The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Trusting his might

      Might find a fight,

      And then good night,"

      chanted Bill Breakstone, and he added triumphantly:

      "That's surely good poetry, Phil! Five lines allrhyming together, when most poets have trouble to maketwo rhyme. But, as I have said before, these plains thatlook so quiet and lonely have their dangers. We mustpass by the buffalo, the deer, and the antelope, unless wego after them in strong parties. Ah, look there! Whatis that?"

      The head of the train was just topping a swell, andbeyond the dip that followed was another swell, ratherhigher than usual, and upon the utmost crest of thesecond swell sat an Indian on his horse, Indian and horsealike motionless, but facing the train with a fixed gaze.The Indian was large, with powerful shoulders and chest, and with an erect head and an eagle beak. He was of abright copper color. His lips were thin, his eyes black, and he had no beard. His long back hair fell down onhis back and was ornamented with silver coins andbeads. He wore deerskin leggins and moccasins, sewedwith beads, and a blue cloth around his loins. The rest ofhis body was naked and the great muscles could be seen.

      The warrior carried in his right hand a bow about onehalf the length of the old English long bow, made of thetough bois d'arc or osage orange, strengthened andreinforced with sinews of deer wrapped firmly about it. Thecord of the bow was also of deer sinews. Over his shoulderwas a quiver filled with arrows about twenty inches inlength, feathered and with barbs of triangular iron. Onhis left arm he carried a circular shield made of twothicknesses of hard, undressed buffalo hide, separated byan inch of space tightly packed with hair. His shieldwas fastened by two bands in such a manner that itwould not interfere with the use of the arm, and it wasso hard that it would often turn a rifle shot. Hanging athis horse's mane was a war club which had been made bybending a withe around a hard stone, weighing about twopounds, and with a groove in it. Its handle of wood, about fourteen inches in length, was bound with buffalohide.

      Apparently the warrior carried no firearms, usingonly the ancient weapons of his tribe. His horse was amagnificent coal black, far larger than the ordinaryIndian pony, and he stood with his neck arched as if hewere proud of his owner. The Indian's gaze and mannerwere haughty and defiant. It was obvious to every one, and a low murmur ran among the men of the train. Philrecognized the warrior instantly. It was Black Panther,no longer the sodden haunter of the levee in the whiteman's town, but a great chief on his native plains. Phillooked at Middleton, who nodded.

      "Yes," he said, "I know him. He has, of course, been watching us, and knows every mile of our march.Unless I am greatly mistaken, Phil, this is the thirdwarning."

      Woodfall had ridden up by the side of Middleton, andthe latter said that Black Panther would probably speakwith them.

      "Then," said Woodfall, "you and I, Mr. Middleton, will ride forward and see what he has to say."

      Phil begged to be allowed to go, too, and they consented.Woodfall hoisted a piece of white cloth on theend of his rifle, and the Indian raised his shield in agesture of understanding. Then the three rode forward.The whole of the wagon train was massed on the swellbehind them, and scores of eyes were watching intentlyfor every detail that might happen.

      The Indian, after the affirmative gesture with theshield, did not move, but he sat erect and motionless likea great bronze equestrian statue. The blazing sunlightbeat down upon horse and man. Every line of thewarrior's face was revealed-the high cheek-bone, the massivejaw, the pointed chin, and, as Phil drew nearer, theexpression of hate and defiance that was the dominant noteof his countenance. Truly, this Black Panther of theslums had undergone a prairie change, a wonderful changethat was complete.

      Woodfall, Middleton, and Phil rode slowly up thesecond swell, and approached the chief, for such theycould not doubt now that he was. Still he did not move, but sat upon his horse, gravely regarding them. Philwas quite sure that Black Panther remembered him, buthe was not sure that he would admit it.

      "You wish to speak with us," said Middleton, who insuch a moment naturally assumed the position of leader.

      "To give you a message," replied Black Panther ingood English. "I have given you two messages already, and this is the third."

      "The arrows," said Middleton.

      "Yes, the Comanche arrows," continued the chief."I thought that the white men would read the signs, andperhaps they did."

      "What do you wish of us?" said Middleton. "Whatis this message which you say you now deliver for thethird time?"

      The chief drew himself up with a magnificent gesture, and, turning a little, moved his shield arm with a widesweeping gesture toward the West.

      "I say, and I say it in behalf of the great Comanchenation, 'Go back.' The country upon which you comebelongs to the Comanches. It is ours, and the buffaloand the deer and the antelope are ours. I say to youturn back with your wagons and your men."

      The words were arrogant and menacing to the lastdegree. A spark leaped up in Middleton's eye, but herestrained himself.

      "We are but peaceful traders going to Santa Fé," hesaid.

      "Peaceful traders to-day, seizers of the land to-morrow,"said the Comanche chief. "Go back. The wayover the Comanche country is closed."

      "The plains are vast," said Middleton mildly. "Onecan ride hundreds of miles, and yet not come to the end.Many parts of them have never felt the hoof of a Comanchepony. The plains do not belong to the Comanches or toanybody else."

      "They are ours," repeated the chief. "We tell youto go back. The third warning is the last."

      "If we still come on, what would you do?" said Middleton.

      "It is war," replied Black Panther. "You will notreach Santa Fé, and you will not go back to New Orleans.The Comanches will welcome you to their plains with thearrows from their bows and the bullets from their rifles."

      "Be it so," said Middleton, continuing his calm, eventone. "We have not come so far merely to turn back.The Comanche welcome of bullets and arrows may greetus, but we are strong men, and for any welcome that maybe given to us we shall always repay. Is it not so,Mr. Woodfall?"

      Woodfall nodded.

      "Give that answer to your tribe," said Middleton, speaking in firm tones, and looking the chief squarely inthe eyes. "We have started to Santa Fé, and there we go.The Comanche nation has not enough warriors to turn usback."

      A spark of fire seemed to leap from the chief's eye, but he made no other demonstration.

      "I have given you the third and last warning," hesaid. "Now I go."

      He raised the shield in a sort of salute, and, withouta word, turned and rode away. The three sat on theirhorses, looking at him. When he had gone about twohundred yards he paused a moment, fitted an arrow tohis bow, shot it almost straight up into the air, and then, uttering a long fierce whoop, galloped away over theplain.

      The Indian's cry was sinister, ominous of great dangers, and its meaning sank deeply on Phil's heart. Apeculiar shiver ran down his backbone, and the littlepulses in his temples began to beat. He did not doubtfor a moment that the warning of the Comanche was blackwith storm. He watched the sinister figure becomingsmaller and smaller, until it turned into a dark blur, thena dot, and then was seen no more in the vast, gray-greenexpanse.

      The incident seemed to have sunk deep into the mindsof the other two, also, and they rode gravely and insilence back to the train, which was now drawn СКАЧАТЬ