Читать книгу Buffalo Bill Among the Sioux; Or, The Fight in the Rapids - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 10

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Several days later the three men were compelled to part when they were approaching the border of the Navaho country.

Nick Wharton was not able to resist the temptation of following some panther tracks which he found near the spot where they camped one afternoon. He followed the trail into the thick woods, and the panther sprang upon his shoulders before he was aware of its presence. He killed it with his bowie knife, after a terrible struggle; but he was so badly mauled that he had to be taken by his friends to the house of a rancher near by.

Wild Bill agreed to stay and look after him here, while Buffalo Bill went on alone to visit his friend Red Cloud, the chief of the Navahos.

It was a late New Mexican afternoon. Red Cloud, was out alone on a hunt, and had just pitched his camp.

He was a tall, finely built, athletic young fellow, thoroughly trained in all the craft and skill of the Indian.

None of his fellow braves could throw a tomahawk with more unerring aim; none could shoot straighter, either with the rifle or with the bow.

Red Cloud lighted a fire of dry twigs, and set to work to fry some deer meat—the result of his successful hunting on the previous evening. He had crept down to the pool where the deer were wont to drink, and, keeping well to windward of them, had shot a couple before the rest of the herd took flight.

The stream beside which he had camped ran through wooded country, and from time to time Red Cloud’s piercing black eyes roved around the trees in his immediate vicinity, for he was too well trained to let an enemy, whether man or beast, creep upon him unawares.

Nevertheless, as he took his fried steak from the fire and became absorbed in eating it, with the keen appetite of a youthful hunter, he narrowly escaped being caught.

Suddenly his quick ear heard the sound of the snapping of a twig, and, turning round hastily, he saw an immense grizzly bear—by far the biggest he had ever met—approaching swiftly toward him through the trees.

The animal was running on all fours, with the peculiar, humped-up gait of the grizzly; but, despite its ungainliness, it was wonderfully quick. It had scented the meat and the man, and was evidently determined to have both of them.

Red Cloud had fought grizzlies before, and knew full well that they were about the most dangerous enemies a man could encounter. He seized his bow, and sent an arrow whizzing into the flesh of the bear, just below the shoulder.

The animal gave a howl of rage and pain, but came on as if nothing more had happened to him than the mere pricking of a pin.

The Indian hastily launched another arrow, without any better effect, and then threw down his bow and seized the rifle which lay on the ground near by his camp fire. By this time the grizzly was not more than twenty yards away. Red Cloud fired one shot, which wounded the beast, but only served to further enrage it without doing any mortal injury.

Then the man turned on his heel and fled to the nearest tree, hoping to dodge the beast around its trunk and find a chance of getting in a death shot.

But the grizzly was already at his heels, and, as he sprinted to the tree, he could feel the hot breath of the angry bear upon his back.

He gained the shelter only a yard or two ahead of his enemy, and the bear, carried on by the momentum of his speed, went about ten yards beyond the trunk, giving the Indian a second or two in which to catch his breath and bring his gun to his shoulder.

The animal turned with incredible swiftness and charged again. But Red Cloud had dodged to the other side of the trunk, and met him with a bullet squarely in the breast.

Before he could fire another shot with his repeater, the grizzly was upon him, rearing upon its haunches.

The beast presented a terrible sight, that might well have inspired terror even in the heart of a brave man like the young Indian hunter.

It was covered with blood from head to foot from its wounds. Its mouth was wide open, exposing its long, cruel teeth and a terrible snarl; and its forepaws, with their frightful claws extended, were raised to tear the man to fragments.

Before Red Cloud could press the trigger again the rifle was dashed from his hands by a terrific blow of one of the bear’s paws. Next moment he was clasped in the beast’s merciless hug and borne to the ground.

He abandoned all hope of life, but, with the game instinct of a well-trained Indian, he managed to draw his hunting knife and deal the beast several deep wounds in its side.

Roaring with pain, the grizzly released him for a moment, just as a shot rang out from behind a near-by tree.

Hit through the head, the animal turned, with a vicious snarl, to meet its new enemy. It took a few rapid bounds in the direction from which the shot had come, and then rolled over on its side—stone-dead. It had struggled for life and revenge with desperate tenacity, but a bullet through the brain had settled it at last.

Buffalo Bill, with a smoking rifle in his hand, stepped out from behind a tree and walked toward the prostrate Indian, glancing at the body of the bear as he passed it, to make sure that it was really dead.

As he approached, the young Indian lifted himself slowly and painfully upon his elbow, and said:

“Brother, I thank you.”

Then, as he tried to rise to his feet, he was overcome by the loss of blood from the many wounds inflicted upon him by the claws of the bear, and he sank back unconscious.

Buffalo Bill promptly attended to his injuries, bandaging the wounds and stopping the flow of blood as cleverly as any surgeon could have done.

This accomplished, he forced some brandy and water from his flask between the Indian’s teeth, and gradually brought him back to consciousness.

“Let my brother rest quietly, so that his wounds will not reopen,” said Buffalo Bill, as Red Cloud opened his eyes and gazed gratefully at him. The Indian, trained in a severe school of discipline, did as he was bidden. Buffalo Bill would not allow him even to talk until his faintness had passed away.

The border king threw fresh twigs on the fire and made some strong broth, which Red Cloud drank eagerly.

The Indian, who had been watching him in grave silence, presently said:

“My brother has saved my life for the second time, and Red Cloud is grateful. But my brother is on a journey, and he must not delay himself upon my account. Let him place my rifle by my side and some meat near by, and Red Cloud will wait until he is strong enough to return to the tents of his people.”

“No, Red Cloud, you need not think I am going to leave you like this. You are not in a fit condition to travel. We will camp together until you can ride to your village.

“Indeed, it was you that I was coming to see. I have traveled all the way from Kansas to talk with you and your braves, and tell you the words of the Great White Father. Some of the tribes to the north have risen against him and dug up the tomahawk to smite the palefaces, but they have themselves been smitten, and they will be sorely punished.”

In a few brief but rapid sentences Buffalo Bill told the young Navaho chief about what had happened at Fort Larned.

Red Cloud replied that he had personally every desire to live on good terms with the white men, and so had most of his tribe, but there were some trouble makers among the young braves who were always talking war. However, nothing was likely to be done in the matter until his return to the village, then he would call a war council and give Buffalo Bill an opportunity of explaining the matter to the whole tribe.