won't do a thing to him."

"But we must get this girl to a camp where she can be cared for, Ted. It is cruel to leave her here on the cold ground when she can have a cot and plenty of blankets."

"I don't know how we are going to manage it to-night."

"One of you can ride back to camp, and get the wagon and a lantern, and come back for her. She ought to have better attention than I can give her here."

"That's all right. Bud, ride back to camp and get the wagon out, and fill it with blankets and my medicine chest, and get back here as soon as your team will bring you."

Ben had sauntered down to where the willows were seen, and soon returned with a big armful of wood, which he tossed upon the fire, then sat just outside the blaze and popped away with his revolver at the little b.a.l.l.s of pale-green light, the wolves' eyes, which he saw floating among the tall gra.s.s, and he always knew when he had made a bull's-eye by the howl, and the thrashing around that followed it.

Ted sat with Stella, watching the Indian girl, who had again fallen into a deep sleep.

"Did she say what her secret is?" asked Ted.

"No, I didn't ask her, and I don't intend to. If she wants to confide in me, well and good, but I am not a sharer of other peoples' troubles or secrets. I have as many of my own as I can take care of."

It was almost dawn when they heard the rumble of wagon wheels, and Bud drove over the top of the hill, and came toward them.

"By my Aunt Hester's black cat's tail, I never had sech a time gittin' a team hitched up as this one. It took me an hour to ketch 'em out o' ther pony herd, and yer talks about drivers, I'd jest as soon try ter drive two bolts o' red-hot chain lightning. But I've got all ther ginger worked outer 'em now, an' I reckon that nigh bay will not never buck no more."

"Now we'll see if she can be moved," said Ted. "I think we can lift her right on the blanket on which she is lying, and into the wagon, if you will lend a hand, Stella."

Each of the four took a corner of the blanket, and with some difficulty, for Singing Bird suffered excruciating pain with every motion, they got her into the wagon and started for the camp, driving slowly over the rough ground.

It was almost daylight when they reached camp, where willing hands helped to make the girl comfortable in a tent which Ted rigged up.

Then Ted and Stella went to work with all their surgical skill, and soon had Singing Bird's wound properly dressed. Stella stood guard over her, and nursed her as tenderly as if the Indian had been a sister of her blood.

Ted had stayed the herd until Singing Bird should be well enough to get up. The pasturage was fine, and after their arduous drive Ted thought that it would do the cattle no harm to have a long rest.