The Young Ranchers; Or, Fighting the Sioux Part 21

Warren rode rapidly a few yards toward him, and then brought Jack to an abrupt halt. He had seen something suspicious in the actions of his enemy.

"Is he shamming?" was the question he asked himself, as he leaned forward, carefully keeping the head and neck of Jack in front of his body, and on the alert against a treacherous shot.

The Sioux seemed to have fallen on his side, with his face turned partly away from the youth. With surprising quickness he shifted his position so as to confront the horseman, and still lay prostrate in the snow, as if unable to rise.

There might be a sinister meaning to this. The pretence of being mortally disabled was an old one with his people, as many a white man has learned when too late. If he were trying the artifice in the present instance, he did it skilfully.

Under the belief that he was powerless to inflict further harm, nothing was more natural than that the youth should ride forward with the purpose of giving him his quietus, disregarding his own safety until a bullet through the body should apprise him of his fatal oversight. It was this fear that checked Warren in the very nick of time.

The one great obstacle in the way of the Sioux successfully playing this ruse was that he was in open view, where no movement on his part could be concealed. Were it in the wood, with rocks and trees at his command, the chances would have been far better for him.

Warren Starr kept his eye fixed on him. It would have been easy, while seated on his own pony, to drive a ball through the miscreant, who was fully exposed to his fire, but it might be after all that he was badly wounded and unable to defend himself. If such were the case he could not commit the cruelty of firing at him again, even though the Sioux would have eagerly seized such a chance against a foe.

It was for the purpose of learning the truth in the matter that Warren watched him with the utmost closeness, holding his own weapon ready to use the instant the other made a hostile demonstration.

The action or rather inaction of the other Sioux at the base of the ridge was suggestive, and increased the suspicion of the young rancher.

They were in a direct line with the one on the ground, so that Warren readily saw them without withdrawing his attention from his immediate antagonist.

Instead of rushing out to the help of the latter they remained where they were, and continued the role of spectators. This looked as if they did not believe the fellow was in need of a.s.sistance, and they were simply waiting with confidence in the result of the piece of treacherous cunning.

The warrior with his left hand drew his rifle round to the front. The weapon was a magazine one like Warren's, and it was one, therefore, of which it would not do to lose sight.

The gun being in position for use, the owner, apparently with difficulty, raised the upper part of his body, so that it was supported on the left elbow. Then he essayed to call the right hand into play, but appeared to find a difficulty in doing so.

Up to this moment Warren Starr had been trying to learn in what manner the fellow was wounded. The motion of his lower limbs showed no weakness, though it might have been there without appearing, so long as he held his p.r.o.ne position and did not call them into use.

The action now indicated that his right arm was the one that had suffered, since it fumbled awkwardly and refused to give the needed help when called upon.

Still all this might be pretence, intended to deceive the youth into uncovering himself. Warren did not lose sight of that probability.

The action of the Sioux was precisely what it would have been had he, knowing that he was confronted by a merciless enemy, done his utmost, while badly wounded in the right arm, to bring his weapon to bear upon him. There was no hesitation or trouble with the left arm, but it was the other which, from appearances, refused to answer the call upon it.

It was seen to move aimlessly about, but still was unable to help in aiming, and the hand could not manipulate the trigger--an impotence which, if actual, was fatal.

But who can trust an Indian? Knowing that his slightest action could not escape the keen eyes of the youthful horseman a short distance away, was he not likely to direct every movement with the purpose of deceiving him?

The truth must show itself soon; but be it what it might, Warren Starr had the comforting belief that he was master of the situation. He was unharmed, with his ready Winchester in such position that he could use it like a flash. As yet the Sioux had not brought himself to the point of aiming, and Warren was watching him so closely that he could antic.i.p.ate his firing. He was resolved that the instant he attempted to shoot he would let fly, and end the singular prairie duel.

It has taken considerable time to make all this clear, but the incidents from the fall of the Sioux to the close occupied but a few minutes.

Young Starr spoke in a low voice to his pony, who began moving slowly toward the prostrate Indian, the rider holding his weapon ready as before. Jack took short and very deliberate steps, for he did not like the appearance of things. A man lying on the ground is always a disquieting object to a horse, and this one had already felt the sting of the Indian's anger when the bullet clipped a tiny speck out of his ear. Warren Starr was resolved to learn the truth, and he did so before Jack had advanced a dozen steps.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A GOOD SAMARITAN.

The young rancher was yet some distance from the prostrate foe, when his quick eye discovered something. It was a crimson stain on the snow near the stock of the Indian's rifle.

The miscreant was wounded; he was not shamming.

It was remarkable that with this discovery came an utter revulsion of feeling on the part of the youth. While he had been ready up to that moment to drive his bullet through the bronzed skull, an emotion of pity now took possession of him. He forgot that the fellow had tried with desperate endeavor to take his life, and he knew he expected no mercy at his hands. Nevertheless, as a Christian, he could not withhold his sympathy, nor could he forget that simple but sublime role of the good Samaritan.

Touching his heels against the ribs of Jack, the pony increased his pace, but had not yet reached the prostrate figure when Warren experienced the greatest surprise of all.

The Indian on the ground was Starcus!

The next moment young Starr dropped from his saddle, and was bending over him.

"I hardly expected this, Starcus," he said, with a gentle reproof in his voice. "You seem to have changed your mind since this morning, when you shot the grizzly."

Indian though he was the fellow's painted face was darkened by an expression of deep pain, whether the result of his hurt or of his mental disquietude no one can say.

"I am not your friend; I am the enemy of all white men."

"You have proven that since you turned against those who would do you no harm. But I have no wish to reproach you; your arm is badly hurt; let me give you what help I can."

"I want no help," replied the Sioux, resolutely compressing his thin lips; "go away and leave me alone."

"I shall not; I am your master, and shall do as I please with you."

"I tell you to leave me alone; I do not want your help," added Starcus fiercely.

"You shan't hinder me, old fellow; this is for old times."

And paying no heed to the sufferer, who struggled with pitiful awkwardness to keep him off, Starr ripped a piece from the lining of his coat, and began bandaging the bleeding arm. The Sioux still resisted, but while doing so showed a weakness rare in one of his race by fainting dead away.

The youth made no effort to revive him until he had completed his hasty but rude swathing of the arm, which was badly shattered by a bullet.

Then he flung some snow in the face of the fellow, who had already shown signs of coming to.

Starcus looked around for a moment in a bewildered way, and then fixed his gaze on the wounded member, now bound so that the flow of blood was stopped. Then he turned his dark eyes on the face of the youth bending over him, with an indescribable expression, and said in a low voice:

"I tried my best to kill you, Warren."

"But you didn't; and I am unharmed, and am your friend."

"And why are you my friend? I do not deserve it," continued the Sioux, with his black eyes still centred on the face of the athletic youth.

"If you and I had what we deserved where would we be? Give it no further thought."

Starcus now held his peace for a full minute, during which he never once removed his gaze from the countenance of the good Samaritan. Strange thoughts must have pa.s.sed through his brain. When he spoke it was in a voice as gentle as a girl's.

"Can you forgive me for what I have done?"

"With my whole heart."