WAR–EAGLE AND REGINALD, WITH THEIR PARTY, PURSUE THE DAHCOTAHS.

We left Reginald, and War–Eagle’s party, in pursuit of the marauding band of Sioux horse–stealers. They continued their toilsome march with unabated speed until nightfall, when the trail was no longer distinguishable: they then halted, and while they ate a scanty supper, the mounted Delawares, who had been sent forward, returned, bringing with them two wearied horses which had escaped, in the hurried flight, from their captors.

War–Eagle, summoning Baptiste to his side, questioned the young man closely as to the appearance and direction of the trail. From their answers he learnt that its course was northward, but that it bore gradually towards the east, especially after a brief halt, which the Sioux had made for refreshment; a gleam shot athwart the dusky features of the young chief at this intelligence, but he made no observation, and contented himself with asking the opinion of his more experienced companion.

The guide, taking off his hunting–cap, allowed the evening breeze to play through the grisly hairs which were scattered, not too plentifully, on his weather–beaten forehead, as if his reflective powers might thence derive refreshment; but, apparently, the expedient was not, at least on this occasion, rewarded with success; for, after meditating in silence for a few seconds, he shook his head and owned that he saw no clue to the intentions of the party whom they were pursuing. The young chief had his eye still bent upon the ground, seemingly employed in observing a large rent, which the day’s march had made in his mocassin; but the woodsman read in the lines of his intelligent countenance that the mind was busily engaged in following a connected train of thought.

After allowing a few minutes to pass in silence, the guide, addressing his companion, said, “Can War–Eagle see the Dahcotah path? It is hid from the eyes of Grande–HÀche.”

“The night is dark, and the eyes cannot see the trail; but the wolf finds his way to the wounded bison, and the blue dove keeps her course to her nest in the mountain. The Great Spirit has not made the LenapÉ warrior more ignorant than the bird, or the brute; War–Eagle knows the path of the Dahcotah dogs.” He then bent down towards the ear of Baptiste, and whispered to him long and earnestly in the Delaware tongue.

“Capote–bleu! but the boy is right,” exclaimed the guide, in his own mixed dialect; “the dogs have only taken this northern start to mislead us; they are not making for the Missouri river, but intend to double back and join their village, now lying to the eastward of us. The boy is right; my brain must be getting as worn–out as my hunting–shirt, or I should have understood their drift. I see his plan is to be in cash[42] for them on their return. Well, if he can make sure of his game, I will say that he’s fit to be a war–chief, for these Sioux have a long start, and the village must be many miles to the right.”

As he made these reflections half aloud, Reginald caught their general bearing; and though he had great confidence in the sagacity of his Indian friend, still he felt a chill of disappointment at the idea that the pursuit was to be abandoned, for what appeared to him the hopeless chance of intercepting a small band of Sioux, of whose course they were ignorant, in a boundless extent of prairie like that around him. He had, however, good sense enough to conceal all traces of his disappointment, knowing that on such an expedition there can be but one leader, and that, without unanimity and discipline, failure must ensue.

War–Eagle now called one of the young LenapÉ warriors to his side, and gave him brief instructions, to the effect, that he was to choose three others of the best runners of the party, and, accompanied by the mounted Indians, to start with the earliest dawn on the Dahcotah trail, which they were to follow as close as possible without discovering themselves. He then desired Reginald and Baptiste to divide the band into watches, and to sleep alternately, but not to move until he returned.

Having given these few directions, without allowing himself either food or rest after a march of so many hours, he drew his belt tighter around his loins, and started on his solitary excursion. Reginald watched the retreating figure of his friend, until it was lost in the deepening gloom, and turning to the guide, he said,—

“Baptiste, I cannot but envy War–Eagle the possession of sinews that seem unconscious of fatigue, and eyes that require no slumber! We have marched from daylight until this late hour without either rest or refreshment, and I confess I am very glad of this seat on my buffalo–robe, and this slice of dried venison, with a draught of water; War–Eagle, however, walks off into the prairie, as if he had just started fresh from repose, and Heaven only knows where or for what purpose he is going.”

“Master Reginald,” replied the guide, throwing himself lazily down by the side of his young leader; “I will not deny that War–Eagle’s sinews are strung like the bow of a Pawnee, for I have been on a trail with him before, and few could follow it so long or so true; but there has been a time,” he added, casting his eyes down on his worn and soiled leggins, “when these limbs of mine would have kept me for a week at the heels of the fleetest Dahcotah that ever crossed the country of the Stone–eaters.[43] Those days are gone, but when the game’s afoot, perhaps there may be younger men who might give out before old Baptiste yet.”

As he spoke, the eye of the guide rested with a comic grin on Monsieur Perrot, who, with a countenance somewhat rueful, was endeavouring to masticate a crude pomme de prairie[44] that one of the Delawares had given to him, with the assurance that it was “very good!”

“I believe you, Baptiste,” said Reginald, humouring the old hunter’s pardonable vanity; “I believe you, indeed, and if the Sioux offer us a long chase, as appears likely, the crack of your rifle will be heard before the foremost of our party has come to close quarters with them; but you have not answered my question relative to War–Eagle’s excursion during this dark night.”

“He is gone,” replied the guide, “to examine the ground carefully, perhaps even to approach the northern border of the Dahcotah encampment; he will then judge of the route by which these horse–stealing vagabonds are likely to return, and will choose a place for us to conceal ourselves for an attack.”

“I understand it all, Baptiste; it seems to be a bold, well–devised plan, if War–Eagle is only correct in his guess at their intentions: meanwhile let us post our sentries, and get what sleep we can, for to–morrow may be a busy day.”

They accordingly divided their party into watches, Baptiste and Perrot with one Indian taking the first, and Reginald undertaking the charge of the second. The night was gloomy, and few stars were visible through the thick clouds, by which the heavens were overspread; the men were partially sheltered by some stunted alder–bushes which grew by the side of the stream with whose waters they had cooled their thirst, and those who were not destined to the first watch soon fell asleep, lulled by the distant howling of a hungry pack of prairie–wolves.

Towards the close of Reginald’s watch, about an hour before daybreak, a dusky figure glided with noiseless step towards the encampment; the young man cocked his rifle, in order to be prepared against surprise, but in the next moment recognised the commanding form of his friend, and hailed him by name.

“Netis!” replied the chief, sitting down beside him, and wringing the water from his leggins, which had been saturated partly by the heavy dew on the long grass through which he had made his way, and partly by the streams which he had been obliged to ford.

“Has my brother found a path?” inquired Reginald in a whisper; “has he been near the Dahcotah village?”

“He has,” replied the chief; “he has seen their lodges.”

“Can my brother find the path by which the horse–stealers will return!”

“He can guess, he cannot be sure,” replied the young Indian, modestly.

Here the conversation closed, and in a few minutes the little party were aroused and afoot, their leader being resolved that not a moment should be lost, as soon as there was sufficient light for pursuing the trail.

When on the point of starting, Baptiste, taking War–Eagle aside, whispered in his ear a few words, on which the latter appeared to reflect seriously and somewhat in doubt: he nodded his head, however, and replied, “Well, it is good.”

The guide informed Reginald that at his own request he was to accompany the party on the trail.

“You see, Master Reginald,” he continued, “I am a true–scented old hound, and if these young ones run too fast, I may perhaps help ‘em at a pinch; then if we catch the scoundrels, you will be in their front, and we in their rear, and they will be as bad off as a Kentucky coon between two of old Dan Boone’s cur dogs. Remember the signals,” he added impressively, touching the bugle slung across his shoulder. “We have not practised them of late, but I have forgot none of them; they may do us a good turn here; stick close to War–Eagle, you are sworn brothers, and, according to Indian fashion, if he falls you must die with him or revenge him.”

“That will I, honest Baptiste,” replied our hero; “the LenapÉ shall not say that their chief was deserted by his adopted brother; neither will I forget the signals—farewell!”

Here the two parties separated, that of Baptiste resuming their pursuit of the trail, and that of War–Eagle following in silence the rapid strides of their young chief across the prairie to the eastward. He marched for several hours in silence—his brow wore an expression of thoughtfulness, and he stopped several times as if to scan the bearing and the distance of every remarkable elevation or object in the undulating prairie which they were crossing. It was now about midday; they had walked since daybreak without halt or food; the rays of the sun were fiercely hot, and it required all the determined energy of Reginald’s character to enable him to endure in silence the heat and thirst by which he was oppressed; as for Monsieur Perrot, he had contrived to secrete a small flask of brandy about his person, more than one mouthful of which, mingled with the muddy water of the pools which they passed, had hitherto enabled him to keep pace with the rest of the party, but he was now beginning to lag behind, and some of the Indians were obliged to urge and assist him forward.

At this juncture War–Eagle suddenly stopped, and uttering a sound like a low hiss, crouched upon the ground, an attitude into which the whole party sunk in a moment. Laying a finger lightly on Reginald’s arm, he pointed to the upper range of a distant hill, saying, “There are men!” Our hero, shading his eyes with his hand, looked in the direction indicated, but, after a careful survey, he could see nothing but the faint green reposing in the sunny haze of noon: he shook his head; but War–Eagle replied with a quiet smile—

“My brother saw the rifles behind the log near the Muskingham; his eyes are very true, but they have not looked much at the prairie; let him use his medicine glass–pipe.”

When Reginald had adjusted his telescope, he looked again to the spot on which the bright clear eye of War–Eagle was still riveted like the gaze of a Highland deer–hound, who has caught sight of a hart browsing on the further side of some wide and rocky glen.

“By Heaven, it is true!” he exclaimed. “I see them—one, two, three, mounted Indians; they are at speed—and buffalo are galloping before them.”

“That is good,” said War–Eagle; “keep the glass–pipe before them, and say if they go out of sight, or if more appear.”

Reginald did so; and after a few minutes, reported that they had disappeared over a neighbouring height, and that no others had come in view.

Upon this, War–Eagle rose, saying, “My brother shall drink and rest—there are shade and water not far.” As he had said, half an hour’s march brought them to a clump of stunted alders, beside which flowed a stream, the waters of which were tolerably fresh and cool. Here they ate some dried buffalo–meat, and satisfied their thirst, after which they followed with renewed spirits their gay leader, whose iron and sinewy frame seemed (like that of AntÆus of old) to gather fresh strength every time that his foot fell upon the earth. The prairie through which they now passed was extremely hilly and broken, intersected by many steep and narrow ravines; threading his way among these, the chief frequently stopped to examine the foot–marks which had been left by bison or other animals, and often bent his searching glance along the sides of the hills around him. The only living creatures seen during the whole march were a few bulls, lazily cropping the prairie grass, as if conscious that their tough carcase, and burnt, soiled hides, rendered them at this season worthless to the hunters, who had driven from them the cows and the younger bulls of the herd. Emerging from these defiles, the party came to a broader valley, the sides of which were very steep; along the bottom ran a stream of considerable magnitude, on the banks of which was a large tract of copse–wood, consisting apparently of alder, poplar, and birch, and affording ample space for concealing a body of several hundred men.

Towards this wood War–Eagle led the way; and when he reached a few bushes, distant from it some hundred yards, he desired the rest of the party to lie still, while he went forward alone to explore. During his absence Reginald occupied himself with examining through his glass the sides of the valley, but could see neither man nor any other living creature; and when War–Eagle returned and conducted them into the wood, Reginald could read on his friend’s countenance that he was in high spirits at having reached this point undiscovered.

When they came to the centre of the woodland, they found a broad trail, near which they were carefully posted by their chief, in such a manner that, themselves unseen, they could command a view of any one passing along it.

The party led by Baptiste was not less successful in carrying out the instructions given to them by War–Eagle. After a rapid and toilsome march of many hours upon the Dahcotah trail, they came at length in sight of their enemies; although at a distance of many miles, the prudence and caution of the experienced scout controlled the impetuous ardour of the young Delawares, who were burning to revenge the insult offered to their tribe. But Baptiste was aware that to attack with his present force would be hopeless, and he bent all his energies to creep as near to the Sioux as possible, so that he might be ready to dash in upon their rear, in case he should find that the ambuscade of War–Eagle was successfully laid; at the same time the hardy woodsman was determined not to allow them, under any circumstances, to gain the village without making by day or by night one bold effort for the recovery of the horses.

A habit of self–control was one of the distinguishing features of the guide’s character; and although his hatred of the Sioux was fierce and intense, as we have seen in the earlier part of this tale, he now conducted his operations with a cool deliberation that might almost have been mistaken for indifference: selecting the most intelligent warrior among the LenapÉ, he sent him forward to creep on the trail; he himself followed at a short distance; then the other runners at short intervals, and the mounted Indians were desired to keep entirely out of sight in the rear. In this order they continued the pursuit; and by the skilful selection of ground, and taking advantage of every trifling hill or ravine over which they passed, he contrived at length to approach as near as he deemed it prudent to venture until he should see the result of the stratagem devised by War–Eagle.