WAR–EAGLE’S PARTY FOLLOW THE TRAIL.—A SKIRMISH AND ITS RESULTS.—THE CHIEF UNDERTAKES A PERILOUS JOURNEY ALONE, AND HIS COMPANIONS FIND SUFFICIENT OCCUPATION DURING HIS ABSENCE.

Notwithstanding the pains that Wingenund had taken to leave on the trail such occasional indications as might assist War–Eagle in following it, the progress made by the latter was much slower than might have been expected by any one who knew the fierce desire of vengeance that burnt within him. Several times did the impatience of Reginald Brandon vent itself in words, which he addressed in an under–tone to Baptiste.

“I fear that my Delaware brother has lost some of his energies, in this great calamity which has befallen his tribe; when he followed the Dahcotah trail his foot was light and swift; now, when more than life and death may hang upon the events of an hour, his march is heavy and slow as that of a jaded ox.”

“Master Reginald,” replied the guide, “you do the War–Eagle wrong. A trail on this hard barren region is not like one in the prairies of Illinois or Missouri, where, in every little bottom, there are patches of long grass on which it is marked as plain as a high–road. We have passed to–day several trails of strange Indians, probably AricarÁs or Upsarokas[53]; had the War–Eagle made a mistake and followed one of these, we might have wandered several days before we recovered our right route; watch his eye, it is bent on the ground, not a blade of grass escapes it; he has not time for a word, even with you.”

“I believe you are right, Baptiste; yet I have now studied my Delaware brother’s countenance and character for some time. I have seen him under the influence of strong, ay of deadly passion, and I truly wondered at his self–control; but there seems now to be a dull heavy load upon his spirit, as if it were overwhelmed.”

“Look at your feet this moment,” quoth the guide; “and tell me if, on this hard spot, you can trace the trail on which we are moving.”

“In truth I could not,” said Reginald, looking down; “I grant our friend’s sagacity in following it, but what has that to do with the state of his mind and temper, which we were discussing?”

“More, perhaps, than you think, Master Reginald. Along this very path the steps of MahÉga and his warriors have passed, the hoofs of the horse hearing Olitipa have trod it: it is now broad daylight, yet you can see nothing; do you wonder, then, that you cannot discern the trail of the thoughts and purposes that travel, in the dark, over the heart of the Delaware?”

“Baptiste,” said Reginald, smiling, “I knew that you were a skilful hunter, and an experienced woodsman; but I never before knew that you were a philosopher!”

“Nor I either, Master Reginald; but perhaps I may not be one after all. What is a philosopher?”

This blunt question from the sturdy guide, seemed somewhat puzzling to his young master: and the former continued, laughing, “Well, I suppose it’s some curious kind o’ crittur or other that we never heard of in the woods; and you don’t seem to have met it often yourself, or you’d not find it so hard to give a description of it!”

“You are right, Baptiste; it is a creature not very often met with, either in the woods or in civilised life; but as I have likened you to it, I am in duty bound to describe it to you as well as I can. A philosopher is a man whose desires are moderate, and his passions under due control; who can trace human actions to their real motives, and effects to their true causes; who can read the character of others without prejudice, and study his own without self–partiality; who can bear prosperity without pride, and adversity without repining;—such is my idea of a philosopher: the sketch is rough, but sufficient to give you some notion of the object in view.”

The guide was, silent for a few moments; he took off his hairy cap and twirled it several times round in his bony hands, as was his frequent custom when perplexed. At length he replied, “Well, Master Reginald, if that be what you call a philosopher, I’m sure War–Eagle is more like one than I am, and perhaps you’ll not take offence if I say that he is more like one than you are yourself: it comes natural to an Ingian to read his neighbour’s heart, and hide what passes in his own; and, as to governing his passions, I think you have seen enough to convince you that, although they were as hot and wild as was the horse which you bestride, they are now as obedient to the bridle as Nekimi.”

“I grant it,” said Reginald, reining in the proud steed alluded to in the guide’s illustration; “I grant it; and see how earnestly our Delaware friend is now bent upon his task; he has made a signal for the party to halt, and is stooping to examine a blade of grass, as if life itself depended upon his acute sagacity.”

It was, indeed, as the young man said; the Delaware chief had stooped to examine a bunch of grass by the side of the trail, in which his quick glance had detected a small object which would have escaped a less–practised eye: with a subdued exclamation of surprise he seized it, and concealed it for a moment in his hand, a ray of animation lighting up his fine countenance; it was but for a moment, his features almost immediately relapsed into their usual melancholy grave expression; and drawing near to Reginald, he put into his hands a small golden clasp, saying,

“My brother, War–Eagle knows it well; it was given by the Black Father to Olitipa: the trail is clear as the great white pathway of heaven.”[54]

Reginald took the clasp, and seizing the hand which held it, he pressed it in silence to his heart: he had marked the varying expression on War–Eagle’s countenance; he saw how a moment’s recollection had changed the sanguine exultation of the lover, to the sad yet steady firmness of the friend; and his heart yearned towards his Indian brother with an affection that words could not express; but they were not needed; his moistened eye and glowing cheek spoke volumes to his friend, and War–Eagle bounded forward again upon the trail, his spirit excited by an incident which, though slight in itself, had called forth high and generous emotions.

A few minutes after the Delaware had resumed his post as guide, our hero purposely fell into the rear of the party, and throwing the rein loosely over the neck of his horse, turned the precious golden relic over and over between his fingers, and pressed it a thousand times to his lips; the ground over which they were travelling was a broken series of ravines or ridges, and thus he was enabled to indulge in the extravagant endearments which he bestowed upon the senseless trinket, without being exposed to the curious eyes of his fellow–travellers, now out of his sight.

He was aroused from his reverie by a terrific yell, accompanied by a sharp sensation of pain; and on raising his eyes perceived at once that he was cut off from his party by a mounted band of Indians, one of whom had shot an arrow through the fleshy part of his thigh, into the flap of the saddle, where it was still sticking. Instantly deciding that it was better to trust to the speed of Nekimi than to the desperate chance of forcing his way through the Indians in front, he struck the steed with his heel, and turning his head towards the open prairie to the left of the trail, went off at full speed, followed by several mounted warriors; his first care was to secure the clasp within his hunting–shirt; his next to examine the priming of his rifle, and of the pistols at his saddle–bow; finding these all in order, he looked round at his pursuers, who, although urging their horses by yells and blows, did not gain upon Nekimi, even when going at an easy gallop.

Re–assured by finding the advantage which he had over his enemies in the speed of his horse, Reginald cut the arrow where it pinned his leg to the saddle, and then, without much pain or difficulty, drew the shaft from the flesh. Being now satisfied that he had nothing to fear from the wound, he turned the head of his horse in a direction parallel to the trail on which his party had been marching, as he felt that his ultimate safety must depend upon his not being separated from them.

A loud yell followed by a succession of rifle–shots announced to him that the attack on his friends had commenced; and although the broken nature of the ground still prevented him from seeing them, he could gather from the sound that they were at no great distance; rightly judging that they must be anxious respecting his own safety, he now applied his bugle to his lips, and blew a clear blast, which Baptiste immediately recognised as the concerted signal for “All’s well,” and cheerily responded to.

The Indians in pursuit of Reginald reined in their horses, and stood gazing at each other in astonishment, at sounds which had never before reached their ear; and all, excepting one, wheeled to rejoin the main body of their band; he who remained was evidently a chief, or principal brave, his dress was splendidly adorned with scalp–locks, eagle–feathers, and beads; and instead of the shaven crown and single tuft of hair usually worn by the Pawnees, and other Indians of the Platte and Missouri region, his long black hair streamed over his shoulders, and fell upon the haunches of the wild spirited courser on which he was mounted. When he found that the number of his enemies was reduced to a single one, Reginald was not of a temper to consider flight as any longer necessary; so he checked the speed of Nekimi, and trotting to the summit of a rising ground in front of him, saw, at a little distance, in the ravine below, the skirmish that was still continued between his friends and the attacking party.

But he was not long permitted to remain an idle spectator; for the Indian, having recovered from the surprise occasioned by the bugle–call, was again approaching him at full speed. Reginald turned his horse towards his assailant, and deliberately raising his rifle, waited until the latter should be near enough to afford him a certain aim; but the Indian observing his cool determined bearing, and having some experience of the dangerous nature of the white man’s weapon, suddenly wheeled his horse, and galloped to and fro in a zigzag direction, sometimes advancing, sometimes retreating, with a rapidity that left Reginald in doubt whether he were meditating an attack, or desirous only of exhibiting his wonderful powers of horsemanship.

These doubts were, however, soon resolved; for in one of these swift evolutions, when passing the spot where Reginald stood, at a distance of fifty yards, the Indian suddenly threw himself half off his horse, and hanging over its side, discharged from under the animal’s neck an arrow, which whizzed close by Reginald’s ear; then, when he was himself out of shot, resumed his seat in the saddle, and again wheeling his horse, prepared to repeat a manoeuvre which had so nearly been attended with success.

On this second occasion Reginald was resolved to try his chance with the rifle; and when his enemy, emboldened by the quiet and apparently surprised demeanour of the white man, threw himself again over the side of his horse, and came within a nearer range, our hero levelled his rifle at the animal, whose body shielded completely that of his opponent, and the ball taking effect behind the shoulder, both horse and man rolled upon the grass.

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Reginald sprung from his saddle and hastened to the spot, hoping to secure the Indian while still encumbered by the fallen horse; but the active savage leapt upon his feet, and not having time to fit an arrow to the string, struck a furious but unsuccessful blow at the young man’s head, with his bow; then uttering his war–cry, rushed upon him with a long sharp knife that he had drawn from his belt; but the Indian had mistaken both the skill and strength of the opponent with whom he thus rashly endeavoured to close, and in a moment Reginald’s cutlass was buried in his chest. In vain he summoned all his remaining strength to strike a last blow; both hand and eye refused their aid, and he fell heavily forward upon the grass. Reginald, sheathing his cutlass, knelt by the side of the wounded man, and strove to stanch the blood; but his efforts were fruitless, the lungs were pierced, and it was evident that death was fast approaching.

The Indian, still conscious of what was passing around, and momentarily expecting the scalp–knife upon his forehead, the usual fate of the conquered amongst those of his race, gazed in surprise upon the countenance of the young man, who was now tending him with compassionate anxiety: they could not interchange a word; the Indian feebly raised his hand to his head with an inquiring look, and then pointed to the knife. Reginald shook his head, as if to intimate that he need be under no apprehension of that indignity; and then continued his earnest but ineffectual endeavours to stanch the flowing blood, while the sufferer’s head rested upon his shoulder.

During this time not a groan escaped from the lips of the savage warrior: but feeling his end at hand, he gathered his dying energies; and taking from his neck the magnificent collar which he wore, made from the claws of a grisly bear, bound together with skins of snow–white ermine, he gave it to Reginald, making him a sign that he should wear it; then supporting himself in a sitting posture by the end of his bow, which he had caught up from the ground, and with his eye steadily fixed upon the snow–clad peak now visible in the western horizon, the prairie–warrior breathed his last.

As soon as Reginald was assured that life was extinct, he stretched the unconscious limbs, closed the eyes, gathered the massive hair over the rigid countenance, and arranged the arms and accoutrements decently beside the fallen chieftain, knowing well that it would not be long before the body was borne off by those of his own tribe. There was neither exultation nor triumph on the young man’s countenance, as he looked from the lifeless form of his late adversary to that of the steed, which lay dead beside him, on which, not many minutes before, he was careering over his native plains in the pride and vigour of manhood; he felt that the strength, the activity, the courage of the savage warrior, were equal to his own; that it had depended upon a single successful thrust whether of the two should be now taking his last uncoffined sleep in the wilderness. Sad thoughts of his waiting mother and sister, musings on the fate of Prairie–bird, stole upon his heart, and he continued gazing almost unconsciously on the body of the Indian, until he was aroused by a shrill blast from the bugle of Baptiste; the signal–blast was “Beware:” and casting his eyes around, he saw that the band of Indians who had been skirmishing with War–Eagle’s party were advancing at full speed to the spot where he stood. His spirit rekindled by this fresh excitement, he caught up his rifle, and vaulting on the back of Nekimi, gave him the rein. The pursuers soon found that their chance of overtaking him was hopeless; and while they gathered round the body of their fallen chief, Reginald rejoined his party, who received him with a shout of triumph that reached the ears of the mourners on the far prairie.

As Reginald dismounted and walked gravely through the group to salute War–Eagle, every eye was fixed upon the bear–claw collar around his neck, and he received the silent homage which Indian warriors pay to successful valour.

There was also a quiet dignified modesty in the young man’s bearing and demeanour, which did not escape their observant and approving eyes. “My brother is welcome,” said War–Eagle, extending his hand to greet his friend; “he has killed a great chief; when the warriors tell their deeds at the war–dance, the tongue of Netis will not be silent.”

“The red man of the prairie was brave,” replied Reginald; “he died like a warrior. I trust his spirit is gone to the happy land.”

“Master Reginald,” said the guide, thrusting his large bony hand into that of our hero, “it did my heart good to see the Ingian fall; he sprang upon you like a tiger, and I feared he might catch you unawares.”

“No, Baptiste, no; he was a gallant fellow, and I am truly sorry that, in self–defence, I was obliged to kill him; but the advantages were all on my side; Nekimi was far swifter than his horse, and his knife was no match for my cutlass. Do you know to what tribe he and his party belonged?”

“Capote–bleu, Master Reginald—this is the first time you have seen Les Corbeaux—Upsaroka they call themselves; they are a wild race.” And he added, in a lower tone, “We shall see more of them before we go much further.”

“In the skirmish which they had with you, were any wounded on either side?”

“Not many, for the rascals galloped about in such an unaccountable flurry, it wasn’t easy to make sure work with the rifle; but the Doctor scored the ribs of one, and I think War–Eagle struck another; they kept at a very unfamiliar distance, and their arrows were as harmless as snow–flakes.”

“How fared it with Monsieur Perrot?” inquired Reginald, who saw the light–hearted valet grinning with satisfaction at his master’s victory and safe return, “did he not try his skill upon any of these marauding Crows?”

“Well, I hardly know,” said the guide. “Master Perrot is like the bear in the tree, he fights very well when he can’t help it; but I conceive he’s not over fond of the red–skins ever since that Dahcotah handled his wig so roughly! What say you, Monsieur Perrot?”

“Monsieur Baptiste is not altogether wrong,” replied the good–humoured valet; “if one of those red Corbeaux come very near to peck me, I do my best to pluck his feathers out; but I much rather see a fat partridge or capon than one of them!”

The conversation between the Frenchman and the guide was interrupted by War–Eagle, who made a sign to the latter, as well as to Reginald, that he wished to speak with them apart.

“Brother,” said the chief, addressing our hero, “the Upsarokas are many; their warriors are like the bison–herds; they will soon return to our path, we must be ready for them. What is my brother’s counsel?”

“Baptiste,” said the young man, “you have more experience in these matters than I have; speak first.”

The guide did not reply immediately; he bent his eyes upon the ground, and his fingers rested on the head of the massive hatchet from whence he derived his Indian name. When he spoke, it was with slow but decisive enunciation. “War–Eagle has spoken truly, the Crows will return in greater numbers; they will seek revenge for the death of their chief; they are brave, but their arms are bad—we are few, but our weapons can do service. My counsel is, that we choose a strong camp and await their coming; we will then handle them so that they shall not desire to interrupt us again; or perhaps they may offer to make a treaty upon our own terms.”

“The words of Grande–HÂche are wise,” rejoined the chief; “he does not waste his breath in blowing against the wind. What says my brother Netis?”

“He says,” replied Reginald, with his characteristic impetuosity, “that the counsel of Grande–HÂche may be good for our own safety, but it will not bring us nearer to MahÉga. Netis would follow the Osage trail in spite of all the Crows between the Platte and the Mountains.”

“My brother speaks like a warrior without fear,” said the chief in reply; “yet we cannot follow the trail of the Washashee while fighting by day and by night with the Upsaroka. War–Eagle will join the counsel of Grande–HÂche to that of Netis. Let us choose a strong camp, bring in plenty of meat, and prepare to receive the Upsaroka. I will steal away alone in the night. I will follow the trail of MahÉga, and return to tell my brother what I have seen. It is enough, I have spoken.”

Both the guide and Reginald approved the chief’s decision; and although our hero would rather have accompanied him on the trail, he felt that he would impede the progress of his Indian brother, whose fleetness of foot was so much greater than his own; he therefore acquiesced with cheerfulness, and they set forward to select a camp that should unite the advantages of a defensible position to those of a plentiful supply of water.

For several hours War–Eagle pursued the Osage trail without halting, but his keen eye roved occasionally from side to side in search of a spot favourable for encampment, while Reginald and Baptiste brought up the rear of the party; the former mounted on Nekimi, prepared to gallop forward to the front and give the alarm, in case of the re–appearance of the marauding Crows. About an hour before sunset they reached a valley watered by a small stream, the taste of which proved refreshing, and free from the salt with which that region abounds; near the centre of the valley was a thick copse of alder and willow, covering a space of fifty or sixty yards square. On forcing his way through the outer bushes, War–Eagle found an open plot of fine level turf, entirely surrounded by the copse which sheltered it from view on all sides.

The Delaware, having brought his party into this natural encampment, and picqueted the horses within the space above mentioned, made a careful examination of the thicket, in which he was accompanied by Reginald and Baptiste; they then selected the points from which they could best command the approaches from different quarters; at these they piled logs and branches matted with grass and turf, from behind which secure though slight breastwork they could take deliberate aim at any hostile party approaching from the prairie. Before dusk their preparations were complete; the watch was set, and the remainder, after a frugal supper, forgot the fatigues of the day in sleep.

The night passed without the occurrence of any alarm; and an hour before daylight War–Eagle arose and prepared himself for his perilous expedition, after the ancient fashion of his tribe; a fashion which the Delawares, in common with most of the semi–civilised Indians, have in these modern days neglected, if not forgotten.

Having smeared himself from head to foot with an ointment made from the fat and marrow of deer, he painted his face and chest with stripes of a dark colour, purposely making the form and device to resemble those of the Missourian nations. He wore upon his legs a light pair of deer–skin leggins, without ornament, supported at the waist by his belt; from the latter was suspended on one side his tomahawk, on the other his knife; he also stuck into it a brace of loaded pistols given to him by Reginald, and within the folds secured some bullets and charges of powder, as well as a few slices of dried buffalo–meat: his throat, chest, and arms were naked, with the exception of a small light blanket, which, when thrown across his shoulder, did not in the least impede the free exercise either of his hands or feet. As speed was now his chief object, he left both his rifle and his heavy war–club in the charge of Reginald, who looked on with mingled feelings of admiration and envy, while his friend was preparing for his solitary journey. Knowing that War–Eagle, if successful in his undertaking, would see the Prairie–bird, he longed to send by him a thousand messages of love; yet he remembered and respected the feelings of his friend, and, controlling his own, embraced him in silence.

As War–Eagle was about to depart, Reginald was surprised at seeing him attach to his belt a small bunch of feathers, carefully tied together, and he imagined that they might be in some measure connected with his Indian brother’s totem, or heraldic designation; but the latter resolved his doubts by saying to him and to Baptiste,

“War–Eagle will follow the trail of Washashee as swiftly as his feet can run: whenever it is difficult to find, or divides in a fork, he will stick one of these small feathers in the grass; let ‘Atto’ follow first on the trail, he has been often on the war–path, and his eyes are good; Grande–HÂche with his long rifle should come next: let my brother go last with Nekimi, and let him always have eyes in his back; the Upsarokas are cunning, and the wives of a dead chief are lamenting. If War–Eagle lives, he will return quick and meet his brothers on the trail; if he is killed, he will meet them afterwards in the fields where his fathers hunt. Farewell.” So saying, the Delaware chief pointed impressively to the distant ridge of the mountains, and left the encampment.

After the departure of War–Eagle, Reginald busied himself, with the aid of Baptiste in making further preparations against the expected attack. On inquiring of the latter, he learnt, with much satisfaction, that Atto or A–to (AnglicÈ, “The Deer”), who had been designated by the chief as leader on the trail in his absence, was a tried and experienced warrior. His appearance, indeed, was not much in his favour, for he was small and spare in stature, and his features, though not positively ugly, were stern, and rarely lighted up by expression; his eye was piercing rather than brilliant; and he scarcely ever spoke, excepting in reply to a question: his swiftness of foot, which was almost equal to that of War–Eagle himself, had procured for him the appellation by which he was known in the tribe. It should however, in justice to him, be mentioned, that he seldom ran from an enemy, for his courage was proverbial; and in a former expedition against the Dahcotahs, he had made several escapes so extraordinary, that his comrades had given him a name consisting of sixteen or seventeen syllables, which we will not inflict upon civilised eyes or ears, but which signifies, “The–man–who–cannot–be–killed–by–an–arrow.”

Reginald, finding that Atto was familiar with the English tongue, and desirous to be on good terms with his new officer, addressed him as follows:—

“Does Atto think that the Upsaroka will come to–day?”

“They will come.”

“Will they attack us in this position?”

“Perhaps; the Upsarokas are fools—they do not know the LenapÉ.”

“Are you satisfied with the arrangements we have made for the defence?”

“Yes; but you should let the horses feed outside, with a guard, or they will soon eat up the grass within; it will be time enough to drive them in when the Upsaroka come.”

“You are right,” said Reginald, frankly, and he ordered it to be done immediately.

Savages are extremely like ourselves in all that concerns the internal workings of self–respect; and if Reginald already stood high in Atto’s opinion for his courage and bodily advantages, the Indian was disposed to think more highly of him when he found, even in a matter so trifling, that the young man listened to and followed his counsel.

The forenoon passed without any tidings of the Crows; and Reginald, impatient of a state of inaction, resolved to sally forth upon Nekimi, and to make a sweep over the adjacent undulating prairie, to see whether he could discover any signs of them.

Armed with his knife, pistols, and cutlass, he slung his spy–glass over his shoulder, and vaulted on the back of his favourite, charging Baptiste and Atto, now left in joint command of the garrison, to keep a sharp look–out, and promising to return before dusk.

How did his blood dance with excitement as he found himself trotting briskly across the virgin turf of that wild, boundless, vegetable ocean; beneath him a steed, bold, eager, joyous as himself; above him a blue immensity of unclouded sky; and around him breezes fresh from the snowy chambers of the Northern Andes! Nor were the sources of excitement from within wanting to complete its measure,—a consciousness of youth, and health, and strength; a mind capable of appreciating the wonders of nature, and of following them up to their Almighty Framer; a heart filled to overflowing with the image of a kindred being whose love he doubted not, and whom, in spite of dangers and obstacles, his ardent and sanguine spirit whispered that he would soon rejoin!

Again and again did he draw from his bosom the precious clasp, which assured him that he was following her footsteps; and then replacing it, he would stoop over the neck of Nekimi, and caressing his playful ear, and gently pressing his flank, the noble creature caracoled, neighed, and bounded beneath him, like the “wild and wanton herd” described in one of the most exquisite scenes depicted by our immortal dramatist.[55]

Notwithstanding the excited flow of his spirits, Reginald did not forget the object of his excursion: he not only noted carefully the various remarkable features of the surrounding country, so as to secure, in case of need, his retreat to the encampment, but he scanned the side of every hill, and the bosom of every valley that he passed, to see whether any parties of the Upsaroka were yet within view.

He had ridden many miles without seeing any thing alive, except a few straggling buffalos and antelopes, and was on the point of returning towards the camp, when he descried some moving body on the sky–line in the eastern horizon: throwing himself from his horse, he adjusted his telescope, and fixing it on the object, ascertained at once that it was a large party of Indians on horseback. Although his glass was of excellent quality, they were so distant that he could not count them, but he was satisfied that they considerably exceeded a hundred. Observing that their course was directed westward, he was able, by descending an oblique ravine, to reach the edge of a copse which they were likely to pass at no great distance, whence, himself unseen, he might watch their movements, and form a more accurate estimate of their force.

He had not been long stationed at the post which he had selected for this purpose, when the band came full in view on the ridge of a neighbouring hill.

That it was a war–party of the Crows he could no longer doubt, as their dress and appearance were precisely the same, and they were following, with the faultless sagacity of a pack of blood–hounds, the trail which he and his companions had trodden on the preceding day.

Being completely sheltered from their view by the copse, he was able to observe their movements, and to plan his own accordingly; he counted upwards of two hundred and fifty mounted warriors; and his impression was that their numbers amounted in all to nearly three hundred: they moved forward upon the trail at an even pace until they reached the brow of the hill, whence they could perceive, although at a considerable distance, the thicket in which the Delawares were encamped. Pausing here, they held a brief council: it was clear that they suspected that the above–named wood contained those of whom they were in pursuit; nor was it long before their lynx eyes detected a slight column of smoke curling up above the trees, on seeing which they shouted aloud, while their rapid and vehement gesticulations sufficiently explained to Reginald the discovery that they had made.

It was evidently not the present intention of the Crows to make an open attack; for they now divided their force into two bands, each of which pursued its course along the back of the ridges which crowned the valley wherein the encampment lay, and thus they would be enabled to reach a point not far distant from their enemy on opposite sides, before their approach could be perceived.

The position of Reginald himself was now critical, for in his eagerness to watch the motions of the Indians, he had allowed them to get between him and his own party; it only remained for him, therefore, to decide whether he should endeavour to reach the camp unperceived, or, trusting to the speed of Nekimi, ride boldly towards it; he chose the latter, rightly judging the impossibility of escaping Indian eyes in so open a country; and he thought it also probable, that if they meditated a night attack upon the encampment, they would permit him to enter it without showing themselves.

Having therefore examined the priming of his pistols, and loosened his cutlass in the sheath, he pushed his way through the thicket, and, emerging on the opposite side, rode deliberately forward.

Choosing the most open ground, he pursued his homeward way down the valley; and though his eye glanced occasionally to the hills on each side, not an Indian was to be seen, and in less than an hour he found himself again within the precincts of the wooded camp.

The gravity of his demeanour, as he joined his companions, led them to conjecture that he had seen some trace of their enemies, which impression was confirmed amongst them when he led Baptiste and Atto aside to hold with them a council of war.

Having briefly detailed what he had seen, he expressed his belief that the Crows had divided their force for the purpose of attacking the camp in the course of the ensuing night, and concluded by asking their opinion as to the most advisable means of defence. After a short deliberation, it was agreed that four men should watch at the opposite sides of the thicket, each of whom being well sheltered behind a log of wood already rolled to its edge, could detect the approach of an enemy from the prairie, and that each should be provided with two loaded rifles, so that in case of his being obliged to fire one to give the alarm, he might still have another ready for immediate use.

These preparations having been made, and the horses brought within the encampment, the little party sat down to their supper, and afterwards smoked their pipes as unconcernedly as if neither Crows nor danger were lurking in the neighbourhood. Night came on, and those whose turn it was to sleep, announced by their heavy breathing that the hour of rest was not unwelcome. Monsieur Perrot snored so loudly from beneath the pile of blankets in which he had enveloped himself, that he more than once received a slight admonition from the elbow of the half–awakened guide, who lay beside him. Reginald, however, was in a mood which would have no fellowship with sleep; his thoughts were of Prairie–bird, still in MahÉga’s power, of his Indian brother, now far on his solitary and dangerous journey, of the lurking foes whose attack he hourly expected, and of the familiar faces at Mooshanne, whom distance and absence now rendered doubly dear. The night was dark, for the young moon, after traversing her appointed section of the southern sky, had disappeared, and the twinkling stars threw but an uncertain light, rendered yet more doubtful by the leafy branches which waved gently to and fro under the light breath of the night breeze.

In order to give some employment to his unquiet spirit, Reginald resolved to visit the several stations where his sentries were posted, and, throwing his rifle over his shoulder, arose and commenced his rounds. Moving with a slow and noiseless step, he went to each of the posts in succession, and finding all the watchmen on the alert, whispered to each a word of approbation. The last station that he visited was occupied by Atto; and Reginald, sitting down behind the log, conversed with him for a short time, in a low tone of voice, each pausing at intervals, to listen and look out upon the valley. On a sudden, Atto, touching his arm, pointed to a spot near the summit of the neighbouring hill; and, following the direction indicated, Reginald could plainly see a small light, as of a dry stick, which burnt for a few seconds, and was then extinguished.

“Let Netis watch,” whispered the Indian; “Atto will return directly;” and with these words he disappeared in the thicket.

Not many minutes elapsed ere he came back, and, in the same subdued tone, said, “All is well now, the Upsaroka are coming, Atto saw the same light on the other hill; it is a sign for both parties to attack from opposite sides at once.”

“All is well, indeed,” thought Reginald, within himself. “This fellow must have a strange stomach for fighting, when he applies such a term to an expected conflict, where the odds are to be two or three hundred to ten.”

These were Reginald’s thoughts for a moment; but his words were: “Baptiste, Perrot, and I will remain at this post; you can spare us also one of your warriors; you will guard the opposite post with three others; there will remain one to move constantly round within the edge of the thicket, to summon us to any point where the Crows may threaten an attack. Is the plan good, what says my brother?”

“It is good,” replied the Indian, and they set about it forthwith in earnest and in silence.

Reginald and Baptiste, having previously examined all the logs which were now to serve for their defence, lost no time in selecting their respective stations; the Indian warrior allotted to them was placed between them; Monsieur Perrot, safely ensconced behind the fallen trunk of an alder, was to load his master’s rifle, and when discharged, to replace it by another; and the defenders of the camp were all instructed not to fire until their enemies were so near as to afford a certain aim.

The side on which Reginald was stationed was the most open to attack, from its being adjacent to the brook that flowed through the centre of the valley, the banks of which, being dotted here and there with alder–bushes, afforded an occasional covert to an approaching enemy. Nearly an hour had elapsed, and Reginald began to suspect that they had mistaken the intentions of the Upsaroka, when Baptiste pointed in silence towards the prairie, and on following with his eye the direction of his companion’s finger, he saw a dusky object in motion. Looking steadily forward, each with his finger on the trigger of his rifle, Reginald and Baptiste could now distinguish the figures of several Indians, creeping along the ground towards the thicket. On a sudden the report of Atto’s rifle in the opposite quarter was heard, and the creeping figures starting up, advanced with shouts and yells, vainly hoping that the spot which they had selected for attack was defenceless. When they were within a few paces, Reginald and Baptiste fired at once, and the two leading Indians fell; most of their companions retired in dismay, one only sprung forward with desperate courage, and his evil destiny bringing him close past the log behind which the guide was posted, the latter cleft the skull of the unfortunate savage with his tremendous hatchet.

Maddened by disappointment, and by the loss of several of their comrades, the Crows let fly a shower of arrows at the edge of the thicket, and retreated on all sides, filling the air with their cries and yells. Reginald, having crossed over to visit Atto at his post, found that the Delaware had not fired in vain, for a reeking scalp already hung at his belt, and it appeared that the enemy had retired on this side also, as soon as they found themselves exposed to the murderous fire of unseen marksmen.

Not long after this unsuccessful attack on the part of the Upsarokas, day broke, and having mounted their horses, which had been left at some distance, they returned towards the encampment; and galloping to and fro, endeavoured, by every kind of insulting gesticulation, to induce their cautious enemies to come forth, or at least to exhaust their ammunition by firing at random; but Reginald’s party kept close within their covert, taking no notice whatever of these bravadoes, although several of the horsemen came within a distance which would have rendered them an easy mark for the guide’s unerring rifle; their insolence produced only a grim smile on his weather–beaten countenance, as he whispered to Reginald.

“They are somewhat out of their reckoning as to the ‘Doctor’s’ range; poor devils, if they’ll only keep off, I don’t want to hurt any more of them. But if that long–haired fellow, capering on a brown horse, were a Dahcotah, I’d make a hole in his hunting–shirt before he was many minutes older.”

“I am glad to find you in a merciful humour, Baptiste,” replied the young man. “I too would willingly avoid farther slaughter of these Crows; and while fighting with them, we are losing time more precious to me than gold.”

As he was yet speaking, his attention was caught by the sound of a scuffle within the thicket, followed by a shout; and immediately afterwards Atto and another Delaware came forward, dragging with them a Crow, whom the quick eye of the former had detected lurking under dense foliage of an alder–bush.

“Whom have you here?” exclaimed Reginald; “and where did you find him?”

“Upsaroka,” replied Atto; “he must have crept like a snake under the grass, for the Delawares are not blind, yet he is here.”

The prisoner was a tall bold–looking youth, and he seemed resolutely prepared to meet the fate which a spy and an enemy must expect in that wild region.

“’Tis a fine lad,” said Baptiste dryly, “and he has given us a lesson to keep a better look out; ’tis clear that he has crept down the brook, while we have been watching those galloping thieves; tie the rogue’s hands, my friend Atto, and let us scour the thicket from one end to the other. Two or three such as him within the camp in the middle of the night, would be apt to interfere with our rest.”

The prisoner having been bound, Atto proceeded with two of his warriors to search every corner of the thicket, while Baptiste with the remainder watched the various parties of horsemen who were still hovering at a distance.

Reginald was left for a few minutes alone with the youth, whom he looked at with mingled compassion and admiration, for it was clear that he had devoted his own life to obtain a triumph for his tribe; and although he had not the expressive intellectual beauty of Wingenund, nor the heroic stamp of form and feature by which War–Eagle was distinguished, yet there was a certain wild fierceness in his eye betokening a spirit that awakened a feeling of sympathy in Reginald’s breast. While looking steadfastly on the youth under the influence of these feelings, he observed that the Delawares, in their hurried anxiety to secure the prisoner, had bound the thongs so tightly round his arms as to cause a stoppage of the blood, the veins around the ligature being already swollen to a painful extent.

With the unhesitating generosity of his nature, Reginald stepped forward, and, loosening the thong, left the youth at liberty; at the same time he smiled, and, pointing to the knife in his belt, made the sign of “No,” intimating that he should not repay this benefit by using that weapon.

The quick–sighted savage understood him as plainly as if the hint had been given in his own language, for he instantly detached the knife from his belt and presented it to Reginald. There was so much natural dignity and sincerity in his manner while doing so, that our hero, in receiving his weapon, gave him in exchange a spare knife that hung in his own belt, making at the same time the Indian sign for friendship.

The nerves which were strung to endure expected torture and a lingering death, were not prepared for this unlooked–for clemency; the youth spoke a few soft words in his own tongue, looking earnestly in Reginald’s face, and had not yet recovered his self–possession, when Atto returned with his companions, to report that the prisoner must have come upon this dangerous war–path alone, as no other of his tribe was lurking in or near the thicket.

“Atto,” said Reginald, addressing the Delaware; “this youth belongs by right to the hand that took him, he is yours; I ask you to give him to me, to do with him as I like.”

“The hand and the heart of Atto are both open to Netis; he is brother to the war–chief of the LenapÉ—Atto is glad to give him what he asks.”

“Atto is a brave man,” replied Reginald, “and worthy of his race; he can see that this youth is on his first war–path; he came to the camp to make himself a name; if the quick eye of Atto had not found him, there would have been a war–cry in the night—is it not so, brothers?”

The Delawares gave their usual exclamation of assent.

“Brothers,” continued Reginald, “Atto has given this youth to me—I thank him: the hand of Netis is not shut, it holds a collar which hung upon the neck of a great warrior, it will not be ashamed to hang on the neck of Atto.”

As he said this, he threw over the neck of the Delaware the magnificent bear–claw collar which adorned his own. This was perhaps the happiest moment of Atto’s life, for such a collar could be worn only by braves of the highest rank in Indian aristocracy, and the acclamation with which his comrades hailed the presentation of the gift, assured Reginald that it had been neither unwisely nor unworthily bestowed.

The latter then turned towards the prisoner, and made him a sign to follow towards the outer edge of the thicket, in the direction where Baptiste and he had shot the two Indians who led the attack; their bodies still lay where they fell; the youth gazed upon them with stern composure. Reginald inquired by a sign if he knew them: he replied in the affirmative; and he added, pointing to the nearer of the two, a sign which Reginald did not comprehend; he turned to Atto for an explanation.

“He says,” replied the Delaware, “that was his father.”

Reginald, much affected, placed the youth’s hand against his own breast in token of regard, and made him understand that he was free to go himself, and to remove the bodies without interruption.

The young Crow replied by a look of gratitude too expressive to require the interpretation of language, and moving towards the body of his father, bore it into the midst of his wondering companions, who received him with repeated wailings and cries: none, however, seemed disposed to believe in his assurance that they might take away the other body likewise; he was obliged to return himself: and then one of his tribe, seeing that he stood uninjured beside it, came out from their ranks and assisted him to bear it off.