Chapter X: A Wild Race for Life

The trapper was right in thinking that the Comanches would pursue the four whites when they found out their escape.

Early in the morning, the chief, Red Buffalo, emerged from his lodge and went toward that one which had been used as a prison-lodge for the young hunter.

He was greatly surprised to find both of the guards lying upon the ground. At first the chief thought that they were dead; had been killed by some enemy, in order that the prisoner might be rescued. He quickly discovered his mistake, however, and wondered what could be the matter with the two men, for he had great trouble in arousing them from their stupor.

Red Pine told the chief how the White Wizard had visited them and had given them a drink of fire-water. The chief knew that there was something wrong when he heard this, and he quickly undid the bars that fastened the door.

No sooner had he disappeared from the sight of the two warriors than a loud yell announced to them that the lodge was empty. The chief rushed out, gave a few orders to the two warriors, and then began hunting around for the trail.

He found this, and had followed it outside the village, when he was joined by twenty-five men, among whom were the two guards whom Barry Le Clare had drugged the night before.

They were all mounted and armed, and Red Pine led a horse for the chief. The latter had left orders that a second detachment should follow them after several hours.

As the chief sprung upon his horse, Red Pine communicated to him the suspicious fact that the White Wizard was not in his tent, nor had he been seen that morning by any person. All now knew who it was that had liberated the prisoner, and there would be no escape for the white circus-rider, should the Comanches once get a crack at him.

The chief called out a name, and the warrior who was thus designated, stepped out with a smile of conscious triumph.

He was the best trailer in the Comanche village, and had been aptly named the Starved Wolf, for that beast will keep on the trail of its prey for days. It is not by its speed that a wolf tires out its prey, but by its pertinacity in keeping to the trail.

Starved Wolf rode up to where the chief was, and throwing himself from his horse he bent down and examined the trail.

The keen-eyed Indian saw marks that he could distinguish anywhere, and with a yell he sprung upon his horse again.

He had noted the general direction in which the trail ran, and it would be easier for him to follow it now.

Barry and the young hunter had not been skilled enough in woodcraft to make a detour, as any old trapper would have done.

Bending over his horse’s neck, the Starved Wolf gave the animal a kick that sent him forward, and then the trailing began.

To the Comanche trailer the marks upon the ground were plain enough, while to an amateur they would have been nearly invisible.

The Indians went forward at a rapid pace, and they were not long in reaching the trees which grew on the bank of the river.

The whites had crossed here and the Indians lost nearly half an hour in finding it again on the other shore.

The four whites had gone up-stream and emerged from the water in a rocky place. Had all of them been old hunters, such care would have been taken to keep from leaving a trail that the Comanches, sharp though they were, would never have found it; but only one was a hunter, and the others, despite their caution, could not help leaving some marks, which the Indians at length came upon. Red Buffalo began to despair of ever catching up to the pale-faces, for they had at least six hours the start of him and his warriors. He did not know that something had happened which, though unlucky to the four men, was favorable to him.

Barry and the young hunter were soon joined, after the former had given the signal and it had been answered, by two figures on horseback, which they were not long in making out as the old hunter and the little French naturalist, Monsieur Tierney.

The hunter shook the young man’s hand and also that of the circus-rider. The latter then told how it was he had got the prisoner away, and both of the others laughed heartily.

The guide said he would like to see Red Buffalo when the chief found out the escape of the prisoner.

The guide cherished a deep hatred for the chief of the Comanches, and should the two ever come face to face in a fight, one or the other was bound to go under if nothing occurred to separate them. Twice before this had the guide been a captive in the hands of Red Buffalo, and both times had he escaped. Once he had run the gantlet, and pretty well bruised and cut, was about to be burned at the stake, when old Captain Wilton and his company of regulars rescued him. Ralph was an army scout at that time.

The second time he had escaped by his own exertions.

The four whites rode for nearly two hours and then they were suddenly stopped by the old guide.

He saw a suspicious object coming toward them from the north-east. The guide made all of them dismount, and then told them that the objects they had taken to be buffaloes were Indians.

The latter were about forty in number, and to the astonishment and chagrin of the four whites, they camped close by them and began to cook an early breakfast.

The whites muffled the heads of their horses in their blankets so that the animals might not betray them by a whinny or a neigh. The whites and their steeds crouched in the grass for several hours. It was just at daybreak that the Apaches, for such the guide declared the Indians to be, departed, much to the relief of the whites.

No sooner were they well out of sight than the four resumed their journey. The sun soon arose and lit up the earth with his bright, warm and cheerful rays.

The Frenchman could not resist stopping now and then to pick some curious flower which he saw in the green oases.

The sun was several hours high when they reached a grove of trees and entered in among them. A cool spring bubbled up in a shady spot, and the horses and their riders took long draughts of the excellent water. The horses were suffered to move around for awhile so that they might have some breakfast and also get rested.

The four were talking earnestly, when the guide suddenly put up his hand and motioned to the others to remain quiet.

Instantly all was silent, and with open ears the four listened for a repetition of the sound that had alarmed the guide.

Soon all heard it. It sounded like the trampling of a drove of buffaloes or wild horses, and came from the same direction that the four men had come from.

Three of the whites thought that the noise was made by buffaloes or wild horses, but the old guide knew better.

He thought it was made by Comanches, who were following up their trail, and springing to his feet he rushed to the edge of the trees. A single glance served to show him that his suspicion was not false. Over a score of Comanches were coming straight toward the grove.

At their head rode two men whom the guide knew.

One was the chief, Red Buffalo, the other, a famous trailer. The Starved Wolf was leaning over, and Ralph knew that his eyes were fixed upon the trail.

Ralph saw that there was going to be a fight, and he resolved to be the aggressive party. A word to his comrades sufficed to tell them of his desires, and a few seconds after three rifles cracked and three bullets winged with death sped through the air.

The guide had not aimed at Red Buffalo, for he wanted to kill that worthy in a square stand-up fight.

Three of the Comanche warriors fell over, and the rest were somewhat surprised for a moment.

Recovering quickly, they gave a loud war-cry and came forward with a rush. They entered among the trees, but no enemy was in sight. On they went, and at length emerged on the open plain on the other side of the grove.

A howl of joy broke from the lips of Red Buffalo, for there, not far in front of them, and flying before them, were the four whites.

It was now a race for life. Which will be the winner?