CHAPTER IX.
THE RED RIVER HALF-BREEDS.
Whilst Ranald and Filditch reposed, the more restless trappers went outreconnoitring all the day.
There was a rising wind, which boomed in the hollows, rattled the loosestones, and soughed among the ice coated boughs.
Their first find was the lodgement of the Crow Indians. For over twentyhours these had remained in a fireless camp in a gulch eastward, livingon "cold bites," so as not to betray themselves, and sending out noscouts till the recent snow should be hardened.
At half past five in the morning, Cherokee Bill had heard a murmur inthis camp, like that of the bees in swarming, and thus it was pointedout. The two crept as near as they dared. They could distinguish theforms of the more prominent leaders as they drilled their followers,and could recognise the head chief.
It was Ahnemekee--noted, though young. He was bold, vain of his goodlooks and long hair, and very rapacious. His people esteemed him ahero; but the frontiersmen set him down as one of the biggest thievesin creation--which, by the way, is much the same thing. Ahnemekee madea speech to his troop, rather at length, and with a confident bearing.The two beholders conjectured, from the gestures, that he was planningan attack on a grand scale. The subchiefs, having also addressed theirbands, a war whistle sounded the order to depart, and all the warriorsleft the camp, except a strong guard over their few horses. BeingMountain Crows, they were accustomed to fight on foot.
The two hunters had no more to learn there; but, by following the firstparty, whose trail they came upon, they soon judged whither they allconverged; and running on in advance, by a wide circuit to the samepoint, they discovered an encampment, and thereby the cause of thehymns in the midnight.
At first sight, it looked like a caravan of emigrants. There werecarts, waggons, horses, oxen, mules, and even sheep, calves, and pigs.The guardians of this valuable train, so far up in the mountains, werenearly a hundred in number. There were many women, about the same age,but few or no children; and, coming to examine closely, while themen were all of an age, also, their dark tint was quite contrary tothe complexion of their charges. The conveyances showed a variety ofconstruction and brands, which showed to the acute scouts that it wasno legitimate grouping, but rather a conglomeration of spoil from araid on the edge of civilisation.
"It will be dog eating dog," observed the Yager; "for here is thetarget of 'the Thunderbolt.' What do you make them out to be?"
"Red River Half-breeds," answered Bill--"_Bob Rulies_, sure as a gun.The Crows will have a tough dinner to tackle if they trouble them!"
"Bob Ruly" is a burlesque pronunciation of _Bois Brule_, or "burntwood;" that is to say, men of the colour of the red of a fire stickbetween the black end and the unfired portion. It is applied to theHalf-breeds of Canada, French and Indian, who refused to accept theirtransference under the Anglo-French treaty of 1763 to the Englishflag, and withdrew to the west. Their realm of retirement, called theRed River Territory, or Manitoba, is geographically in the BritishDominion; but they flourished there in freedom till the developmentof Canada, and the project of a North Pacific Railway compelled theCanadian Government to enforce their submission. At this time, it wassupposed that the Bois Brules would maintain their independence, ifmore or less helped by American adventurers, until the intervention ofthe United States would confirm it, preliminary to their absorptioninto the Great Republic. No one foresaw that the British troops, underSir Garnet Wolseley, would quickly suppress the rebels, and thatthe United States Civil War would direct the Washington statesmen'sattention elsewhere.
The Bois Brules, through their Indian blood, are friendly with manynorthwestern tribes; and, being good trappers, and gay and easygoingspirits, keep on pleasant terms with the white rovers.
"Tell 'ee what, chief," said Ridge, after prolonged observation,"they're a band of villains there! Either they have been robbing, orthey are consignees of plunder. If it were not for those poor women,whom anyone can tell are prisoners, I should cheer the Crows on to 'em!"
"Yes; Ahnemekee is a murderous thief--he thinks nothing of killingwomen and babes--a bad Indian, Jim! He must not be let have his wayhere!"
"We must hold a 'medicine council,'" continued the Old Man of theMountain; "so back to our friends!"
They had to take their return route with more caution than in coming,since the Crows were no doubt at hand. But their intimate knowledge ofthe ground enabled them to avoid any contact. Thanks to the detour theytraced, and to the infinite pains with which they scanned every squareyard of the scene, they perceived that a small party had come to a haltin the rocks. These were not Blackfeet; and they thought at the firstthat they might be the Crows, of whose presence Filditch's moccasin hadgiven an intimation. In any case, they crept up to the shallow dug outden in the side of a shale and sandstone cliff, and, when the faceswere distinguishable, rose out of the cover, and boldly went forward,waving their open right hands in token of peaceful intentions.
Indeed, the group of seven men was friendly. Two more were collectingwood for a fire, luckily for them not yet burning.
It was the remnant of Sir Archie Maclan's hapless expedition.
Usually, a meeting place at a distance is agreed upon by a troop, inorder that, after dispersal by an attack, the rally may be made for areprisal or to affording a strong front in retreat. This precaution hadnot been taken by the English gentleman's heterogenous company. Still,by some natural law prevailing in the wilderness, the few who escapedthe savages had come together. Lame, weaponless, imperfectly clothed,driven to eat roots painfully scratched out of the frozen soil, theyregarded the two trappers as almost superhuman, glowing, as they were,with health, and formidably armed, and quite at home in the desolation.
At their first words--thanks to Ranald's account of the disaster--thenewcomers knew with whom they had to deal. These were, save one (aSurcee Indian), the Scotch hunters. Though the Hudson's Bay Company menare instructed to show no cordiality towards free trappers in actualpractice, they usually hobnob when they meet. Here, as Jim Ridge atonce promised them supplies if they would accompany him to a _cache_,the fraternisation was speedily perfect, and when Cherokee Bill, boundto the mountain home to bring back Ridge's nephew and Mr. Dearborn,left the rejoicing fugitives, they were toasting the Old Yager intrading whisky, and vowing to follow him to the edge of the FireholeBasin, and then over.
Two hours afterwards, the Cherokee returned with the whites, andthe reception of Ranald was hilarious by his comrades, now equippedand crammed to repletion. Whilst these lost ones "_found_ in everycomfort," as they said, were still recompensing themselves for theirsufferings in the unconstrained mode of the desert, the chiefs of thisnow redoubtable band conferred on the plan of action.
Filditch was alone his own master, and placed himself at his relative'sorders; Cherokee Bill judged that the "old hoss knew best;" Ranald,freely appointed leader of the Scotch contingent, offered theirservices as blindly, and Jim had only to debate with himself.
"Gentlemen," said he, "that either the Crows or the Bob Rulies shouldslaughter one another in a fight is no item for my book. But thosewhite women are innocent creatures, wives, and sisters, I daresay,of poor settlers, who are now lamenting their unknown fate. We arenot numerous enough to match either band now, but when they thin oneanother out with a general shoot, one vigorous charge might place thecaptives in our hands. When we so charge Bill will look to the horses;and once we can ride off, I answer for a safe haven for the whole_cahoot_ (cohort) in a nest in the mountains. Woe to any that followus, for I am conceited on not letting Tom, Dick, and Harry collect onmy front doorstep. Is that a good notion, brothers?"
"It will do."
"Then look to your guns, whet your knives, and all be ready to march."
In half an hour the start was made, the men being allowed to finishtheir pipes as they proceeded in single file. Down sloping ground,Ridge led them into a valley, where an unseen river gurgled like a pondof sunfish. A beaver dam had intercepted t
his flow, but the beavermeadow was one sheet of perfectly unruffled ice, under which therunning water could be seen by the bubbles at the airholes. Like somany schoolboys, the men, with a start down the bank, shot themselvesacross this expanse to the wood of tender trees among the stumps cutby the industrious natural engineer. Here Cherokee Bill took the headof the Indian file. For twenty minutes the string of men advanced inabsolute quiet, forbearing to snap a dry twig, dislodge a stone, orcrush the ice crust. Bill guided them so skilfully that they werealways well sheltered, till finally they came out into a hodgepodge ofboulders in a sand black and fine as gunpowder, resembling the remainsof bones and vegetables in a giant's stew kettle out of which he haddrained the broth. It occupied the centre of the end of the beavermeadow, and protected the rivulet channel.
It was the halting post, and a more unscalable and defensible positionit were difficult to select. Under them in front the level groundextended where the Bois Brules' caravan had been drawn through,hindrances which any but western wagoners would deem insurmountable.The hunters were shielded on all sides, and invisible. On the whitepatches of snow they descried the unsuspecting red men leisurelynearing the palisades of the Canadians to take up position for thestorming. The stockade showed that the Half-breeds intended no move,and as Indians almost never attack in darkness, the little force onobservation placidly lay down to await their cue to intervene.
Streaks of fog and a dull greyish yellow cloudbank closed in thesetting sun. In the night the wolves called to one another, and seemed,in their language, to exchange information on the movements of so manymen in the solitude, and laughed at the prospect of carnage on themorrow.
When the moon shone wan and cold, it not only was adorned with a lividsnow ring, but was accompanied by four "dogs," or weird images of itspale self, which made the superstitious red men shudder. As for thewhites, hardy as the Scotch-American becomes, they luxuriated under theblankets and furs which Jim Ridge had generously offered, and mockedat the glacial chill of the morning frost. A few showers of fine ice,rather than snow, fell on the lookouts of the mountain men's "fort,"of the Crows and of the Canadians, suffering with the feverish wakefulsleepiness to which soldiers, seamen, and hunters are subjected at theworst stage in the darkest and coldest hours of dawn.
At length stripes of pallid gold and blue announced a sunless day. Nonebut a snow owl saluted it, and that was a sneering, melancholy hootborne on the gusty breeze, laden with sleet, ice, and sand.
The twilight was of a milky opal hue, which concentrated in a midairlayer, while the ground air cleared up and allowed a tolerably extendedview. It seemed an ominous pall over the threatened camps.
Suddenly a vivid glare reddened the plain. A war drum thundered, andthe Crow war whoop furiously resounded.
Ahnemekee's war whistle piped his band on with piercing notes.