The Outcasts Part 4

"Let us go back and swim the river," pleaded s.h.a.g; "there will be hunters within the lodge."

"No, wait you here," commanded A'tim; "there will surely be food in the teepee, and I mean to have it."

[Ill.u.s.tration: MUSKWA HAD A'TIM IN HIS LONG-CLAWED GRASP.]

"Be careful," warned s.h.a.g; "this is a land of scarcity, and the hunters may bring us evil."

But already A'tim was skulking toward a small canvas tent, gleaming white beside the blue waters of Battle River. The Bull lay down to conceal his great bulk, and watched apprehensively the foray of his pillaging comrade. A'tim circled until he was down wind from the teepee.

"The Man is not in his burrow," he muttered, sniffing the air that floated from the tent to his sensitive nostrils; "but I smell the brown Pork Meat they eat."

Cautiously, stealthily, burying his brown-gray body in the river gra.s.s, he stole to the very tent pegs of the canvas shelter; there he listened, as still and silent as the river stones. There was no sound within; no living thing even drew breath beyond the cotton wall--he could have heard that.

In through the flap he slipped. Yes, his scouting had been perfect. A pair of blankets, an iron fry-pan, and--ah! there was the rich brown meat, its white edge gleaming a welcome. With a famished snarl A'tim fastened his lean jaws upon it, and sprang for the door. He was none too quick. "Thud, thudety-thud, thudety-thudety-thud!" a horseman was hammering down the sloping bank across the ford.

As A'tim leaped from the tent the horseman shouted and drove big rowel spurs hard up the flank of his galloping Cayuse.

"Just my evil chance!" snarled A'tim as he headed for s.h.a.g; "but what is a small piece of Bacon compared with a big Buffalo?" For into his quick Wolf brain came the safety thought that should the pursuing hunter sight s.h.a.g he would follow, and let the bacon go.

As the Man galloped he unslung a gun, and fired at the fleeing Dog-Wolf. A little sputter of dust drove into the nostrils of A'tim as a trade ball spat in his face and buried itself in front of him. There was no second shot; only the "thudety-thud" of the Pony's hoofs. The pursuer was armed with a muzzle-loading trade musket.

The shot startled s.h.a.g. Now he could see them rushing his way; soon they would be upon him. With a bellow of frightened rage at the stupidity of A'tim, he stuck his scraggy tail out with its tip curled over his back, and broke into a solemn gallop.

In an instant the hunter swerved from his course and raced for the Bull, loading his gun as the Cayuse swung along under a free rein. s.h.a.g chuckled softly as he spread his great quarters, and hung his nose closer to earth.

"It's a down trail for miles," he muttered, "and I, who in my prime have outrun the fastest Buffalo Horses of the Bloods and Blackfeet, can surely show that lean-flanked Pack Animal a long trail. Mou-o-o-h! but already I feel in my veins the strength of this rich feeding." And the huge form slipped down the gentle grade of sloping plain like an express train. Once the hunter threw the b.u.t.t of his musket to shoulder and fired; but half the powder charge had spilled in the restless loading, and the trade ball wandered aimlessly yards wide of the fleeing Bull. s.h.a.g grunted and kinked his tail derisively as the spirit of old times threw its glamor over him. It was years since he had been thought worthy of the chase; surely he was becoming of some account in the Buffalo world again.

A'tim, sitting on his haunches, watched the departing cavalcade, and industriously absorbed much of the fat pork. "I can carry it better in my stomach," he reasoned philosophically. "But who would have thought old s.h.a.g had it in him?" he muttered in admiration.

As he gazed, the extent of territory between s.h.a.g and his pursuer widened perceptibly. The overworked Pony was tired; no doubt his rider had trailed for many a league with him, and he was in no condition for the fierce gallop of a Buffalo Run.

A'tim finished the bacon with undoubted relish, then struck out across the boundless field of gra.s.s. "I must not lose sight of s.h.a.g," he thought; "there will not always be bacon for the stealing when I am on the edge of starvation."

At last the Pony was pulled to a walk, turned about, and headed for the teepee that nestled on the river bank. The rider was indulging in much injudicious vituperation of all the animal kingdom, including his own well-blown Cayuse, whose trembling flanks vouched for the energy with which he had tried to overhaul the galloping Bull.

A'tim circled wide, and, when he considered it safe, fell into s.h.a.g's trail and followed on. Soon he overtook his comrade. "Well done, my big Bull!" he exclaimed; "that was a rare turn you did me."

"It was," answered s.h.a.g shortly; "hardly of my own choosing, though; you thrust it upon me. I suppose you were bringing me the bacon, kind Brother?"

"I knew you could do it," flattered A'tim. "You have the full speed of a Spike Horn, and the great wisdom of your own age."

s.h.a.g said nothing; he was angry at the selfish heartlessness of the other Outcast. It seemed hardly a fair recognition of the service he had rendered the Dog-Wolf when he prodded the Bear from his throat.

"Come, let us be moving," he said; "we must find another crossing."

"Oh! but I feel years younger," cried A'tim joyfully, as they headed again for Battle River. "Euh-euh-euh-euh! Yap-yap-yap!" he laughed; "this eating has put the joyousness of a Pup into my heart."

That night they crossed the river at another ford, and slept in a bluff of slim-bodied white poplars, for they were on the edge of the North timber lands.

"This is good cover," muttered A'tim, as he raked the yellow heart-shaped leaves of the poplar together for a bed.

"It's new to me," muttered s.h.a.g; "and it will also give cover to one's enemies; one must be very cautious in the Northland, I think."

Then the two Outcasts slept together on the border of the North fairyland to which the Dog-Wolf was leading s.h.a.g the Bull.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER FOUR

In the morning A'tim had for his breakfast a wistful remembrance of the yesterday's eating--that was all; while s.h.a.g made a frugal meal off the bronzed gra.s.s, fast curing on its stem for the winter forage.

"There'll be good eating here for the Gra.s.s Feeders," he said, grinding leisurely at the wild hay.

"Indeed there will," answered the Dog-Wolf. "The Gra.s.s Feeders will wax fat for the benefit of the Meat Eaters. I wish one would come my way now," he sighed hungrily.

"We are almost half way," continued A'tim, as he trotted beside the long-striding Bull.

"I'm glad of that, Brother. My foot joints are not so well oiled as they once were, and are getting hot and dry. Strange that we should not see some of our cousins, is it not, Dog-Wolf?"

"I saw one yesterday," replied A'tim.

"Aye, Brother, and he saw you, too."

"Else I had eaten him," added the Dog-Wolf.

"A Coyote?" asked s.h.a.g incredulously; "eat a Coyote? Impossible!

No animal ever ate a Coyote!"

"No animal was ever so hungry as I was yesterday before Wie-sah-ke led me to the Fat Bacon."

"It's terribly dreary," said s.h.a.g, returning again to his first thought; "no Elk, no Antelope, no Buffalo, no Indian Cayuse. Why is it? Has Man killed them all off, as he has done with my people?"

"Yes, Man, and the Man-fire. From the black that is underneath this new gra.s.s I know that last year the Man-fire swept over this land faster and straighter than a Wolf Pack gallops----"

Suddenly he broke off and made a fierce rush into the prairie. A brown Cow-Bird flew up and lighted on s.h.a.g's horn. The Dog-Wolf rose on his hind legs and snapped viciously at the Bird.

"Steady, Dog-Wolf, steady," admonished s.h.a.g, "this is a friend of mine. Do you not know the Cow-Bird, who is always with the Herd?"

"Who is your friend?" asked the Cow-Bird of s.h.a.g. "Queer company you keep, Great Bull; a Herd Leader leading a Wolf is new to me."

"I'm no Wolf, Scavenger!" retorted A'tim. "I'm a Dog; I'll crack your----"