Chapter XXIV: Danger

The camp was stirring early, and the sheltering grove was soon left behind. On every side the prairie, empty and peaceful, stretched away into misty distance. The fears and alarms of the night had been imaginary.

As on the day before, the route lay over flat, poorly drained, often marshy country, where the grass grew tall and rank. By going directly east, the travelers might have reached the Wild Rice River in a few hours, but far from the place where St. Antoine had advised them to cross. Even if they succeeded in crossing, they knew they would lose rather than gain time by going that way. If they went straight east they would come to the Red River a number of miles below the Ottertail, where the Red was much larger and more difficult to ford. St. Antoine had explained all that, showing them how, by going southeast, instead of east and then south, they would find better fording places as well as save actual distance. So they continued to the southeast.

By the position of the sun and the little grove behind him, Louis strove to keep a straight course, a difficult feat for anyone less experienced in prairie travel. Louis himself found it far from easy, especially when he had to make detours around impassable ground. Many times that day he wished for St. Antoine or some other older and more prairie-wise man.

As the sun rose higher, the day grew very hot. Even the ponies felt the effect of the heat, as they plodded steadily on. At noon the party halted for an hour on the open prairie, to let the horses rest and feed. There was not a stick of fuel anywhere, so the pemmican was eaten cold, and washed down with a sip of the warm, brackish water they had brought from the _île des bois_.

In mid afternoon, hot and tired, the little caravan reached the bank of a stream Louis knew must be the Wild Rice. A narrow, crooked, muddy stream it proved to be, like a deep ditch between high and scantily wooded banks. At the top of the bank the carts halted, while Louis and Neil scrambled down, leading their horses, to look for a ford. After a half hour’s search for a place that appeared safe, the two boys came upon a trail. The slope was a little less steep in this spot, and, winding down to the water’s edge, was the well-worn track of men and animals. There was no mistaking it.

“Here is a ford,” Louis announced confidently. “It is here that the Indians cross.”

“It looks like it,” Neil agreed. “We might as well go back for the carts. This is the easiest place we’ve seen to bring them down.”

Louis shook his head. “Wait a bit,” he commanded. “I must see if the crossing is safe. The trail is old. There are no signs that anyone has crossed recently, and the river is yet far from its lowest point. You stay here, and I will try to trace the ford and make sure it is not too deep.”

“All right,” consented Neil. “I’ll keep an eye on you. If you get into trouble, I’ll go to your help.”

The water was so thick and muddy, Louis could scarcely see whether it was deep or shallow. His pony was sure footed, and picked its way carefully. So he left the finding of the ford to the animal’s instinct and intelligence. Slowly they made their way across. The water rose to the horse’s sides, but did not carry it off its feet, as the current was sluggish. There was one deep place, however, where the pony was forced to swim a few yards.

Neil, mounted and ready to go to the rescue, watched anxiously. His help was not needed. The pony found foothold, and was soon scrambling up the farther bank to dry land. Dismounting, Louis patted the animal and rubbed its nose. Unlike the _bois brulés_, he treated his beasts kindly. He had brought this horse up from colthood, and it had no fear of him. After resting a few minutes, boy and pony made their way back again.

“Can we get the carts across?” asked Neil, as Louis, wet to the waist, reached shore.

“Yes, if we pull them over with ropes. We can take my mother and the children on the horses. There is only the one deep place, and the current is not strong. César knew the way. He took me out where the trail goes up from the water. This is an old fording place.”

“St. Antoine said nothing about a trail.”

“No, I think this is not the place where he crossed. We may be miles from that spot.”

“If we can get across here, that is all we care about,” returned Neil.

The old trail was steep but not impossible for vehicles. With the boys acting as brakes by hanging on to the rear, the carts made their screeching, groaning way down. The horses were unhitched, and rawhide ropes attached to one of the carts. Then Louis and Walter rode over the ford, wound the ropes around a willow tree for greater security, and began to pull. The others steadied the cart into the water. Neil, mounting hastily, rode behind it to prevent disaster.

Part way across, the wheels stuck in the muddy bottom and would not turn. Neil jumped off his horse, and Raoul waded out to help him. They pushed and heaved vigorously, while Louis and Walter pulled, and got the cart moving again. In the deep place the box body floated, and the boys succeeded in pulling it to shore before it took in much water. Knowing that the dry box would leak more or less, they had lined it with hides. The load came through uninjured.

The same process was repeated with the second cart, which was not so lucky and took in more water. Then Mrs. Brabant and the girls, their skirts gathered up under them on the horses’ backs, were brought across, wetting no more than their feet and ankles. Max, sitting cross legged in front of his father, did not even get his feet wet. The older boys and Mr. Perier were well soaked. The day was so warm they did not mind a wetting.

The search for the ford and the crossing had taken a long time. The sun was low when the weary little party started up the old trail to seek a camping place. It happened that Walter, leading one of the horses along the steep track, was ahead. As he reached the top, picking his way, he turned to look back at the pony. After the horse was up, he continued to stand looking down, watching the carts making their slow way up, the ponies pulling steadily, the boys pushing. He ought to be down there helping, he thought.

The neighing of a horse startled him. He swung around, gave one gasp, and fairly tumbled down the bank, dragging the surprised pony after him.

“Indians!” he gasped.

“Where?” Louis let go his hold on the first cart, and scrambled up to join Walter.

“Coming across the prairie. A whole band of them.”

“How far away? Did they see you?”

“They must have seen me. There are no trees. I stood right in the open.”

Louis dropped flat and wormed his way up the slope. He raised his head cautiously, lowered it quickly, and slid back.

“They certainly saw you. They are too close to have missed you. We can’t avoid them. They come straight to the ford. We have no time to get out of the way. There is not enough cover to hide in. And they must have seen you and the horse. We must put on a bold front and not act afraid. That is the only thing we can do.”

The rest of the party, alarmed by the two boys’ actions, had stopped in their tracks. Not many seconds were spent in telling them what was happening. All realized that Louis was right when he said there was nothing to do but put on a bold front. In a few moments the tiny caravan was moving again. Raoul held Askimé by the collar to keep him from running ahead.

Louis and Walter went first, side by side, leading their horses. When he came in view of the prairie, Walter’s heart beat fast. He struggled to control his trembling knees, and to appear cool and unconcerned.

A very short distance away, coming straight towards the two lads, was a little group of mounted men, with bare, black heads and feathers in their hair. Some wore loose buckskin shirts. The bronze bodies of others were bare. Beyond them more mounted men, men, women, and children on foot, pack animals, and travois covered the prairie in a wide, irregular, disorderly procession.

“A whole band out on the hunt,” said Louis. “Well, that is less to be feared than a war party of braves only.”

The advance group let out a yell, a wild, menacing sound it seemed to the Swiss boy, hammered their horses’ sides with their heels, and came on at a gallop. Louis swung himself into the saddle, and advanced to meet them, one arm raised in the friendship sign. Walter mounted and followed, imitating the gesture.

The leading Indian responded with upraised arm, and the group came on. Surrounding the lads, they reined in their ponies. Walter’s heart was thumping against his ribs, but the trembling had passed. He sat straight and steady in the saddle, and kept a calm exterior.

“_Bo jou_,” said Louis pleasantly.

“How,” stolidly returned the leader of the advance party. He was a well-built, broad-shouldered fellow in the prime of life. A piece of buffalo robe was his only saddle. He guided his horse with a cord of twisted hair around the jaw, and rode with free and easy grace.

As Louis knew only four or five words of Dakota, communication had to be carried on principally in sign language. Recognizing the word for trader when the Indian spoke again, Louis replied with a shake of his head, then pointed to the carts just appearing over the top of the bank. He interpreted the Indian’s next gesture as a question about the size of the party, and held up ten fingers in answer. Wishing to convey the idea that the ten were only part of a much larger party, he pointed across the river, and spread out his fingers, closing and opening them several times.

The Indian nodded, stared fixedly at the carts, and inquired, “_Minnewakan?_”

That was one of the few words Louis knew. “No _minnewakan_, no liquor,” he replied. His questioner looked disappointed, so Louis hastened to add, “We can give you a little tobacco. _Tabac_,” he repeated with emphasis.

Evidently the Indian had heard the word _tabac_ in intercourse with the traders. He repeated it with a nod and held out his hand.

Louis pointed towards the carts, and said quickly to Walter, “Go get some tobacco. It will be all right. We’re safe enough for the present.”

The Indians made no move to hinder Walter’s return to the carts. He was back in a few moments with the tobacco, which Louis divided among the group of braves, taking care to give the largest portion to the leader.

The first of the main body of Indians had come on almost to the river bank, a little way beyond where the carts were standing, and had halted there. The boys’ new acquaintance pointed to the spot, then brought the tips of his forefingers together to indicate the pointed shape of a tipi. Walter guessed the man’s meaning to be that the band would camp there for the night. His heart sank. He had been hoping that the Indians would go on across the river.

If Louis was troubled, he did not show it. He pointed the other way,—up river,—and made the same sign. Then he said “_Bo jou_” again and turned his horse in that direction.

The Indian gave a little grunt which might have meant either assent or protest. Neither he nor his companions showed any wish to hinder the boys’ freedom of movement. They remained motionless for a few moments, then turned towards the camping place of their own band.

“What are we going to do?” asked Walter, when he and Louis had put a few yards between themselves and the Indians.

“We will have to make camp,” Louis replied slowly. “We will not be any safer if we go on. If they wish to steal our horses or interfere with us in any way, they will only follow. They can overtake us easily. Those fellows’ horses are fresher than ours. I saw that at once. We will camp farther up the river, as far as we can without seeming to run away. I tried to make them believe that we are an advance party. If we camp here it will look as if we waited for the others to join us. It is a bad situation, but I do not see what else we can do.”

“If they want to take our horses, though, and everything else we have, we are helpless. We are too few to fight a whole band. I suppose you are right about going on now. If they wished to harm us, some of them would follow. But when they think we are all settled for the night, can’t we steal away in the darkness?”

“I have thought of that,” Louis returned quietly. “That is one reason I want to camp as far away as we can, without making them suspicious. If they seem perfectly friendly, it may be best to remain in camp till morning. We can decide that later. The important thing now is to keep our heads and act as if we had no fear.”