Chapter IX

ATTACK ON THE BLACKFOOT VILLAGE--RESCUE OF THE PRISONERS.

Somewhat cleared was the weather, and morning dawned with a great red flame in the east.

Waving Plume, had, after a few minutes of rest, asked the other trappers their opinion as to what had best be done. There followed, then, somewhat of a difference of opinion; some being for immediate action, some for a night attack, while one or two others thought it would be best to approach to the very outskirts of the town, during that night, and then, when day had fairly dawned, to rush in. These being so much in the minority, with that stubbornness so common to mankind, held their opinions so stoutly, that they won over to their side, first one and then another of their opposers, until, of the white men, Waving Plume was the only man apparently unconvinced.

But to him, there arose some strange fear; and doubting whether his comrades were not making a mistake, he proposed that Antonio, who had hitherto held his peace with most masterly reticence, should give his views on the subject. The half-breed accordingly expressed his opinions.

Some shook their heads thoughtfully, some considered long, yet, finally all admitted the force of Antonio’s argument, and as their hasty morning meal was eaten, and the sun well up, it appeared, if they intend to go on at all, that it was time to start.

With caution, they skirted the hills, keeping well in the shade of the friendly cotton-wood, for the most part following the course of a little stream of water, which, almost dry a week ago, was now nearly a river, in silence the little army advanced.

At length, to the advanced guard, Antonio, Biting Fox, and a Crow brave, the wished-for spot came into sight.

When the main body came up, it was halted, while the three went forward to thoroughly reconnoiter the woods. A strong party had been there that morning, gathering wood, and it took no prophet to tell what that was for.

Silence reigned here now; the woods were empty--evidently all the supplies needed had been obtained, and it was little likely that an invading footstep from the village would then be met with during the remainder of the day. Two of them remained to watch, while the third, the Crow brave, was sent back to state what had been seen, and to bring up the rest.

Once more Antonio offered to attempt an unseen approach to the enemy, to find out their position and employment; and though now the endeavour was one of more difficulty than when he undertook it under cover of darkness, at the camp of the hollow log, yet, with the same self-reliance he proceeded on his way.

Through an opening in the wigwam, he caught sight of the clear space in front of the council-chamber. He saw, too, a crowd there--the old and young, men, women, and children loudly shouting, while from their prison-house was led the two white men--Major Robison and Parsons.

Instantly all doubts were, in his mind, resolved; the time for the sacrifice had arrived, and prompt and decisive action was necessary.

When he was once more in their midst, it did not take long for him to explain the commotion in the village, or to give them a full understanding of its cause.

“To horse!” shouted Waving Plume, in a whisper.

“To horse and forward. No time to lose now in idle calculation. We have already weighed the cost of this our undertaking. There is no one here, I take it, who could hang behind; so forward,” and, like an arrow of death, the whole body swept on into the narrow street.

The surprise was complete; Waving Plume and his followers came fiercely, charging home upon them.

Though in the attack the Crows under Antonio confined their attention exclusively to the extermination of their foes, the whites, after the first fire, were content to bend their energies more to the effecting of that for which the expedition, by them, at least, was more particularly undertaken--the rescue of the three prisoners. While Antonio and his men swept on past the stake without heeding what was there transpiring, Waving Plume and his friends there halted.

And it was well they did so. A large Indian, the master of the ceremonies, a great brave, and, as one might say, the chief executioner of that section of the tribe, stood, with hatchet upraised, just as Charles Archer rushed to the rescue. To send a pistol-ball through his brain was the work of but an instant, then, as the great corpse settled, with a noiseless quiver, to the ground, half a dozen hands dashed aside the already burning faggots, and cut the tight-binding cords which encircled the limbs of the captives.

Parsons gave a whoop as he felt the blood once more freely circling through his veins, and the prospect of sudden and horrible death no longer so unwinkingly staring him in the face; but the Major grasped his son’s hand in silence, then turned with anxious eye toward a group of women and children who were ranged in front of the council-house.

“Adele,” said he, stretching out his hand; “is she there?”

But Waving Plume’s quick eye had already pierced to where Adele, pale and thoughtful, sat between two squaws, and, followed by Ned Hawkins and Howell, was, in a moment, by her side. She, throwing herself forward, stood leaning with her arms resting upon the pommel of his saddle; the next minute the strong arms of Archer had lifted her into place in front of him; a moment more, and she was in the arms of her father.

To the trappers, now that their mission had been accomplished, but little remained to do. The present state of affairs gave little promise of any severe fighting, and with no distinct desire for revenge burning in their bosoms, they neither wished to engage in nor to behold an indiscriminable slaughter, or the more disgusting operation of scalping the dead.

Ned Hawkins now mentioned the place where they had spent the previous night, and was agreed upon to proceed to that spot, and there, for awhile, remain. Meanwhile, conversation in the little party was brisk. All had something to say, and tongues ran fast, though none ran faster than that of the hero of our story, Waving Plume. What all he repeated in a low tone to Adele, we do not intend here to rehearse; but that it was something interesting, from the way smiles and blushes chased each other over her face, we do not doubt.