CHAPTER XXX.

  TOM BECOMES AN INDIAN.

  Scott did not immediately notice Tom's mishap. The boy had shown himselfso good a rider that such an accident had not occurred to him as likelyto happen. When he did look back there was already a considerabledistance between them. In fact, Tom lay midway between the Indians andhimself.

  What was he to do?

  If he returned there was no hope of rescuing Tom; and he wouldinfallibly fall into the hands of the Indian pursuers. In that case hisfate was sealed. He had killed an Indian warrior, and his life would paythe forfeit. By going on he could head a rescuing party from the camp.His heart ached for Tom. It was hard to leave him in the hands of thesavage foe; but Tom was a boy, and there was hope that he would bespared; so he felt that it was better to continue his flight.

  There was a shout of fierce joy when the Indians saw Tom's fall. Theywould have preferred to capture Scott, for he it was who had killedtheir comrade; but they were glad to have one prisoner. They reined uptheir horses, and halted beside the still insensible boy. They held abrief consultation, and decided not to continue the pursuit. They couldsee the encampment, which Scott was sure to reach before he could beovertaken. They could not tell the number of the party to which hebelonged; but, being few in numbers themselves, the risk would be ahazardous one. They decided to retire with their prisoner. Tom waslifted to a seat in front of one of the party, and they rode leisurelyback.

  This was the position in which our hero found himself when he rousedfrom his stupor. One glance revealed to him the whole. His heart sankwithin him. They might kill him. Remembering the ghastly sights he hadseen on his trip across the plains, he thought it likely that theywould. Life was sweet to Tom. To what boy of sixteen is it not? Itseemed hard to be cut off in the threshold of an active career, and bysavage hands. But there was an additional pang in the thought that nowhe would be unable to help his father. The result of his plan would onlybe to impose an additional burden upon the modest home which his fatherfound it so hard to keep up. Tom sighed; and, for the first time in hislife, he felt discouraged.

  He looked about him, scanning the dark, grave faces, and read no hope orencouragement in any. Finally the Indians came to a halt at their oldcamping-ground, and Tom was lifted from the horse. He was placed uponthe ground, in the center of the group. Then followed a consultation.From the glances directed toward him Tom understood that he was thesubject of deliberation. In fact, his fate was being decided.

  It was certainly a trying ordeal for our young hero. He was not sure ofhalf an hour's life. An unfavorable decision might be followed byimmediate execution. Tom felt that his best course was to remainperfectly passive. He could not understand what was said; but we areable to acquaint the reader with the general purport of the conference.

  Several of the Indians favored immediate death.

  "Our brother's blood calls for vengeance," they said. "The white boymust die."

  "The boy did not kill him," said others. "It was the white warrior whospilled our brother's blood. He must be pursued and slain."

  "What, then, shall be done with the boy? Shall he go?"

  "No; we will keep him. He has strong limbs. We will adopt him into ourtribe. He will make a brave warrior."

  "He shall be my brother," said the chief. "I will take him in place ofmy brother who is dead."

  There was a low murmur of approval. Even those who had first recommendedthe infliction of death seemed to have changed their minds. They lookedat the boy as he lay stretched out upon the ground. He was stout,comely, and strongly made. He had proved that he was an admirable rider.If he should join them he would grow up into a warrior who would docredit to their tribe.

  So the matter was settled. The only thing that remained was to acquaintthe prisoner with the decision.

  The interpreter approached Tom, and said, "White boy, you are ourcaptive. Why should we not kill you?"

  "You can if you wish," answered Tom; "but why should you kill me? I havedone you no harm."

  "Our brother is killed. He lies dead upon the plain."

  "I did not kill him," said Tom.

  "The white boy speaks truth. He did not kill our brother, but his whitefriend took his life."

  "You ought not to kill me for that," said Tom, gathering courage, for heinferred he was to live.

  "The white boy speaks truth, and therefore he shall live, but he mustjoin us. He must live with us, hunt with us, and fight for us."

  "You want me to become an Indian!" ejaculated Tom.

  "We will take you in place of the warrior that is gone," said theinterpreter.

  Tom looked thoughtful. He did not enjoy the prospect before him, but itwas, at all events, better than death. While there was life there washope of escape. He concluded to make one appeal for freedom, and, ifthat was denied, to accept the proposal.

  "I have a father and mother far away," he said; "I have brothers and asister, who will mourn for me. My father is poor; he needs my help. Letme go back to them."

  The interpreter communicated Tom's words to his companions, but it waseasy to see that they were not favorably received. The originaladvocates of the death penalty looked at our hero with hostile eyes, andhe saw that he had made a mistake.

  "The white boy must become one of us; he must take our brother's place,or he must die," said the interpreter.

  Tom very sensibly concluded that it would be better to live with theIndians than to be killed, and signified his acceptance of the offer.Upon this the Indians formed a circle about him, and broke into amonotonous chant, accompanied with sundry movements of the limbs, whichappeared to be their way of welcoming him into their tribe.

  It seemed like a dream to Tom. He found it very hard to realize hisposition, so unexpectedly had he been placed in it. He could not helpwondering what the family at home would say when they should learn thathe had joined an Indian tribe far beyond the Mississippi.