CHAPTER XIII--"THE DOG SOLDIERS"
The maverick was not a happy addition to the camping party--not atfirst, at least. Dig tied him to a tree, giving him the length of thelariat to tangle himself up in; and he did just that.
Three times during supper Dig had to get up and unwind the rope to savethe creature from choking himself to death. His plaintive "bla-att"might bring night-prowling beasts from the distant hills.
In fact, Chet could not easily figure out how the yearling had escapedbecoming the prey of some flesh-eating brute ere this, save that theseason was in his favour.
The bears had plenty of berries and other forest fruit. In the winter orin the early spring after his hibernation, Bruin would have stalked thismaverick as cleverly as any wolf.
The latter creatures were not plentiful in the hills now, and thecoyotes were so cowardly they would not pull a bull calf down unless itwas a cripple--especially when there was plenty of smaller game.
The mountain lion is always hungry; but he does not often come out ofthe hills save when a herd of cattle is being wintered in somewell-watered valley like this in which the chums from Silver Run wereencamped. Then the cougar will slink down and lurk on the outskirts ofthe herd to catch a cow and calf away from the protection of theirmates.
"Your maverick struck a fat time in this valley, Dig," Chet said. "It'sescaped all beasts of prey save man. What are you going to do with it?It's rather old for veal; but I expect he'd be fair eating--would giveus all the steaks we'd need between here and Grub Stake."
"I reckon not!" exclaimed Digby Fordham. "We're not going to butcherhim."
"What then?"
"I tell you I'm going to lead him to Grub Stake."
"Cracky! you'll surely bite off an awful mouthful to chew," laughedChet. "It is a hundred and sixty or seventy miles to Grub Stake, andthat maverick will pull back every foot of the way."
"I don't care," said Dig obstinately. "I can sell him if I get him toGrub Stake."
"Waugh!" said Chet, laughing. "Who do you suppose would want thislittle, scrawny red-and-white dogy?"
"Don't call him names, Chet. Poor little fellow," said Dig. "Wonder ifhe'd like a leg of this grouse to pick?"
"Or a cup of coffee?" suggested his chum.
But Dig was very much interested in his new possession. He was up two orthree times in the night to see if he were tangled in the rope.
"The maverick ought to be 'gentled' very quickly," Chet said; "he isreceiving enough attention."
The boys did not try to keep watch. They looked for no danger, and thehorses feeding near the camp would give notice of the approach of anywild animal.
There was no disturbance and the chums finally slept soundly beneaththeir blankets till morning. Indeed, the bawling of the yearling forwater after sunrise was what awoke them.
"Say!" yawned Chet, rising and stretching. "We're a fine pair oftravellers--I don't think! We won't get started as early this morning aswe did yesterday. Let's hurry breakfast."
"No, no!" objected Digby. "Hurry anything but the meals."
Nevertheless, Chet allowed only bacon, flapjacks and coffee to beprepared, although Digby had brought fishing tackle and begged forenough time to try for the catfish in the river.
"I just know there are catfish as long as your arm down under thatbank," he declared. "They'd go fine, Chet. Why eat bacon when you mighthave a nice catfish flapping in the pan?"
Chet, however, had made up his mind that they ought to make fairly goodtime on the trail until they should pass the second line of foothills.Then they would reach the broader plains, on which it was reported theherd of buffaloes had been seen. If the expedition to Grub Stake was tobe delayed at all, he hoped it would be delayed only by the huge buffaloand its mates, of which the men about the Silent Sue shaft had spoken.
"We don't want to be fooling around here with a mess of catfish," hesaid to Dig, "when we may be able, later, to get a shot at somethingworth while."
"Oh, Chet!" exclaimed Digby, "you've got that buffalo on the brain andnothing else is going to suit you. Bet you we lug these heavy riflesclear to Grub Stake and don't get a shot."
"Never mind; you've captured a deer, Dig," said his chum soothingly."And you say you are going to lead it with you."
"So I am!" snapped Dig. "I can be pigheaded just as well as you can."
But something almost immediately happened to cheer Dig up and avert anyquarrel between the chums. It was something that held them at the campby the river for a while, too.
As it fell out, breakfast was finished and the pots and pans washed.Their blanket-rolls were repacked and all was ready for saddling, when atorrent of pounding hoofs reached their ears.
"Stampede!" yelled Chet, starting for the edge of the grove.
"What of--buffaloes?" demanded his friend, following in a more leisurelyfashion.
Chet first came to the edge of the grove, where he could see back alongthe trail by which they had come from Silver Run. There was a cloud ofdust which shrouded a number of horsemen; but how many were coming, andwho they were, the boy could not at first imagine.
Then, out of the cloud, as it slowed up, appeared a band of frowsyponies, most of them piebald. They were ridden by Indians--and rathersavage looking ones at that.
Chet Havens had never seen so many redmen before, save at a show. Theywere stripped to the waist and wore only fringed leggings and moccasins.There were feathers in their topknots; yet Chet, seeing them closer,knew that those feathers were not worn because they were "braves" andhad killed their enemies in battle.
These were only Indian youths out on a frolic or a hunt, none of thembeing much older than Dig and himself. But how they did ride! They hadonly a cloth over their ponies' backs and each rode with a single reinto guide his half wild brute.
Each young redskin carried a rifle and they all tossed them up as highas they could reach when they saw the two white boys appear from theriverside. Then, at a signal from their leader, they flung themselves tothe far side of their mounts, and circled out from the trail, passingthe amazed Chet and Dig, only one hand and a foot of each Indianshowing, their ponies still tearing along at a great pace. In wartimethe Indians performed this trick, shooting at their enemies under theponies' necks.
Dig had brought his gun, and when he heard the "E-i! e-i! e-i!" of theIndian yell he was a little scared.
"What kind of a game is this?" he wanted to know of Chet. "By the lasthoptoad that was chased out of Ireland! those yelling galoots look asthough they meant business."
"Shucks, boy!" said Chet, "you know there are no more wild Indians."
"Huh! if those fellows are not wild, what are they? And whew! how theycan ride!"
"That's John Peep in the lead," Chet said. "Though what he's doing awayover here I can't imagine."
"Huh! I'll get even some way!" threatened Digby. "Scaring a fellow outof half a year's growth!"
The cavalcade came back, the sweat-streaked faces of the ridersgrinning. Dig said to his chum:
"A great mess of 'dog soldiers.' Whew! you can't cure an Indian of hisold tricks. I bet right now they'd like to scalp us."
"Don't see how they'd ever perform the operation on you," laughed Chet,"with that prizefighter's cut you have."
Chet noticed that all of the young fellows that Dig called "dogsoldiers" were fine looking boys. In the old days the young braves thatcould not be controlled by the chiefs, but who desired to go to war andmake names for themselves, were called "dog soldiers."
"Hello, John!" shouted Chet. "What are you doing over here? Last time wesaw you, you were playing baseball. You must have hustled some to catchus."
The Cheyenne dropped off his pony's back and the animal went to croppingthe grass at once, and hungrily. Chet decided that the party had beentravelling for some hours and that the ponies had had no chance forgrazing, but had been watered when the band crossed the river.
John glanced at Chet in rather an odd manner; but true to his nationa
ltrait he did not answer the question directly.
"We go on hunt," John Peep said. "Mebbe stay week; mebbe longer. Theseboys all my friends," and he waved his hand at the young riders whowaited to be asked to dismount. "Not all Cheyenne.Sioux--Pawnee--Ogallala. All go to Government school at Benway. Vacationnow, like us. We make breakfast with you."
The customs of the trail must prevail. The white boys had finished theirmeal, but nobody ever denied the hospitable rite on the plains. Thefirst party at a camping place was bound to ask the new-comers to jointhem. But here were ten or twelve hearty appetites suddenly to beappeased.
"All right," grunted Dig. "I could do something to another breakfast. Weonly had an apology for one, as I told you, Chet."
Chet sighed; but he felt, too, that John Peep had not come down thistrail without cause. He wondered if, perhaps, the young Indians hadheard of the buffaloes and were on their way to hunt for them.
"Don't say anything about the big buffalo, Dig," he whispered to hischum, as they hurried back through the grove. "I hope they don't knowanything about it. And what they don't know won't hurt them."
"All right, boy! I won't tell them any fairy tales," said Dig.
Chet stirred up the fire, and mixed some prepared pancake flour, and puton the coffee pot. Some of the Indians joined Digby in catching fish.They had much more primitive tackle than the white boy; but the catfishbit so hungrily that it scarcely mattered whether the bait was let downto them on "store tackle" or on a thorn from a whitethorn bush.
"Say!" exclaimed Dig, "somebody besides us was hungry for breakfast.These cats are ravenous. Whew! look at that one!"