Out on the Pampas Part 25

There was a pause before the tragedy was to begin. Some of the women brought f.a.ggots for the pile, others cut splinters to thrust under the nails and into the flesh. The old women chattered and exulted over the tortures they would inflict; a few of the younger ones stood aloof, looking on pityingly.

The men of the tribe gathered in a circle, but took no part in the preparations,--the torture of women was beneath them.

At last all was ready. A fire was lit near; the hags lit their firebrands and advanced. The chief gave the signal, and with a yell of exultation they rushed upon their victim, but fell back with a cry of surprise, rudely thrust off by three Indians who placed themselves before the captive.

The women retreated hastily, and the men advanced to know the reason of this strange interruption. The Raven and his companions were unarmed.

The Indians frowned upon them, uncertain what course to pursue.

'My brothers,' the Raven said, 'I am come to die. The Raven's time is come. He has flown his last flight. He and his brothers will die with the little White Bird. The Raven and his friends are not dogs. They have shed their blood against their enemies, and they do not know how to cry out. But their time has come, they are ready to die. But they must die before the little White Bird. If not, her spirit will fly to the Great Spirit, and will tell him that the Raven and his friends, whom she had sheltered and rescued, had helped to kill her; and the Great Spirit would shut the gates of the happy hunting-grounds against them. The Raven has spoken.'

There was a pause of extreme astonishment, followed by a clamour of voices. Those who had before espoused the cause of the Raven again spoke out loudly, while many of the others hesitated as to the course to be pursued.

The Stag hastily consulted with two or three of his princ.i.p.al advisers, and then moved forward, waving his hand to command silence. His countenance was calm and unmoved, although inwardly he was boiling with rage at this defiance of his authority. He was too politic a chief, however, to show this. He knew that the great majority of the tribe was with him; yet the employment of force to drag the Raven and his companions from their post would probably create a division in the tribe, the final results of which none could see, and for the consequences of which he would, in case of any reverse, be held responsible and looked upon with disapproval by both parties.

'The Raven and his friends have great hearts,' he said courteously.

'They are large enough to shelter the little White Bird. Let them take her. Her life is spared. She shall remain with our tribe.'

The Raven inclined his head, and, taking a knife from a warrior near, he cut the cords which bound Ethel, and, beckoning to the Fawn, handed the astonished girl again into her charge, saying as he did so, 'Stop in hut. Not go out; go out, bad.' And then, accompanied by his friends, he retired without a word to one of their huts.

A perfect stillness had hung over the crowd during this scene; but when it became known that Ethel was to go off unscathed, a murmur broke out from the elder females, disappointed in their work of vengeance. But the Stag waved his hand peremptorily, and the crowd scattered silently to their huts, to talk over the unusual scene that had taken place.

The Raven and his friends talked long and earnestly together. They were in no way deceived by the appearance of friendliness which the Stag had a.s.sumed. They knew that henceforth there was bitter hatred between them, and that their very lives were insecure. As to Ethel, it was, they knew, only a short reprieve which had been granted her. The Stag would not risk a division in the tribe for her sake, nor would attempt to bring her to a formal execution; but the first time she wandered from the hut, she would be found dead with a knife in her heart.

The Raven, however, felt certain that help was at hand. He and his friends, who knew Mr. Hardy, were alone of the tribe convinced that a pursuit would be attempted. The fact that no such attempt to penetrate into the heart of the Indian country had ever been made, had lulled the rest into a feeling of absolute security. The Raven, indeed, calculated that the pursuers must now be close at hand, and that either on that night or the next they would probably enter the gorge and make the attack.

The result of the council was that he left his friends and walked in a leisurely way back to his own hut, taking no notice of the hostile glances which some of the more violent of the Stag's supporters cast towards him.

On his entrance he was welcomed by his wife, a young girl whom he had only married since his return from the expedition, and to whom, from what he had learned of the position of women among the whites, he allowed more freedom of speech and action than are usually permitted to Indian women. She had been one of the small group who had pitied the white girl.

'The Raven is a great chief,' she said proudly; 'he has done well. The Mouse trembled, but she was glad to see her lord stand forth. The Stag will strike, though,' she added anxiously. 'He will look for the blood of the Raven.'

'The Stag is a great beast,' the Indian said sententiously; 'but the Raven eat him at last.'

Then, sitting down upon a pile of skins, the chief filled his pipe, and made signs to his wife to bring fire. Then he smoked in silence for some time until the sun went down, and a thick darkness closed over the valley.

At length he got up, and said to his wife, 'If they ask for the Raven, say that he has just gone out; nothing more. He will not return till daybreak; and remember,' and he laid his hand upon her arm to impress the caution, 'whatever noise the Mouse hears in the night, she is not to leave the hut till the Raven comes back to her.'

The girl bowed her head with an Indian woman's unquestioning obedience; and then, drawing aside the skin which served as a door, and listening attentively to hear if any one were near, the Raven went out silently into the darkness.

CHAPTER XVII.

RESCUED.

In spite of their utmost efforts, Mr. Hardy's party had made slower progress than they had antic.i.p.ated. Many of the horses had broken down under fatigue; and as they had no spare horses to replace them, as the Indians had in like case done from those they had driven off from Mr.

Mercer, they were forced to travel far more slowly than at first. They gained upon the Indians, however, as they could tell by the position of the camping-ground for the night.

At three o'clock on the afternoon of the last day they pa.s.sed the place their enemy had left that morning; but although they kept on until long after sunset, many of them having led their horses all day, they were still more than thirty miles away from the mountains among which they knew that the Indian village was situated.

None of the Guachos had ever been there, but they knew its situation and general features by report. There had been no difficulty in following the trail since they had struck it. The broad line of trodden ground, and the frequent carcases of sheep, sufficiently told the tale.

That was a night of terrible anxiety to all. They knew that already Ethel was in the Indian village, and they thought with a sickening dread of what might happen the next day. Nothing, however, could be done. Many of the party were already exhausted by their long day's walk under a burning sun. It was altogether impossible to reach the village that night.

Before lying down for the night, Mr. Hardy asked all the party to join in a prayer for the preservation of his daughter during the following day; and it was a strange and impressing sight to see the group of sunburnt, travel-worn men standing uncovered while their leader offered up an earnest prayer.

Mr. Hardy then said for that night it was unnecessary to keep watch as usual. The Indians had pushed on, and could no longer dread pursuit, and therefore there was no risk of a night attack. Besides which, there was little chance of his sleeping. This proposition was a most acceptable one, and in a very short time a perfect silence reigned in the camp.

Before daybreak they were again on the march, all on foot and leading their horses, in order to spare them as much as possible should they be required at night. Speed was now no object. It was, they knew, hopeless to attack in broad daylight, as the Indians would be probably more than a match for them, and Ethel's life would be inevitably sacrificed. They walked, therefore, until within six or seven miles of the gorge, nearer than which they dared not go, lest they might be seen by any straggling Indian.

Their halting-place was determined by finding a stream with an abundance of fresh gra.s.s on its banks. They dared not light a fire, but chewed some of the tough charqui, and watched the distant cleft in the hills which led to the ardently wished-for goal.

As evening fell they were all in the saddle, and were pleased to find that the horses were decidedly fresher for their rest. They did not draw rein until the ground became stony, and they knew that they must be at the mouth of the gorge. Then they dismounted and picketed the horses.

Two of the Guachos were stationed with them as guards, and the rest went stealthily forward,--the rockets being entrusted to the care of Terence, who fastened them tightly together with a cord, and then hung them by a loop, like a gun, over his shoulder, in order that he might have his hands free.

It was still only eight o'clock,--dangerously early for a surprise; but the whole party were quite agreed to risk everything, as no one could say in what position Ethel might be placed, and what difference an hour might make. Their plan was to steal quietly up to the first hut they found, to gag its inmates, and compel one of them, under a threat of instant death, to guide them to the hut in which Ethel was placed.

Suddenly Mr. Hardy was startled by a dark figure rising from a rock against which he had almost stumbled, with the words, 'White man good.

Tawaina friend. Come to take him to child.'

Then followed a few hurried questions; and no words can express the delight and grat.i.tude of Mr. Hardy and his sons, and the intense satisfaction of the others, on finding that Ethel was alive, and for the present free from danger.

It was agreed to wait now for two hours, to give time for the Indians to retire to rest; and while they waited, the Raven told them all that had happened up to the arrival at the village, pa.s.sing over the last day's proceedings by saying briefly that Ethel had run a great risk of being put to death, but that a delay had been obtained by her friends. Having told his story, he said, 'Tawaina friend to great white chief. Gave signal with arrow; save little White Bird to-day. But Tawaina Indian,--not like see Indian killed. White chief promise not kill Indian women and children?'

Mr. Hardy a.s.sured the Indian that they had no thought of killing women and children.

'If can take little White Bird without waking village, not kill men?'

Tawaina asked again.

'We do not want to wake the village if we can help it, Tawaina; but I do not see any chance of escaping without a fight. Our horses are all dead beat, and the Indians will easily overtake us, even if we get a night's start.'

'Mustn't go out on plain,' the Raven said earnestly. 'If go out on plain, all killed. Indian two hundred and fifty braves,--eat up white men on plain.'

'I am afraid that is true enough, Tawaina, though we shall prove very tough morsels. Still we should fight at a fearful disadvantage in the open. But what are we to do?'

'Come back to mouth of Canon,--hold that; can keep Indians off as long as like. Indians have to make peace.'

'Capital!' Mr. Hardy said delightedly; for he had reviewed the position with great apprehension, as he had not seen how it would be possible to make good their retreat on their tired horses in the teeth of the Indians. 'The very thing! As you say, we can hold the gorge for a month if necessary, and, sooner or later, they will be sick of it, and agree to let us retreat in quiet. Besides, a week's rest would set our horses up again, and then we could make our retreat in spite of them.'

'One more thing,' the Raven said. 'When great chief got little White Bird safe, Tawaina go away,--not fight one way, not fight other way.

When meet again, white chief not talk about to-night. Not great Indian know Tawaina white chief's friend.'

'You can rely upon us all, Tawaina. They shall never learn from us of your share in this affair. And now I think that it is time for us to be moving forward. It will be past ten o'clock before we are there.'

Very quietly the troop crept along, Tawaina leading the way, until he approached closely to the village. Here they halted for a moment.