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The Story of Red Feather: A Tale of the American Frontier, a fiction by Edward Sylvester Ellis |
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Chapter 12. Conclusion |
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_ CHAPTER TWELVE. CONCLUSION
The weather was still crisp and chilly, and, when he found himself alone, he began carefully gathering the blanket around the precious form, so, as to keep away all cold from her body. No mother could have handled her more gently. His left arm remained immovable, while his right fingered about her. He was quick to discover that she was in a sound slumber--a pleasant proof of the success of the grim warrior in the _role_ of a soothing friend to the imperilled little one. Softly raising a corner of the blanket, he looked down in the sweet face, which, though seen dimly, was as the face of an angel. Pure and holy emotions were stirred in that dark heart as never before that evening. He had parted his lips to utter something in his own language, when he was sharply reminded of his remissness by the clamp of horse's feet. Quickly replacing the blanket, he looked behind him, and saw outlined against the glare of the burning buildings the figures of six or eight horsemen, so close that it was useless for him to think of hiding or getting away. Red Feather made no attempt to do either; for, like most of his people, he had a strong sense of dignity, which would have been disturbed by such action. His chief regret was that the horsemen had come upon him so suddenly that his action with the blanket must have betrayed, or at least raised a suspicion of, the truth. Had he but a minute's time, he would have gathered the covering about the form in such a way that in the darkness he might have kept secret the fact that he carried a small child in his arms. His supposition was that these Indians were his own warriors; and a curious meeting must follow between them and the chief whom they thought dead, unless they had learned of his flight from the house, in which event a troublesome explanation must be made to them. But the chief was pleased to observe that the men belonged to still another band, that had come from the south-east on their way to the Lower Crossing, in the hope of intercepting the settlers and their families fleeing in the direction of Barwell. To use a common expression, Red Feather decided to "take the bull by the horns." He was well known and held in fear by all the warriors. He said he had captured a small child, stepping forward and parting the blanket enough for them to see her in his arms, and adding that he meant to take her home to his own wigwam as a present to his squaw. If the latter did not want her, he would put her out of the way, or hold her for ransom. Had the new-comers possessed the courage, they might have asked Red Feather some troublesome questions, but they feared to rouse his anger. He tried to keep their attention away from the other shore; but just then the glare from the burning buildings became so bright that he failed, and not only was Saladin observed making his way to that bank, but Melville was discovered as he rose to his feet. Red Feather affected great surprise at the discovery, and offered no objection when the three Sioux set out to capture the lad and his valuable animal. In the presence of these warriors Red Feather was his old, domineering, ugly self. He spoke sharply, and finally ordered one of the horsemen to dismount and give up his animal. He offered no theory to account for the appearance of the boy on the other shore, or for the singular fact that he was on foot himself. The promptness with which his order was obeyed would have been amusing under other circumstances. Red Feather took possession of his property secured in this rather questionable manner, and then calmly awaited the return of the three who had set out to capture Melville and Saladin. His fear was that the main party under Tall Bear might arrive and complicate matters; for the chief had formed the conclusion that the strange horsemen whose appearance allowed him to escape so easily from the cabin were white men, and that the main band of Sioux therefore had withdrawn. By-and-by the warriors returned from the other side, with the announcement that the lad had escaped, and it was useless to follow him farther. There was no chief with the smaller company, and Red Feather told them that, since there was no chance of finding any settlers in the neighborhood, they would ride back to their own villages, which lay to the south-east. The start was made, and the horsemen passed fully a mile in grim silence. At the end of the mile he ordered them to keep the course they were following, while he alone turned to the right in quest of Tall Bear and his band of Muddy Creek Sioux. Left to himself, Red Feather rode a short distance to the right, and then, changing his course due north, struck the pony into a gallop. He was now heading toward the home of the Clarendons, where he had met so many singular experiences during the earlier part of the evening. He held Dot with such care that she continued sleeping as sweetly as if lying in her own bed at home. Never was Red Feather more cautious and skilful. Thoroughly trained in woodcraft, and an adept in all the cunning of his people, he used those gifts with success, and, though he approached close to the party of Sioux which were hurrying away from the vengeance of the white men, they never suspected the fact, and the meeting was avoided. Within the succeeding half-hour his listening ear caught the neigh of a horse which had detected his own while the two were invisible. Instantly the chieftain brought the pony to a standstill, and peered and listened with all the acuteness he possessed. The horsemen were coming that way, and would soon be in sight. At the very moment their figures were beginning to outline themselves he emitted a whistle, precisely the same as that used by Melville Clarendon when he signaled to him from the Upper Crossing. As he did so he held his pony ready to send him flying over the prairie at break-neck speed. But his heart was thrilled almost in the same second by a reply, which he knew came from no lips except those of the boy himself. Yes; Melville had recognized the call, and sending back the reply, he shouted-- "That's Red Feather! Come, father; I know he's got Dot!" In a twinkling, as may be said, the chief found himself in the middle of the band of Nat Trumbull and his rangers, where he was overwhelmed with congratulations. Although Dot was asleep, her father could not be restrained, and caught her in his arms and pressed her to his heart with tears of joy and thanks to Heaven for its mercy in restoring her to him unharmed. It must be said that Dot was disposed to be cross at being awakened in this summary fashion; but when her little brain came to understand all that had taken place, and she saw that it was her own father who was caressing her, she laughed and shouted, and wanted to kiss and embrace every one of the party, who were just as much pleased to fondle the child as though each had a proprietary interest in her. Since it was evident the Sioux could not be brought to book, Nat Trumbull turned about and headed for Barwell, which the whole party reached before the morning sun appeared. Red Feather kept them company, and I must say that I doubt whether the President of the United States himself could have received a warmer welcome when the whole truth became known to the pioneers. The outbreak of the Sioux was repressed before it had time to assume serious proportions, and, inasmuch as every one who had taken any part in it was anxious to clear himself, the leaders envied the position of Red Feather, who had faced about so early that no suspicion could attach to him. He was re-established in the good graces of his people, and since that time has acted in such a manner that no one will question his right to be considered a good Indian.
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