The Mountain Divide

  CHAPTER XII

  Before Bucks had time to think, a second Indian had sprung through theopen window. A feeling of helpless rage swept over him at beingcornered, defenceless; and, expecting every instant to be despatchedwith no more consideration than if he had been a rat, he stood at bay,determined not to be taken alive.

  For an instant his mind worked clearly and with the rapidity oflightning. His life swept before him as if he were a drowning man. Inthat horrible moment he even heard his call clicking from thedespatcher. Of the two Indians confronting him, half-naked and shiningwith war-paint, one appeared more ferocious than the other, and Bucksonly wondered which would attack first.

  He had not long to wait. The first brave raised a war club to brainhim. As Bucks's straining eye followed the movement, the second Indianstruck the club down. Bucks understood nothing from the action. Thequick, guttural words that followed, the sharp dispute, the struggleof the first savage to evade the second and brain the white boy inspite of his antagonist--a lithe, active Indian of great strength whoheld the enraged warrior back--all of this, Bucks, bewildered, couldunderstand nothing of. The utmost he could surmise was that the secondwarrior, from his dress and manner of authority perhaps a chief, meantto take him alive for torture. He watched the contest between the twoIndians until with force and threats the chief had driven the warrioroutside and turned again upon him.

  It was then that Bucks, desperate, hurled himself knife in hand at thechief to engage him in final combat. The Indian, though surprised, methis onset skilfully and before Bucks could realize what had occurredhe had been disarmed and tossed like a child half-way across theroom.

  Before he could move, the chief was standing over him. "Stop!" heexclaimed, catching Bucks's arm in a grip of steel as the latter triedto drag down his antagonist. "I am Iron Hand. Does a boy fight me?"he demanded with contempt in every word. "See your knife." He pointedto the floor. "When I was wounded by the Cheyennes you gave mevenison. You have forgotten; but the Sioux is not like the whiteman--Iron Hand does not forget."

  A fusillade of shots and a babel of yelling from outside interruptedhis words. The chief paid no attention to the uproar. "Your soldiersare here. The building is on fire, but you are safe. I am Iron Hand."

  So saying, and before Bucks could find his tongue, the chief strode tothe rear window, with one blow of his arm smashed out the whole sash,and springing lightly through the crashing glass, disappeared.

  Bucks, panting with confusion, sprang to his feet. Smoke alreadypoured in from the freight room, and the crackling of flames and thesounds of the fighting outside reminded Bucks of Iron Hand's words. Heran to the door.

  The train had pulled up within a hundred feet of the station and therailroad men in the coaches were pouring a fire upon the Indians,under the cover of which scouts were unloading, down a hastilyimprovised chute, their horses, together with those of such troopersas had been gathered hurriedly.

  Bucks ran back into the office and opening his wooden chest threw intoit what he could of his effects and tried to drag it from the burningbuilding out upon the platform. As he struggled with the unwieldy box,two men ran up from the train toward him, staring at him as if he hadbeen a ghost. He recognized Stanley and Dancing.

  "Are you hurt?" cried Stanley hastening to his side.

  "No," exclaimed Bucks, his head still swimming, "but everything willbe burned."

  "How in the name of God, boy, have you escaped?" demanded Stanley, ashe clenched Bucks's shoulder in his hand. Dancing seized thecumbersome chest and dragged it out of danger. The Indians, jeering,as they retreated, at the railroad men, made no attempt to continuethe attack, but rode away content with the destruction of the trainand the station.

  Stanley, assured of Bucks's safety, though he wasted no time inwaiting for an explanation of it, directed the men to save what theycould out of the station--it was too late to save the building--andhurried away to see to the unloading of the horses.

  Bill Dancing succeeded in rescuing the telegraph instruments and withBucks's help he got the wires rigged upon a cracker-box outside wherethe operator could report the story to the now desperate despatcher.The scouts and troopers were already in the saddle and, leading theway for the men, gave chase across the bottoms to the Indians.

  Bob Scott, riding past Bucks reined up for a moment. "Got pretty warmfor you, Bucks--eh? How did you get through?"

  Bucks jumped toward him. "Bob!" he exclaimed, grasping his arm. "Itwas Iron Hand."

  "Iron Hand!" echoed Bob, lifting his eyebrows. "Brules, then. It willbe a long chase. What did he say?"

  "Why, we talked pretty fast," stammered Bucks. "He spoke about thevenison but never said a blamed word about my fixing his arm."

  Bob laughed as he struck his horse and galloped on to pass the news toStanley. A detail was left to clear the cotton-woods across the creekand guard the railroad men against possible attack while clearing thewreck. The body of the unfortunate brakeman was brought across thebridge and laid in the baggage car and a tent was pitched to serve asa temporary station for Bucks.

  While this was being done, Bob Scott, who had ridden farthest up thecreek, appeared leading his horse and talking to a white man who waswalking beside him. He had found the conductor of the wrecked train,Pat Francis, who, young though he was, had escaped the Indians longenough to reach a cave in the creek bank and whose rifle shots Buckshad heard, while Francis was holding the Sioux at bay during thefight. The plucky conductor, who was covered with dust, was greetedwith acclamations.

  "He claims," volunteered Scott, speaking to Stanley, "he could havestood them off all day."

  Francis's eyes fell regretfully on the dead brakeman. "If that boy hadminded what I said and come with me he would have been alive now."

  The wrecking train, with a gang of men from Medicine Bend, arrivedlate in the afternoon, and at supper-time a courier rode in fromStanley's scouting party with despatches for General Park. Stanleyreported the chase futile. As Bob Scott had predicted, the Brules hadburned the ranch and craftily scattered the moment they reached thesand-hills. Instead of a single trail to follow, Stanley found fifty.Only his determination to give the Indians a punishment that theywould remember held the pursuing party together, and three daysafterward he fought a battle with the wily raiders, surprised in acanyon on the Frenchman River, which, though indecisive, gave IronHand's band a wholesome respect for the stubborn engineer.

  The train service under the attacks of the Indians thus repeated, fellinto serious demoralization, and an armed guard of regular soldiersrode all trains for months after the Goose Creek attack. Bucks wasgiven a guard for his own lonely and exposed position in the person ofBob Scott, the man of all men the young operator would have wishedfor. And at intervals he read from his favorite novel to the scout,who still questioned whether it was a true story.