The Ranche on the Oxhide Part 4

The North American Indians are very a.s.siduous in teaching their boys all that becomes a great warrior,--how to ride the wildest horses, and how to hunt and trap every variety of animal used in the domestic economy of their families. The very moment a son is large enough to handle them, bows and arrows are constantly in his hands.

As the Indians had only a few poor rifles, whenever Joe went out with his dusky young companions on a hunt, he, too, took nothing but his bow and arrows which the p.a.w.nees had given him, for he did not want his boy friends to feel his superiority when armed with the white man's weapons.

The number of squirrels, rabbits, and game birds he killed in a single day would have astonished a city-bred boy.

The p.a.w.nee warriors, flattered by Joe's preference for their society to that of his white neighbors, made him the very finest bows and arrows of which their skill was capable. They looked forward to the day when he should develop into a great warrior, and hoped, too, that the time would come when, becoming tired of civilization, he would let them adopt him into the tribe. One morning, to the surprise of Joe, the old chief despatched a runner back to the reservation with orders to his squaws to make a complete suit of buckskin for his young white friend. In about two weeks when the messenger returned to the camp with the savage dress, Joe, of course, was delighted with his quaint and really beautiful costume. It was made out of the finest doeskin, elegantly embroidered with beads; the seams of the coat-sleeves and trousers were fringed in the most approved savage fas.h.i.+on, while the moccasins were exquisitely wrought with the quills of the porcupine, gayly colored. There were also given the boy all the adjuncts of a warrior,--a tomahawk, medicine-bag, tobacco-pouch, powder-horn, bullet-sack, flint and steel, and, last of all, a magnificent calumet manufactured of the red stone from the sacred quarry in far-off Minnesota.

Joe had never mentioned to any of the family, not even to Rob, what was in store for him from the p.a.w.nees. To make the surprise greater to the household, when he was ready to put on the new suit, he got one of the warriors to decorate his face in royal savage style, and thus metamorphosed, he walked into the cabin one noon, just as the family were about to sit down to dinner. None of them recognized him, and when he began to talk in the p.a.w.nee language, not a word of which any of them could understand, his father motioned him to take a seat at the table and eat, as he had often done to the real p.a.w.nees on their many visits to the ranche.

At last Joe could contain himself no longer, and he cried out in his exultation over the farce he had enacted: "Father, mother, Rob, and you girls, don't you know me?"

"No!" they all answered simultaneously, but immediately recognizing his voice, now that he spoke English, his mother said that she had never suspected for a moment that the horrid-looking, paint-bedaubed creature before her could be her own child.

Then all had a good laugh over the manner in which Joe had deceived them, but his father insisted that he must go and wash the paint from his face before he thought of sitting down to eat with Christian people; he could allow it in the case of a real savage, because they did not know any better.

Joe was very hungry, for he had been out hunting grouse on the hills all the morning, and was tired, too, so he hastily obeyed his father's injunction. He ran to the spring, and by vigorously rubbing at the various colors, he at last succeeded in getting his face clean. In a few moments he returned to the dining-room looking like himself again, but very stately, by reason of his brand-new suit; and the family could not help staring at and admiring him. Then, when he had taken his place at the table, he was obliged to tell how he had happened to acquire such a fantastic dress, and explain the use of each curious article belonging to it.

Gertrude and Kate both hoped that he would not wear the handsome clothes every day, and his mother suggested that he must never go to the village in such a savage dress. His father said nothing, but evidently regarded his boy with pride.

In reply to the various comments, Joe told the family that he intended to wear the Indian costume only on extraordinary occasions. If ever the Cheyennes, Kiowas, Comanches, or Arapahoes broke out, he would certainly wear it, for when those savages saw him, they would think he was a great warrior, and be careful how they bothered him. The family little thought, as he uttered his playful remarks, how soon that uniform would be worn on a mission fraught with danger to themselves and the whole settlement.

CHAPTER VI

THE STORY OF THE Ma.s.sACRE ON SPILLMAN CREEK--SCOUTS GO TO THE RESCUE--JOE AND ROB TALK OVER THE HORRID WORK OF THE SAVAGES--THE DOG SOLDIERS--CHARLEY BENT--PLACE OF RENDEZVOUS--PARTY STARTS OUT--JOE'S OPINION IS ASKED

THE family had lived on their comfortable ranche on the Oxhide for nearly three years. During the whole of this period the valley had been most happily exempt from any raid by the hostile Indians farther west, who for all that time had made incursions into the spa.r.s.e settlements not a hundred miles away, devastating the country from Nebraska on the north to the border of Texas on the south.

General Sheridan had been ordered by the Government to the command of the Military Department of the Missouri, with headquarters at Fort Leavenworth. The already famous General Custer with his celebrated regiment, the Seventh United States Cavalry, was stationed at Fort Harker, recently established on the Smoky Hill, about four miles from Errolstrath ranche, so the settlers on the Oxhide, and through the valley, felt comparatively safe from any possible raid by the savages into that region.

One beautiful Sunday afternoon in the middle of the May following the autumn in which Joe had received his present of a full Indian dress from the friendly p.a.w.nees, the family were sitting on the veranda of the cabin. Dinner was long since over, and Mr. Thompson was reading aloud from their weekly religious journal, when a horseman suddenly appeared, coming toward the ranche on the trail which led from the mouth of the Oxhide where it empties into the Smoky Hill. He was hatless and coatless, his long hair was streaming in the wind, and his heels were rapping his horse's flanks vigorously, and its breast and shoulders were covered with foam from the desperate gait at which it was urged.

The reading was instantly suspended, and every eye strained toward the unusual object coming toward the house at such a breakneck speed.

"I wonder who that is, and why he rides so fast," inquired Mr. Thompson, addressing himself to no one in the group in particular.

"Something unusual must have occurred," suggested Mrs. Thompson; "some one of the neighbors taken ill suddenly, maybe."

"It's no one we know," spoke up Joe. "I never saw that man before," the individual under discussion having come near enough now for his features to be distinguished, "nor the horse he's on, and I know every man and horse in the whole settlement. There's some trouble not far away, I think, or he would not run his animal that way."

In less than three minutes more, the stranger horseman rode up to the front of the house and jumped off his horse. Hurriedly tying him to the hitching-post, he ran up the steps of the veranda, and in the most excited manner, his eyes wearing a wild look and his breath coming with great difficulty, told Mr. Thompson, who had walked forward to meet him, that the Indians had completely destroyed the little settlement of Spillman Creek that morning about daylight. He alone, as far as he knew, had escaped the ma.s.sacre. He said that luckily he happened to be down in the timber, getting some wood for his morning fire, and the savages did not see him. He had his pony with him, and when he saw the Indians all dressed in their war-bonnets and hideously painted, he rode to the river and across country as fast as his animal could carry him.

"How many families are there in the settlement?" inquired Mr. Thompson.

"About ten," answered the stranger; "forty individuals, perhaps, and all of them, I feel satisfied, have been murdered and their cabins burnt, because I saw the smoke and flames from the trail on the south side of the Saline as I rode hurriedly on."

"Had you no family?" asked Mrs. Thompson, excitedly, in her sympathy for the unfortunate people who had been so cruelly ma.s.sacred.

"No, ma'am," answered the stranger. "I was living all alone on my claim, which I had taken up only a week ago, on the edge of the timber. My family are still back in Illinois, thank G.o.d! or they, too, with myself, would have been butchered with the rest, for I would never have left them."

"Do you think the savages will continue on their raid, and come further down the Saline valley?" inquired Mr. Thompson, who now for the first time since he had been on his ranche, felt a little alarmed for his family.

"I don't know," was the reply, "but I'm afraid they will. The Elkhorn is fairly settled, but the cabins are widely scattered; the Indians know that, and before the neighbors could rally for mutual defence, the savages might be able to murder them in detail. I have come down here to warn the settlers on this creek, and if I can, to get a party to go to the rescue of those on the Elkhorn. I stopped at Fort Harker on my way and reported to the commanding officer the state of affairs, but he said that he had only part of a company of infantry at the post, all the cavalry being out under General Custer, looking after the Indians 'way up the Smoky Hill. He suggested that I should come here to inform you people of the danger, and that, if I could muster up a crowd of men, he would furnish all the arms and ammunition necessary for them. He also said that General Sheridan was coming to Fort Harker in a few days to establish his headquarters there, and that a general Indian war was imminent."

"Have you any idea how many of the savages there were in the band that raided Spillman Creek settlement?" inquired Mr. Thompson.

"I think there must have been about fifty. I counted their pony tracks in the soft mud at the ford of the Saline where they crossed it; they were very plain, and I was enabled to come close to their probable number. If you could muster twenty or thirty men, well armed, who are brave, and good shots with the rifle, I believe that if they start for the Elkhorn to-day, they could circ.u.mvent the savages before they reach the creek, or at least drive them out of the neighborhood. I am ready to go back with them and act as guide, for I know every foot of the country, having spent a whole year out there before I settled upon a location. Who are the best men in this settlement, and where shall I go to warn them?"

"Well," replied Mr. Thompson, "I am willing to go for one. I guess there will be no difficulty in gathering as large a force as is necessary--good shots, too; for no one will hesitate a moment when it comes to defending his family from an Indian raid. It will take a couple of hours to ride around the neighborhood to the several ranches to notify the men. My boys, here, can go to the nearest, while you and I ride to the most remote and get as large a crowd as possible. Boys,"

continued he, turning to his sons, who stood with eyes wide open and mouth agape as they listened with astonishment to the terrible story of the stranger, "get your ponies at once; saddle them as quickly as ever you did in your lives, and ride to the nearest ranches on the creek; up one side and down the other. Tell all the folks the dreadful news, and tell them to have the men meet here at Errolstrath as quickly as they can, and to bring their rifles with them. All are well armed," said he, turning to the stranger, "and they will respond in a hurry."

"Now," said Mr. Thompson, as the boys jumped off of the veranda to carry out their father's order, "I will go with you to old Tucker's ranche. He is a man of most excellent judgment, and a trapper; has fought Indians all his eventful life on the plains and in the mountains, so we can safely rely on his advice in regard to what is best to be done." Looking at his wife he said, "Won't you get this man a bite to eat while I'm catching another animal for him? Yours is tired out," continued he, addressing the stranger again; "you must have a fresh horse. I've got lots of them."

While Mr. Thompson went to the stable, and the stranger to the spring to wash the dust off himself, Mrs. Thompson, a.s.sisted by Gertrude and Kate, made ready a cold lunch for the half-famished man, who told them, when he returned to the dining-room, that he had not eaten a morsel since the evening before.

By the time he had finished his meal, Mr. Thompson returned to the front of the house with two animals, and taking the stranger's horse to the stable, after the saddle had been put on the fresh one, he returned to the house. He gave his wife some advice about the boys and their mission, then he and the stranger mounted their animals and loped off at a good gait for the ranche of old Mr. Tucker, three miles away.

The boys had started some while before their father, as it only required a few minutes to catch and saddle their ponies that were picketed in front of the house, on a patch of buffalo gra.s.s not twenty yards away.

In less than half an hour they were at the nearest ranche, and had delivered their message. They then rode on and made the rounds of the circuit a.s.signed them, relating the bad news as they travelled from cabin to cabin as quickly as their hardy little Indian ponies could carry them.

While on their mission the boys talked over the story of the ma.s.sacre, Joe explaining many things in connection with the savage method of making a raid on a white settlement. Those were things which Rob did not fully understand, but with which Joe was familiar, having been told all about them by the friendly p.a.w.nees. He told Rob that he was crazy to go on the little expedition, but did not dare ask permission.

"Father might be willing, maybe," suggested Rob, "though I'm sure that mother and the girls would object."

"I'll bet that I can find the trail of the Cheyennes, for I know better than any one who is going along, that they were Cheyennes who made the attack," said Joe. "That man who came down with the news don't know much about Indians; I could tell that by the way he talked; he's a 'tender-foot.' He admitted to papa he'd only been in the country a very short time."

"By jolly! I'll bet he was scared when he saw those Indians," said Rob; "he wasn't used to such sights!"

"How he must have ridden his horse," said Joe. "I never saw an animal so frothy in my life before; did you, Rob? You could have sc.r.a.ped a wash-tub of lather off him!"

"If the Cheyennes have left any kind of a trail after them, I can tell just how many there were of them," continued Joe, "but they are ahead of all other Indians in covering up their tracks; old Yellow Calf has told me so a dozen times. I expect that it was Charley Bent's band of Dog soldiers that made the raid."

"What are Dog soldiers?" inquired Rob.

"Why, the young bucks of a tribe who will not obey the orders of their chief; renegades who will not be controlled by any custom. Those Indians who have not done anything yet to make them warriors, and who go off on their own hook to murder and steal, and to fire the cabins of the poor settlers, thinking that if they can get a few scalps of women and children they will be recognized by the rest of the tribe as braves.

Sometimes there are 'Squaw-men' among them, that is, white men who have married Indian women; generally bad men who have committed some crime where they used to live and dare not go back to where they came from."

"Who is Charley Bent?" asked Rob. "That is not an Indian name, surely!"

"I know it isn't," answered Joe. "He's a half breed; half white and half Cheyenne. His mother was a Cheyenne squaw, and his father was Colonel Bent, one of the most celebrated frontiersmen of his time. Charley was well educated in St. Louis, but when he returned to his father's home, at Bent's Fort, way up the Arkansas River, in what is now Colorado, he threw off the white man's dress and manner of living, joined the Indians, and became, in his devilishness, the worst savage to be found in the whole Indian country. The United States Government has offered a thousand dollars for him, dead or alive. Somebody will catch him yet; the army scouts are after him red hot, so the p.a.w.nees told me."

"I wish the p.a.w.nees, lots of 'em, were back on the creek, Joe," said Rob, continuing the lively conversation they had been keeping up ever since they started from the ranche; "wouldn't they like such a chance to go after their old enemies?"

"I expect they will be here sooner than usual, this coming autumn; one of the boys told me so when the band left; but it will be four months yet before we may look for them."

"Are you going to ask to go with the party to the Elkhorn, Joe?" asked Rob of his brother.