Chapter 19: Surprised

Pike’s prediction about the wolves came true. We would see one slinking about the grove occasionally, but they never came in packs and we had no fear of them. After the wolf-fight, time was very heavy on our hands for a few days until we began to find occupations for ourselves. Every man followed the natural bent of his mind. There were colonies of beavers along the streams, and Pike made traps which were rude in construction, but nevertheless he captured many of these cunning animals. Pike cached or buried the hides.

“Some fur traders might happen along here some day,” he said, “an’ a pack ov fifty or sixty beaver hides is wuth nigh onto a thousan’ dollars back in St. Louis.”

Pike also made bows and arrows which we learned to use with a fair degree of skill in order to save our powder and lead. In reality we had plenty of jerked meat to last us the winter through, but we wanted fresh meat now and then, and Pike managed to tumble over several deer with his bows and arrows.

With a great deal of trouble and paring with his hunting-knife, Starboard Sam scraped out a rude wooden shell which looked something like a fiddle. He fitted this up with four strings made of the dried tendons of the deer, and we were astonished at the music he got out of it. He played some of his old sea ditties in a manner that seemed very pleasant to us who could get nothing better.

Bonneau built a kind of bake-oven of stones beside our house and installed himself as cook. I helped Pike usually, while Henry was tale-spinner for the party and whiled away many an evening for us.

We covered the inside walls of our hut with the hides of the buffalo and the deer, which addition greatly increased its comfort as well as its appearance, for the nights were now growing very cold. Pike was talking continually about the snow and said we must expect it soon. One evening as Starboard Sam was playing his fiddle I looked out of the door, thinking I had heard the noise of a wild animal, and something light and moist struck me in the face. It was a whisk of snow, the first of the season. The next morning the ground was white.

When the snow came we appreciated the warmth and comfort of our little cabin to their full extent. We could not build a fire in it, but we had such an abundance of long glossy furs that we could wrap up in them and keep as snug as a bug in a rug. Our fear of Indians had passed completely. Pike thought if anybody were to find us it would more likely be the Rocky Mountain fur-hunters. But we did not anticipate a visit even from the latter.

On the whole, we did not have much cause for complaint. The little valley from which we had been driven by the Indians would have been a cosier place, but we were doing very well where we were.

In this interval we had some leisure to think over our adventures. Pike often talked with me about my narrow escape the night the arrow had been fired at me and the somewhat mysterious circumstances connected with the death of two of our companions. He said in all his experience of the plains, extending over a period of many years, he knew nothing like it. But bothering over it did not bring us any nearer to a solution, and at last we gave it up as a bad job.

The snow which I have mentioned had melted, and I was out with Pike hunting deer with the bow and arrow. I had not been successful on that trip, and Pike had a joke at my expense. I resolved that I would do better, and the next day, leaving my rifle at the cabin, I took my bow and sheaf of arrows and went out to hunt the deer, which, as well as elk, were plentiful in our vicinity.

The timber followed the course of the little river, none ever growing more than a few hundred yards from it. I went up the stream and tramped along for a long time, but found no game. I was inclined to give up the hunt for that day and return to the cabin, when I saw an elk among the trees. It was a noble stag, and instantly I was afire with the ardor of the chase. To slay such an animal as he with the primitive weapons I carried would indeed be a hunter’s triumph.

The wind was in my favor, and I set out to stalk the deer. I lay down on the ground and pulled myself slowly along, stopping at short intervals to rest. I thought that if I got within fair range I could bag the stag. My arrows were stone-headed, but the bow was well made and I had a strong arm to draw it

The stag was pulling at the dry twigs of a bush, and came within range before he suspected an enemy. Then I fitted the arrow to the string and it whizzed from my bow. By a wonderful piece of luck it went straight and true to the mark and pierced the heart of the stag. He took two or three mighty leaps forward, then collapsed to the earth and breathed his last.

I rushed up full of triumph and bent over to see where my arrow had entered. I heard an ejaculation behind me, and was about to whirl around when there was a stunning crash, stars twinkled before my eyes and I fell senseless.

The next thing of which I was conscious was a dull, throbbing pain in my head. I endeavored to put my hand to it, but I found that I could not move a finger. I wondered dimly why it was, but my brain and nerves were so languid that it was a quarter of an hour before I opened my eyes. I could see nothing at first, but when I became used to the semi-darkness I saw a wall of skin, buffalo hide it might be. I thought at first I was in our cabin, but looking again, I knew that the piece was unfamiliar.

I tried to move my hands and failed again. Then I knew they were bound, for there was a sharp pain at my wrists where the thong was biting into the flesh. I squirmed about a little, but I only made my bones ache, and I ceased the effort

As my mind became clearer I realized that something very unusual had befallen me. The shooting of the stag, the blow from behind, and the fall all came back to me. My mind ran over these things several times, but when it came to the fall it stopped, There was no memory of anything after that.

These thoughts made my head ache with great severity and brought me no nearer to a knowledge of what had happened to me. I had closed my eyes again when I heard a light step beside me and a voice said in very good English:

“Has the white boy’s mind returned to him? Does he see and hear again?”

I opened my eyes and saw an Indian standing beside me. He was tall and very erect. His face was calm and inscrutable, but it did not seem to be wholly unfamiliar. I could not at first recall where I had seen it, and I stared at the Indian. He smiled gently, and then I knew.

“Onomo!” I exclaimed, “the friendly Pawnee whom we saw at Fort Leavenworth with Colonel Griscom!”

The Indian smiled again.

“Where am I? And what has happened to me!” I exclaimed

“Hush,” said Onomo, “the white boy must not speak so loud. He is in the hands of his enemies. He is a prisoner of the Pawnees, who are on the warpath!”

“And what are you doing here?” I asked.

“Though Onomo is the friend of the whites, who have taught him their ways,” he replied with dignity, “the lodges of his people are not closed against him. He comes to the red men, who are his brethren, when he pleases, and leaves when he pleases.”

“Tell me how the whole thing happened—my capture, I mean?” I asked.

Onomo smiled again.

“It was very simple,” he said. “The white boy was stealing up on a stag. He watched the stag only, and saw nothing else. But some of our warriors were near, and when the white boy stood over the fallen stag in triumph, they stole up behind him and felled him to the earth with a blow from the flat of a tomahawk. They did not wish to kill him then.”

The “then” grated upon me very unpleasantly.

“So they want to kill me yet?” I asked.

“The red men are on the warpath,” said Onomo, gravely. “They seek scalps, not prisoners.”

“But you will help me, Onomo, won’t you?” I exclaimed, eagerly. “You have lived with the white people! You are our friend! Can you not assist me to escape?”

“Onomo will do all he can,” he said, in his grave way, “but the white boy is bound and closely watched. The tepees of the warriors surround him, and even if his hand and body were loosened he could not get away.”

I was in a very bad position, and I saw it clearly, but I still had some confidence in the help of Onomo, who seemed so calm and so masterful.