Chapter 20: A Friend

In five minutes the two warriors who had come to see me earlier in the evening returned, but without Onomo. They unbound me, and dragged me roughly to my feet. They did not vouchsafe a word. Indeed, I do not suppose either knew any English. One pushed me towards the door of the tepee, and I stepped out

I stood beside the tepee, gazing around me. I was on the rim of a species of circle, made of Indian tepees. A great many warriors were grouped in the circle, and some of them held up flaring torches. All the warriors were staring at me, and there was a peculiar expression in their fierce, black eyes. I could not guess why I was brought there, and I looked around for my friend Onomo, who might explain it to me. But I could not see him.

The Indians who brought me out of the tepee had remained beside me. One of them said something in a deep, guttural voice, and a young warrior who stood directly in front of me ran forward, and before I could make a motion in my own defence, struck me very hard in the face with his open right hand.

The pain and the indignity set me afire, I sprang at him, intending to strike him to the earth. But he darted nimbly away, and before I could reach him a powerful hand reached from behind, seized me by the hair, and jerked me to the earth. I struggled to my feet, but received a buffet in the neck which sent me to the earth again.

Then I was seized by numerous hands, and the clothing was jerked from my back. I writhed and endeavored to struggle from their grasp. Suddenly they released me, and something lashed me repeatedly across the back, stinging and burning as if a hot iron had been drawn across the naked flesh. I could feel the blood running down my back, and, dazed by pain and humiliation, I struck out blindly and at random, but never hit anything.

Then I knew what it was. This was either the preliminary torture or the end itself. Many of the warriors carried long willow switches, and when I rushed after one, another would lash me across the back. They laughed with infernal glee as I tried to seize or strike some one and could not. Occasionally a blow from a heavier rod would fall across my shoulders and bring me to my knees. But rage was mingled with my pain and humiliation, and I would struggle to my feet again and make a rush at them. I shouted at them. I called them cowards and devils. I dared any of them to face me. But they only laughed at me and struck me again.

At last I sank down, panting and exhausted. I was covered with blood, but I did not notice it then. The jeering laughter continued for a while, then ceased abruptly. Somebody said something in a loud, decisive tone that sounded like a command. Three or four Indians seized me and dragged me to the tepee from which I had been brought. After they had thrown me on the buffalo skin as roughly as if I were a mere clod of earth, they rebound me and went out.

I lay alone in the darkness, raging in spirit, and for the time thinking little of my wounds. But the latter after a while drew my attention, for every bone in me, and every square inch of flesh on those bones, was aching. I had made up my mind that I was so badly hurt I would die, when I heard a soft voice beside me.

“How does my friend, the white boy, feel?” asked the voice.

I recognized Onomo’s tones at once, and I answered savagely:

“He feels like murdering the first of your redskin brethren he can get his hands on.”

“Onomo warned the white boy he would be put to the torture,” he said.

“Yes, I know,” I replied, wearily.

“What he has endured to-night is but the prick of a pin to what will come,” he said, without a change in his voice.

“You don’t mean to say they are going to put me through another course of torture?” I exclaimed, horrified.

“The white boy still has it in his power to save himself from much pain.”

“But I’ll never use that power!”

Onomo went out, but returned almost immediately with a torch.

“Onomo,” I said, “won’t you tell me how serious my wounds are? Are any of my bones broken? I’m in such an ache all over I can’t tell where I’m hurt most.”

“All but the skin of the white boy is sound and whole,” said Onomo. “The warriors would not break any of his bones or injure him seriously yet. It would interfere with their further plans for him.”

“Your brethren are a fine lot of fellows, Onomo!” I exclaimed. “I don’t wonder that one of your kind disposition should stay away from them, at least part of the time, and associate with the whites.”

Onomo made no reply to this, and I added:

“Can’t you do something for my back and stop that confounded burning?”

He patted my back, put on some kind of lotion, which was wonderfully soothing, and readjusted my clothing. I was very grateful to him and expressed my thanks more than once. He smiled gently, as if he would wave my words aside. Then I asked him once again to help me if he could.

“Onomo will do all he can for the white boy, his friend,” he said, “but the warriors knowing he is a friend of the white people watch him very closely.”

Then he took up his torch and left me to my reflections. I turned over everything in my mind, but I could find no hope in anything. Hitherto in all our dangers we had never been pushed quite to the wall. We had been united, and circumstances favored us frequently. Now I was alone in the enemy’s hands. Were Pike free to act I might expect something from his bold and skillful mind. But he and the others were now fighting for their own lives. So the chance of rescue was hopeless.

With the love of life still strong, although death seemed to be at hand, I tried again to break the thongs that bound my wrists or to slip them over my hands. But my captors had been too cautious to permit of any such chance.

I ceased my efforts and hope deserted me. Then, with that terrible sinking feeling at the heart which is the worst of all sensations, I began to think of the end. In what manner would it come? How hard to die, a horrible death when one was so young, when life was so sweet! If Henry and the others escaped they might never so much as know what became of me. I would perish and disappear unnoticed, like the withered leaf that falls from the tree.

Then my mind ran back over our journey. I remembered the rose-colored hopes with which we had started, and our dreams of distant California and the gold which we would find. I saw my uncle’s hard face again and I cherished no resentment against him.

How long I would have lain there, or what further turn my thoughts would have taken, I cannot say, but my attention was attracted by a slight rustling which seemed to me to come from under the edge of the tepee. My senses were rendered preternaturally acute by my situation. There was no noise outside, and I knew that my ears had made no mistake. I listened and heard the rustling again. I managed to turn over on my side with my face in the direction whence the sound came. But there was not a beam of light in the tepee, and I could not even see its skin walls.

The noise, very slight, but heard by me plainly, for my ears were strained, continued about five minutes. Then I heard a faint clicking sound, and before it died away the cold perspiration broke out on my forehead. A snake was making the noise, I was sure. From what could that clicking sound come but from a rattlesnake coiling to spring? I do not know why I had such a feeling of horror. I had expected to die on the morrow by the torture. Surely, the death from a snake’s fangs could not be worse than that! But there is something in a man which shudders at such a death, and he would turn aside from it no matter what lies beyond.

I was about to cry out with all my might in an endeavor to bring the Indians to my rescue, but a heavy hand was clapped over my mouth, and a voice said something in my ear which I did not understand, but which I took to be a warning.

There was a mighty revulsion of feeling. Hope flamed up in me. Who could be coming to me in such a manner but a rescuer, and who could that rescuer be but Onomo? I breathed a short prayer of thankfulness while I waited for him to release me. The idea that he had come for that purpose had taken complete possession of me.

He slipped his hand down to my wrist. I felt cold steel against my flesh, and then the severed thongs fell away. Next he cut the stout strip of deer-hide that confined me to the stake. A strong arm that he put under my shoulder assisted me to rise, for I was stiff from my beating. I rubbed my arms and legs until the circulation was restored, and waited for my rescuer to make the next movement But I bent over and whispered with my heart in my mouth:

“Onomo, from the depths of my soul I thank you. If ever you are in deep distress and I can help you I will risk my life, if necessary, to do it.”

But he merely replied with a sibilant hiss, which I knew he meant as a caution for me to make no noise. Then taking hold of one of my hands he crawled noiselessly to the edge of the tepee. I followed him in the same silence. He fumbled and raised the edge of the buffalo hide. We crawled out and then dropped the skin back behind us. I looked around, but it was so dark I could see nothing, except the faint outlines of other tepees. To my right I heard a slight murmur, which I took to be some of the Indians talking.

I realized fully the necessity of silence, and had been too near to death to throw away my chance of escaping it by carelessness. So with extreme caution I followed my rescuer, who still held my hand and led the way to the left. At each step I felt the earth first with my moccasin before bringing down my full weight, in order that no rustling of a twig or breaking of a stick might bring the enemy upon me again,

We were several minutes in crossing the little circle of the tepees. Twice my rescuer sank down upon the ground, and each time I did the same. Some noise alarmed him, but the alarm soon passed, and then we resumed our stealthy flight. At last we reached the tepees and stopped between two of them. My friend put both his hands upon my shoulders and pressed down heavily. I dropped into a recumbent position, for such I thought he meant for me to do. Evidently I was right, for leaving me there he took several steps forward and then stopped, dimly outlined in the darkness.

Presently another Indian came up and began to talk to him. I saw soon the reason for my friend’s act. The second Indian was a sentinel. I crouched closer to the earth, while the two talked. But the second Indian went on, and my friend instantly came back to me. We stole cautiously forward again, and soon the outlines of the tepees faded out of sight behind us. Then my heart gave a great leap of joy, for now I believed I was safe. Again I whispered my thanks to my rescuer, but he replied only with his warning hiss.