The Watchers of the Plains 15 – Cullum · Verses Across
Literature · Historical Fiction
The Watchers of the Plains 15The Movements of Little Black Fox
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Literature · Historical Fiction
The Watchers of the Plains 15
The Movements of Little Black Fox
CullumEnglish
The woodlands on the northern side of the great Reservations of Dakota amount almost to a forest. From Beacon Crossing, after entering the Pine Ridge Reservation, a man might travel the whole length of the Indian territory without the slightest chance of discovery, even by the Indians themselves; that is, provided he be a good woodsman. And this is what Seth accomplished. He did it without any seeming care or unusual caution. But then he was consummate in the necessary craft which is to be found only amongst the sons of the soil, and, even then, rarely outside the few who have been associated with Indians all their lives.
It was soon after sunrise on Monday morning that Seth found himself in the neighborhood of the principal Indian camp of the Rosebuds. Yet none had seen him come. He was hidden in the midst of a wide, undergrown bluff. Directly in front of him, but with at least four hundred yards of uninterrupted view intervening, was the house of Little Black Fox.
Seth was not usually a hard rider--he was far too good a horseman--but when necessity demanded it he knew how to get the last ounce out of his horse. He had left the farm on Saturday morning, and at midnight had roused the postmaster of Beacon Crossing from his bed. Then, at the hotel of Louis Roiheim, he had obtained a fresh horse, and, by daylight on Monday morning, after traveling the distance through nothing but mazy woodland, had reached the locality of Little Black Fox's abode. Thus he had covered something like one hundred and seventy miles in less than forty-eight hours. Nor had he finished his work yet.
Now he lay on the ground in the shadow of the close, heavy-foliaged brush, watching with alert, untiring eyes. Something of the Indian seemed to have grown into the nature of this uncultured product of the prairie world. He had smothered the only chance of betrayal by blindfolding his horse, now left in the well-trained charge of the dog, General. For himself he gave no sign. Not a leaf moved, nor a twig stirred where he lay. If he shifted his position it must have been done in the manner of the Indians themselves, for no sound resulted. He knew that a hundred pairs of eyes would infallibly detect his presence at the least clumsy disturbance of the bush. For the Indian is like the bear in his native woods. He may be intent in another direction, but the disturbance of the leaves, however slight, in an opposite direction, will at once attract his attention.
The squaws were astir at daylight. Now, as the sun rose, it became apparent that there were many preparations going forward in the chief's quarters. There was a gathering of ponies in a corral hard by. Also the long "trailers," already packed with tepee-poles and great bundles of skins and blankets, were leaning against the walls of the corral.
To Seth's practised eyes these things denoted an early departure; and, by the number of ponies and the extent of the equipment, it was evidently to be the going of a large party. But time went on, and no further move was made. Only all those who came and went seemed busy; not on account of what they did, but from their manner and movement. Through the greater part of the day Seth kept his sleepless watch. Only once did he abandon his post, and then merely to return to his horse to secure food from his saddle-bags. When he rose to go thither it was to be seen that he was fully armed, which had not been the case when he left the farm.
Seth's arguments were as simple and straightforward as he was himself, and none the less shrewd. The position was this. The Indians were in a state of ferment, to which, of course, the chief was party. Second, the chief was going off on a hunting trip, and apparently abandoning his people at a critical time. Third, he had received warning of Rosebud's danger from one whose knowledge and good-will could be relied on. Fourth, the warning had come to them, indirectly, from the one man who he now had every reason to suspect had no very good-will toward Rosebud; but he also saw, or thought he saw, the reason of that warning. It was that this man might clear himself should the chief's plans go wrong. These were Seth's arguments, and he intended to prove them by remaining on Little Black Fox's trail until he was assured that the danger to Rosebud no longer existed. It was in the nature of the man that he had sought no outside aid, except that of his faithful General.
The story the watcher read as he observed the Indians' movements was a long one. The climax of it did not come until late in the afternoon, and the conclusion not until an hour later.
The climax was reached when he saw a tall figure coming up from the direction of the bridge. A grim pursing of the lips lent a curious expression to the smile that this appearance brought to his face. The man was clad in a blanket, and his gait was the gait of an Indian. There was nothing to give any other impression to the casual observer. But Seth was very intent, and he saw the color of the man's face. It was then that his lips shut tight and his smile developed something tigerish in its appearance.
However, he remained quite still, and saw the man pass into the chief's house. He did not reappear for a full half-hour. When at last he came out he departed at once the way he had come. Half an hour later the chief's ponies, a number of squaws, and the baggage, set out accompanied by half a dozen mounted bucks. Another half-hour and Little Black Fox appeared and vaulted to the back of his waiting pony. A dozen warriors joined him almost at the same moment, gathering from different directions, and the chief rode off at their head.
Then it was that Seth rose from his hiding-place. He stood watching the going of these men until he had made sure of the direction they were taking. They were making for the river ford, and he instantly ran back to his horse and mounted. Just for a second he hesitated. Then he set off for the wagon bridge as fast as he could urge his horse.
It was late the same afternoon that Charlie Rankin rode up to the River Farm and greeted Rube, who was hard at work upon the stockade. He was a large, cheery Britisher, with a florid face and ready laugh. He drew up with a jerk, sprang to the ground, and began talking with the perfect freedom of long friendship.
"I've passed the word, Rube," he said, without any preamble. "It's gone the round by this time. I thought I'd run over and consult you about the womenfolk. I'm new to this work. You are an old bird. I thought of sending the missis into Beacon."
Rube paused in his work and surveyed the horizon, while, in his slow way, he wiped the perspiration from his weather-furrowed face.
"Howdy, Charlie," he said, without displaying the least concern. "Wal, I don't know. Y' see this thing's li'ble to fizzle some. We've had 'em before. Guess my missis an' the gal'll stay right here by us. I 'low I feel they're safer wi' us. Mebbe it's jest a notion. If things gits hummin' I'd say come right along over an' share in wi' us. Y' see if it's a case of git, we'd likely do better in a party. Seth's away jest now."
The old man's quiet assurance was pleasant to the less experienced farmer. There was soundness in his plans too. Charlie nodded.
"That's good of you. Of course, we've got the warning, but we don't know how far things are moving. Do you?"
"Wal, no. But I don't think ther's anything to worry over fer a week or two."
"I thought there couldn't be, because I saw your Rosebud riding down toward the river as I came along. And yet----"
But Rube broke in upon him vehemently.
"Goin' to the river?" he cried. Then his usual slow movements suddenly became electrical. He strode away to the barn, and left Charlie to follow.
"What's up?" the latter asked, as he paused in the doorway.
"Up? Up? What's up?" The old man was saddling a big raw-boned mare with almost feverish haste. "She's no right goin' that aways. An' I promised Seth, too. I didn't know but what she wus in the kitchen. Here, fix that bridle while I get into the house. Ha' y' got your gun?"
"Yes; but why?"
"Wal--y' never can figger to these durned Injuns when they're raisin' trouble."
The old man was off like a shot, while Charlie fixed the great mare's bridle. He returned almost immediately armed with a brace of guns.
"Say, ken y' spare an hour or so?"
As Charlie looked into the old farmer's face when he made his reply he read the answer to all he would have liked to ask him. Rube was consumed with an anxiety that no words, delivered in his slow fashion, could have conveyed to any one but Seth.
"Certainly, as long as you like."
"Good boy," said Rube, with an air of relief. "I wouldn't ask you, but it's fer her." And the two men rode off hastily, with Rube leading.
"By-the-way," said Charlie, drawing his horse up alongside the dun-colored mare, "Joe Smith, north of us, says some neighbor of his told him there were tents on the plains further north. I was wondering. The troops haven't been sent for, have they?"
"Can't say," said Rube, without much interest. Then he asked hastily, "Which way was she headin'?"
The question showed the trend of his whole thought.
"Why, straight down."
"Ah, Nevil Steyne's shack."
"He lives that way, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
The two men rode on in silence. This was the first time Charlie had ever seen Rube disturbed out of his deliberate manner. He made a mental resolve to bring his wife and children into White River Farm at the first sign of actual danger.
