  Although there was no moon, the stars in the clear sky gave enough light so that Bent Arrow and his uncle could see well enough to travel swiftly. When they reached the rim of the valley where they could look down into the Sioux camp, they saw a grove at the far end. The glowing embers of the campfire marked the place where the Sioux were sleeping. The horses were scattered about the valley. While Flying Arrow was watching the camp to make sure no Sioux warrior was moving about, Bent Arrow was looking over the horses. Much of the chance of success of their plan depended upon Bent Arrow recapturing Rock. Had it been daylight, the boy would have had no trouble picking Rock out in the herd. In the darkness it was much more difficult. The horses were dark shadows, too faint to be told apart. At last Bent Arrow spotted a horse which was grazing apart from the others. Gently he touched Flying Arrow’s arm. “I believe that is Rock alone on the far side of the herd,” he whispered. Flying Arrow turned his head to look in that direction. He watched the horse carefully. “I believe you’re right,” he agreed. “You crawl to him. By the time you get to him, I will have a horse. We must work swiftly. Everything depends upon being able to surprise the Sioux.” Bent Arrow reached inside his shirt and touched the eagle feather. He felt a great wave of confidence. This time there would be no failure. His medicine was more powerful than any the Sioux could have. He crawled down the hill a short distance toward the Sioux camp. It would have been easier to go along the rim to a point directly above Rock, but he would have been shadowed against the sky line. He would have been visible to any Sioux warrior who might have chanced to look up. While Bent Arrow was still some distance away, Rock raised his head and sniffed suspiciously. For a terrible moment Bent Arrow was sure the horse was going to run. Rock sniffed again and then took a hesitant step toward Bent Arrow. Now was the time. Slowly Bent Arrow got to his feet. Rock stood quietly as Bent Arrow approached. A moment later Bent Arrow was on the horse’s back. Bent Arrow looked around. He saw his uncle mounting a horse. A moment later the wild Crow battle cry rang out. Bent Arrow sent Rock charging at the nearest horse. When that horse turned and raced toward the campfire, Rock charged another one. It was a wild, blurred time as Bent Arrow kept his horse circling the herd and stampeding it toward the campfire. From the noise at the other side of the herd, he could tell that Flying Arrow was being equally successful. It took only a very few minutes completely to stampede the herd and send it charging straight at the Sioux camp. The Sioux warriors had been aroused. They had sprung up and were waving their arms and shouting, trying to stop the horses, but they were too late. The wild stampede could not be stopped. For a few moments the Sioux bravely held their ground, but at the last moment they turned and dashed into the grove of trees for protection. The horses swerved around the grove and raced on across the valley. Bent Arrow kept Rock close on the heels of the last horse on one side of the herd. Flying Arrow was riding close to the last horse on the other side. The moment the horses veered to go around the trees, the Sioux warriors sprang into action. Arrows whistled around Bent Arrow’s head as he crouched low over Rock’s neck. It took only a moment for the horses to get out of bowshot. Arrows whistled around his head The horses continued their wild stampede across the valley and started up the hill at the other side. Here they were slowed. The hill was so steep that the horses plunged and struggled to move forward at all. Again arrows whistled around Bent Arrow’s head. The Sioux had raced across the level valley to the foot of the hills. The slower speed of the horses had given the warriors a chance to get within range again. A horse, a little to the left and just ahead of Bent Arrow, crumpled to the ground. Bent Arrow felt a searing pain along his left shoulder. The volley of arrows broke off suddenly. At first, Bent Arrow thought they had again got out of range. A quick look over his shoulder showed him this wasn’t true. The Sioux were dangerously close. Then he realized that the warriors were so sure they would recapture their horses that they were taking no chances of arrows hitting any more of them. And then, unexpectedly, Bent Arrow found himself at the top of the hill. The herd of horses was again running at a wild speed. Bent Arrow raised his voice in the triumphant Crow victory cry. While Bent Arrow’s yell was still ringing out, one of the Sioux horses suddenly swerved and tried to escape. Rock wheeled and headed it off. Another one tried to turn back. Rock got it back into the herd, only to have to chase two others. The herd was scarcely moving forward at all. It was plain to see why the Sioux had quit shooting. They had known that the horses would be hard to drive. As the horses became more and more difficult to manage, Bent Arrow’s heart sank. The Sioux wouldn’t even have to hurry to catch them. A horse broke out of the herd and was racing back before Rock could swerve to cut it off. “Let him go,” Flying Arrow shouted. As though understanding the warrior’s order, Rock swung back behind the herd. Bent Arrow saw two horses escape near his uncle. Another one broke away in front of Rock, but at last the rest of the herd was beginning to run again. The herd of horses strung out ahead of the two Crows. The speed was slower than it had been in that wild stampede at the Sioux camp, but it was fast enough to run away from warriors on foot. The Sioux would have to recapture the escaped horses in order to have a chance to overtake the herd. At the top of the next hill Flying Arrow stopped his horse to look back, while Bent Arrow kept the herd moving ahead. “If the Sioux are following, they aren’t close,” Flying Arrow said as he rejoined Bent Arrow. He noticed the blood on Bent Arrow’s shoulder. “Let me have a look at that wound,” he ordered. “It’s nothing. We shouldn’t lose any time,” Bent Arrow protested. Nevertheless, Flying Arrow cut away the sleeve and examined the wound. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding soon, we’ll stop and apply a poultice,” he said. “It’s nothing,” Bent Arrow insisted. “If it doesn’t stop bleeding soon, you are to tell me,” Flying Arrow ordered. “The Sioux will lose time trying to catch those horses that got away from us, won’t they?” Bent Arrow asked. “They will,” Flying Arrow agreed. “But, when they do catch them, they’ll go faster than we can. Driving this herd will slow us.” It wasn’t long before Flying Arrow’s words were proved true. The herd, which hadn’t been running very fast, slowed to an easy trot. In spite of the efforts of the two Crows, the horses would not increase their speed. “We must find some way to slow the Sioux,” Flying Arrow said thoughtfully. Bent Arrow didn’t have an opportunity to answer. Two horses at the head of the herd had slowed to a walk; others were reluctant to pass the leaders, and the whole herd was going at a dangerously slow pace. Bent Arrow crowded his horse against the nearest one in the herd, trying to get it past the leaders. It was while he was failing that he thought of his plan. He reined his horse beside Flying Arrow’s. “The Sioux will stop to catch every horse we leave, won’t they?” Bent Arrow asked. “They’re sure to do that,” Flying Arrow agreed. “They’ve probably delayed to catch the horses that escaped from our herd.” “With Rock I can cut out one of those lead horses,” Bent Arrow pointed out. “Later we can cut out another one and cause another delay.” “I believe your plan will work,” Flying Arrow exclaimed. “The mounted riders will stop and catch each horse. Very likely they’ll wait while one warrior takes the captured horse back to those on foot so that there’ll be another warrior to join the chase.” Bent Arrow pulled Rock to one side so that he wouldn’t cause the herd to turn. He urged the horse forward until he was just behind the two leaders. Rock seemed to understand what was wanted. He dashed between the two lead horses and crowded one of them to the side. He kept that horse away from the others, while the herd moved on. As soon as he had the horse far enough away, Bent Arrow turned Rock to rejoin the herd. The horse that had been driven out of the herd followed for a considerable distance. Bent Arrow was about to give up hope that the plan would work, when the horse stopped to graze. In his mind Bent Arrow could see the four mounted Sioux riding into sight of the horse. The warriors would expect an ambush. They would wait and watch carefully before trying to catch the horse. If the horse ran away, there would be more delay. Bent Arrow had been so busy that he had scarcely noticed when darkness had given way to daylight. As the sun climbed steadily into the eastern sky, he became more and more confident that he and his uncle would escape. But as Bent Arrow’s confidence grew, Flying Arrow appeared to become more worried. Several times he anxiously examined Bent Arrow’s shoulder. Each time they crossed a small stream, he dismounted and dug in the mud beside the water. About the middle of the morning, he ordered Bent Arrow to cut out another horse. They came to a small stream at midday. The horses drank and then were allowed to graze. Flying Arrow again dug into the mud along the bank. This time he stood up, holding a handful of odd-colored mud. “This will help heal your wound,” he told Bent Arrow. Flying Arrow watched as Bent Arrow washed the blood and dirt away from the wound. As soon as it was clean, he applied the mud over it. “You have lost much blood,” he said. “I’ll be all right,” Bent Arrow insisted. Nevertheless, he was glad to stretch out on the grass. He fell asleep almost at once. It seemed he had scarcely closed his eyes when Flying Arrow called that it was time to start. All morning the herd had been kept going northwest. When it was started after the midday rest, Flying Arrow turned it directly west. The horses had become much more manageable. They quickly fell into a steady trot. Whenever they crossed high hills, Flying Arrow stopped to see if pursuers came into sight, while Bent Arrow kept the herd moving. Each time Flying Arrow reported that he had seen no sign of the Sioux. “They may have given up the chase,” Flying Arrow said doubtfully after the third such scouting trip. While he may have hoped that the Sioux had given up, Flying Arrow did not change his plans. The horses were kept moving steadily forward. While the sun was still high in the western sky, he had Bent Arrow turn another horse away from the herd. As he and his uncle kept the horses moving, Bent Arrow found himself getting more and more tired. His eyes grew heavy, too, so that it was a struggle to keep them open. To add to his discomfort, the horses began to give trouble again. They no longer tried to turn back, but they continually stopped to graze. Bent Arrow was thankful that he had dependable Rock to do the work. “Can you keep going?” Flying Arrow asked anxiously. “There is a good place for us to camp not far ahead.” “I’ll keep going,” Bent Arrow promised. Keeping the promise proved harder than making it. It took all of Bent Arrow’s determination to keep his eyes open. The sun had dropped behind the western hills, and darkness was closing in. Still Flying Arrow urged them on. To Bent Arrow it seemed that they kept moving forever. In spite of his best efforts, his eyes would close. Once he caught himself slipping from Rock’s back. He got off and walked, hoping that the exercise would waken him. It did rouse him, but he was too tired to walk far. When he did remount, he had to struggle to get back on his horse. “Only a little farther,” Flying Arrow encouraged. “We’ll be at Bear Trap Canyon. There I can watch while you rest.” Bent Arrow had been dimly aware of a darker shadow looming ahead of them. He realized that this was Bear Trap Canyon. Actually the canyon was only a narrow cup, circled by hills which rose up out of the prairie. On both sides the hills rose so steeply that it was almost impossible for a man to get up the sides. Bent Arrow remembered having heard warriors talk about the hills. He knew the only opening into the canyon was a narrow slit which they were approaching. At the opening the herd of horses balked. Bent Arrow had awakened enough so that he was able to do his share, but all their efforts were not enough to force the horses to enter the opening. “Ride Rock through,” Flying Arrow ordered. “Maybe the other horses will follow him.” Bent Arrow guided Rock to the entrance. Rock snorted uneasily but, under Bent Arrow’s urging, carefully picked his way between the steep walls. The passage was narrow and covered with stones. However, in a few paces it widened. Flying Arrow had been able to get the other horses to follow Rock. At last the entire herd was safely in the canyon. “I’ll watch while you sleep,” Flying Arrow said. “Later, you will watch while I sleep.” Bent Arrow knew that he should protest. Since sundown his uncle had done most of the work of keeping the herd moving. He should have the first rest. But the words wouldn’t come. Bent Arrow stretched out on the ground and immediately fell asleep. When Bent Arrow awoke, daylight was beginning to light up the eastern sky. He looked reproachfully at his uncle. “You were to awaken me,” he protested. “You were wounded and needed the rest more than I,” Flying Arrow answered. “Let’s take a look at your shoulder.” He led the way to the spring in the middle of the canyon. Bent Arrow crouched down while his uncle washed away the dried mud. Flying Arrow gave a low grunt of satisfaction. “It is doing well,” he said. “I hardly know that the sore is there,” Bent Arrow assured him. “Now you must rest while I watch.” “First I’ll ride back a way to see if there is any sign of the Sioux,” Flying Arrow replied. Bent Arrow wanted to protest, but he knew that it would do no good. Flying Arrow would think it his duty to see that every possible precaution was taken. Very likely, when he returned, he would order Bent Arrow to waken him soon so that they could start on. Fortunately they still had small packets of dried meat, and as soon as they had eaten, Flying Arrow mounted one of the horses and rode out of the canyon. Bent Arrow felt entirely rested. The wound in his shoulder was hardly noticeable. Since the horses were grazing quietly, he decided to explore the canyon while he waited for his uncle to return. The teacher had told the boys much about this canyon. It was a place of good omen for the Crows. Sometimes, when a warrior had been unsuccessful in raids, he would come here. He would climb the wall and lie on the rim. While he slept, he was sure to have a dream that would lead him to better raids. Bent Arrow started walking around the canyon, looking at the walls in the hope of finding the place where the warriors climbed to the top. He made a complete round of the walls without finding a place. He started around again. At the far side, he noticed a place where the wall appeared rough enough so that he might be able to climb it. He glanced back at the horses. They were grazing quietly. He decided to see how far he could climb. For several feet, he was able to go easily by stepping from one small ledge to another. Then he came to a place where the wall was smooth. There was a ledge above the one he was on, but it was out of his reach. Determined not to give up, he took his knife and gouged out a place above his head so that he could get a grip with his hands. He made another place just above his knees. He reached up and dug his hands into the place he had made above his head. He put his toes in the other place. Slowly he pulled himself up. He reached one hand up and managed to grasp the rim of the ledge. Carefully he put his weight on that hand. The ledge was solid. He gripped it with the other hand and pulled himself up. Above the ledge the wall was not so steep. Bent Arrow easily made his way to the top. From his vantage point, he could look far out over the prairie. He saw nothing moving until he looked in the direction Flying Arrow had taken. There he saw Flying Arrow racing back toward the canyon. Flying Arrow’s speed meant danger. Bent Arrow turned back and went down the way he had come up. Getting down was easy, and he was waiting at the entrance when Flying Arrow dashed up. “The Sioux are less than half a sun’s march from us!” Flying Arrow cried. |
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