The Wild Huntress Part 38

THE CHARGE.

The hors.e.m.e.n who had forged ahead, for a while, hindered me from seeing the enemy. The Utahs had halted, and were discharging their guns. The smoke from their shots shrouded both allies and enemies; but, from the fact of a halt having been made, I presumed the Arapahoes were making stand by the b.u.t.te. It was not so. After the first round of shots, the firing ceased; and the Utahs again went charging onward.

The Arapahoes had given way, and were fleeing down the valley. There they must meet Wa-ka-ra. And this or something like it, was their intention. With the four divisions closing upon them from all sides at once, they saw there was no chance of saving themselves--except by making a desperate charge on some one singly, in the hope of causing it to yield, and thus open for them a way of escape. They had no difficulty in making choice of which they should meet. The band of Wa-ka-ra was between them and their own country. It was the direction in which they must ultimately retreat; and this decided them to take down the valley.

A slight swell in the plain, which we were at that moment crossing, gave me a view of the retreating Arapahoes. In the distance, I could see the band of Wa-ka-ra advancing towards them at full speed. In a few seconds would meet in shivering charge these mortal foes.

The Utahs of our party were urging their horses to utmost speed.

Well-mounted as were myself and companions, we were unable to overtake them. Those that came from right and left had suddenly swerved from their course; and in two converging lines were sweeping down the valley to the a.s.sistance of their chief. We pa.s.sed close under the edge of the b.u.t.te. In the excitement of the chase, I had almost forgotten to look up--when a shrill shout recalled to my memory the captive on the cross.

The cry came from the summit--from Sure-shot himself. Thank Heaven! he lived!

"Hooza! hoozay!" shouted the voice. "Heaving speed yees, whos'ever ye be! Hooza! hoozay! Arter the verming, an' gie 'em goss! Sculp every mother's son o' 'em. Hooza! hoozay!"

There was no time to make reply to these cries of encouragement. Enough to know that it was our old comrade who gave utterance to them. It proved he was still living; and, echoing his exulting shout, we galloped onward.

It was a fearful sight to behold the two dark bands as they dashed forward upon one another--like opposing waves of the angry ocean.

Through the hors.e.m.e.n in front of me, I could see the meeting, and hear the shock. It was accompanied by wild yells--by voices heard in loud taunting tones--by the rattling of shields, the crashing collision of spear-shafts, and the sharp detonations of rifles. The band of Wa-ka-ra recoiled for a moment. It was by far the weakest; and had it been left to itself, would have sustained defeat in this terrible encounter. But the Utahs were armed both with rifles and pistols; and the latter, playing upon the ranks of the Arapahoes, were fast thinning them. Dusky warriors were seen dropping from their horses; while the terrified animals went galloping over the field--their wild neighs adding to the uproar of the fight. There was but one charge--a short but terrible conflict--and then the fight was over. It became transformed, almost in an instant, to a disorderly flight. When the hot skurry had ended, the remnant of the prairie-hors.e.m.e.n was seen heading down the valley, followed by the four bands of the Utahs--who had now closed together.

Pressing onward in the pursuit, they still vociferated their wild _Ugh!

aloo_!--firing shots at intervals, as they rode within reach of their flying foemen.

Neither Wingrove nor I had an opportunity of taking part in the affray.

It was over before we could ride up; and, indeed, had it been otherwise, neither of us could have been of much service to our allies. Painted as both were, and in full war-costume--in other words, naked to the breech-clout--we could not have distinguished friends from foes! It was partly this consideration that had occasioned us to halt. We drew up on the ground where the collision had occurred with the band of Wa-ka-ra.

We looked upon a spectacle that might at any other time have horrified us. A hundred bodies lay over the sward, all dead. There were Utahs as well as Arapahoes; but, though we could not distinguish the warriors of the two tribes in the confusion of the fight, there was no difficulty in identifying their dead. There was a signal difference in the aspect of the slain Indians. Around the skulls of the Utahs, the thick black tresses were still cl.u.s.tering; while upon the heads of the Arapahoes there was neither hair nor skin. Every one of them had been already scalped. Wounded men were sitting up, or propped against dead bodies-- each with two or three comrades bending over him. Horses were galloping around, their lazos trailing at will; while weapons of every kind-- spears, shields, bows, quivers, and arrows--were strewed over the sward.

A group of about a dozen men appeared at some distance, cl.u.s.tered around a particular object. It was the dead body of a man--a chief, no doubt?

Not without feelings of apprehension did I approach the spot. It might be the n.o.ble Wa-ka-ra? I rode up, and looked over the shoulders of those who encircled the corpse. A glance was sufficient to put an end to my apprehensions. The body was covered with blood, and pierced with many wounds. It was frightfully mutilated; but I was able to identify the features as those of Red-Hand, the chief of the Arapahoes! Scarred and gashed though it was, I could still trace those sinister lines that in life had rendered that face so terrible to behold. It was even more hideous in death; but the Utahs who stood around no longer regarded it with fear. The terror, which their dread foeman had oft inspired within them, was now being retaliated in the mockery of his mutilated remains!

The Mexican had ascertained that Wa-ka-ra was still unhurt, and heading the pursuit. Having myself no further interest in the scene, I turned away from it; and, with Wingrove by my side, rode back towards the b.u.t.te.

CHAPTER SEVENTY NINE.

TRAGIC AND COMIC.

Some words pa.s.sed between us as we went. For my companion, I had news that would make him supremely happy. Our conversation turned not on that. "Soon enough," thought I, "when they shall come together. Let both hearts be blessed at the same time." Ah! how my own was bleeding.

Little suspected the Spanish hunter how his tale had tortured me!

Wingrove, in brief detail, gave me the particulars of his escape. Like myself, he had been captured without receiving any serious injury. They would have killed him afterwards, but for the interference of the Chicasaw, who, by some means, had gained an ascendancy over the Red-Hand! In the breast of this desperate woman burned alternately the pa.s.sions of love and revenge. The former had been for the time in the ascendant; but she had saved the captive's life, only in the hope of making him _her_ captive. She had carried him to the copse, where he had pa.s.sed the night in her company--one moment caressed and entreated-- in the next reviled, and menaced with the most cruel death! In vain had he looked for an opportunity to get away from her. Like a jealous tigress had she watched him throughout the live-long night; and it was only in the confusion, created by our sudden approach, that he had found a chance of escape from the double guardianship in which he had been held. All this was made known to me in a few hurried phrases.

Sure-shot! we were within speaking distance; but who could have identified the Yankee in such a guise? The tricoloured escutcheon I had myself so lately borne--the black face, shoulders, and arms--the white circle on the breast--the red spot--all just as they had painted me!

"Jehosophet an' pigeon-pie!" cried he, as he saw us approach; "air it yeou, capting? an' Wingrove, teoo!"

"Yes, brave comrade! Your shot has saved us all. Patience! we shall soon set you free!"

Leaping down from our horses, we hurried up the sloping path. I was still anxious about Sure-shot's safety; but in another moment, my anxiety was at an end. He was yet unscathed. Like myself, he had received some scratches, but no wound of a dangerous character. Like myself, he had died a hundred deaths, and yet lived! His gleesome spirit had sustained him throughout the dread ordeal. He had even joked with his cruel tormentors! Now that the dark hour was past, his _jeux d'esprit_ were poured forth with a continuous volubility. No; not continuous. At intervals, a shadow crossed his spirit, as it did that of all of us. We could not fail to lament the fate of the unfortunate Hibernian.

"Poor Petrick!" said Sure-shot, as we descended the slope, "he weer the joyfulest kimrade I ever hed, an' we must gi' him the berril o' a Christyan. I wonder neow what on airth them verming lies done wi' him?

Wheer kin they have hid his body?"

"True--where is it? It was out yonder on the plain? I saw it there: they had scalped him."

"Yees; they sculped him at the time we weer all captered. He weer lying jest out theer last night at sundown. He ain't theer now; nor ain't a been this mornin', or I'd a seed him. What do ees think they've done wi' him anyhow?"

The disappearance of the body was singular enough. It had undoubtedly been removed from the spot where it had lain; and was now nowhere to be seen! It was scarcely probable that the wolves had eaten it, for the Indians had been all night upon the ground; and their camp-fires were near. True, the _coyotes_ would have cared little for that; but surely the brutes could not have carried the body clear away? The bones, at least, would have remained? There were none--not a trace either of body or bones! We pa.s.sed around the b.u.t.te, and made search on the other side. There was no dead body there--no remains of one. Ha--the river!

It swept past within fifty yards of the mound. It would account for the disappearance of the corpse. Had the Indians thrown it into the water?

We walked towards the stream, half mechanically. We had little expectation of finding the remains of the unfortunate man. The current rushed rapidly on: the body would have been taken along with it?

"Maybe it mout hev lodged somewheres?" suggested Sure-shot. "Ef we shed find it, capting, I'd like to put a sod over him, for old times' sake.

Sh.e.l.l we try down the stream?"

We followed the bank downward. A little below grew willows, forming a selvedge to the river's edge. Their culms curved over, till the long quivering leaves dipped into the water. Here and there were thickets of them extending back into the plain. Only by pa.s.sing through these could the bank of the river be reached. We entered among the willows, Wingrove going in the advance.

I saw him stoop suddenly, as if to examine the ground. An exclamation escaped him, and the words:

"Someb'dy's crawled through hyar, or been dragged through--one o' the two ways."

"No!" added he, after a moment, "he's not been dragged; he's been creepin' on his hands an' knees. Look thar! the track o' a knee, as clar as daylight; an', by the tarnal! it's been covered wi' broad-cloth.

No Injun kud a made that mark!"

We all bent over to examine the sign. Sure enough, it was the track of a man's knee; and the plastic mud exhibited on its surface a print of fretted lines, which must have been made by coa.r.s.e threadbare cloth!

"By Gosh!" exclaimed Sure-shot, "that eer's the infantry overall--the givernment cloth to a sartingty. Petrick's been abeout heer. Lordy, tain't possyble he's still living?"

"Shure-shat! Shure-shat! Mother ov Moses! is it yerself I hear?"

The voice reached us in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. It appeared to rise out of the earth! For some moments, we all stood, as if petrified by surprise.

"Shure-shat!" continued the voice, "won't yez help me out? I'm too wake to get up the bank."

"Petrick, as I'm a livin' sinner! Good Lordy, Petrick! wheer air ye?

'Tain't possyble yeer alive?"

"Och, an' shure I'm aloive, that same. But I'm more than half did, for all that; an' nearly drownded to boot. Arrah, boys! rache me a hand, an' pull me out--for I can't move meself--one of my legs is broke."

We all three rushed down to the water--whence the voice appeared to come. Under the drooping willows, where the current had undermined the bank, we perceived an object in motion. A fearful object it was to look upon: it was the encrimsoned skull of our scalped comrade! His body was submerged below the surface. His head alone was visible--a horrid sight! The three of us leaped at once into the stream; and, raising the poor fellow in our arms, lifted him out on the bank. It was as he had alleged. One of his legs was broken below the knee; and other frightful wounds appeared in different parts of his body. No wonder the Indians had believed him dead, when they stripped off that terrible trophy!

Notwithstanding the ill usage he had received, there was still hope.

His wounds, though ugly to the eye, were none of them mortal. With care, he might recover; and, taking him up as tenderly as possible, we conveyed him back to the b.u.t.te. The Arapahoes had left their _impedimenta_ behind them--blankets and robes at discretion. With these, a soft couch was prepared under the shade of the waggon body, and the wounded man placed upon it. Such rude dressing, as we were able to give, was at once administered to his wounds; and we found new joy in the antic.i.p.ation of his recovery. His disappearance--from the spot where he had been left for dead--was explained. He had "played 'possum," as he himself expressed it. Though roughly handled, and actually senseless for a time, he had still clung to life. He knew that the Indians believed him dead--else why should they have scalped him?

With a faint hope of being left upon the field, he had lain still, without stirring hand or foot; and the savages, otherwise occupied, had not noticed him after taking his scalp. By some accident, his hands had got over his face; and, perceiving that these screened his countenance from observation, he had permitted them to remain so. With half-opened eyes, he could see between his fingers, and note many of the movements that were pa.s.sing upon the plain in front of him--all this without the Indians having the slightest suspicion that he lived!

It was a terrible time for him--an ordeal equal to that endured by Sure-shot and myself. Every now and then some half drunken savage would come staggering past; and he knew not how soon some one of these strollers might stick a spear into him, out of mere wantonness! On the arrival of night, his hopes had revived; and the cool air had also the effect of partially restoring his strength. The savages, carousing around their fires, took no notice of him; and, as soon as darkness was fairly down, he had commenced crawling off in the direction of the river. He had a double object in going thither. He was suffering from horrid thirst; and he hoped there to find relief, as well as a hiding-place. After crawling for more than an hour, he had succeeded in reaching the bank; and, taking to the water, he had waded down, and concealed himself under the willows--in the place where we had found him. Such was the adventure of the _ci-devant_ soldier, Patrick O'Tigg--an escape almost miraculous!

As if fulfilling the laws of dramatic justice--that the farce should succeed the tragedy--our attention was at this moment called to a ludicrous incident. The Mexican trapper had ridden up, and halted beside the waggon; when all at once his eyes became fixed upon an object that lay near at hand upon the gra.s.s. It was the black silk hat of the ex-rifleman, already mentioned in our narrative. After gazing at it for a moment, the Mexican slid down from his horse; and, hobbling towards the hat, took it up. Then uttering a fierce "_Carajo_," he dashed the "tile" back to the ground, and commenced stamping upon it, as if it had been some venomous serpent he desired to annihilate!

"Hilloo! theer, _hombre_!" shouted Sure-shot. "What the ole scratch air ye abeout? Why, ye yeller-bellied fool, thet's my _hat_ yeer stompin'

on!"