The Prairie Chief, Robert Michael Ballantyne [best ereader for graphic novels .TXT] 📗

for a jumping-jack too?" asked the child, with equal gravity; then, without waiting for an answer, she burst into a merry laugh, and asked where they were travelling to.

"Has not Moonlight told you?"

"No, when I asked her about it yesterday she said she was not quite sure, it would be better not to speak till she knew."

"Moonlight is very wise--almost as wise as a man."

"Yes, wiser even than some men with swelled noses."

It was now the youth's turn to laugh, which he did quite heartily, for an Indian, though with a strong effort to restrain himself.

"We are going, I believe," he said, after a few moments' thought, "to visit your father, Bounding Bull. At least the speech of Rushing River led Eaglenose to think so, but our chief does not say all that is in his mind. He is not a squaw--at least, not a skipping one."

Instead of retorting, the child looked with sudden anxiety into the countenance of her companion.

"Does Rushing River," she asked, with earnest simplicity, "want to have his tongue slit, his eyes poked in, his liver pulled out, and his scalp cut off?"

"I think not," replied Eaglenose, with equal simplicity, for although such a speech from such innocent lips may call forth surprise in a civilised reader, it referred, in those regions and times, to possibilities which were only too probable.

After a few minutes' thought the child said, with an earnest look in her large and lustrous eyes, "Skipping Rabbit will be glad--very glad--to see her father, but she will be sorry--very sorry--to lose her friends."

Having now made it plain that the feelings of both captives had been touched by the kindness of their captors, we will transport them and the reader at once to the neighbourhood of Bounding Bull's camp.

Under the same tree on the outskirts which had been the scene of the girls' capture, Rushing River and Eaglenose stood once more with their companions, conversing in whispers. The horses had been concealed a long way in rear, to prevent restiveness or an incidental neigh betraying them.

The night was intensely dark and still. The former condition favoured their enterprise, but the latter was unfavourable, as it rendered the risk of detection from any accidental sound much greater.

After a few minutes' talk with his male companion, the chief approached the tree where the females stood silently wondering what their captors meant to do, and earnestly hoping that no evil might befall any one.

"The time has come," he said, "when Moonlight may help to make peace between those who are at war. She knows well how to creep like the serpent in the grass, and how to speak with her tongue in such a way that the heart of the listener will be softened while his ear is charmed. Let Moonlight creep into the camp, and tell Bounding Bull that his enemy is subdued; that the daughter of Leetil Tim has conquered him; that he wishes for friendship, and is ready to visit his wigwam, and smoke the pipe of peace. But tell not that Rushing River is so near. Say only that Moonlight has been set free; that Manitou of the pale-faces has been whispering in the heart of Rushing River, and he no longer delights in revenge or wishes for the scalp of Bounding Bull. Go secretly, for I would not have the warriors know of your return till you have found out the thoughts of the chief. If the ear of the chief is open and his answer is favourable, let Moonlight sound the chirping of a bird, and Rushing River will enter the camp without weapons, and trust himself to the man who was once his foe. If the answer is unfavourable, let her hoot like the owl three times, and Rushing River will go back to the home of his fathers, and see the pleasant face of Moonlight no more."

To say that Moonlight was touched by this speech would give but a feeble description of her feelings. The unusual delicacy of it for an Indian, the straightforward declaration implied in it and the pathetic conclusion, would have greatly flattered her self-esteem, even if it had not touched her heart. Yet no sign did she betray of emotion, save the somewhat rapid heaving of her bosom as she stood with bowed head, awaiting further orders.

"Moonlight will find Skipping Rabbit waiting for her here beside this tree. Whether Bounding Bull is for peace or war, Rushing River returns to him his little one. Go, and may the hand of Manitou guide thee."

He turned at once and rejoined Eaglenose, who was standing on guard like a statue at no great distance.

Moonlight went immediately and softly into the bushes, without pausing to utter a single word to her female companions, and disappeared.

Thereupon the chief and his young brave lay down, and, resting there in profound silence, awaited the result with deep but unexpressed anxiety.

Well did our heroine know every bush and rock of the country around her. With easy, soundless motion she glided along like a flitting shadow until she gained the line of sentries who guarded the camp. Here, as on a former occasion, she sank into the grass, and advanced with extreme caution. If she had not possessed more than the average capacity of savages for stalking, it would have been quite impossible for her to have eluded the vigilance of the young warriors. As it was, she narrowly escaped discovery, for, just as she was crossing what may he termed the guarded line, one of the sentinels took it into his head to move in her direction. Of course she stopped and lay perfectly flat and still, but so near did the warrior come in passing that his foot absolutely grazed her head. But for the intense darkness of the night she would have inevitably been caught.

Creeping swiftly out of the sentinel's way before he returned, she gained the centre of the camp, and in a few minutes was close to her father's wigwam. Finding a little hole in the buffalo-skins of which it was chiefly composed, she peeped in.

To her great disappointment, Little Tim was not there, but Brighteyes was, and a youth whom she knew well as one who was about to join the ranks of the men, and go out on his first war-path on the first occasion that offered.

Although trained to observe the gravity and reticence of the Indian, this youth was gifted by nature with powers of loquacity which he found it difficult to suppress. Knowing this, Moonlight felt that she dared not trust him with her secret, and was much perplexed how to attract her mother's attention without disturbing him. At last she crept round to the side of the tent where her mother was seated, opposite to the youth. Putting her lips to another small hole which she found there, she whispered "Mother," so softly that Brighteyes did not hear, but went calmly on with her needlework, while the aspirant for Indian honours sent clouds of tobacco from his mouth and nose, and dreamed of awful deeds of daring, which were probably destined to end also in smoke.

"Mother!" whispered Moonlight again.

The whisper, though very slightly increased, was evidently heard, for the woman became suddenly motionless, and turned slightly pale, while her lustrous eyes gazed at the spot whence the sound had come.

"What does Brighteyes see?" asked the Indian youth, expelling a cloud from his lips and also gazing.

"I thought I heard--my Moonlight--whisper."

A look of grave contempt settled on the youth's visage as he replied--

"When love is strong, the eyes are blind and the ears too open. Brighteyes hears voices in the night air."

Having given utterance to this sage opinion with the sententious solemnity of an oracle, or the portentous gravity of "an ass"--as modern slang might put it--the youth resumed his pipe and continued the stupefaction of his brain.

The woman was not sorry that her visitor took the matter thus, for she had felt the imprudence of having betrayed any symptom of surprise, whatever the sound might be. When, therefore, another whisper of "Mother!" was heard, instead of looking intelligent, she bestowed some increased attention on her work, yawned sleepily once or twice, and then said--

"Is there not a council being held to-night?"

"There is. The warriors are speaking now."

"Does not the young brave aspire to raising his voice in council?"

"He does," replied the youth, puffing with a look of almost superhuman dignity, "but he may not raise his voice in council till he has been on the war-path."

"I should have thought," returned Brighteyes, with the slightest possible raising of her eyebrows, "that a brave who aims so high would find it more pleasant to be near the council tent talking with the other young braves than to sit smoking beside a squaw."

The youth took the hint rather indignantly, rose, and strode out of the tent in majestic silence.

No sooner was he gone than Moonlight darted in and fell into her mothers arms. There was certainly more of the pale-face than of the red man's spirit in the embrace that followed, but the spirit of the red man soon reasserted itself.

"Mother," she said eagerly and impressively, "Rushing River is going to be my husband!"

"Child," exclaimed the matron, while her countenance fell, "can the dove mate with the raven? the rabbit with the wolf?"

"They can, for all I care or know to the contrary," said Moonlight-- impelled, no doubt, by the spirit of Little Tim. "But" she continued quickly, "I bear a message to Bounding Bull. Where is he?"

"Not in the camp, my daughter. He has gone to the block-house to see the preacher."

"And father. Is he here?"

"No, he has gone with Bounding Bull. There is no chief in the camp just now--only the young braves to guard it."

"How well they guard it--when I am here!" said the girl, with a laugh; then, becoming intensely earnest, she told her mother in as few words as possible the object of her visit, concluding with the very pertinent question, "Now, what is to be done?"

"You dare not allow Rushing River to enter the camp just now," said Brighteyes. "The young men would certainly kill him."

"But I must not send him away," returned the perplexed Moonlight. "If I do, I--I shall never--he will never more return."

"Could you not creep out of camp as you crept in and warn him?"

"I could, as far as the sentinels are concerned, for they are little better than owls; but it is growing lighter now, and the moon will be up soon--I dare not risk it. If I were caught, would not the braves suspect something, and scour the country round? I know not what to do, yet something _must_ be done at once."

For some minutes the mother and daughter were silent, each striving to devise some method of escaping from their difficulty. At last Brighteyes spoke.

"I see a way, my child," she said, with more than her wonted solemnity, even when discussing grave matters. "It is full of danger, yet you must take it, for I see that love has taken possession of my Moonlight's heart, and--there is no withstanding love!"

She paused thoughtfully