Kiddie the Scout Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  BROKEN FEATHER'S WAY

  When he had fired that first shot, and while the Redskins were stillriding out from their ambush to rally on the level trail and charge downin a compact body upon his outfit, Kiddie turned his pony and gallopedback under a hail of arrows. Most of them fell short; very few flew pasthim, and only one touched him, doing no harm.

  "That's right, Nick," he called, as he drew rein beside the leading mulewagon.

  "There's a whole crowd of em' comin' out from behind the rock," criedRube Carter, going up to him. "I'm goin' ter git 'neath this yer wagonan' fire at 'em through one o' th' wheels."

  "You ain't goin' ter handle any gun," frowned Kiddie. "You're goin' terhang back in the rear an' keep an eye on the hosses. Quit!"

  Nick Undrell, following his instructions, had promptly brought the threewagons into position, extending them obliquely across the level trail,one to the rear of the other, so that each should have its broadsidepresented like a redoubt towards the oncoming enemy, the mule teams beingswung round into cover on the sheltered side.

  Kiddie's horses in the background were similarly protected from the lineof fire, unless, indeed, the Indians should succeed in getting through oneither flank, which was not at all probable.

  Six picked marksmen were concealed under the canvas covers of each of thewagons, and every man from behind his particular loophole commanded awide section of the valley and of the hillside.

  The Indians, seeing that the outfit had come to a halt, as if insubmission, delayed their advance while they closed into massed formationto sweep down upon their unresisting victims in one grand overwhelmingrush. They could see only the three drivers, who had now jumped down toattend to their mules, and four riders, one of whom was a mere boy.

  Clearly, they considered the prairie schooners and their preciouscontents already their own, as well as the horses bunched in the rear.They could not have divined that, apart from the guns carried by thehorsemen, there were eighteen repeating rifles levelled against them fromunder the cover of three innocent-looking carts.

  Kiddie dismounted, dropped his bridle rein over his pony's head, and tookup a position behind the foot-board of the foremost wagon, from which hecould look forward along the trail, with a rest for his elbows inlevelling his gun. There was a neat little stack of cartridges in theirclips within his easy reach.

  "Don't reckon as I touched Broken Feather when I fired that first shotalong there," he remarked to Nick Undrell, who was posted near him.

  "That ain't Broken Feather hisself as you's looking at," said Nick,squinting along the barrel of his Winchester, "though I allows he'swearin' the chief's dinky head-dress. No, sir, that's Murm'rin' Water,the boss medicine man. You won't easily reco'nize Broken Feather by hisbody coverin'. You'll be a whole lot wiser'n I think you, if you kinsingle him out in that crowd. Hullo! Now for it!"

  Nick pressed his trigger. The Redskins were charging.

  "Let go, boys!" he cried, as a shower of arrows and ill-aimed bulletspeppered against the off sides of the wagons and kicked up spurts of duston the trail.

  Simultaneously the hidden men in the three carts opened fire. There wasa loud burst of rifle shots, and then a continuous stream, broken only atmomentary intervals as the magazines were refilled and again refilled.

  The Indians, taken wholly aback by this unexpected reception ofpoint-blank fire, swerved in confusion. Many of them tumbled from theirrearing, plunging, staggering ponies. Many of the ponies fell; manyraced back riderless. There was a wild screech as the crowd stopped intheir broken charge, unwilling to face the deadly barrier of bullets.

  "Cease fire!" cried Kiddie, lowering his rifle. "Cease fire, Nick.We've checked 'em, sure. Don't you see? Order your men ter quitshootin'."

  "Not yet," objected Nick, still using his gun. "We ain't finished yet,no more'n they. See the rooster in the fur cap--him ridin' the piebaldmustang? He ain't done shootin' yet. He's figurin' ter pick you off.Bin at it all the time. Snakes! Why, it's Broken Feather hisself!Stand back! Leave him ter me, sir. Git back an' see ter themhosses--and the boy."

  As he spoke Nick again pressed his trigger. Kiddie saw the mustang rearon its hind legs, pawing the air as it pivoted round, and then fall overwith a heavy thud. But its rider leapt clear, flung himself flat behindhis fallen pony, and continued to shoot.

  Kiddie saw the mustang rear on its hind legs.]

  "Jim's hit!" cried a voice from the wagon. "He's hit bad."

  "Alf'll look after him," called Nick, thrusting a new clip of cartridgesinto his gun. "Th' rest o' you keep on shootin'. Keep a watch on theside slopes. Some of 'em's liable ter sneak past."

  Some of the dismounted Indians now tried to work round to the flanks,crawling like snakes through the grass and taking shelter behind bush andboulder. But the sharp-eyed frontiersmen quickly detected them, and nonegot through.

  Kiddie saw this new danger, however, and, taking Nick's advice, he leapton his waiting pony and rode back to the rear, to assure himself thatRube and the horses were safe.

  Rube was faithfully at his post, minding the horses and watching the backtrail, but fretting sorely at being kept away from the excitement of thefighting.

  "All right," nodded Kiddie, riding up to him. "Drive the horses backthere, to the shelter of the ravine, where the stream comes down. Givethem a drink. They'll be glad of it. And--stop there with them. I'llgive you a sign when I want you to bring them along."

  It seemed to Rube then that Kiddie wanted to get him out of the way, andhe wondered at Kiddie's reasons for keeping him from participating in thebattle.

  Young though he was, and he was only fourteen, Rube considered himselfquite capable of handling a gun and looking after himself. And he wasn'ta coward. Why could he not be allowed even to look on from a safeshelter?

  Kiddie's reasons, nevertheless, were good. He was thinking less of theboy, whom he implicitly trusted, than of his horses, and of a new perilwhich at this moment seemed to threaten the whole of his company.

  Just as he had halted beside Rube he had turned his glance back along thenarrow valley. Far off in the blue distance he had seen a thin film ofdust rising; or was it smoke? He was not certain at first, but when Rubehad gone he looked again in the same direction, and he said to himself inhis old drawling Western way--

  "'Tain't smoke. Guess it's just dust. An' it's travellin' this waysalong the trail. But a cloud of dust same as that must ha' bin turned upby more'n one gallopin' pony. Dozens an' dozens, more like. Guess it'sInjuns--a second detachment of Broken Feather's forces--rustlin' alongwith th' idea of nippin' us in 'tween two fires. A cute idea; but Idon't notion that it's goin' ter come off. They're just a bit too late;didn't calculate on our comin' along so quick, I guess."

  The fighting had slackened considerably when Kiddie returned to hisloophole at the front of the leading wagon. Nick Undrell was stillthere. He was rigidly looking along the sights of his rifle, hesitatingto fire.

  "You're aimin' at a dead pony, Nick," Kiddie pointed out.

  "I ain't doin' nothin' so fullish," returned Nick. "It's the skunk lyin'doggo behind it that I'm interested in. Broken Feather's thar, sure; andhe ain't dead; he ain't even wounded. He's 'bout as much alive an' alert's ever he was in his nat'ral. But his ammunition's all spent, an' he'sjus' waitin' his chance ter quit. He knows I've got th' bead on him.Soon's I shift my gun, he'll do a vamoose, slick, an' his braves along ofhim."

  "Then shift your gun," commanded Kiddie. "Quit shootin' an let's gitouter this. Thar's a reinforcement of Injuns comin' down along thetrail."

  "Eh?" Nick quietly rested his gun on the footboard and drew stealthilyback from it. "You watch him, then. When he's gone we'll make a move."

  Kiddie watched, and witnessed a curious happening which gave him a vividinsight into the character of the young Sioux chief.

  Within a minute after Nick had stepped back out of sight Broken Feathercrawled swiftly out f
rom the protecting barrier of the dead mustang andtook cover behind a boulder.

  Quite near to the same boulder a wounded Indian was vainly trying tomount his pony. The pony was restive and evidently frightened. TheIndian, failing to mount, took hold of the pony's long, trailing halterand allowed the animal to drag him away.

  Just at this point Broken Feather darted out from behind the boulder,making straight for the pony and the wounded brave.

  Kiddie, still watching, naturally supposed that the chief was about tohelp the wounded man to mount, as any civilized soldier would have done.But this was not Broken Feather's way. Seizing the bight of the halter,he snatched it from the other's grip, while at the same time he struckthe wounded Indian a fierce blow with his closed fist, full in the face,which sent him reeling to the ground.

  Without a backward glance of pity or excuse, Broken Feather himself leaptto the pony's back, urged the animal to a gallop, and sped off, rallyinghis remaining warriors to a precipitate retreat.

  "Coward and cur!" murmured Kiddie between his teeth. And calling ahurried command to Nick Undrell, he strode out to give help to thewounded Indian, carrying him on his shoulder to one of the wagons.

  The Indian's nose was broken. Kiddie fixed it into shape with stickingplaster. He also extracted a bullet from the man's back and bandaged thewound.

  "We'll leave him lyin' here on the trail," he decided. "His pards 'lllook after him and the others that are wounded, when they come along.They'll soon know what's happened when they scout around. Guess they'llnot be eager t' follow us up."

  "Well, this outfit o' yourn hasn't suffered anyways serious," observedNick Undrell, when all was ready for a new start. "I've had a lookround, an', barrin' a few splinters took off the wagons, an' some holespierced in the canvas covers, we've not taken a whole lot of harm. JimThurston here's th' only one as got badly hit. That broken bone in hisarm 'll take a consid'rable time ter git well. It'll be weeks 'fore Jimkin ride again in the Pony Express."

  Kiddie was giving a professional bandaging to Thurston's wound.

  "You a rider in the Pony Express business, then, Jim?" he asked.

  "Bin at it fer a couple of years," Jim answered. "That's what I'mworrying about. I'm figurin' as they'll fire me, slick, fer takin' on ajob like this. 'Tain't in th' agreement that I sh'd go foolin' aroundafter hostile Injuns in my off time. I shall be sacked, sure. An' mewith a wife an' family, too."

  "No need to worry, Jim," Kiddie assured the man. "You'll not get thesack, and your wife and family won't suffer any. You got hurt in myservice, and I will see you through. As for the Pony Express ridin', Iwill even take on the job myself for a spell, until you're better. Doesthat comfort you any?"

  Thurston shook his head and smiled.

  "You couldn't do it," he said. "You, a English gentleman--a titled lord,I'm told. You couldn't do it. You gotter be some horseman 'fore you kinride in the Pony Express. You gotter be brought up to it. 'Tain't nofancy amatoor job."

  "Here, Jim, old pard," interposed Nick Undrell. "You'd best dry up. Youdunno who you'se talkin' to, sure. His lordship rid in the Pony Express'fore ever you shoved your toes in stirrups. He was the slickest Expressrider along the whole trail. Thar wasn't a skilfuller horseman thanKiddie between Saint Joseph an' Sacramento. Couldn't do it, says you!Well, I should smile!"

  "Kiddie, d'ye say? Kiddie? Gee! You never told me that! Course Iknows the name o' Kiddie--same's I knows the name of the President of th'United States. Seems I bin makin' a fool o' myself, eh? Reckon it's upter me t' apologize fer mistakin' him for a English lord; though somecrooked-tongued skunk sure told me he was such. Kiddie, eh? Gee!"

  "Say, Kiddie, was you plumb serious when you said you'd take Jim's turnin the Pony Express?" questioned Rube Carter, riding again at Kiddie'sside.

  "Sure," Kiddie smiled in answer. "I'm just hankerin' to be at the oldjob again, ridin' at top speed with the mail bags, same as I used ter do.Same as your father did. Your father lost his life in the business, youknow. Was attacked by Injuns. And Eye-of-the-Moon--Broken Feather'sfather--went off with his scalp."

  Rube was silent for a while.

  "Didn't know 'bout the scalpin'," he said presently. "Didn't know as itwere Eye-of-the-Moon as done it. Then, in that case, Broken Feather'sfather killed my father?"

  "That's so. Guess you've got no occasion ter be anyways friendly withBroken Feather."

  "Pity you allowed him t' escape," said Rube.

  "Well, you see, Rube, it wouldn't have been gentlemanly to shoot at a manwho was not armed," explained Kiddie, "and he was as good as unarmed whenhe had spent his last cartridge. You've got to be a gentleman, even whenfighting a savage enemy. Yes," he went on, "I shall take a turn with theExpress, if they'll let me; and I still have my licence. As for poor JimThurston, we will leave him at Lavender Ranch. Isa's sister, MarthaBlagg, will look after him."

  Kiddie of Birkenshaw's had always been well loved at Lavender, and he waswarmly welcomed when his outfit halted at the gate. At his requestMartha willingly undertook to nurse the wounded man until he should bewell enough to return to his own home.

  "My!" she exclaimed, at sight of the three heavily-loaded wagons. "My!Whatever are you goin' ter do with all that furniture? Goin' ter set uphousekeepin' on your own account? Whatever have ye' gotten in all themSaratoga trunks?"

  "All sorts of fixin's an' fancies," Kiddie told her. "Among otherthings, if you're hankerin' to know, thar's a heap of dress material thatI brought all the way from London fer Martha Blagg. Likewise a dinkypair of shoes with silver buckles, and heels on 'em that'll make youinches taller'n you are now. I reckoned you'd rather have the cloth an'linen an' stuff than English hens or ducks an' sich farm truck, thatwasn't just convenient ter bring along. I notioned ter bring you acouple of milch cows--pretty as antelopes, they was--but I couldn'tmanage 'em. Hosses is diff'rent. The brown mare with the white blaze upher face is fer Isa. Guess we may's well take her to the stable rightnow. He'll find her when he comes home. I'll send along the otherfixings when I unpack."

  He was in no great hurry to "unpack." When his outfit arrived at thecamp, the main contents of the wagons were unloaded and stowed away undershelter, and the English horses were corralled. Only the materials forthe building of his new cabin were left in the open at the edge of thetrail.

  These were the walls and partitions, doors, floors, and roof, alreadybuilt in portable sections of stout American timber, needing merely to beerected and clamped in place on a substantial foundation.

  He planned to erect the cabin on a long-chosen site apart from GideonBirkenshaw's homestead, but near enough to be neighbourly.

  The spot he had decided upon was a level plateau among the pine treesbetween the beaver pond and Grizzly Notch, where he had years ago killedhis first bear. It was so close to the Sweetwater that in the morningshe could rise from his cot and dive from the brink of the cliff into theclear running creek.

  There was some timber to be felled and the foundation to be dug and newpaths to be made through the woodland glades, and it would take someweeks of hard work before the cabin could be occupied. But he had madeall his plans and measurements in anticipation; nothing had beenneglected.

  Long before he had decided finally to return to the wilds--long ago, inthe irksome social life of London--he had dreamt of this possible cabinhidden in the peaceful seclusion of the forest, where he could study theways of the birds and beasts, where he could live the life of a lonelyscout and trapper, hunting or fishing for his own food, cooking his ownmeals, doing everything for himself without the help of servants. Andnow his dream was coming true.