(COPYRIGHT STORY.) On the Cherokee Trail

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXV, Issue 6, 12 August 1905, Page 51

(COPYRIGHT STORY.) On the Cherokee Trail

By

W. J. Crosbie

Author of “ David Maxwell," Etc.

box is behind you. Help T yourself, old chap.” And my host, speaking from the depths of an easy mmmbm chair, proceeded to light a fresh cheroot. “It’s devilish funny,” he remarked presently, his F- = i,ze fi xci l u P on t ' ie l ca l ,in K ISMsfia 1 Hames, his long legs stretched out upon the hearthrug. “What’s funny!” “Why, to think that only a few years since I hadn’t a coin to bless myself •with. Gad! what a contrast! Five years ago —scout, trapper, cow-puncher: to-day- a highly respectable J.l’. and the owner of the biggest estate in Daleshire.” ("And,” I added to myself, "the husband of the prettiest woman in the county.”) Aloud 1 said: "You re a lucky beggar. Ned Halford.” "j am. And vet,” he added musingly, “the old life was not without its compensations.” . ;; .“An empty purse is a poor companion, I rejoined. "How on earth did you manage to get along!” “Well, you see, I made a few dollars occasionally in peltries. And money isn’t absolutely essential when you find yourself in the valley of the Yosemite, or on the head waters of the Arkansas.’ He paused, and, knocking the ash from his cigar, rose to his feet. "I in going to show you something,” he said, “and it's ten to one you’ll never guess what it’s made of.” .From a cabinet close at hand he took a handsome ebony casket, which he unlocked and handed to me. Inside was a neekla.ee which at first sight seemed to be composed of bits of broken pipestems strung together. Attached to it was a pendant —a small silver crucifix of delieale workmanship. For a space I examined the necklace closely. "Puzzled?” queried my host. “Coineman! guess!” “Porcelain?” t ventured. "No. Wampum.” “Wampum ?” "Yes. It used to be made by the North American savages from certain river-shells. Hut since the traders flooded the Indian country with manufactured imitations it’s a very difficult matter to come across the genuine article.” “You seem to value it highly,” I said, replacing the necklace in its handsome "So much so that I wouldn't exchange it for the finest ever exhibited in Bondstreet.” “Oh.” I said, with sudden interest, “thereby hangs a tale. Go ahead, old chap!” So saying I handed him the casket, which he replaced in the cabinet; then, after a few meditative whiffs, he began. "On one occasion, during my., sojourn in the States, I spent three months in New Mexico, trapping on the head waters of the Canadian; and ’twas there 1 first made the acquaintance of the Pawnee Piets, one of the wildest tribes of the West. It happened in this way. One morning 1 discovered that someone had been tampering with my traps; so next day I lay in wait for the poacher, whom 1 suspected to be an Indian. "For four mortal hours 1 watched and waited, but without success. Then, just as I was on the point of starting for my camping-place, 1 heard a yell, the deathyell of an Indian—there was no mistaking il for anything else. With that, [ set off in the direction of the sound, which 1 imagined came from a ravine some three hundred yards beyond a belt of timber that Hanked the river. "Just as I reached the brink of the gorge there came another yell—one of triumph this time, and so close that it fairly startled in?. I peered over. At the opposite side of the ravine—-the cliff wall at his back—an Indian (a Pawnee Piet, as T afterwards learnt) was making a plucky fight against a band of Osages. He had already accounted for two, but

the odds were still heavily against him. There were at least eight of them slipping from cover to cover, gradually drawing nearer him, while their arrows seemed to be incessantly splintering against, or whizzing over, the boulders behind which he was crouching. At length there came a lull; and with one knee on the ground the Pawnee drew his bow-string. ’Twas his last shot. Next instant he leapt to his feet, clapped his hand against his shoulder, and dropped like a log. •'1 thought 'twas about time to interfere; and as the nearest Osage broke cover I stopped him with a bullet from my Winchester. The others immediately turned tail, and as they retreated up the ravine I hastened their speed with half-a-dozen shots tired at random. “To reach the place where the Pawnee was lying L had to make a considerable detour. Contrary to my expectations, he was alive, but was badly wounded and in a sort of coma. 1 gave him a nip of brandy, and presently, while I was bandaging his wound, he was able to answer a few questions which 1 put to him. His English was none of the best, but 1 gathered that his name was Soroka; that, while scouting, he had fallen into the hands of the Osages, but had managed to escape during that portion of tin* tortureprogramme known as •running the gauntlet.’ llis comrades —a war parly of a hundred or more—were on their way homeward, and. he added, would probably encamp that night at a, certain spot some half a dozen miles up the river. Having made him as comfortable as the circumstances permitted. 1 set out for the place he had indicated. “Going down the ravine 1 kept a sharp look-out, but not a soul was to be seen. Of the three Osages who had been hit, I found that two were dead. The third, however, had vanished, leaving behind him a blood-trail, which 1 followed till it was lost to view among the grasses and brushwood. “'rhe sun was setting when 1 came in sight of the Pawnee camp, on the outskirts of which I encountered a warrior arrayed in all the glory of feathers and war-paint. "On seeing me he raised his hand, palm outwards, and began to wave il backward and forward, this was tantamount to ‘Halt!’ ami I obeyed. Next, with both hands raised, he locked his forefingers together. This was a question: ‘Are you friendly?’ 1 promptly signalled “Yes’ by holding my hands with the palms towards him and moving them to and fro, following it up by clasping my left hand with my right, this being the sign of friendship. Continuing, I managed to make him understand the nature of my errand, whereupon lie stepped forward, shook my hand, and then beckoned me to follow him. “'rhe chiefs received me cordially, and a couple of hours later we brought Seroka into camp. "His wound was somewhat slow in healing, but by the time, we reached their principal village?—situated on the head waters of the Red River- ho was able to sit up. and to boast of his prowess against tin* Osages. "My visit had lasted scarcely a week when the rumour spread throughout the village that I was a Medicine Man. Occasionally a young brave, a squaw, or a papoose, would come to my topee for treatment; and presently 1 found that while my stock of simple remedies was running low. my reputation as a physician was mounting proportionately higher. "One evening, on my return from a hunting expedition, the head chief came to me with tin' news that an evil spirit had taken possession of his only child, a fine little lad of eight or thereabout.-; and though the stoicism of the North American Indian would not permit the chief fo w.‘«r his heart upon his sleeve, I well knew that his love for the biy was the strongest feeling of his nature. On entering the tepee where tli*j patient was lying I encountered the most repulsive looking creature I had ever xeert. From head to* foot he was enveloped in the skin of a grizzly, attached to which were other skins—those of snakes, toads, hats, ami such like abominations.

“This was the professional Medicine man of the tribe; and in the belief that he was exercising the evil spirit, he was doing his utmost to hurry the poor child out of existent*?. Pawing him all over; rolling him about; sounding a hideous rattle—this was his idea of a cure! "At my request the chief hade him desist; and soon afterwards T found myself alone with the little sufferer. “it was a serious case, the boy was almost on the borderland; and I had a presentiment that he would not live through the night. “After 1 had given him a white powder there was little to do except to wait for thi? crisis. It came; the tewr abated, and at dawn when I left the tepee he was in a sound, refreshing sleep. “Thenceforward, from the head chief downwards, everyone regarded me as being endowed with almost miraculous powers; and nothing I could do or say could weaken their belief. "A feast was given in my honour; and after the calumet had been smoked, the head chief, at the conclusion of a long speech ( beckoned me forward, and placed around my neck a wampum—fhe one that lies, in the cabinet yonder. “Know ing scarce a ’dozen words of Pawnee Pict, I gave but little heed to the proceedings. Nor was 1 greatly interested in the necklace, which, it appears, was looked upon as medicine or sacred, by the whole Pawnee nation. This I gleaned from the words and manner of Seroka. “The banquet over, 1 was leaving the council lodge, when I heard him utter the name—Hahnee —which the tribe had lately bestowed upon me. I waited until he came near, and then perceiwd that his gaze was reverently fixed upon the wampum encircling my throat. “ ‘Big medicine,’ he said earnestly, pointing to it. ‘Heap big medicine.” The Wahcondah, he declared, would henceforth smile upon me; no evil spirit would do me harm; my lodge would never be without venison—the wampum was a sacred thing—and I was medicine ! "I continued to wear the necklace; Though I gave but little thought to it. until a certain day, about twelve months afterwards, when I found myself wishing that it were such as might prove aeeptable to a lady. "I had disposed of my stock of peltries at a fair profit, and having the spirit of adventure still upon me I turned my back on Westport., Missouri, heading northward for the Dahcotah country. "Just beyond the outskirts I came upon a long trail of ox and mult* waggons on the point of departure for the gobi diggings at Pike’s Peak. There was milling unusual in the sight, and 1 was about to pass on when I noticed a young lady < ndeavouring to enter one of the wag gons. I went to her assistance, where upon she thanked me very prettily, and gave mo a smile that would have captivated the heart of an anchorite. Anyhow it completely upset my plans. Ten minutes later I was riding westward in the capacity of scout to tie eniigrantt rain. Tl. “To a man like myself, who for nearly eighteen months had never once set eyes on a white woman, Eva Leyland was a girl of mon? than ordinary beauty. As a. matter of fact she was a bonny looking lass, grey-eyed ami dark haired, with a petite figure, and the merriest laugh that ever camp from a girl's lips. “She was accompanied by her aunt, Mrs. Simpson, a frail, peevish woman.

Avho-c husband. a ranch owner. awaited them in California. "Occasionally, as the days went by. [ found opportunities for conversation with the pretty niece, ami for a time made the most of them. I was not then in love with her; but, I confess, the more I knew of Miss Leyland, the more J liked her. Her sympathy. her cherry manner, and Hie iactful way in which she managed to soothe the peevishne-J of her aunt, gradually won upon me; and so (I was only a poor devil of a 1 rapper, you see) I thought it be-t t« kt ep out of her way as much as possible. "From Westport, the trail for over 1(H) miles ran through a most beautiful country. We struck the Arkansas at a place known as the ‘Big Bend.’ and, 05 miles farther on. encamped at Kort Atkinson Io take in fresh supplies. Here f met. a former acquaintance, a laconic Kentuckian who, over a cocktail, gave me -ome friendly advice. "•’l'he diggins?’ ” he began. "I nodded. Pike's Peak.’ “•Any women aboard?’ “ ‘Two.’ “•More's the pity.* he rejoined drily. “ How’s that?' I inquired. “ ‘The Osages are up heard it a week "This was disquieting news; hut I affected to treat it lightly. ‘After Camanche scalps, I daresay. They're probably a good way smith of the Arkansas trail by this time.’ " ‘Mebbe. Anyhow, if 1 was you l‘d keep my eyes peeled. S’long!’ "The Kentuckian’s advice was good; ahd every man of us acted on it. For myself. I was oppressed by a feeling of uneasiness; ami though, as the weeks went by. we saw no signs of the suppos<d hostilvs. I could not-, for the life of me, slrake oil the presentiment. "By this Crme we had struck the ( h<uok<‘e trail: ami as wo were running short of fresh meal. I sei oIV one morning. at the suggestion of our leader, to stalk some antelope which had hei’i sighted. This was no easy nrntter, for the antelope is the lleetesl and most wary animal of the plains. I followed their -poor for a considerable distance, and mi coming in sight of Hie herd, was beginning to adopt the usual stalking tallies when I heard the faint report, of a rifle shot, which was immediately sue ceeded h\ others in a sort of irregular volley. "i p I jumped, ran to the place where I had ti’tlured my hor.-e. mounted, and galloped for the camp. On rounding an intervening bhilT I saw that my worst fears were reali-rd. The Indians, waiting an opportune moment, had nnule their alt ack just as the train was about to resume its march. I'hi* waggons had be< n rushed. Figures of men on foot and on horsiback were darting in and out among them: the rilh* lire wa< slackening. and I had little doubt that most of t he defenders had alremly been overpow< red. “My heart sank as I thought of Miss J.e\ land and law probable, fate at the hands of the savages. .As I raced along 1 he plateau I noticed that several of the waggons w<’ie missing (the mules having doubtless si amprdrd ), and among 1 hem was the light covered conveyance w lu< h had been set apart for the use of the two ladies. Where was it? Suddenly, as I asked myself the que-tion, I li(‘ar<l a shriek a woman’s shriek - and at the sound the blood seemed to freeze in my veiiw. Whciling my horse Io the right I galloped to the edge of 1 he plateau. Beneath me was a narrow,

elifT-giit valley and there, in the centre gi it. a tod the vvnggoit. On the ground, □ear the leading mule, lay the driver, apparentl\ dead, while half a dozen half* linked sa vagi’- were in the act. of rifling the cun I ent All thia 1 saw at a glanee. out nowhere could I see Miss Leyland or her aunt. Had they escaped'.' Or were they lying butchered in the wageon? Armed as I was with a Winchester, it would have been no very difficult mat ter to have, then and there, accounted for one or morr of the redskin-: but scarcely had I taken a survey of the M*ene when I heard, or seemed to hear, the cry again repeated. The .sound drove me to the verge of madness. A score of yards farther on. and nearly opposite th.- spot where the waggon stood, the Jiff wall was pierced by a ravine, and this afforded me access to the vallvv. springing from my saddle. I dragged my horse down the steep ami rugged pa’h way: then, remounting and drawing iu\ revolver. I rode straight for 1 he group of Kiowa-. for siieh they proved io be. 'The gallop was a short one. I he nearest Indian, diawing his bow -t ring, loosed a shaft which struck my horse full in the chest. Deva he went. Ijii’giiig me over his head. The fall stunned me; a tomahawk buried itself in I lie ground close by: and as. half <lazed.. I struggled to my tert, tin Indian who had hurled it. closing with me, grasp, d the collar of my wellworn hunting-shirt. The cloth ripped, bis knife llashcd upward and backward: but the blow did not fall. On the contrary. releasing his hold upon me. he allowed the knife to slip from his lingers. His < yes n< longer blazed with savage exultation. They were riveted on my naked throat, and in them was a look nf mingled awe and wonder. Then stepping soft Iy back ward lie raised his bands reverently to his lips, uttering at the same time words in (he Kiowa tonThe man had spared my life; the wild beast within him as by a miracle- bad been suddenly subdued; yet J was conscious id’ m» emol ion save one a burning anxiety to learn the fate of Eva lnnd. Quickly raising my hands to my head I drew them downwards, as if in the act of smoothing my hair. 'This, in the sign-language of the prairies, signified ‘‘woman.” I th n pointed interrogatively to tin' waggon. To this he replied in the negative by waving his hand from right to left; then pointed to a canon, a short distance away, through which flowed a tributary of the Arkansas. Off I started, no one attempting to stop me. ami never, even in the old college <lays. did I ever cover ground so quickly. "Presently. as I sped along between the clitl* wall ami the half dried-up watercourse. I noticed a distinct bloodtrail upon the stony path. I scarce knew

what to think, but the sight uf it sent a cohl thrill through my body. “For a time—an eternity it seemed to me 1 followed the windings of the watercourse; then suddenly 1 came to a standstill. My search was ended. Barely thirty yards distant—his back towards mu was an Indian. With a slow and limping gait he was moving along the narrow track, and in his arms he bore the seemingly unconscious form of a girl. Stung to fury 1 raised my rille, but the fall from my horse had shaken me somewhat, and. fearful of injuring Miss Leyland, I immediately lowered it. Quickly, but warily. 1 began -to follow, and, seeing that my feet were clad in moccasins, 1 was hoping that the first intimation he would receive of my presence would be the thud of my rille-butt on his feather-decked head. ‘‘But the fellow had heard my approach. Suddenly placing Miss Leyland on her feet, and wheeling swiftly, he shielded himself behind her. I sprang forward. Next moment Hinging up his hand, he uttered a word which effectually checked my furious rush, ‘llaiinee!’ he exclaimed. ‘Ale Pawnee Pict! Me Seroka!’ “It was true; albeit a keener eye than mine might have failed to recognise the Paw ine's features beneath the hideous mask of war-paint. “My first impulse was to knock him down; but this 1 felt would be an act of folly. I therefore smothered my anger, and perceiving that Miss Leyland was returning to consciousness I pointed to the valley, bidding him await me there. “'rhe next few moments were, I think, the happiest I had ever known. But'the look of mingled joy and gratitude that shone in Eva Leyland’s grey eyes changed to one of fear. ‘That horrid brute!’ she exclaimed, clutching my arm, and glancing behind her. ‘He has gone,’ I said; and. as in my clumpy way. 1 strove to calm her fears, the colour returned to her cheeks, and she became her old self again. She laughed—a trifle nervously. Then, suddenly. ‘Have you seen Mrs Simpson?’ she asked. ‘She was in the waggon. Is she safe?’ “1 replied that I was almost certain that no harm had befallen her. The statement was scarcely true; but it had 1 he ellect pf calming her anxiety, which was the main thing. “On reaching the valley the only Indian we saw' was Seroka. who was occupied in bandaging his wounded leg. He had washed the war-paint from his face; and so. fortunately, Miss Leyland failed to recognise him as her would-be abduct or. “Bequesting her to wait for me. I went forward to the waggon; and presently when I returned to her I was the bearer of sad tidings. Mrs Simpson was dead. The shock, acting on a weak heart, had killed her. And a little later, with the assistance of a few Pawnee Picts. I laid her to rust within the little cliff-walled valley. "Meanwhile the Indians treated me as though I were a chief of the highest rank. Seroka especially. The haughty reserve of the North American savage had for the time being disappeared. He became communicative, and, craving my pardon for having carried off Miss Leyland (‘The Flower of the Pale-faces.’ as he called her), he told me that it had been his intention to conceal her in a cave some distance up the laVine until In had received his share of the plunder, which the warriors of his tribe, assisted by the Kiowas. had taken from the emigrant train. Subsequently he meant to lake her with him to his Pawnee village on the Red River, and there make Lrr his wife. -“As to the necklace, he enlightened me somewhat. This ami another exactly similar, had been in possession of the tribe for very many genera I ions. I was already aware 4 hat the Pawnee Picts looked upon them as medicine; but I now learnt for the Hist time that their staunch allies, the Kiowas, al o regarded the strings of wampum with tho deepest yeneral ion. "Il seems that the gift of the necklace not only raised me to high rank, but also rendered my person sacred in the eyes of the warriors of the two tribes. And Hie fact that I was wearing it when I entered the valley saved me from death al the hands of the Kiowa who had attacked me. “That same evening, an hour before sunset. Miss Leyland and T set off upon the long trail to California. “As the weeks went by, my love for her grew' stronger; and albeit I was without any prospects, and a« poor am

a Digger Indian, it got the upper hand Gi me.” Aly host paused, and, “Well, Jim,” said he, “what d’ve think of Airs Halford?” The abrupt ending of the story disconcerted me for a moment. Then, turning to Halford, “I think,” said I, “she is the most charming woman I have ever met. Aon were certainly born under a lucky star.” “Maybe,” he said musingly. “Anyhow it has been in the ascendant ever since the day when I first rode on the Cherokee Trail/’