"wake, brother, wake!"
the words rang faintly in my ears. mingled with them was a peculiar underlying sound. "pop! pop! pop!" it went, and rippled off into the noise a wood fire makes when it is burning merrily.
i was conscious of being shaken, resented it, tried to pull away—and reluctantly awoke. tawannears was bending over me, clutching my shoulder. his face showed relief as i sat erect.
"otetiani slept as though he were already in the halls of the honochenokeh," he said. "hark!"
stupefied as i was, i realized that the peculiar sound which had helped to rouse me from the slumber of exhaustion was the steady crackle of musketry.
"black robe!" i exclaimed.
tawannears shook his head.
"it may be so, but the firing is not at us, brother. come, let us join corlaer."
i stood up, musket in hand, and for the first time was aware of the soreness of muscle, joint and sinew. every inch of my body seemed to cherish its special ache or twinge.
"we are in no condition for fighting," i remarked glumly.
"the warrior fights when he must," returned tawannears sententiously. "hasten, brother. corlaer waits us."
i climbed after him toward the top of the bank where i could barely see the dutchman's big form huddled in the grass that grew as high as our waists. the sun was declining in the western sky. the wind was negligible. the mississippi, behind us, was as calm as a ditch-pond, and in the clear, warm sunlight the opposite shore looked absurdly near. it was difficult to believe that our battle to cross it had ended only that morning.
from the crest of the bank an entirely different prospect appeared. crawling into the grass beside peter, tawannears and i peered cautiously over its rustling tips to the wall of the low wood in which black kobe had vanished. this wood was half a mile distant. between it and the river-bank stretched an open meadow. another half-mile to our left a few scattered clumps of bushes denoted the bank of the missouri. we were ensconced upon one side of a triangle of land at the intersection of the two rivers, and it was obvious that the fighting going on under cover of the wood was working down into this open triangle. apparently one body of men were seeking to drive a second body into the cul de sac of the triangle.
even as my mind formulated this theory there was a flash of color on the edge of the wood and a figure darted into the open. it was an indian, a tall man, wearing a headdress of feathers such as i had never seen before, a bonnet that encircled the head and reached down between his shoulders, giving him an exaggerated effect of height. he leaped back behind a tree as we watched, fitted an arrow to his bow and loosed it into the recesses of the wood. then he turned and ran. he had not covered a dozen yards when a shot was fired, and he bounded high in air and fell upon his face.
other men, similarly dressed, leaped into view, pausing momentarily to take advantage of the last cover of the wood to loose their arrows against whoever was pursuing them. there must have been a score of them, i suppose, all fine, tall warriors, naked but for breechclout, moccasins and headdress; and they ran like antelope across our range of vision. from the wood came occasional reports and a second man plunged to the ground. we heard a shrill yelping.
"dakota," granted tawannears.
"what does it mean?" i asked.
he pushed his musket into position.
"be patient, brother. let us see what happens next."
other figures broke from the wood, whooping and firing after the fleeing dakota, who, their bows hopelessly out-ranged, made no attempt at resistance, but raced for the protection of the missouri bank.
"chippewa!" squeaked corlaer.
tawannears nodded, frowning.
"they are the war-party who crossed the great river ahead of us," he agreed. "what shall we do, brothers? the chippewa are allies of the french. corlaer and tawannears have spent many months in the teepees of the dakotas. but the odds are heavy against our dakota brothers. if we cast our lot with them we may lose our own scalps."
"we are in sore danger, no matter which way we turn," i retorted. "the chippewa would show us no mercy at any time. i am for aiding the dakota. if we can save them they will be all the more eager to help us on our venture, as you suggested before."
"ja," assented corlaer. "andt we gife dose chippewa a surprise, eh?"
"we must give them death," answered tawannears grimly.
he made good his words as he spoke; and i brought down a second man. corlaer waited until i had almost finished reloading, and secured two men in a row for target, hitting one in the shoulder and drilling the other through the body. firing at ease, with our guns in rest, we could not miss; and the chippewa, with howls of rage, promptly went to cover in the long grass.
this marked the initiation of a second phase of the engagement. the chippewa were excellent marksmen, and when corlaer took his second shot they deluged him with bullets that dug up the sods around him and sent him rolling down the bank, spitting dirt out of his mouth. tawannears and i slid after him, deeming discretion preferable to valor.
if our fusillade had astonished the chippewa it had been equally disconcerting to the dakota. they did not know what to make of it. at first they seemed to fear a trap, but when they marked the furious discharge of their enemies that drove us over the bank they evidently decided we must be friends, and struck off from their line of flight at right angles so as to accommodate a union of forces with us.
we, on our part, were concerned to effect this union and at the same time compel the chippewa to hold off long enough to permit us an opportunity to concert a plan of strategy with the dakota band. so after trotting a rod down-river we reclimbed the bank and poured a second volley into the line of chippewa, whose crouching figures were only half-concealed by the waving grass-tips. before they could shift their aim from the position we had formerly occupied we had slid down the bank and were making for a new vantage-point.
by means of such tactics we were able to force the chippewa to an advance as slow as it was cautious, for they dared not expose themselves unduly after the punishment we had inflicted in the beginning, and we secured time to work down river to where the remnants of the dakota band hugged the protection of the bank, arrows notched, and curious glances mirroring the suspicion they still entertained of such unexpected rescuers. but their suspicion faded as we came close enough for them to identify tawannears and the immense body of the dutchman.
their chief, a sinewy giant of forty, with a high-beaked nose and keen, direct gaze, his headdress of golden eagle's feathers, stepped forward to greet us, a light of welcome on his face; and both my friends exclaimed at sight of him.
"do you know him?" i panted eagerly.
"he is chatanskah*, chief of the wahpeton council fire," answered tawannears briefly. "many a buffalo he has stalked with corlaer and tawannears."
* white hawk.
chatanskah exchanged a few curt sentences with tawannears, who nodded agreement with what he said, and then led his warriors at a dead run toward the junction of the two rivers—the apex of the triangle over which this fighting ranged. the seneca motioned for us to follow them.
"haste, brothers!" he urged. "we must trick the chippewa. it is chatanskah's plan to seek the protection of the wood where it approaches the missouri bank, nearly opposite here."
but this was not so easy of accomplishment as it sounded. the chippewa soon appreciated our intent, and we had not doubled the apex of the blunt promontory, with its glacis of mudflats, when they tumbled over the mississippi bluff and pelted us with lead. others headed across the meadow which constituted the heart of the triangle, thinking to cut us off as we bounded its outer edge, but tawannears, corlaer and i crawled to the top of the missouri bluff and drove them to cover again. and at last, by dint of this and similar desperate ploys, we were enabled to scramble up the missouri bank in the rear of our allies and dash across a narrow belt of grass land into the green shelter of the wood, a shower of balls slicing the boughs about our shoulders.
there we were reasonably safe, and tawannears explained the situation to us whilst the dakota produced meat from their pouches, and we snatched a hasty meal as the evening shadows lengthened.
"this wood runs west and north for a mile," he said. "beyond it the country is all open, buffalo grazing-ground where the dakota were hunting when the chippewa surprised them this afternoon. it is chatanskah's counsel that we hold the wood until it is dark when he can afford to risk taking to the prairie. the dakota villages are a long day's——"
he was interrupted by the resumption of the chippewa's attack. they had massed their men behind the missouri bank in front of us, and fired into the wood as rapidly as they could load and reload. bullets "phutted!" into the trees, swished through the branches and whistled in the air. i was long to remember the sinister song they sang, for years were to pass before i was again obliged to stand up to the battering of musketry. the racket was awesome, yet it achieved remarkably little harm. one of the dakota abandoned shelter to loose an arrow and sagged to the ground with a bullet in his lungs. otherwise we were scathless so far.
the firing increased in volume. it became a hell of fury, and we could hear the chippewa yelling encouragement to one another. smoke clouds billowed out from the bank in thick, cottony puffs, and suddenly chatanskah screeched a warning. the smoke clouds seemed to vomit forth low-running figures, musket in one hand, tomahawk in the other. but this was a chance for which tawannears, peter and i had been waiting, and we made our shots count. our allies, too, were not dismayed. in the smoky dusk, at such short distances, the bow was on more than equal terms with the musket.
the chippewa did not dare to stop to reload. they were obliged to rely upon the covering fire of the half-dozen comrades who had remained behind the bank, and these found it impossible to aim because of the heavy smoke that the dying wind could not disperse. the dakota bows boomed with savage joy. all around us i heard the tense, twanging hum of the strings, the prolonged "his-ss-s-tsst!" of the arrows. out in the open men tossed their arms aloft and dropped with arrows in their bowels, or fell kicking and coughing, pierced in the throat, or went straight over backward with a bunch of feathers standing up just over their hearts.
the attack faltered and gave ground, and the dakota warriors burst from the wood. two of them collapsed before a ragged volley from the river-bank, but there was no stopping them. they swept over the field with tomahawk and scalping-knife, and their arrows drove the surviving chippewa out upon the mudflats, where they would have followed if chatanskah had not called them in, fearful of an ambuscade in the gathering darkness.
that was a proud night for the dakota band. the youngest warrior counted coup, for the chippewa had lost two-thirds of their number. but what pleased our new friends the most was not their tale of scalps, but the eighteen french firelocks that were theirs for lifting from the ground. it was the biggest haul of war-booty their tribe had ever taken, of incalculable military value, as the future was soon to show. moreover, that battle in the triangle between the two rivers, obscure though it was, became famous in the annals of the plains tribes, as proving that under favorable circumstances they could stand up to the forest tribes from the east side of the mississippi, despite the better arms of the forest warriors. and many chiefs, who up to that time had concentrated their efforts upon stealing horses, branched out into elaborate schemes for procuring musketry.
weary as his men were—and we no less than they—chatanskah would not allowed them to camp on the scene of their victory. loaded with the spoil, which was considerable, including, besides the muskets, their enemies' equipment of powder-horns and shot-pouches, knives, tomahawks and other weapons, the band trotted through the wood and out upon the open prairie beyond. with the rising moon to light them they headed inland from the missouri, bearing northwest by the stars, and doggedly maintained the pace until i guessed it to be midnight. then chatanskah consented to make camp, without fires, and set guards for the balance of the night. tawannears offered to have us take our share of this duty, but the dakota chief would not hear of it.
"what?" he exclaimed. "shall a guest be asked to wait upon himself? chatanskah and his warriors were as good as dead men when tawannears and his white brothers came to their rescue. we owe you our lives. and now you shall sit in the center of my teepee. my squaws shall wait upon you. my young men shall hunt you game. our old men shall tell you stories of the long-ago. if you will stay with us we will find you maidens to suit your eyes and we will make strong medicine to turn the white brothers red, and you shall become chiefs of the dakota. then the tribe will prosper and grow mighty in war."
his eyes gleamed as he conjured up that picture of prowess.
"that is a plan worth considering, my brother of the hodenosaunee," he went on. "we will raid the chippewa, the miami, the potawotomi, the illinois, the shawnee for guns. we will steal horses from the spaniards and the tribes below the missouri. we will grow great, brother."
"my brother forgets," tawannears answered gently. "when i was among the dakota before i told of a search i had undertaken."
"true," the dakota assented, crestfallen. "and does tawannears still pursue that search?"
"yes, brother. my white brothers go with me. we seek the land of lost souls, which the old tales of my people say is beyond the sunset."
the dakota shrugged his powerful shoulders.
"it may be. my people know nothing of it."
tawannears hesitated, and i who knew him so well, recognized that he dreaded to press the question. but his will triumphed over his spiritual fear.
"has chatanskah asked any warriors from afar if they know of the land of lost souls?"
"chatanskah never forgets a promise to a friend," returned the dakota. "many times i have spoken with the brothers of the dakota council-fires that stretch toward the sky mountains. what is beyond those mountains they do not know. this land you speak of may be there. but they do not know. no warrior has ever gone far across the mountains and returned. a large band dies of hunger and thirst. a few warriors are killed by the people of the rocky places."
"yet tawannears and his white brothers will go there," the seneca declared.
"if you go, you will die," replied chatanskah. "it will be much better to stay with chatanskah and become a great chief."
"nevertheless tawannears must go on," insisted tawannears. "my brother of the dakota has said that he owes us his life. will he pay the debt he owes by aiding us on our way?"
the dakota bowed his head.
"chatanskah may not deny what tawannears and his white brothers ask. you shall come with us to our villages, and rest awhile. our squaws will repair your moccasins. you shall grow fat and strong, for it is easy to see that you have traveled hard and gone hungry. afterward, if you still ask it, chatanskah and his young men will take you west to our brothers of the teton council fire, and they shall guide you to the foot of the sky mountains.
"and now let tawannears sleep in peace. chatanskah will watch."
but hours later i was aroused by a cold wind that blew from the north, and i sat up to find tawannears sitting with his chin on his knees, his arms wrapped around his ankles, his eyes on the star-flecked western sky. on his face was that terrible expression of exaltation which i had seen there many times before, a look of brooding anticipation, of fearful expectancy, as of one who hopes to see, but dreads the test.
it was an eery moment betwixt the night and the dawn. the wind clashed overhead and the stars seemed to stoop earthward. there was a feeling of unheard voices chanting behind the sky. i remembered the agony i had known, that i was now fleeing from. and without cause or reason i felt my heart leap in my breast, and the wells of sorrow seemed to empty and dry up. but a voice whispered out of nowhere:
"alone! alone! alone!"
yet i was not dismayed. i was alone, yes. but memories flocked forward to draw the sting from the word.
memory! that was the key to it, i saw. out of memory a man might whittle a new life, a club to shatter loneliness.
i probed the dark corners of my mind to test the theory, dragged forward thoughts and recollections which once must have set all my nerves ajangling. and now they fell into orderly sequence, suffered themselves to be arrayed and rearrayed, tabulated and put back whence they had come. from some of them i had pleasure. from some a stab of pain. but i was always their master. my grief was cured. my mind was again my own.
i spoke softly to tawannears.
"my brother has not slept?"
he turned sad eyes upon me.
"no, tawannears thinks of the past—and the hopelessness of the future. but what is this?" he bent toward me. "otetiani's eyes are clear. the evil spirit no longer clouds his face."
"i have found peace, brother," i said simply.
a sudden flame of inner light burned the dejection from his face.
"otetiani has saved tawannears from himself. hawenneyu has spoken. hanegoategoh has lost his grip. the future is hope, brother."
he lay down where he was and was instantly asleep.
