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T 11 E W 11 l T E V U L T U R E.

A ROMANCE OF THE YELLOWS’I‘ONE.

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

 

NEW SIGHK:
BEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,
9:: WILLIAM wank-'1‘.

 

I \

Entered nccording to Act of COHQ‘N'KS‘ in the year 1571. by
11 EA ULE AN 1) ADAMS,
In the cflicu 01 the Libmnun of Congress. at \N’nnhingmu.

(P. N. No. 2.)

 

 

THE

WHITE VULTURE

 

CHAPTER I.
FORT BENT AND THE WAGON-TRAIN.

IT was at the close of a bright May afternoon; the last
rays of the sinking sun shone down gany upon the broad
prairie, through which, like a great yellow serpent, rolled the
turbid waters of the Yellowstone riVer——a river that took its
rise at the base of the Rocky Mountains and then flowed
eastward, until it poured its current into the great Missouri.
Just at the junction of the Yellowstone and the Powder
rivers, the sun’s rays shone down upon the whitewashed
walls of Fort Bent, a fronter post, located at the confluence
of the two rivers, to guard the wagon~trail,to Montana. The
advanm: of civilization has now caused the fort to be removed,
but at the time at which we write it was the last halting-place >
for the wagon-trains bound for any of the small settlements
mt-stled here and there upon the golden~streaked rocks of
Montana. After leaving Fort Bent, the trail run by the
banks of the Yellowstone, two hundred miles or so, then
turned abruptly north toward the Rocky Mountains. This
was called the southern trail. The northern route was by
the bank of the Missouri. I

Fort Bent was garrisoned by a single company of United
States troops—a hundred men or so. Under the shelter of
the fort, a few trading-houses had sprung up, designed to sup-
ply the wants of the emigrants in powder, hall, blankets, or
any of the little articles necessary for a journey of three
hundred miles through the wilderness. For, as we have said,
after leavingr Fort Bent, the way led through the fertile valley
of the Yellowstone, a valley abonnding in rich grasses, the
little clumps of timber that fringed the river being filled with
game, the stream itself fit stocked with fish—a country that

 

    
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

10 THE WHITE VULTURE.

only needed the strong right arm of civilization to bloom and an“
blossom like a t'ruitt'ul garden. 00“

The wagon-trail thr )ngh this lovely country was not with- 1%”
out its dangers. Near Fort Bent, the fierce Mandan tribe of “g,

Indians flourished ; their hunting-grounds stretching from the
Big Horn river to the little Missouri. Sometimes, too, wan~ lo:
(lering' bands of the Sioux, the ruthless marauders ot' the u}
 Missouri, extended their forays as far as the Powder river. ‘“
i Deadly foes were they of the Mantlan tribe. A
 And then, alter following the wagon-trail along the bank “3'
'1 of the Yellowstone, passing where the Big Horn river emptied “
5" its waters, swollen always by the melting snows ot' the Roeky c}
9i: Mountains, into the first named stream, we enter upon the a]
1, dominion of the Crow nation, the Indian kings of the north- E
if West—the tribe whose warriors wear the claws and teeth of V
 the grizzly bear as necklaces around their necks, sign and E
symbol of their prowess~—the greatest fighting men of all the ‘

tribes that roam the great wilderness of rock and prairie from
_ the Gulf of California in the south, to the Columbia and Mis-
,‘ sout‘i rivers in the north—the warlike tribe that has fought
i' the powerful “Blackfeet” for ages, and yet more than held
their own against them—the tribe whose war-cry is a terror
to the gold-diggers of Southern Montana.

And so, after passing the junction of the Big Horn and the
Yellowstone rivers, the old mountain men, the prairie guides,
prepare for danger; and few wagon-trains, unless large in
I numbers, pass through the valley and tttrn not'tlnvard to
f Montana, without losing stock or men on their passage.

'2 Now that we have described the seene of our coming.r story,
we will return to Fort Bent, where a wagon-train is at the
moment resting, preparatory to daring the dangers of the
i ; . march through this wilderness.

The fort and its vicinity presents a lively scene. The set-
 , diers are chatting with the members of the train, inquiring
' the news from the East and eagerly perusing the newspapers
that have been brought by the emigrants.

The train was contpOSed of some tWenty wagons, containing,
perhaps, sixty souls all told, men, women, and children.
There were twenty-three men in the party, besides the two
guides, a force sufficient to beat: otf any ordinary Indian

 

    

 

THE TWO GUIDES.

attack, if handled skillfully, of which there could be but little
doubt, for the two guides—the captains of the train—-were
men skilled in Indian warfare, and had a reputation as Indian-
tighters second to none on the upper Missouri.

The two guides stood together by the torcmost wagon,
leanng on their rifles, surveyingr the scene before them with
a listless air. They were known as Abraham (Jolt and David
Heed—called Abe and Dave, commonly, by their friends.
Abe was the elder of the two, a man of about torty-years of
age. Tall and straight, he Stood nearly six feet high; but.
weighed not more than a hundredjmd fifty pounds—all mus.
cle, bone and sinew, no useless flesh about him. A profes-
sional prize-fighter would have looked at him in admiration.
From his earliest boyhood he had been accustomed to the
wild life and dangers of the prairie. His father had been a
guide before him, and had reared his son to his calling. The
father had died on the prairie, shot through the temple in a
Crew attack on a wagon-traiu—had died in his son‘s arms,
almost instantly after receiving the ball. From that hour Abe
had sworn an oath of vengeance against every red-skin in
whose veins ran the blood of the Crow nation.

The story of the death of Abe‘s father, and of the oath of
vengeance of the son, was of tttHll‘rc well known to all the
frontier-men ; and he was looked upon as a sort of a hero,
for, since his father’s d 'ath, which occurred some twenty
years before the time at which we write,Abe had encountered
the braves of the Crow nation in inany a desperate fight on
the prairie trail by the Yellowstone; and in every contest the
guide had been victorious; every time the Crows had attacked
a train in which Abe acted as guide, they had been repulsed
with great. slaughter; his pi'esenCe seemed to be fatal to
them.

Abe would never have been taken by a stranger for the
famous Indian-fighter; there Was no sign of the desperado
about him. His face was well browned bythe prairie winds
and the rays of the sun; his eyes Were large, and gray in
color; his chin was shaven as smooth as a young girl’s; his
features were strongly marked and the deep wrinkles about
the eyes and mouth told of hard service and troubles. He

Was dressed Indian fashion, in a hunting-shirt. of deer-skin,

.r

  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
 
   
   
  
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
      

THE

 

“'lll'l‘l-l

   

\‘IYIlTUIH’C.

trnnmed with porcupinequills; leggings of the same mate-
rial, titling tightly to the leg; moccasins, ornamented with
little leaden tags, curiously shaped; upon his head he wore a
cap, formed of a portion of a coyote’s skinvwith thertail
hanging down behind. His hair, black as an Indian’s, was
worn short and curled in little ringlets tight to his head. lie
was a picture worthy the pencil of the artist as he stood
leaning carelessly upon his rille, gazing upon the little lgroups
before him. One approaching him from the rear would have
taken him from his dress to b‘ an Indian chief.

His companion, the othei‘ guide, was ayounlar man, probably
not over twenty, called David Reed. I-lis history was a.
strange one. A party of United States troops, some nineteen
years before the time of which we write, had surprised at
party of Blackfeet Indians encampcd near the head-waters of
the Missouri. The savages had been ona raid against the
white frontier settlements on the upper Missouri, and the sol-
diers had followed in pursuit. They surprised the Indians
and a bloody right ensued; the Indians were outnumbered and
nearly exterminated. After the tight, the soldiers found a
baby boy snueg wrapped in a blanket near the Indian camp.
From his dark complexion and from the outline of his fea-
tures, they concluded that he was a haltlbreed, possibly the child
of one of the Indian braves by a white wife, because it is a.
very common thing for the Indians to carry off white girls in
their frontier raids and force them to become their wives.
Why the child should have been carried with the war-party
contrary to the usual custom of the savages puzzled the old
Indian-lighter, who acted as guide to the soldiers. IIe care-
fully examined the encampment, and finally discovered the
footprints of a woman. It. was evident, then, that there had
been a squaw with the party, and possibly that squaw was one
of the white wives that the great chiefs sometimes have;
though why the chief should carry her on a marauding expe-
dition was a mystery. .

The soldiers took the child back with them to their post;
the infant was apparently a year old. The captain in com.
mand of the troops acted as sponsor to the child thus
strangely found in the desert, and called it David Reed.

The infant grew apaec. Years passed on: the child

beca‘
was
and

five
pie:
ti“
jot
eh‘
()lt
ch
er
sl

mate-
with
on: a
>’ tail
was
He
t<)<)tl
)upa
lave

A srnmuna 13
became a man and adopted the profession of prairie guide, and
was noted on the upper Missouri as one of the surest shots
and best guides h; all the upper valley.

In appearance, he was a tine-looking fellow, shunting about
fiwfimrmwuwnpmwwmmmlmMAlemm;hHIMTww
phmflng;thme wassomeflnng nohm:dnnu H—flUlMFtw me
tive dignity, akin to that of the red-skins; his eyes were large,
jet—black and full of tire; his nose long and straight, the
chhn mpnue and weH tonned,firnesm,hps,und showedtes
olution and strength of purpose; his hronzed tame, the high
wmkaw:mdthwkthHmtflgmU wflwautm
ends, worn long and floating down over his shoulders, alone
showed the Indian blood.

lie was dressed roughly. A red shirt, thrown open care-
lessly at the neck and exposing his tinely—tiu'med throat; a
pair of dark butternut homespun pantabtons that had been
cut open at the side and tilted into the leg, Indian fashion;
a pair of moccasins, which, from the peculiar trimming, anold
Indian-tighter would have pronounced to he of Sioux Inhnu
fiudure; a beh of Ulfltunled deenskiu ginled aroutullds “Hush
suiwxnthig :t hroad-bhuled liunthigdtnifit flDtill serviceabhy
looking revolver, and we have the pen-1,>ieture 01' Dave Reed.

Reed had met the “ Crow»Killer" in Montana, seine three
years before the time at which we commence our story. A
singular friendship had sprung up between the two men, and
from that time they never had separated. Lucky was the
wagon-train that obtained the services of the “ Crow-Killer "
and young Dave Reed, as his friends called him, for a trip
across the upper plains!

“ Does that follow ’there belong to our train ?" asked
Dave of the “ Ct‘mV-Kiiier,” directing his attention to a man
who stood apart\from all the rest near the bank of the
nver.‘

"‘ Whar?" asked “(Crow-Killer," turning his eyes in the di-
rection indicated.

. “That one there, wrapped up in the blanket as if he had the
chills,” and Dave pointed to a man standing near the river,
with his back to the two guides. The stranger was wrapped
in a dirty red blanket. which completely covered him. On
his head he wore a common black felt hat. from under which

 

  

 

 

 
   
   
     

;-

14 THE WHITE vumumc.

long black locks fell down over his shoulders, forming a
strikingr contrast to tlte red blanket.

Abe took a long look at the motionless figure.

“ Well, do you know him ‘3" asked Dave.

“ Nary time I” answered Abe. “ He looks lith an In-
jun, darned it' he don't. He‘s a powerful big t'eller, I should
judge.”

Just then the st‘anger turned round and exposed a face a
few shades darker titan that of Dave's, but not dark enough
to proclaim the owner to bean Indian, or, it' he was one, one—
much lighter in color than tile generality of his race. The
t'aee ot' the stranger was an odd one; high cheek bones, the
dark color, the tlashing black eyes, no Sign of a beard—all
these would proclaim him an Italian; yet, the long black hair
curled slightly at the ends, and was much finer than the Usual
:oarse locks of the redskin.

As. he faced toward the two .guides, the eyes of the stranger
wandering listlessly over the talking; crowd, Abe got a good
full view oi" his thee and started in astonishment.

“ What‘s the matter ‘r" questioned Dave.

“That man's l'aeel" answered Abe, still staring intently
upon the stranger.

“ Well, what of it ‘3”

“ Why, he’s the perfect image of yott 1"

Dave now started in surprise, and turned his keen glance
upon the stranger. As Abe had said, save that the unknown

, was darker in color, there was, indeed. a wonderful resemblance

between the two men—~the same long black hair, curling at
the ends—the same flashing black eyes, the same express-inn
on the face, almost the same siZe, and features marvelously
like those of the young guide.

 
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 

in tht
and
eyes
llat‘
thrt

ti

out
kn
kn
in
It

W

“ Yes, he does look like me,” said Dave, surveying the strun- I

ger with a puzzled air.

“Like you 1 You couldn’t be more. alike if you were run
in the same molt ,” said the “ Crow-Killer.” ’

“ it is Very strange, to say the least.” Dave spoke thought-
fully.

“ Strange, you bet l” answered Abe, tersely.

And yet, at this very moment, to a close observer, there was
something else stranger than all, and that was the resemblance

  

ting a

I In

‘tonhl

l(,‘(‘ :1
High
one-
The
the
mall
ntir
utd

:er
od

 

wno ts ms?

in the general expression of the features that both Dave Reed
and the stranger bore to Abe, the “Cro\\'—Killrr." Their
eyes were black and his were gray, and yet they [naked alike.
Had they been elad alike, a stranger Would have taken the
three for father and sons.

“ lie looks like an Injun, and yet he is too light colored for
one," said Dave. t

“ Yes,” responded the “Crow-Killer," watching the un-
known with a keen glance, “he ain't one of our party I
know. I guess he's a stranger hyar too, for he don't seem to
know any of the folks round. lIe don’t look exactly like an
Injnn, but he maybe one with white blood in him; that.
Would aeeount for his light. color."

“ I’ll go over and tind out who he is,” said Dave.

“ Go it, yountar boss l" answered the “ Crmv-Killer," “ that's
a good idea."

One of the corporals attached to the post at this moment
approached the two guides. I

“ Who is that chap over thar? do [you know hint ?” asked
the guide.

The corporal took a good look at the motionless tigure, wrap-
in thegaudy blanket.

“ I don't know him ; a stranger in our ranche, I reckon."

“ You have never seen him before then '3" suid Dave.

“ I think not. I guess he’s one of the Mandan Injnns
come in to .get some whisky or something of that sort.”

" He ain’t no Mandan," said Abe. after another good look.

Dave bent his steps toward the stranger.

(if? 1.x  M . 432‘,r@/i", ,2 ‘ I ‘5' j;

 

)2? /

CHAPTER 11.’

THE GREAT FIGHTING MAN OF THE GROWS.

ALTHOUGH the stranger was apparently itttlitferent to all
that passed around him and seemed half asleep, yet his quick
eye had noticed the two guides in conversation, noticed the
glances they had cast toward him, and had rightly (oneluded

 

  

  

 

16 Tina wn m; vu LTURE.

that they were speaking of him; then, when he saw Dave
walk toward him, he quietly turned his head in the direction
of the river as il' seekingr an avenue of escape in case of
danger. As it' satisfied, he turned his attention again to the
crowd near the fort. Dave came up to him.

“ How are you, strangeig?” said the guide.

“ \Vell,” answered the unknown, in a deep, guttural voice
that instantly proclaimed its owner to be a red-skin

“ Is the chief a Mandan ‘6" questioned the guide.

“No,” was the laconic answer 01' the stranger.

“ Sioux ‘3" x

“ Yes."

“ What tribe '3”

“ Yancton I" responded the stranger, who, Indian fashion,
was sparing,r of his words.

“What brings the chief to Fort Bent, so far away from
his home ‘5” asked Dave.

“ Alike-no is a chiel‘ of the Sioux; he fought, the Mandan
braves on the Powder river. In the dark he losthnsbrothers,
he traveled north to the wigwams ot' blue-coated bmves. He
is at peace with his white brothers; he is hungry and would
eat; he, is thirsty and would drink. Ali-ke—no is a great
chief of the Yanctons!”

The savage uttered his story with a stolid face, while the
quick flashing of his eyes changed into a dull gleam.

“Did my brother come on foot '2" asked Dave.

“The chief is not a mud-turtle,” answered the savage;
“ he does not crawl when he can fly like the eagle. My
white brother will look,” and the Chief pointed to a small,
open space between the fort and the river, where a white
horse, strangely marked with small patches of black in the
flanks, and ot' matchless beauty, tethered to a stake, lay upon
the ground.

The guide gazed upon the Steed with unbounded admira-
tion. He had seen many a horse of wondroan beauty, but
never one to compare with that, milk-white stem of the chief.

“ My brother’s horse is handsome,” said Dave.

“ The chief is a great brave among his warriors; he rides
on the wind. The mustang never lived that could overtake
the “ White Vultule I"

 
  
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
  
    
    
  
   
   
  
 
 
    
  
  
   

 

  

A CHIEF 1N DISGUISE.

“Your horse ?“ questioned Dave, wondering at the name.

“ The chief has said,” responded the Indian, with savage
dignity.

“ If my brother is hungry, come to the fort and eat,” said
Dave. .

“ My brother is good ; the blue-coats have fed the Sioux
chief; his hunger is gone.”

“Will you return to your people now ‘3" questioned the
guide.

” As fast as the crow flies to his nest; his braves mourn
him as dead and gone to the happy hunting-grounds, but the
scalp of the Sioux chief will never hang in the smoke o a
Mandan lodge,” and the savage drew his tall form up proudly.
Then, bending his eyes on the train, he asked: “Does my
white brother hunt with the white wigwams, that go to the
setting sun ?” and with his eyes be indicated the emigrant;-
wagons as he spoke.

“ Yes, I am their guide,” answered Dave.

“And the tall chief, who wears the hide of the coyote,"
indicating,r Abe, who was in conversation with the corporal, as
he spoke, “ does he hunt with my brother 1’”

“ Yes; we are the chiefs of the train," said Dave, wonder-
ing at the curiosity of the Indian.

“ What is my tall white brother called ?"’ asked the red-
skin, pointing to Abe.

“ Abe Colt.”

“ Crow-Killer?" questioned the savage, with a. slight un-
atsiness perceptible in his manner.

‘ “ Yes," answered Dave, secretly wondering that; his com-
panion’s name should be so well kuowa to the Yaneton
Sioux; “you have heard of the ‘Crow-Killer’ then it” he
asked. I i

“ The deeds of a great brave on the War—path \travel like .
the white clouds, when the win’ds blow over the prairie.
The ‘Crow-Killer’ is a great chief,” answered the Indian, a
Dtcl'ltiim' gleam in his dark eyes, as he looked upon the famous
lhrli-Iuvfighter.

k“ Does my brother go soon ?" asked Daye.

“When the moon comes, the Sioux chief rides like the
wind for the Big river, (Missouri); his warriors wait for him,

 

  

    

  

18 THE WHITE VUlIl‘URE.

and the singing hird that sings for the chief, sings not: when
the Wigwam is empty and the nest is cold.” Then the ln-
dian gazed upon the crowd with the same stolid glance as
before.

Dave having gained all the information that he could, re-
joined Abe and the corporal

“ Wal, who and what is he ?" asked Abe.

“ He says he’s a Sioux of the Yancton tribe, separated
from the rest of his braves in a tight with the Mundane on
the Powder river; and that he came here for food and drink,"
answered Dave to Abe’s question.

“Well, now I think of it,” said the corpora], “I remem-
ber hearing the boys saying something, this morning, about
an Indian coming in, hungry, and they giving him l'ood.”

“ A Yancton Sioux, oh ‘1’" said Abe, half to himself.

2‘ Yes; what do you think of him ‘3” asked Dave.

“ VVul, I don’t exactly know,” replied the “ Crow-Killer,”
thonghtfudy; “ but of I were to meet that Injun, a hundred
and fifty miles west from hyar, I’d say he was a Crow an‘ be
willin’ to bet my life onto it."

“ A Crow 1" cried Dave.

“That’s so, 1105s; though I noticed he’s ripped off the
trimmings of his moccasins and leggins, so as to make ’em
plain and disguise his trihe. Now, if he were a Sioux, why
does he come skulking hyar in disguise~thavs what I want
to know ‘3"

Just then the “ Crow-Killer" was interrupted by a horse-
man dashing into the little village from the upper trail leading
up the bank of the Yellowstone. The horse was covered
with lather, showing that he had been ridden hard; the horse-
man, a sturdy-looking fellow but pale as death in thei‘aee,
drew rein in the Center of the little square thrmed by 1h( fort,
the tradiugvhouses‘and the wagon-train; then tumbled from
his horse exhausted. A crowd gathered around him.

“ What’s the matter?” “that is it, stranger?” were the
questions poured in upon him by the bystanders.

“ The devil’s to pay I” gasped the stranger. “The Tn’uns
are up again on the Yellowstone trail, thick as grasshoppers
in summer.” ‘

What Injuns ?” yelled half a dozen excited voices.

 

'rnn DEUCE TO PAY. l!

“ The Crows l” replied the stranger, who thereupon pro-
ceeded to tell his story. He had left Montana with a party,
composed of two wagons loaded with furs, and ten men;
they had not seen signs of Indians until after passing Great
Falls and striking across to the Yellowstone; then they came
across an lndian trail, which one of the trappers pronounced
to be that of a 'ar-party and about three days old ; but, as
the trail led directly southward across their line of march
they did not anticipate any danger. But, on the first night
after striking the Yellowstone river, they were attacked by a
large party of Crow Indians; the trappexs fought bravely but
they were overpmvered and forced to leave their wagons and
seek safety in flight. How many of his companions had es-
Caped he knew not; but he, possessing a very swift horse,
had succeeded in pleasing ,the line of the encircling savages
and in escapingr by reason of the fieetness of his horse ; but,
in escaping from the Indians, he had been compelled to leave
the lower trail and go nortlnvard, and had been five days in
reaching the fort, which, had he come straight by the bank
of the Yellowstone, he might. easily have made in four.

Dave and Abe had listened intently to the tale.

“ Stranger, I believe you said the red devils were Crows i"

“ Yes,” answered the trapper.

“What chief mought be at‘the head on ’em? Do you
know ?” asked Abe.

“ Yes; Dick Sawyer, my partner, recognized one of the
chiefs, an’ he seemed to be the head one of the party. He
said it was the ‘ White Vulture,’ " said the trapper.

“ You don’g say sol” and the “ Crow-Killer” indulged in
a low whistle of astonishment. “ Why, he’s thebiggest fight-
ing man in all the Crow nation. They do say he’s a perfect
‘painter’ on the war-trail. I never sce’d him yet, but I’d
like to!" and ‘there was a strange tone in the old hunter‘s
voice, and a strange glitter in his eyes, as he uttered the
words. His fingers, too, clenched tighter around the long
Darrel of his rifle, and there was an expression upon his fact:
'whieh boded danger to the Crow chief.

“ I didn’t see much of him,” said the stranger, “ ‘0031 were
in pretty considerabl: hurry to git for the open country, but.
he‘s a heap on fight, I should say “or be cleaned us out in

 

 

20 THE w um; vuurunm.

about twenty minutes, an‘ we made a tough old fight of it,
too.” \

“ Do you think any the rest of your friends escaped ‘3"
asked the captain in command of the fort, who had been an
attentive listener to the trapper’s story.

“ Wal, I don’t exactly know," said the trapper, scratching
his head thoughtfully. “I guess my partner, Diek Sawyer,
vould get shot of them, it‘ any in the party would, ’eos he
had a powerful running hoss—an animal that was jist chain-
lightniug on the go. It were a hose from the south. Dick
give a couple of hundred for him, an’ that’s a fancy price, you
know; but. he were awful fast, an’ jist as handsome a eritter
as I ever laid eyes on. An’ I kinder think that if any of the
party got away ’sides me, it were likely to he Dick an’ his
white hoss.”

“A white horse ?” asked Dave, a sudden suspicion coming
into his mind.

“ Yes,” answered the trapper, “a hoss jist as white as milk,
cept it had a patch or lwo of black upon its tlanks, an’ the
prettiest beast; you eVer saw.”

Could it be possible, that the Crow chief had the ln-avado
to come into the fort in disguise, and right afler his attack
upon the trappers? lave looked around for the Indian ; he
had disappearedl The guide quietly left the little knot of
people and went toward the bank of the river. The “l ite
horse was gone; tlie Indian as well. Far in the distance, on
the trail leading up the river, Dave saw the stranger mounted
on the white steed, riding at; full speed.

" Curse you, red-skin l” he muttered; “ you’ve been after no
good. I’ll meet you one of these days, and I‘ll put a bullet
through you, though you do look enough like me to be my
brother."

The young man rejoined the little knot. of people around
the trapper, who were eagerly discussing the particulars of the
late attack.

/ Dave drew Abe aside, and told him his suspicions. Abe
heard all with a grave shake of the head.  ‘

“I had an idea that that Injnn was 11 Crow,” he said.
“ Seine way or other I can generally tell ’em: hut, though I
hate the whole nation and never yet spared a Crew that I got

it:

 

 
   

A FAMOUS WARRIOR. 

wit‘im rifle range of, yet I should (lrell'ully hate to put a bul-
let through this fellow, for he looks so nutclt like you.”

“ You think then that, 1 am right in my suspicions ‘f"

“Sart’in, you've hit the right nail on the heat]. That In-
jun was the ‘ White Vulture,’ the greatest lighting-man of all
the Crow nation, though he’s a mighty young brave."

“ Ile can‘t be older than I am,” said Dave.

“No, i should say he wasn’t. I titst litard tell on him
about three years ago, when I were up trading in the Black-
foot cottntry. A party of Blackfeet made a raid down into
the Crow region, an’ at the first on it, they whipped the Crows
right ottt of their moccasins; they took this ‘ White Vulture’
prisoner, tied him to a tree to torture him a little, bttt, before
they lit the tire under him they amused themselves by see-
ing how near they could come to his head throwing hatchets
and scalping-knivcs at him in their devilish t'ashion. Well,
some way they hadn’t tied him very strong and one,ol' the
liatchets, thrown carelessly, cut one of the thongs that bound
him. In a twinkling he burst the rest of the bonds, seized
one of the hatehets, laid about. him right an' left, killed five
of the Blackfeet braves almost instantly and then made a rush
for life and escaped, although the whole party gave chase.
Then, after he got back to his tribe he collected a few warriors
and hung about the rear of the retreating Blackfeet, picking
otf a man hyar and there, until at last their retreat became it
rout and they hurried north as if the devil himself was at
their heels. Well, I were in the Blackfeet country when the
party got back, an’ of course I hearn all about it. The next
year, the ‘ White Vulture ’ returan the visit of the Blackfeet
and raided all through their country, with a small party too,
hardly 1015ng a man. From that day to this his fame as a
great brave has been increasing; the Crow Indians them-
selves regard him with snperstitiou; they think he‘s a great
medicine—man ; they don't believe that the bullet was ever run
that can kill hitn; in fact, to-day he's the head-chief and the
gt'ezttESt lighting man in all the Crow nation."

“ l’m afraid that if he ever comes again within range of
my rifle I shall convince the Crows that there’s it bullet in my
pouch that will settle him,” said Dave, with a grim smile, tap-
ping the butt of his rifle. -

  

    

 

 

22 Tut: wurrm vuurumc.

“ Do you know, Dave, that I don‘t want to meet the ‘ White
Vulture’ 1" said the “ how—Killer " solemnly.

“ \‘Vhy not "B" asked Dave, in atnaZemeut.

“ Because I should have to kill him, and that I don’t want
to do. Strange, too, that up to [0-day we have never met. The
last time he attacked a wagon-train lit-tween here, uu‘ Fort
Benton, I was to go as guide with that same train, but at the
last inoment,just as we were starting, I had a sort of feeling
which said, ‘ don't go ll—it sorter voice that seem to whiqnet',
‘don’t go,‘ right in my ear. I didn’t go, but got another man
in my place; I thought I was actintar like a tool at the time;
wul, that train was attached an‘ the stock all run 011'; an’ the
Crows were led by this same ‘ While Vulttu'e.’”

“ Well, that was strange,” said Dave. ’

“It were more than strange,” replied the old guide, in a
solemn tone, “ I’ve got a notion somehow that it isn’t titted
that we shall ever meet in Ilglli,1llly then ag’iu,l get the
idea that if we ever do meet, it will be the death of one of
us.”

“It'll be the ‘\Vhite Vulture ’ then that'll go under. I’ll
bet my life on it,” cried Dave.

“ I don‘t know that, Dave, I don’t know that; he’s a good
fighter, quick as a eat an’ savage as a painter. They do tell
me that he’s the best. runner in his tribe Im’ a sure shot with
the rifle. If we meet in a fair fight, I think he's got the ad-
vantage of me. The Indian owes me a Llebt of vengeance for
I killed his father."

“ You did ?" said Dave.

“ Yes.” By this time they had reached the open prairie,
just beyond the wagons; there they paused.

“ Sit down,” said Abe, “ and I'll tell you all aboutit."

The two guides sat down upon the grass. Abe closed his
eyes for a moment thoughtfully, as if striving to rememuet
the past. After a moment of silence he spoke:

“ Of course you’ve heard, DaVe, that my father was killed.
out here on the Yellowstone trail by thesevCrows, and died in
my arms ?"

“ Yes," said Dm’e, “ I have heard the story.”

“ Au’ I suppose hearn, too, how I swore to be revenged
upon all the red devils of the Crow nation?”

I

    

u YC
u 
out in
fair ti;
:ui’ th
me th
Felt
jun :
thigh
Ot' e
Very
wert
they
sou:

‘ Li

I it
b\l(‘

ot‘

t v

to

I V

In

hito

nut
'he
at
he

LITTLE sun. 23

“ Yes, I heard that also.”

“ Wal," Said the guide, “I did a good deal in wiping 'em '
Out in fair tight, but the hitterest revenge that I took wasn’t in
fair fight. It were about two years after my t'aiher‘s death,
=\n’ the border'tiilks an’ the Injuns had already begun to call
me the ‘ Crow-Killer,Y that a. large lot of the Crows came into
Foit Benton to Sign a treaty and have a big talk with the In—
jun agenla. I was at the fort at the time an’ the Crows were
mighty anxious to get a look at theirldevil as they called me.-
Ol' course as they were there on a peaee-mission, I couldn’t
Very well take their top-knots, but I wanted to, for the hlooC
were hot in my veins in those days. Being on a peace-talk,
they had brought their squaws with them, an‘ among the
satiaws was the prettiest Injun I ever saw. She were called
‘ Little Star,’ au’ she were a star! Although she were a Crow,
I fell in love with her, an’, as it ’bout always happens in just;
such cases, she fell in love with me. She was to he the wife
of one of the young braves, named ‘Rolling Cloud’; the
‘White Vulture’ is his son.‘ VVal, the ‘ Little Star’ an’ I used
to meet nights, outside the fort ; she were dead gone on me—
Iwere called a handsome feller then—an’ were witlin‘ to leave
her trihe an‘ go with me. \Val, [loved the gal, Injun‘though
she was, an‘ I took her. One morning both she an’ I were
missin’. We went down the river, an’ I married her, lujim
fashion, for thar wasn’t no minister nigh. Wal, my takin‘ the
gal riled the Crows awfully. I pitched my shanty with a lit-
tle settlement on the Missouri, an’ for two years I were happy.
There were some things happened in those two years, but I
don’t care to speak of them. At the end, about, ol' those
two years I came back one night au' founiLmy ealiin destroyed
an’ my wife gone, an’ from that day to this Iliave never h'earu
Word of her; but in an Iujun fight 'nl‘it hyal', I met the ‘ Roll-
ing CIoud.‘ We had a fair tussle an‘ I downed nn‘ knifed him,
an’ as he (lied he muttered something ’hout the ‘Little Star,’
which makes me think the Crews know something— of my
Wife’s fat 1."

 

24 THE WHITE VULTUHE.
Lt 1)0 yo“
o i can't
didn‘t- yo“
“ Yuri.”
.. Th“ "I

CHAPTER III. “H, mm,

, ‘

THE 1mm TO 1tA't"rLtcsNAktc GULClI. them. ‘

1 . . . . ‘ t-Kaid l)th
1‘01: a moment or two alter Abe tunshed his story tl are H You

was silence. The old guide closed his eyes and leaned bet-k
upon the grass. It. was not often that he spoke of the past,
and the remembrance of that past brought a flood of bitter

the 0mm
“ Sat‘l
Fort V)“

memories to his mind. “Th

Dave, too, was thinking. He had heard some of the par- “Y0
tieulars ot' the life of the “ Crow-Killer," which were current “ ms“
topics in Southern Montana and alongr the Missouri; but that (mum

the great enemy of the how nation had married a daughter Eb,
of that tribe was news to him. The “some thing‘s" that had

occurred during,r the married life ot' the “ Crow-Killer," which 
he had not explained and barely mentioned in his story, puz~ 2”}:
zled Dave ; it was evident that there was a mystery eonneeted i:
with the past life of Abe Coll, and that the “ ('.‘i-o\\'-Killer” ,
imagined that the Crows held the threads of that mystery, :13),
which one day they might unravel. ,
The thoughts of the two guides were interrupted just» then b”,
by the approach of two members of the wagon-train. The N,
two men were father and son ; their names Were, respectively, , ‘
Eben an] Riehard Hickman. Eben was a man probably q,
forty-five years of age, large and powerfully built, with an ' ,1
ill-looking, treacherous face, shilling, light‘blue eyes, yellow
hair and heard, his cheeks thin and hollow,and an expression ‘

of greed and cunningr upon his features. The son, Richard,
resendde the father in looks and build,only with a far better-
looking t'aee. His hair was cut. short, and the expression
upon his features was not an unpleasant one.

The father, Eben. was in business in a little mining town
in Southern Montana, known as Spur City; the son had just
come from the East, to join the father, who had met him at
St. Paul.

f‘ When do we start ‘6" asked Eben Hickman, of the F-Jldc‘fi

“ 'l‘o-morrow morning at four,” answered Dave,

 

 

  

'1 are,

lax-[\-
)Ttxt’
‘tter

m._
art
at

  

was, (lEHlCHALIX. 25

" Do you think there is danger from Indiana on the way ‘f"

"I ean't say; you heard the news the trapper brought,
didn't you ‘3" asked Dave.

“ Yes," answered lliekman.

“ The red devils are on the war»path, but I don’t expect
that they ean trouhle us mueh, heeause we’re too many for
them. ’l‘hey’ll probably try it, hut we’ll flax ’etn it' they do,”
said Dare.

“ You think there is danger of an attack then i’” questioned
the elder llieltnmn. i

“ Sart’in l” answered Dave, “jist. as sure as we are hyar at
Fort Bent to-day.” I

“ The Indians always attaek at night,I believe 1’" said Eben.

“ Yes, generally,” answered the guide, eurtly He had taken
It dislike to the lliekinans, both father and son, a dislike he
C(illlll not well explain.

Eben Iliekman Stood for a moment as it‘ in thought, then
turned to his. son. “ Come, Richard, we may as Well look
alter our ammunition.” So the two walked baek toward the
fort.

“ Ammunition, blazes l” said Ahe, emplnttieally. “ Il‘ that"s
any fighting to he done, I guess hoth of those ehaps will be
more likely to he behind a wagon than timing the Injnns."

“ That's what I think," cried Dave; “I hate the sight of
both those fellows, I don’t exactly know why, but I s’pose
it’s because I. think they're a couple of cowards."

“I think thar's another reason, Dave," said Aha, in his
quiet \ray; “ a pretty good reason, too, an’ that reason’s a
female.”

“Eli?” stammered Dave, getting as red in the face as a
blushing girl.

“ Jns’ so I” responded the “ Crow-Killer.” “Guess I ain’t
lilind gel, Dave. It’s a mighty suspicious Sign when a young
gal likes to leave the wagons an’ ride alongside of the guides,
un‘ hear stories ’hont hufller huntin’ an’ Injun tiglfiin‘ an’ sielt
like.”

“ Why, you don't think that Miss Leona cares any thing
’buut me, do you ‘3" asked Dave, anxiously.

“ Wal, it’s hard to say ; thar‘s no tellin‘, smnetimes, ‘bout
these gals. I’m death on i'eatliti‘_,lttjttii sign, but a woman

 

 

   

 

26 THE WHITE VL‘I.’I‘UIIE.

gits me. -But, I look at it. in this way: when I see the, print
of a moeeasin on the prairie, it’s nat'ral toeonelude that some
onth been that“; when I Ht't: a young gal likes to be in the
Company of a young teller, 2111' seems to take pleasure in be-
ing with him, I don’t think I'm far otl‘ from the trail to say
that she likes him. Now that's just, the way this case stands,
as near as I can lix it.”

“ But, I say, Abe, you’ve forgot one thing: she’s a well
brought-up girl, been edueated and all that sort of thing, an'
my briugiu’ up has been rough; mighty little schooling I’ve
been through,” and the young guide shook his head thought-
t'ully.

“ You’re a durned sight better educated than I am,” said
Abe, “ an’ I reelton I (can hold up my head with any man on
the upper Missouri; besides, that ain‘t every thing; a man
must have brains too. This Miss Leona is a sensible g l, I
take it; she wants a man to fall in love with—a man with
muscle an’ nerve, fit to tight his way through the world, not.
a dandy ehap that would faint at the sight. 01‘ an ax or at.
the smell of gunpowder, but a man she can look up to, one
that. can protect her, care for her an’ love her all at the same

‘ time.”

" Yes, I think you are right there; she seems to be :1 very
sensible girl,” replied Dave.

“ That’s so,” responded Abe. “ I’ve had my eyes open ever
since we left St. Paul ; she ean’t bear the sight of that Dick
lliekman, though he’s been trying to be mighty sweet on her.
I’ve seen it i She gits out of his way as much as she can,
though he’s always arter her. I should think the teller Would
have sense enough to see that she can’t bear him, but there’s
some men in this world haven’t got as much sense as an owl.
You see, as I haven’t had any Injnn sign to look arter, I’ve
been amusing myself by watching the humans round me.”

“ You think, men, that the girl likes me ‘1‘” asked Dave,
anxiously.

“ b‘art’in, I'd go my pile onto it, an’ I ain't got much to go
311’ ean‘t well at'ord to lose that little, but I'd bet high on it.”

“ But. I‘m a poor man,” urged Dave.

“ Jus’ so, but ~arter We get to Montana we’ll try the gold-
diggin’s, an’ who knows we mought make a big strike that.

     

If
yo

y\

 

  

Tut; LITTLE INJUN WIFE. 27
If the ,u'al does love you, why she'll wait a little while for
you, an’ it" she won't wait, why she don't love you, an’ the
quicker you lbrget her the better; that’s sense, now I tell
you."

“ Well, Abe, I believe it is; I have not tried to make the
girl love me, httt 1 will try now, and if she does lore me, that's
all 1 ask for in this world "—and the young; guidth t'aee, shone
with a smile of happiness as he leaned upon his elbow and
thought of the golden locks of the pretty Leona, to him the
prettiest girl in all the World. I

“ You‘re right, Dave." said the “ Ct‘o\\'-Killer,h thoughtfully,
“ a good \totnan's love is a treasure in this world; years have
gone by since I lost my little lujuu wil'e, but I haven’t tor-
gotten her. Thar‘a a mystery about her death, for I suppose
she was killed when the red-skins burnt my Cabin, but I ain‘t
sure of it. She may he alive, even now, up in the Crow
nation. One of these days I‘m goin’ to take a party up that‘
an' see il I can’t diskiver the truth. 'l‘har’s somethingr else,
too, that I want to know; thar's a sort of suspicion in my
mind that thar's‘a reason why I an’ the ‘White Vulture’
shouldn‘t ('Ulltt' together. lwant to eaptttre a Crow Injun,
an old ehiel‘, one as old as tnysell', if I ean, an‘ if he'll only
speak the truth to me, he can tell me of some things Lon-
Iieetetl with the (,‘row nation that I want to know.”

We will now leave the two guides and lollow the flick-
mans, lather and son, as they walked toward the tort.

“ That fellow Dave is not over civil," said the son.

“ No,” responded the lather, “ I don’t think that he hears
either of us any great love.”

' I think I can guess the reason," said Richard, with a
sneer.

“That is not diliieult to guess.” responded the father, a
sneer also upon his lips. “ The fellow has a fancy tor Leona.”

“Exactly what I think,” said Richard.

“ And lrotn what I have seen, i rather fancy that the girl
is not inditlerent to him," continued the lather.

“ I know that she likes him,” responded Richard, savagely,
“I see it plain enough. Don’t she ride by his side nearly
evory .lay at the head of the train? Hasn’t he been bringing
her flowers from the prairie, and don‘t she alwayi stick tight

 

\

  

 

28 THE w ni'rn wurunm.

in the wagon whenever he's out on a seout 01‘ a hunt, and
the moment he returns, don't she always get tired of heing in
the wagon and want to ride? Why, it’s as plain as the nose
on my face. I tell you, lather, what little sense Dave Reed
has got, is all tangled up in Leona’s red hair. Curse himl

l'or I’ve taken a. l'ant-y to the girl, and she don’t seem to care ‘

any thing more about me than she does of the dirt under her
feet.”

“ I am sorry to say, my son, that I think you have spoken
the truth. I'm Very sorry for it, lorl wanted the girl to tall
in love wlth you," said the father, a crafty smile upon his thin
features.

“ Well, I know that," responded the son, moodily. “ It. was
you that put it, into my head to make love to her. I shouldn’t
have thought ol‘ her as a wife but for you. \Vhat did you
want me to make love to her for?”

“Ah l” and the father Shook his head, “ that requires an
explanation."

“ Well, suppose you explain; I’m tired of working in UK
dark. I'd like to know what you are driving at.”

“Very well,” and then the lather looked (-art‘t‘ully around
him to see it" any one was within hearing, but no one was
near. “ You know that, I lett the East a year ago to try my
fortunes in Montana. In going across the plains, I made the
acquaintance of a man named Daniel Vender—”

“ Venderl \Vhy that is Leona’s name,” interrupted the
son.

“ Exactly; Daniel Vendor was her father. On the march
we shared the same wagon, and bet-ante very intimate. He
told me all about himself and his plans. He came from the
town of Greentield in Massachusetts; he had it‘ll a daughter
behind him there—he had been seized with the Western t'ever,
as they call it; had eonvertml all his valuables into (-ash, and
was going to Montana to embark in mining. 11 he succeeded
and liked the country, it Was his intention to send for his
daughter and make Montana his home. He took quite a lik-
in;r to me—we were both about the same age—and proposed
to me to join with him in a claim. VVell,yon of course
know, Dick, that I had very little money; so 1 was glad to
join with him. We arrived in Montana safe, and as we

 

      

A HOPEFUL PA l R.

 

couldn’t find a claim to suit us at tirst, we bought out a trail

er‘s stock and started ll—Sl01'C at Spur (lily. \Ve did first
rate, and-in a few months had doubled tlte money we put into
it. Then there came a cilantro to buy a claim in a new mine,
just struck, about twenty mile west of us, in a place called
Rattlesnake Gulch. The way we worked the store was that
Vender put in nine parts of the money and I one. We
bought the claim in the same way; so you see that I only
had one-tenth interest in it. \Vell, about two months ago
Vender was suddenly taken sick. lIis sickness did not last
long, for in four days from the time lte was taken down he
died. This would have been a very bad thing for me, for
the store and the mine were both making money, but Vender
left a will, deeding to me all his property.” "P

The son looked at the father with a peculiar glance.

“He forgot his daughter in his will entirely then ?" he
asked. ~

“ Yes." The tone of Hickman’s voice was hard and dry

“ \Vasn’t that rather strange ‘3" questioned the son.

“ Perhaps some people might think so," was the reply, a.
sly but furtivc look appearing in the shifting blue eyes.

“ What did the people around there think of it ‘1"

“0h, nothing was said about it. There wasn’t any one
in the whole place except myself knew that he had a child ;
and besides, as he distinctly said in his will that he left all
his property to his cousin, Eben Hickman, what could people
say ?" asked the father. .

“ His cousin '2” cried the son, iuastonishment.

“ Yes, that was me, of course. Vender and I came to the
town together; he was a. quiet sort of a fellow kept himself
to himself, made very few friends and spoke not at all of his
private affaiis; therefore no one knew any thing shout him;
no one disputed the will, and I came into possession of all
his property," and the cunning eyes twinkled with delight as
he spoke.

“ Let me see. I believe you’re quite clever with the pen,
ain't you ?” asked the son, with a grin.

“ Uh, tolerably clever l” and the old villain chuckled with
delight as he thought of the wrong he had done the dead
man. ‘

  

 

30 T1116 WHITE YL'LTURE.
“But, how did you fix it ahout the witnesses? I short J
have thought that would have bothered you.”

“ Oh, no! I got two drunken miners to alllx their names
to it; things in the law way are rough out here; no one
made any objection to the will, or, in fact, made any inquiry
about it at all. I took possession, and of course hold the
property now.”

“ How much is the whole thingr worth ‘3" asked Dick.

“ About tit'leen thousand dollars,” answered the old man.

“ Then this girl, this Leona Vender, is the real heir to———”

“The mine known as Rattlesnake Gulch—exactly," said
the father. “ As soon as I had the estate fixed up and pro-
perly made over to me, I wrote East for you to come on ;
and the very same day that I received your letter telling me
when you would start, I received a letter from this girl Leona,
of course directed to her father, telling him when she would
start to join him: and she was to come just one week after
you. By herletter, I guessed that. Vender had sent her money
to come on with—perhaps told her of his success and of his
prospects. Now, this letter struck me cold. Of course if
she ever arrived at Spur City, she would instantly expose me,
and the chances are that, if she ever does get there, proclaims
her relationship with Daniel Vender and denouncos me as an
impostor, the citizens of Spur City will give me a taste of
Judge Lynch, for justice is very speedy in the mountain re-
gion when they once get their hands in.”

“ What do you think of doing ‘r” asked the son, anxiously.

“ In the first place, let me see what; I have done, so as to
make the case all complete,” said Eben. “I wrote you that I
would meet yog at St. Paul. I did so. The girl, in her letter,
said that she also would come by that route. Thth was the
reason why we waited a week there; you remember you won-
dered at my delay. Well, I was waiting for her.
close watch. At last she came; I found out all about her.
and made arrangements to come in the same wagon-train.
Now, then, this was my calculation. I was pretty sure that
Vender had never written his daughte‘ any thing about me.
I took pains to be introduced to her. I noticed that she man-
ifested no surprise at the mention of my name. which con-
vinced me that my suspicions were right and that she had

I kept V

_.—-Ae‘fl

 

  

‘ PLOTTING. 81
never heard of me. If you remen1her,1 cautioned you not
to say any thing about Spur CityI or that I knew any thing
of the place, to any at" our companions. My first plan was
this; I thought that the girl on the journey might luke :
ihncy to you; it' she would only full in love with and marry
you, why then every thing would he all right, for, of course
she wouldn’t want to prosecute her litlller-in-htw t'or torgery,
and the whole ull'air would he settled forever.”

“ Yes,” responded Dick, dryly, “but she isn’t a-going to
take a thncy to me. I think, father, that. she would he just
as likely to fall in love with you as with me. That cursed
guide has got her eye; his copper-colored skin and lndian-
looking head have taken her for all she’s worth."

“ lie 111ight he got out of the way," suggested the father, a
treacherous gleam in his eyes. '

“ Yes, but not by violence; he’s an ugly customer to han-
dle. Besides, I don’t think the girl would like me any wuy,
the little red-headed n1iux—” ‘ '

“Gold l golden hair, you know,” interru*d‘ the father.

“ it's near enough to red, any way, but that of course ain’t
neither here. nor there; the girl don’t like me; there's no use
beating about the bush in this matter. We might as well fix
it out straight, and I don't think she would eVer like me, even
if this guide, Dave Reed, was out of the way altogether."

“ As you say, we might as well understand the mutter," re-
joined the father. “ One thing is certain—that girl must go
into Spur City your wife, or not go into it at all." There
was menace in this speech of Eben Hickman, which boded
no good to the orphan girl.

The two walked on thoughtfully for a. few moments, the
father watching the son’s face from under his yellow eye-
brows. At last, Dick spoke:

“1 don‘t see very well how you can nntke the girl marry
me, unless she wants to, and if she don’t want to, as is very
evident, 1 don’t see how you’re going to keep her from going
to Spur City."

The elder Hickman looked around again carefully; no one
was near; then lowering his voice almost to a. whisper he
asked :

' “ You heard my conversation with the guide, ditlnt you P"

 

\

  

 

 

\

    

THE “'XIITE VUL'I‘L’liE.

“Yes, what of it ‘2" asked Dick. “What has that to do
with us ?"

“ A great deal! You heard him say that there was danger
of an Indian attack, and that the Indians generally attack at
night ?"

“ Yes, I heard that too; but, come to the point; what do
you mean 1’” asked Dick, impatiently.

“ Why, Indian bullets respect no one. If the savages at-
taek us in the night, they are just as likely to kill her as any
one else.” ’

The son did not fully read the father’s language.

“ Yes, but she will he in a wagon, protected somewhat, and
she may escape unharmed.”

The father put his mouth close to his son’s ear.

“ If the Indians attack us, she will! be killed I”

Dick started in surprise; he understood his father now.

_ “ But the danger of detection 1” he cried, in a low tone.

“ None at all. In the confusion of a night attack, who
can tell “’ilCiiN'Shot is fired outside the camp or within it. t"
asked the father. 7

“ Very true ; but, suppose the Indians do not attack us ?"

“ Then I’ll think of some other way before we reach Mon-
tuna.”

The precious pair of villains walked back to the fort, hav-
ng come to an understanding.

0 H A P T E R I V .
THE GIRL WITH THE RED-GOLD HAIR.

THE glowing sun had set in the west—a huge ball of fire
that seemed to sink into the ground. The shade of night had
fallen and darkness vailed in the distant prairie. Supper had

'been prepared and eaten by the emigrants and some had begun

   
 

to arrange to retire for the night.
The moon, three-quarters full, was rising slowly, casting
its clear, pure light over the vast plain, chasing the darkness

   

A si-nrrx-z on A mar» 33

away and dancing in little \t'aVes of" light on the yellow and
swift-flowing waters of the Yellowstone.

The tires of the emigrants threw ont their uncertain and
flickering light upon the faces of the little groups that stir-
rounded them. All were sl‘waltiug ot' the dangers of the
journey het'o're them, and many a tale of Indian warfare and
border peril were rehearsed around the watch—tires of the
wagon-train:

By the wagon that stood nearest to the river's hank a little
group of four people were seated; three women and one
man. The man was called Grier-son; one of the women,
the elder one, was his wife; the other, who resembled her
strongly in features, was her daughter, Eunice by name. The
mother and daughter were dark eyed and dark haired, pre<
seating a decided contrast to the last of the group, who was
a young girl, who did not look over sixteen. She had one
of those sweet, innocent, childish faces that win Favor at the
first glance—a face once seen, never to he he thrgotten—there
was something so odd, so striking ahout it. VThe face was
little, hut a perfect oval, with a high, white forehead,dark-blue
eyes, full of life and expression, ditnpled cheeks, slightly
tinged with a crimson flush, that relieved the white, pearly
skin, a little chin exquisitely shaped, full, pouting lips, red
as ripe cherries, a long, straight nose, and then, the great.
charm of" the head—the red-gold hair that hung in profusion,
in little tangled ringlets, clinging eltishly together almost
down to her little shapely waist. In figure she was a little
sprite of a girl, exquisitely proportioned, with the daintiest
little feet and hands. In brief, she was innocence and grace
personified. Such was Leona Vender, the tltiry, who had
tangled up the honest heart of Dave Reed, the guide, in tho
silken meshes of her red-gold hair.

The Grierson family were neighbors of the Venders in
Greenfield, and hearing how well Daniel Vender had made
out in the Far West, had determined to try their fortune in
Montana and had made preparations so as to set out at the
same time as Leona. Leona of course was Very glad of their
company, particularly as Eunice, the daughter, had been her
school companion and was her dearest friend. 1

Leona, although looking like a more child of fifteen, was

 

  

 

'rnu wnrrs VIII/PURE.
in reality nineteen years of age. Eunice, her friend, was one
year older.

“ Well, wife,” said Grierson, rising from his Seat near the
fire, “I guess I shall go to bed. We start at four in the

V morning, and as we make u long march to-inorrow, we shall

need all the rest we on get. Girls, don’t sit lip-lute.”

“ No, t'uther," answered Eunice, speaking for uoth.

Grierson and his will: retired to the shelter of the wugon.

Leona was gnzmg droninin out upon the snrl'nce ot' the
rolling river, whereon the ll)tt()tll)(‘,;tlllS danced like so many
silver sprites. Eunice noticed her obstruction.

“ A penny for your thoughts, Leonu 1" she cried, stroking
down the curling locks of her friend‘s huir.

Leona started a little; at faint. smile came to her lips, as
she answered in a. low voice:

“ Perlmps my thoughts are not Worth a. penny.”

“Oh, Leona!” cried Eunice, “what a little humhug you
are! Not worth a peniin Well, now, it' I Were thinking
of what you were thinking of, and you should say what I
did, I should have answered that my thoughts were werth a
grant muny pennies.”

Leona smiled again, then looked shyly at her friend.

“ How can you know what I am thinking of? I hardly
believe I know myself,” said Leona.

“ Let me word your thoughts, then, for you. A tall, manly
figure; long black hair, curling, oh! so romantically down
over his shoulders; a pair of jet-black eyes; an honest,
handsome, earnest face—and the—the—well, the wish that he
might think of somehodyns somebody thinks of him. Come,
Confess, nin't I right?” and Eunice put her arms around the
slender figure by her side and drew the shapely little head
with the silken curls down upon her shoulder.

“ Yes,” came in :t whisper from the lips of Leona.

“ There i" cried Eunice, triumphantly, .“ I knew that I was
right, and. you little client, to try to deceive me!” 7

“ But, Eunice," rejoined Leona, “ I don’t know that he cares
any thing for me." » ' ' 2

“ Then you must be blind t" exclaimed Eunice, impulsi'vely.
“ Why, I can see that he worships the very ground you walk
on. When we are riding with him at the head of the train,

 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

. fine“... A—n _

  

 

  

CONFIDICNCICS. 35

he never takes his eyes from you fora single moment. Now,
he’s Something like a lover; he’s never obtrusive, yet always
near at hand to do you service. If he don’t love you, then
you will never be loved by mortal man, and your fate will be
to die an old maid."

“ Are you sure that he loves me, ?” asked Leona, dreamily,
her fingers pushing the little curls back from her forehead.

“Of course I am! I only wish some such nice-looking
t'ellow \\'ould tall in love with me. I wouldn‘t let him grieve
himself to death for want of a loving word.”

“ But, he has never said that he loves me, although I own
from his actions that I thought he did,” replied Leona.

“ Very likely. Ile‘s bashful; he’s not one of your city
chaps, that haVe such a good opinion of themselves that they
think every woman they meet is in love with them. He’s an
honest fellow—as brave as a lion and as true as steel. I tell
you what it is, Leona, if you don’t give the poor fellow some
encouragement, I shall set my cup for him myself, tbr I
give you fair warning that I am half in love with him al-
ready."

“ Why, Eunice l" and Leona looked into her friend’s fztce,‘
half in reproach.

“There now, don’t be frightened. Ishan’t take your lover
away from you—probably for the best of all reasons, and that
is, that I couldn’t get him if I wanted him i"

“ But, it' he loves me, why don’t he tell me so ‘2" demanded
Leona. ‘

“ Why ‘1’" cried Eunice. “Because he’s a bashful goose like
you are. When we are riding at the head of the train, you
and he say scarcely a. Word to each other, while the other
guide, the one they call Abe, and I, have had tine chats to-
gather.”

“ Why, no i" said Leona, in her earnest way, “you are
quite wrong'; he has told me all about his life—how he was
born here on the t‘rontie' and has always lived on the prairie
—how he has hunted buffalo, and some dreadful stories about
the Indians.”

“And I dare say that you listened to him with those large
eyes of yours opened to their widest extent, and that, with
every word he spoke, you loved him more and more.”

\

 

  

   
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

'l‘lIE \VIIITE \‘UL'I‘URE.

“ Yes," murmured Leona, softly. “I do love fill]; and 1
know I shall never love any one else as I love him."

“Well, then, the sooner you understand one anotln-r the
better; but, Leona, do you think that your father will con
sent ‘3"

“ Oh, yes !” answered Leona, “I am sure of it; he love!
me joo well to refuse. Besides, when he sees Mr. Reed, I
feel sure he can not. help liking him.”

“ Oh I you poor little kitten !" cried Eunice, twining Leona’s
red-gold ringlets around her fingers; “ because you like him,
you think everybody else must.

“ Here is Mr. Reed coming," added Eunice, quickly. “ Now
you have a fine chance for a walk along the bank of the
I'iVer—a moonlight walk—and if you are not both great
gooses, you ought to be able to find out whether you like one
another or not."

The manly figure of Dave came into the circle of light.
thrown out from the fire.

“ Good-evening,” he said, as he advanced.

“GOOtLevening,” replied both the girls.

“ Oh, I’m glad you have come, Mr. Reed. Leona has been
wanting an escort for adwnlk up the bank of the river in the
moonlight, and-I am too tired to go.” Eunice cast a merry
glance at Leona's scarlet face as she spoke. Dave did not
notice Leona’s confusion ; he was only too hagpy to be able
to enjoy the society of the fair young girl, to him the dearest
girl in! all the world.

“I shall be happy to offer myself for an escort," he an-
swered. . ‘

“ And she would be happy to accept the offer,” cried Eunice,
“ and you too,” she added, mentally, “if you would offer
yourself.”

“ There is no danger, I suppose ?” Leona said

“011,110!” replied Dave, “we will only go a little way
beyond our picket-line, and then we can return.”

Abe, as captain of the train, had thrown out. regular pick-
ets, as though on the prairie.

Leona got a cloak of dark cloth from the‘ wagon, wrapped
it around her, took the offered arm of Dave, and the two
walked off in the path leading up the river.

A WALK BY moor:me it?

“ Now, if they don’t discover whether they love each other
or not, before they come back, then they ought to be ashamed
of themselves l” cried Eunice to herself, as she looked after
their retreating figures.

Leona and Dave walked on arm in arm; they passed the
picket-guard by the river, and got beyond the limits of the
camp.

Dark clouds had begun to gather on the hitherto clear sky,
and every now and then one would sail across the moon,
shading the earth in darkness for a few moments; then the
moon would shine out clear again till another cloud followed.

No sounds were stirring on the still mat-un- save now and
then the shrill cry of some little earth ‘ insect, burrowing be-
neath the feet of the lovers.

“Do you think there is danger of the Indians attacking
as before we reach Montana ‘t” asked Leona.

“ It is difficult to say,” replied Dave. “We are a large
party, and the Indians seldom attack unless three to one.
They don’t care about fighting if they can help it. If a. large
war-party should happen to come across our trail, why then
of course they would trouble us; but we are not. likely to
meet any large parties; and the small ones will try and run
Off our stock if they can, but they’ll keep out of rifle-range.”

“ If there should be an attack, you would be exposed more
to the savages than any of the rest, would you not ‘2" asked
Leona.

“Of course, my partner Abe and myself, being captains of
the train, are expected to front all the danger—that is what
We are paid for," returned the guide.

“It is a terrible risk you run,” said Leona, with a half-
shudder at the thought of the possible danger.

“ Well, Miss Leona," said Dave, in his honest, straight-
forward way, “ we must all die some day, and from what

‘ little I have seen of the wort l, I should say: that we were at.

' ways in danger.

When a train is attacked that I’m with

j somehowl never think of he chance of my getting killed.

The fact is, I’m always too busy looking out for the safety
of the train. And if there’s anybody got to die by the

2 hands of the red devils, why. better me than a. man who has
L wife, sisters and daughters that love him.

You know, for I
2

 

 
  
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
         

 

g. H ‘A A. I “one

g:-;§Fj—?

   

          
  
  
 
   
  
  
  
   

which always looks so bright to those who love.

     

THE WHITE VUL'I‘URE.

 

have told you, that I am alone in the world, and if I should
go under and these red heathen take my top-knot, there
wouldn‘t be any one in the world to grieve for me.”

A cloud at the moment was thwarting,r over the moon, which
shaded the *arth in darkness, or Dave, if he had looked at
Leona’s face, would have seen that her eyes were tilled with
tears.

“You are wrong,” Leona said, in her low, sweet tones.
“There is some one in the world that would mourn for you.”

Dave thought for a moment, then he spoke:

“ Yes, I forgot the ‘Crow—Killer.’ I believe he does love
me like a brother, :11 ough he is old enough to be my father,
and until a short time go we had never met.”

“ Then there are two that would mourn for you, for there
is another besides him.” Leona was blushing scarlet at her
own boldness. Dave detected a meanings,r in her tone and
words that sent a thrill of joy to his heart; and Leona, feel-
ing his *arm tremble within hers, knew that she was under-
stood. When two people love each other, and wislreach to
know of that love,‘ as a general thing it don’t take very long
for them to disCOVer the truth, and so, as they walked on in
the darkness, walked on beside the winding river, Leona and

1 Dave knew that they loved. Oh, happy moment, when the

first love fills the heart, that before had been vacant!

Dave was the first to break the silence.

“ Leona," he said, “ I’ve wanted for a long time to tell you

how much I cared for you, but I never found the courage to
do so until now._ I’m only a poor guide, but if you’ll give
me your love, I’ll work hard and build up a. home for yt a
that one day you won’t be ashamed to share.”
, “ I should never be ashamed of any home where you are,
David,” replied Leona, looking up into her lover’s face, with
those trusting blue eyes, so full of innocence and love. ‘I 3
can not give you what you ask, for it is not mine to give—it 7
is yours already.”

David Reed had never felt so happy, and so the lovers
Walked on, weaving bright hopes for the future—that future


5
i
t
1

Dave, so engrossed by the sweet girl at his side, had not 
notir-ed a dark figure that moved when they moved, and 

w..-‘

(2

ll‘S 
trn :

tot 

'rnr: CA’I‘UIIER CAUGHT. 89
,
halted when they halted; and now, as the lovers sat down
by the river-hank, hand in hand, and whispered low words
of love and of eternal faith, the shadowy figure extended it.-
sulf flat on the prairie a hundred yards or so from them, and
became invisible in the gloom.

A few hundred feet from where the lovers sat was a little
thicket of dwarfed oak trees. Concealed behind the thicket.
from the view of the fort and the wagon-camp, stood a white
horse, spotted on the flanks with patches of black. ’Twzts
the horse of the Indian who had called himself a. chief of
the Yaneton Sioux. As the moon was again obscured by
clouds, forth from the little thicket came the Indian himself.
Snake-like he crawled toward the lovers, who, listening only
to each other, did not dream that danger was nigh. 011
came the savage, noiseless as a cat. In his hand he carried
a long swiping-knife; his face was bedaubed with war-paint,
Vermilion and white. Every second brought the creeping
savage nearer and nearer to the unconscious pair. He had
accomplished half the distance between the thicket and the
lovers, when for a few moments the moon again struggled
forth and threw its beams over the prairie; the'savage sunk
down in the grass. When the moon was again obscured, he
rccommenced his onward passage. But if his approach had
been unnoticed by the lovers, ’twas not so with the shadowy
form on the prairie. That watcher evidently had seen the
Indian, for, imitating his motions, he made his way noise-
tessly through the grass, also toward the lovers. \Vhen the
savage got within ten feet of Leona and Dave, he paused for
a moment, gathered himself together like a cat—he had not
noticed the dark form in his rear, so intent was Ihe on his
prey—sprung upon Dave and aimed a lightning stroke at his
back; but, at that very moment, Dave moVed a little to the
Fight, to kiss, for the first time, the upturned lips of Leona——
a movement that saved his life, for the knife of the Indian,
missing his body, only cut through the loose red shirt. The
force of the shock, though, sent Dave headlong OR the bank
into the river. In a moment the Indian seized Leona. raised
her in his arms and was about to fly across the prairie, when
We dark shadow which had trailed him in the grass, and
Which was none other than Abe, the “ Crow-Killer,” sprung

x

 

 

 

 

THE WHITE VULTURE.

upon him. The Indian relinquished Leona, who sunk to the
ground, to grapple with the “ Crow~Killer.” His only object
now was to escape, but the grasp of the old Indian-fighter
was not easily shaken off. They closed in a fearful struggle;
the moon once more shone forth, and they beheld each other’s
features ; the surprise was mutual.

“‘The ‘ Crow-Killer" I" cried the savage, in the Cron tongue.

“ W'hite Vulture l" exclaimed Abe.

“ Yes, son of ‘Little Star’,” cried the Indian.

For a moment the grasp of the “ Crow-Killer" relaxed;
the savage tore himself away and fled across the prairie to-
ward the thicket, where stood his horse. Abe drew a revolver
and leveled it at the flying Indian; a moment he covered
him with the shining tube; he was in easy range, and the
“ Crow-Killer" was a dead shot; a moment he held the life of
the White Vulture at his mercy; then he slowly dropped the
revolver from the poise, muttering:

“ Not by my hand 1 his blood must not be on my head!"

Dave speedily gained the bank, nothing hurt by his in-
voluntary bath, and they all returned to the camp. Abe
charged botfl Leona and Dave to say nothing of the attach as
it would only create useless alarm. The Indian having gained
his white steed fled in the darkness

0 H A P ’1‘ E R V .
THE caows ON THE WAR-TRAIL.

EARLY on the following morning the emigrants broke camp
and started on their march up the Yellowstone trail. Abe
and Dave rode on before.

4‘ That was abold move of the Injun last night,” said Dave.

“ Yes,” answered Abe; “I expected that‘he might‘belnrk-
ing nigh our camp, arter I saw him in the afternoon. That
was the reason that, when you and the gal headed forthe
prairie, I followed. I kinder thought that you would be so

“BESSIE:

took with the gal's bright eyes that you wouldn’t be able to

   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
   
 
 
   
 

Sh:

  

AN ENEMY SPARED. 41

look out for yourself,” and the old hunter indulged in a dry
chuckle.

t “I own that it was careless, but I didn’t think that the
red devils would ever dare to come so near our camp and the
fort.” V

“Jus’ so; but this ’ere ‘White Vulture’ has got a white
man’s head on his shoulders as to judgment and dash, com-
bined with the deviltry and cunning of the lnjun. Why, if
it hadn't been for me, he'd have carried off the gal as sure as
my name’s Abe Colt. It W113 a bold thing an’ it would have
been successful if luck hadn't ’a’ gone ag’in’ hiin."

“ One thing, Abe, puzzles me," said Dave. |

“ An’ what is that ‘1’" asked the “ Crow-Killer.”

“ How he escaped after you clinched with him '1’”

The old hunter paused fora moment before he answered
but after a little while, he spoke: -

“ Wal, he said something that staggered me. I let up on
the grip an' then he slipped through my fingers jus' like an
eel.”

“ What did he say ‘2” asked Dave.

“ Not much ; only that he was the son of ‘ Little Star,’ "
replied Abe, a peculiar expression appearing upon his features.

“ And ‘ Little Star’ was the Crow girl that you married i”
cried Dave in astonishment.

“ Jus’ so. It' you remember, I told you I had a kind of a
sort of a feelin’ that it was ag'in' my nature to hurt the ‘ White

, Vulture,’ although he belonged to the tribe, not a red sucker
of whom I ever spared when I got within rifle-range of ’em.”7

“Then the ‘Little Star’ must have been carried to the
Crow nation and married to one of their chiefs,” said Dave.

“ That air likely; but a Crow warrior that I met onc’t at

3 Fort Benton on a peace talk, a brother of the ‘Rolling Cloud’
’ —that’s the father of the ‘White Vulture,’ that I killed—-

V Walked up to me an’ asked if I were the ‘Crow-Killer.

:.  Wal,~I expected a tussle thar an’ thfn, but he only looked at
;.  me, an’ said in the Crow language: “ The ‘Crow-Killer’ is a
great chief; he is as strong as the white hear; he killed the

i ‘Rolling Cloud,’ but the Crow chiet‘ has a son, the ‘ White

Vulture,’ an’ he will take the scalp of the ‘Crow-Killer’; it

to , Will dry in the smoke of his lodge, an’ the Crow nation wiLl

,  quiet; Quid“?  /  a

I

5'6:

 

 

 
  
   
  
 
   
    
 
 

 
  
  

 

 
   

 

  

42 THE WHITE VULTURE.

be glad. The ‘ Crow-Killer’ is a great brave, but when he is
tied to the torture—stake, the Crows will speak words in his
ear that will make him howl like a dog—words that will
burn like fire ;" then the chief walked away. Now, I’ve
puzzled considerably to know what those words air. ls'pose
it’s somethng ’bout my lnjun wife, the ‘Little Star,’ but I
hadn’t any idea then that the ‘ White Vulture’ was her son,
an’ it kinder considerably started me when I hearn he was
PVC 3 sort of suspicion now what them words air zt-gi)iii’ to
be, that’s goin’ to make me squeal. But then ag’in, thar’s
another thing that gits me: I never beam of this chief—this
‘White Vulture ’———having any brother, but still t’othor one
inought have died. Anyway, one of these days I shall find
out all about it.”

“ Yes, you’ll find out easy enough; just let the Crows get
hold of you—’3

“ Jus’ so i” interrupted Abe, with a shrewd smile, “but I
ain’t in a hurry to have that happen. My top~knot is well
enough as it is, an’ I don‘t intend that any Crow shall litl'.
my ha’r if I can prevent it. I’ll give’em pretty considerable
of a tussle first. But, I say, you took a 10m:r walk last night;
did you an’ the little gal Come to an understanding ?”

“ Yes,” answered Dave, a smile lighting up his features.

“ Wal, I thought it probable that you settled matters; but,
I say, Dave, don’t give the red devils a chance at you ag‘in.”

“ Don’t fear; but I did not think that there was the slight-
est danger. I don’t believe that there’s another red-skin on I
the plains that would have dared to attempt it."

“We ain’t seen the last of him yet," said Abe, gravely. .
“ If "we don’t have a big fight afore we reach the head-waters r
of the Yellowstone, then I’m a sucker an’ nolpjun-fighter.” ‘

“I agree with you," said Dave, “ but it will take a big;
party to clean us out. We ought to be able to whip e. couple,
of hundred red-skins at the least.”

“ That’s so, Dave. This fellow being around the fortimi' _
mighty suspicious; he Was on a spying expedition to see nix” ‘
bigr a party we were. He’s a long-headed Injun, is. thi _
‘ White Vulture ’ ; he knows if he can only flax out. the ‘ Crow-E
Kill'er,’ it will be a big feather in his cap among his nation};;
An’ my opinion is, that he’ll try mighty hard to do. that; 805

 
 
   

 

 

ON '1‘“ It} ALERT. 43

we must kee; our eyes open. I reckon they won’t trouhle us
until alter we ,et past the Big Horn river, but, urter that time
look out for 'tit_..tning. In about two days, if I don’t miss my
calculations, we‘ll have Injnns all around us, thick as fleas in
‘4 Mexican ranene.”

So, on Went the wagonlrain—Ahe and Dave keepng a.
sharp look-out ()\'t‘l' the rolling: prairie.

At noon the train halted tor a couple of hours for rest and
loud. At two o‘clock, the train was again in motion, the vi-
gilance of the guides increasing as they progressed further
into the prairie waste.

During the noon halt, Dave had found time to exchange a
few words with Leona. lie l‘ankly and without reserve told
her that danger Vas at hand, that the train was liable to he
attacked at any moment, and that at the first sounds of alarm
for herself and companions to lay down in the wagon, the
sides of which would afford some protection. Leona’s cheeks
paled a. little, more, though, at the thought of her lover’s
danger than at her own. , ‘

" You will be careful, Dave," she said; “ be careful for my
'3 sake."

“ Yes," he responded ; “ don't fear, Leona. I shall come
through all right; only look out for yourself, that‘s all, be-

t: cause if I thought that you were needlessly exposed,it would
- take away halt" my courage."

i“ Leona, like a good girl, promised to be careful.

)n

The danger of an Indian attack was known now to all the
emigrants, and as the train rolled on, the men looked (rarclully
y. to their weapons and prepared for the expected encounter.

'1'3 Ahe and Dave were ahead as usual, their keen eyes eagerly ‘
and Carefully scanning the broad expanse of the prairie before '
“9 them.
313‘. So far, even the watchful glance of the old Indian-fighter
had not detected a single sign of Indians being near. No
) fresh trails were upon the prairie. I
9,. Early that morning, before the march, he had carefully ex-
“. amined the hoof-prints left by the horse of the Indian chief,
'W conimencing'at the little thicket; the trail led across the river
0 and off in a south-western direction, but this did not relieve
._ the mind of the guide; he knew the Indians too well; he

 

  

 

    

 

44 THE WHITE VULTURE.

conjectured that the party under the lead of the ‘White
Vulture’ were probably eneamped somewhere near the Big ‘
Horn river, and that their intention was to follow the river
north and thus strike the course of the train.

At six that afternoon the train halted for the night; they
had made forty miles since leaving the fort. Fires were
kindled, the river-bank supplying plenty of fuel. Then ar-
rangements were made for passing the night; the wagons
Were drawn up in a semicircle, the ends of which rested on
the river-bank; the beasts of burden were unharnessed and
brought within the circle~——a wise precaution, for the first at-
tempt on the part of the Indians in an attack is always to
stampede: the cattle. These once dispersed and scattered over
the prairie, the emigrants of course can not advance or retreat,
and if the savages are unsuccessful in their attack on the
wagons and are beaten off, at least they have the satisfaction
of gathering in the stampeded stock.

The Wagon-train “packed,” the next movement of the
guides was to throw out pickets and divide the men into
“ watches” for the night. Arms were looked to and all pre-
parations made to resist a night attack. Instructions were
given to'the pickets, who were relieved every two hours, to
fire their rifles at the slightest alarm. The guides slept by
turns, and one was always on the alert, passing from picket
to picket, noiselessly as a panther, and ever and anon gliding
like a ghost through the darkness of the prairie beyond the
picket-line, watching to detect the presence of the foe. "

The night passed slowly away without a single signal of
danger.

As the first gray streaks of dawn began to appear, Abe, re-,
turning from a prolonged scout on the prairie, met Dave who'
had just woke from an hour‘s nap.

f‘ Well, any sign ?”

“ Nary sign. Thar hain’t been a red devil within a mile
of us last night, I’ll bet,” replied Abe. . ‘

“ Can they have thought we are too strong for them and}:
given nsup ?” - , ' 
, “ No, I don't think that,” responded Abe, thoughtfully. “1“;
tell you, this ‘ White Vulture’ is jist as smart as they make:
'em. He knows that we of course suspect that an attack

 

  

"I-l‘ w

 

A SOLITARY uORSEMAN.

would be made, ’cos we saw him. Now, of course. he knows
that we’ll be on our guard ag'in' the attack; so hejust waits;
he lets two or three days go by; we don't see any lujun sign;
We git careless—don’t keep up our watch—don’t look for an
attack—an’ then he Comes down onto us like a panther, claws
an’ all. Two days more, at the rate we are going at, will
brim}:r us to where the trail crosses the Yellowstone an' strikes
ed" to the north-west to Codotte’s Pass. Wal, now, in ’bout
three days, when we’re between the Yellowstone au' the
Missouri, heading for the Missouri, he'll go for us.”

“ There is sense in what you say,” said Dave.

“Sartain, I’m a nigger if thar ain't; but though I think
I’ve got the lnjun’s plan down to a p’int, I ain’t. n-going to be
caught napping afore we leave the Yellowstone. ’cos he may
go for us at any moment; therefore I shall keep my eyes
open.”

Breakfast was prepared and the emigrants, after partaking
of it, again took up their line of march.

We will now return to the “ White Vulture " we left fly-
intor for his life across the prairie. Mounted on the milk-white
steed, that was indeed a horse of mutehless action, he crossed
the Yellowstone and rode in a south-western direction. His
Way lay across a. rolling prairie dotted here and there with
little clumps of timber. Ever and alum he turned in his sud-
tlle and listened for the sounds of pursuit. Satisfied at last
that no one was on his trail, he drew rein beside one of the
little clumps of timber; dismounted, tethered his horse to a
stunted oak, then taking from his pouch some dried bufl‘alo-
meat, cured in’the sun, he made a scanty meal, then after a
careful scout around his immediate neighborhood, he laid him-
self down upon the prairie and slept. The white steed, that
haul evidently been reared among the Indians and understood
their customs, slept calmly by the side of its master.

As the first cold gray streaks of light appeared in the east,
the Indian chief awoke, mounted his horse and rode off, this
time shaping his course almost directly west. 0n he rode,
from the early dawn until the sun's warm rays showed the
noon at hand ; then be halted by the side of alittle hollow in
the prairie from which a. sptzing gushed forth, gave his horse
Water, purtook again of the buffalo-meat, let his horse graze

 

  

  

 

 

46 ' ' THE WHITE VUL’I‘URE.

for an hour or so on the fresh young grass and then again pur-
sued his way.

Two hours more of hmrd ridingr brought the “ White Vul-
ture" to the bank of the Big Horn river, to an Indian encamp-
ment.

Some hundred warriors of the Crow nation had there leth-
eied their horses, while the braves themselves lny upon the
grass, or walked listhssly up und down by the turbid
stream, now swollen hiin by the spring ruins.

From the {net thut no squuws were with the party, not
lodges, nor dogs—those usual accompaniments to stationary In~
diun encumpments-one acquainted with their customs would
instantly have pronounced them to be on the war-path. And
if further evidence was wanted, the gayly-pninted faces of the
warriors, bedeeked with crimson, yellow, black and white tints
in all the hideous fashions of the savages when on the war-
trail, would have confirmed it.

The “ While Vulture ” dismounted from his horse, tied him
to a, shrub, and with stately steps walked to the river's bunk,
where, under the slntde of an oak tree, sat .ten warriors, ev-
idently the principal chiefs of the party. The “ White Vul-
ture" sat down in the circle.

“My brother is late,” said an old chief, who was known
among the Crows as the “ Thunder-Cloud,” prolmbly from his
(lurk color; he was one of the oldest and best warriors in all
the Crow nation.

“ Yet the‘ White Vulture’s’ horse is like the wind; he could
not (mine before."

“ Has the great chief been on the war-t 'ail ?” asked another
brave.

“ The ‘ White Vulture ’ has been to the lodges of the blue-
conted whites, on the Powder river; he has Seen the white
wagons start for the great mountains. If his brothers will
open their ears the ‘White Vulture’ will speak.”

Then the chief gave a detailed account of his visit to Fort
Bent and what had occurred there. When he spoke of the

y riches of the emigrant wagons, the eyes of the Indians sparkled
. with greed, but when he spoke of the number of fighting men

attached to the train, their brows grew dark, and when he
told them that the famous Indian-fighter, the terror of all

 
 
  
    
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 

  

)

 

  

THE ORDER TO MOVE.

their nation, the dreaded “ Crow—Killer ” was with the train,
their faces showed their disappointment and their unwilling-
ness to encounter the old guide.

After the “ White Vulture ” had finished his story,there was
silence in the Indian council. To tell the truth .hey feared
to attack the train. They had sent some thirty of their War-
riors with the two wagons of furs captured from the tral'iper:
to their chief village, which was situated on the head-water:
of the Missouri, near the base of the Rocky Mountains.

“ My brothers are silent,” said the “ White Vulture,” a per
(teptible sneer curling his lip; “ will they attack the “hilt
Wagons, or will they fly from the ‘ Crow-Killer’ like the hawk
from the eagle? Will they yield their hunting-grounds to th(
tread ot' the white man’s foot, or will they fight and die like
warriors for what is their own '1’"

The braves looked at the bold speaker. No one in the
eirele could gainsay the caution or the prowess of the“ White
Vulture." At length one of the braves spoke:

“The ‘Crow-Killer’ is a devil; the Great Spirit watches
over his life,”

Then the “ White Vulture ” told of his encounter with the
‘ Crow-Killer " ; he had not related it before. The chiefs lis-
tened attentively. At last, after a long deliberation théy deter—
mined to attack the train and invested the “ White Vulture "
with stipreme command of the expedition; hitherto he had
shared it with two others.

The“ White Vulture " gave the order for the hand to move,
And in a few minutes the warriors were in the ~saddle. The
whole party crossed the Big Horn river and rode slowly otf in
a north-western direction, that in time would bring them to
the Yellowstone river.

The old chief “ ’l‘hunder-Cloud" rode by the side of the
“ While Vulture,” ’

“ The ‘ White Vulture’ felt the grasp of the‘ Crow-Killer ’ ?”'
asked the old chief. -. r

“ Yes; his arms are like the oak : they twined around the
‘ White Vulture’ like the snake arottnd the bird."

“ Yet the ‘White Vulture’ did not lose his scalp to the
‘ Crow-Killer ?"

“ The chief remembered the words of his father, the

 

  

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  

 

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

48 THE WHITE V'ULTURE.
‘ Rolling Cloud.’ He told his son that if.he ever met the ‘ Crow
Killer’ and was in danger treat him, to say that he was the
son of ‘ Little-Star.’ ”

“Did my brother say so ‘2”

“ Yes 1"

“ And the ‘Crow-Killer ’ ?" questioned the old chief.

“ He started as if he had been struck by the forked light.
of the Great Spirit; his arms lost their strength; the
‘White Vulture’ escaped from them and came back to his
brothers; the charm was good."

Then as they rode on, the “ White Vulture ” told the old
chief of the beautiful pale-face girl whose hair was the color of
the red metal that the Blackfeet sometimes found in the
sands of the mountain streams and molded into bullets—bullets
with which they had slain many a brave chief of the Crow
nation—how her eyes in color \rere like the lodge of the
Great Spirit above and as soft as the eyesof the deer.

“ My brother would take the white singing-bird to his wig-
wam,” said the old chief; “it is good; she shall rear young
braVes, that in moons will be great warriors of our trihe, for
the ‘ White Vulture’ is the great righting-man of the Crow na-
tion."

And so onward rode the Crow warriors on the war-trail.

C H A P T E R V I .
our: AGAINST EIGHT.

’TWAS the third utternoon after their leaving Fort Bent that
we again visit the emigrant train.

Although, as yet, Abe had seen nothing to warrant the sup-
position that Indians were near at hand, yet somehow he felt
assured that such was the case; the old Indian-fighter had
lived too long in the Indian country and knew their ways too
well for him to feel safe after Seeing the “ While Vulture " at
the fort. '

The train moved slowly; the horse of the “ White Vulture ”

   

  

 

  

BAITING FOR INDIANS.

was fleet; he could easily have joined the warriors and led
them back to the attack, during the titne the train had been
on the march from Fort Bent.

'l‘he wagons had just started from their noon rest; this
was their last day's march by the Yellowstone; they \vonld
camp that night by the side of the river, and in the morning
turn northward toward the Misstmri.

The old hunter had thought the matter over carefully; he
was convinced that the Indians were not before but behind
him, probably following on his trail. To test the truth of
this, all the morning he had lagged behind, leaving the train
in the care of Dave. At one time he had been at. least a
mile behind the rest, offering a tempting opportunity to the
trailing savages to swoop down upon and capture him, which
might seem tothem an easy task, but would have been in re-
ality a hard and difficult one, as the guide was well armed
and mounted on a roan horse of great speed and endurance.
But somehow, if there were savages in the rear as the scout
expected, they did not take advantage of the opportunity to
capture the famous “ Crow-Killer.” This was a puzzle to the
old Indian-tighter; he pored over the fact; he could not: ac-
count t'or it. Finally, an idea struck him; his face bright-
ened up, and he drew a long breath of relief.

“ What a cussed fool Ive been i" he cried to himself, slap-
ping his thigh vigorously as he rode along behind the train.
“ 'l‘har‘s brains at the bottom of it, in coursel If they went;
for me, naterally I’d make a fight—a noise, and alarm the
t'ain; their idea is not. to alarm us, but come down suddenly
an’ bag us all like a blessed lot of turkeys—that is, if we let
them do it. Why, I mought ’a' knowed that, if F had as
much sense as a yaller dog. That’s the identical idea, blamed
if it ain’t!” And then the old hunter chuckled to himself,
“ Guess I mought as well interfere in that air leetle arrange-
ment. I ain’t had a skirmish for some time, an” I thought as
well get my hand in. I monght as well tell Dave what I’m
up to." So, patting the gallant roan on the neck, he urged
her forward, passed the train and joined Dave, who was rid-
ing on ahead, keepng a sharp look-out upon the country .be-
fine aim.

The two canvassed matters for awhile, when Dave said:

 

  

  

 

.. _._,..__ , s .-

60 THE WHITE \‘CLTURE.

“ But, are you sure, Abe, that there are Iujuns back of us.
on our trail? They may be on the other side of the river,
or ahead between us and the Missouri.”

“ You talk reason, Dave, but did you notice, jest after we
started this morning, we roused a leetle tloek of ducks out of
the Yellowstone ‘5'" asked the “ Crow-Killer.”

“ Yes, I did notice it.”

“ \Val, I was behind the train. an’ I noticed that after we
passed,'the ducks settled baek again to the river. Wal, ’hout
half an hour arterwards that same flock of ducks flew over
our heads, goinsr to the north-west. W:I.l—-—WllttlUVUl‘ disturbed
those ducks were about half an hour behind us, or, say, in
distance, ’bout four miles. Now, when we disturbed the ducks
they flew up an’ then flew back. but this time they flew olf,
That convinces nu: that they Were disturbed by 21 large party
of Injuns, perhaps shot at by them with arrows. What do
you think 1*”

“ I think you are right, Abe, and probably to-night we shall
be attaelled," replied Dave, his eyes growingr earnest in their
look and his brows contracting as he thought of the danger
to which his beloved Leona must soon be exposed.

“ Wal, Dave, I ain’t lit Injuns since I were knee-high to a
grasshopper for nothing, an‘ I intend to find out whether my
guess is true or not.”

“ \Vhat are you going to do ?"

“The Injuns haven’t. let me see them because they have
seen me, that’s the idea. They have probably got one or two
on ahead as sort of scouts, an‘ then the main body follers in
the rear, so as not to tumble on us in case we happen to stop
suddenly. The chief in command, who is probably the
‘ White Vulture,’ is holding ’eni back so as to surpriso us at.
the right time. Now, I'm goin’ to drop back 311’ not let ’em
see me. I’ll jist dismount, tie old man here behind some
bushes to hide her, lay low in the glass until Mr. Itriun Comes
alotg, for of course he will come, having: nothingr to excite
his suspicions; then I’ll jisL pop him over, take his scalp-lock
so‘ leave him as a warning to the rest ol‘ the red'devils.”

“ But, suppose there should be two or three 11 the advance ?”
uttitl Dave.

“ Wul, I’ve got six shots in this ‘ere revolver of mine an’ I

   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

I _._.o.-\

 

  

LYING IN WAIT.

guess I could even settle for no agent away from ’em. I'll
leave my rifle on the roan, so in case they push me hard 1’“
have another shot. Jist you keep on with the train, Camp at
the bend Where we cntnped last trip. Don’t be alarmed for
me. If I don't (some back, carry the train on to Montana,
conclude that these durned crows have wiped me out at last,
311Y jis' settle the account with them whenever you meet them.”

5”; With a hearty pressure of Dave’s hnnd, the. “Crow~
Killer ” turned his horse off one side zmd let the train pies
him.

The wagon soon rolled by; then the “ Crow-Killer," se»
lectin’g a little thicket on the river’s bunk, dismounted and hid
himself and horse behind it. He tied his rifle on/the saddle
so thnt he could easily free it, then examined the charges l=f
his revolver, loosened his howie~knife in its shenthgand beirg
prepared for the Coming fiuht, coolly extended himsrlf at full
length upon the grass, having first arranged the bushes before
him so MS to command a view downrthe river.

The minutes tlew rapidly; no sign of any Indians yet.
The old hunter grew 3). little impatient.

“Consarn ’eml” he muttered, “ why don’t they come?
'Peat's to me they’re acting dreadful cautious. Ah l"

The exclamation was caused by something moving on the
prairie far in the distance. '

The hunter watched it attentively; it was too distant for
him to distinguish distinctly what it was.

“ Looks like a. horse,” said Abe. “ ’Tnin’t possible, though,
’cos if it were a. stray horse, the Injuns would have gobbled
tt up long ago. I shall soon know, at any me."

Then the animal, coming on at a rapid pace, mounted one
of the distant swells of the prairie and proved to be a large
wolt‘. He. came rapidly on, and at quite a distance scented
the hunter and gave him a wide berth, sheering oti‘ to the
north-west.

“Wonder if he wasn’t frightened by the Injuns, now i‘"
questioned the hunter to himself; 'speet he was. Shot what‘s
that 2’"

A little flock of ducks came flying over his head from
flown the river, evidently alarmed at something.

“ That’s Injun sign, sure I” chuckled the " Crow-Killer, and

 

  

       
 
  
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

\Vlll'l'lfi

 

V U L'l' L' RE.

‘l he again examined his revolver, making sure thut the caps
were down firm on the nipples.
. “ Now, then, old roan, I guess you and me'll have a tight.
» t More we're an hour older,” said the hunter, addressing his ‘
i  horse as it he had been a human.
Far in the distance Ahe eould discern tWo mounted figures;
I ‘ they were approaching btll slowly; but as lluy came on, the
I l _ keen eyts of the guide Could see that they Were Indians.
. “I was light! The White Vulture is} a smart feller for
an lnjun, but he ain’t the match for the ‘ Crow-Killer’ yet.
i » Let me see: tlmr‘s two of them to sitile. I wonder if llw y'll
; be within revolver range ’fore they spy me? Gums lh y
,l will. IIellol thar’s another redvsliin ahead on foot." And ‘
' l in truth, there strode a stalwart warrior a couple of hundred
yards before the others; he was evidently the advance
, 3 scout.
“ Three 1” cried the “ Crow-Killer ”; “ wad—the more the
, merrier. I guess I‘m good for ’em." .
l ‘ The single Indian in advance was coming on with a long,
tireless stride, his eager eyes fixed upon the wagon-trail im-
li printed on the prairie-grass before him. Then behind the
l K ,single savage on foot and the two mounted ones, the hunter
' l saw live more Grows on horseback. A low whistle escaped
ii t'rom the lips of the Itulian-I‘ghter as he beheld the new-
' 7 comers.
’ " Sho! thar’s a heap onto ’em; guess I’ll have to make a
runnin’ tight; eight ag’in’ one—tall odds even for the ‘ Crow-
Killer.’ . Hello! thar‘s the‘ White Vulture’ or his hosts—same
thing, ’cos of course he‘s on his hack.” And as the hunter
lile said, at the head of the last five Indians rode the “ “’hite
Vulture," mounted on the milk-white steed.
The “ Crow-Killer" thought over his plan of action and
speedily decided what to do. Little time for thinking had
he, for the Indian on foot was even now within rifle range;
and his long, loping stride carried him rapidly forward. ' He
was a thick-set, muscular young brave, bra\\‘ny~chested, but
with the misshapen lower limbs peculiar to all the “Horse
Indians,” who, from infancy, spend nearly all their lives on ‘ i
/ horseback, and rarely use their legs for locomotion. unless in
Some case like the present, where, in trailing a fee, there was

   

 

 

   

w u.

 

 

THE Fins'r SHOT.
much less chance of being detected by that fee on fool than
on the back of a steed.

The face of the young brave was gayly decked with the
War-paint, as was also his bare breast. ' Inhis hand he carried
a short; carbine, such as are carried by the United States
troops. It was evidently a trophy of victory wrested from
the “ blue~coated chiefs,” as the Indians generally designate
the soldiers who wear the blue of Uncle Sam.

The sight of the carbine raised the old hunter‘s anger.

“ Guess, afore long, I‘ll fix you so you won’t steal anymore
carbines l” muttered the “ Crow—Killer,” as, raising his revol-
ver, he “ drew a bead” on the savage, who still came rapidly
on, unconscious of his danger.

“ I’ll plug him, then I’ll mount old man and go for the
rest. Arter he‘s out of the way ’twill only be seven ag’in’
one. I’ll teach ’em to foller my trail, the red skunks, (lurn
Dem In

A moment the old hunter glanced along the shining tuhe.
then a motion of his finger—crack! the sharp report of the
revolver rung out on the stillness of the prairie—the savage
stopped, trembled, clutched his breast with his hand convul-
sively and then fell forward on his fuse, dead—shot through
the heart. V

“Another Crow gone to kingdom come I" the guide mut-
tered, coolly recharging the empty chamber of his revolver.

The two mounted Indians, seeing the fall of their comrade,
hearing the sharp, whip-like crack of the revolver, and detect-
ing the little puff of white smoke that curled upward from
the ambush of the guide and floated lazily on the air above
his head, instantly paused, then in a second flung themselves
from their horses’ backs into the prairie-grass, where they
nestled like so many snakes watching for their foe; their
well-trained horses stood motionless. The party of five be-
hind, who had also seen the {all of the foremost savage,
quitteddhe backs of their horses and joined thetwo Indians
concealed in the grass.

, “ Durn ’em 1” ejaculated the hunter, “ do they think that
my rifle will carry to all creation '1’” for the Indians were far
’beyond rifle-range.

For some ten minutes there were no signs of life upon the

  

  

   
  
 
 
 
    
    
   
 
  
     
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

5-1 THE w nrrn vol/roam.

prairie; the hunter remained motionless in his covert, watch-

ing for some movement. upon the part of the foe, and the [n- m
(liana remained quiet, their horses taking advantage of the tln
occasion to graze upon the fresh young prairie-grass. bu
“ What are they up to? Some deviltry, I’ll bet," said the gi
guide to himself, “Gosh! if they don‘t make a movement , l'L‘
soon, f shall have to, for the whole b'ilin’ of em will be up Ill
presently an’ I don’t calculate to tight a hundred of them all H
to onc’t. Hellol the fun‘s commenced.” This remark was '9
occasioned by the singular behavior of one of the Indian Cl
horses. As said, the animals had been feeding quietly upon
, the grass, but now one of the horses detached himself from U
 the rest and proceeded to walk slowly away, taking,r a course “
 that would describe a semicircle around the “ Crow-Killer.” \'
t - He had ibught the Indians too long to be deceived by this, 1'
  one of the most common of their tricks. He knew that
 clinging to the horse and hid frotn his View by the body of l
, ‘, the animal was one of the Crow warriors. Indeed, his keen ‘
5‘ eyes, trained from infancy to prairie-life, and possessingr a. l

1 range of vision wonderful in its extent, could Lletect the red
l hand of the warrior, where it, clungr to the horse‘s matte, and
i, the end of the foot of the Indian on the horse’s back.

fit 'l‘hetrapper and his horse were Cemented from the view
g of the savages by a little clump of timber in the shape of a
t crescent, the ends of which rested on the river, so that when
the Indian, concealed behind the home, get abreast of the
place where the guide was concealed, he was none the wiser
,regarding the hidden foe who had slain his comrade. The
Indian behind the horse described a complete semicircle
around the hiding—place of the “CrowKiller,".und took a.
position just. beyond rifle-range, by the river’s bank above
. ' him. Then the same maneuver was executed by three other
savages, except that the first savage of the three stopped his
horse within a few hundred yards of the Indian by the river's
bank, the second savage a few hundred yards from him, and
the third Indian a few hundred yards from the second, so

that by this maneuVer the “ Crow-Killer” was completely en- ,

circled on three sides by the Crows. The Yellowstone, there ;

rapid amideep, cut 011' his escape on the only side let't on , j

" - guarded by the Indians. i'

 

 

 

now FOR IT. 55

“ Wal, Abe, you’re in fot it i” soliloqnized the guide; " the
red devils kinder think that they've got their beaver. lf
they’d only come within range, I‘d pieh ’em off one by one,
but they ain’t a-goin’ to do that. Jerusalem! I‘ve got to -
git out 0’ this or they’ll lit't my ha‘r for me; the rest of the
red suckers will be up pooty soon; then they‘ll make a dash
an’ close in onto me. I thought kill a few onto ’em, but in
the end thele wipe the out sart’in, au‘ I don‘t eal'late to let
’em do that jist yet. Hello, durned it' they ain’t. begmnin’ to
Close in on me already."

The hunter had spoken the truth ; the Indians, hidden by
the bodies of their horses, were gradually closing in upon the
“ Crow-Killer.” Already, in the guide’s judgment, the savage
“ho held the position near the river above him was within
rifle-range.

“ Now for it I” thought Abe, as he slid his revolver into his
belt, and rising from his lying altitude in the bushes, he stole
Cautiously to his horse‘s side, unlhatened her, loosened the
title, quietly mounted; then galliel‘ing the reins in a little knot,
patted the roan on the neck, shut his teeth tirtnly, touched
the mare in the flank with his heels and dashed through the
covert of the bushes upon the open prairie. Rifle in hand
and urging his horse to its highest speed, he rode straight for
the Indian before him, disregarding the two savages above
and the four /below him, one of whom was the “ White Vul-
ture."

The Indian before the “ Crow-Killer," as he came dashing
on, leveled his carbine front under his horse‘s neck and fired.
The aim was false, however, for the ball went wide of the
guide; then he urged his horse forward in a course parallel
“ith the. river, attempting to keep the body of it still between
him and the hunter and escape. t

The other savages, swinging thenm-lves into their saddles,
came rapidly on toward the “ Crow-Killcr," encircling him
on all sides. Some 0t~ them below him had made a wide detour
from the riverso as to head him ofl‘ it" he Sueeeeded in killing
or escaping the savage before him. But, the “ Crow-Killer"
had a plan,and soon he put it into execution. He gained
v: every moment upon the savage before him. The red brave
i rode ("or life, expecting every moment to hear the sharp crack

 

 

56 THE WHITE VULTURE.

of the white-man‘s rifle and feel the deadly ball. ‘Vildly he
urged his mustang onward, but the roan mare of the “ Crow-
Killer " was fleeter far, and steadily, toot by foot, the hunter
gained upon him. The (Indians on both sides of the guide,
from the courses they were taking, gained also upon their foe,
and soon were so nearly within range that they opened fire
upon him. The balls whistled through the air, but all fell
short. ‘

The “ Crow—Killer" gave a quick glance to his left up th
river, There were but two Indians between him and the
train. The time for escape had come. Both Indians were
within range. Quick as thought, he turned in the saddle,
leveled at the nearest chief and fired ; the savage perceived
the motion, attempted to shield himself behind his horse, but
too late; the ball struck him in the shoulder and hurled him
out of the saddle to the ground. Then the guide wheeled
the gallant roan to the left and rode full tilt at the remaining red-
skin between him and freedom. The Indian, sheering off to
the north, brought his gun to his shoulder and fired ; the scout
had perceived the motion and swerved his horse to the left a
little; the ball out through the hunting-shirt, just grazing the
shoulder. With a yell of defiance the guide drew his revol-
ver, leveled at the Indian, who was now almost within point-
blank range, and fired. The Crow, perceiving the intention
of the white man, pulled up the head of his horse, who re-
ceived the ball in his temple and fell over on his side dead,
almost crushing the rider in his fall. The wily savage by the
action sawed his life. ’

Over the prairie went the “ Crow-Killer," urging the tire-
less foam to her topmost speed; behind him came the Indians,
wild with rage, but they had lost. ground by the cunning ma-
neuver of the “ Crow-Killer,” and he gained on them every
moment. One horse alone of the party was the equal of the
roan in speed, and that horse was rode by the“ White Vulture,"
but he did not pursue the dreaded “ Crow-Killer," being far
in the rear. Great brave though he was, he may have feared
to encounter the enemy of his tribe, or perhaps he remem-
bered that the “ Crow-Killer” had spared his life, and thus he
returned the favor.

After a sharp pursuit the guide had the satisfaction of

bel
ch:

tb

  

 

A VILLAINOUS PLOT.

beholding the Crows rein in their horses and give up the
chase.

“ Wul, considerin' that it were one ug’in' eight, I hnin’t mude
11 bad fight," suid the “Crow-Killer,” us he rode on up
the bank of the Yellowstone.

U H A P T E R V I I.
THE NIGHT ATTACK.

THE train had reached the bend in the river where Abe had
decided to cump, and was preparing supper when the guide
overtook them.

The emigrants had heard the shots, and, under Dave's di-
rection, had prepared for uttuck.

The “Crow-Killer” was surrounded by eager questioners
when he dismounted.

In a few words he told the emigrants that they were in
danger of an attack every moment, but that beyond it doubt
they could easily heat off the savages. The old guide was a
shrewd judge of human nature; by the time he got through
his little speech, he had fully persuaded his companions that
tuey were more tlnm a match for the Indians. So the emi-
grants purtook of their supper cheerfully, and then made pre-
pumtions for the night.

The Hickmans, father and son, were talking earnestly apart
from the rest.

“Well, father,” asked Dick, “have you decided what. to
do ‘2” ‘

“ Yes," answered the old man, “I'll fix it to-nigltt;’ We
have got to get her from the wagon some way, for we can
never attempt to put her out of the way with Mrs. Grierson
and her daughter with her in the wagon. We must think of
home plan to get her out.” I

“I’ve got an idea. The guides, you know, any that we’ll
be attacked to-night. Now, the moment the Indians com-
Inence the attack, I’ll set fire to the wagon-covering; I’ll wet it

 

  

 

58 THE “'HITE VCLTL‘RE.

first with whisky, then it. will burn like mad; of course the
women will be frightened out; then you’ll have a ehanee to
fix Miss Leona. What do you think of the idea ‘r" asked the son.

“ ’l‘here couldn't be any thng better,” replied the father, rub-
bing his hands with (it light.

“ Well, ’tuiu't a bad idea and it’s very simple; so you just
keep your eyes open and wateh your chance.”

“ All right," replied old Eben, “I shall look out."

And then the devil‘s pair, father and son, mingled in one of
the little groups near the tires.

The shades of night gathered over the-prairie; the piekets
were posted, and the cattle ('orraled in the center of the little
('irele formed by the wagons and the tl\'(‘l’.

Anxious hearts were in the (‘amp that night. Many
a eheek lost. its ruddy hue and paled as the owner thought of
the danger that, like a dark eloud, hovered ot'et' them. Miles
were they away from houn- and friends, surrounded by the red
tieuds thirstiner for the blood of the “pale-limes.” Many a
prayer went up to Heaven from white lips, that the Grth
l’ouer above would protect them and guide them safe to their
r.”- western home.

The night. wore on; no signs of danger had yet been seen,
even b\' the keen-eyed guides.

“ \\ hat do you think, Abe ‘3" asked Dave, as the two stood
together, beyond the pieketdine on the eastern side of the
camp. watching the prairie before them. The night was dark
and the moon shone not over the prairie.

“ What do I think ? Wal ; I think that in less than an hour
we‘ll have the toughest tight that we‘ve been in for many a
tong day," replied the “ Crow-Killer.”

“You think so?" asked Dave, anxiously.
were of Leona. /

“ Sart'in l” responded the, old guide; “ the Crows mean
mischief, or else I’m a sucker 1"

Just then the prolonged bowl of a coyote sounded faintly
in the distance. over the prairie.

“ Do you hear that ‘3" (:ried Abe, in a whisper, clutching the
arm of Dave, nervously.

“ Yes, it‘s :1 Wolf, attracted probably by the scent of our
camp,” replied Dave.

Ilis thoughts

u J ital

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A C0 YO'l‘E.

   

THE non/L 0F
“ Jus’ so," said Abe, still in a hoarse whisper,a singular ex-
pression: upon his t'eatures.

The sound had come from the east, seemingly down the
river.

“ I shouldn't be surprised it‘ thar were more nor one well,”
said Abe, listening intently.

“ \Vl‘y, yes, of course," replied Dave, “ they generally go in
packs.”

Just tlren another bowl was borne faintly to their cars on
the night wind, this time coming from the north.

“ Do you hear that ?" asked Abe; “that wolf travels con-
siderubly fast; he’s made ’bout three miles in two seconds;
shouldn‘t be surprised if next time he howls it should come
from the westward,” and then, as if in confirmation of the
guide’s words, the howl was repented, and this time it did come
from the west.

“’Pears to me," said Abe, in his shrewd way, “that those
wolves are acting all together, and they're howling to let eaell
other know whar they air."

“ We are surrounded by them l" cried Dave.

“ Gmpel truth, an’ every one of those ’are wolves is a bit:r
Crow lnjun I" said the “ Crow-Killer."

“I bI-lieve you’re riu‘ht l” exclaimed Dave.

“l knowl um. They’re closin’ in upon us; we’ll have
bloody work afore we‘re an hour older or else I’m a sucker.
Let’s take a leetle scout down by the ‘river; they’re all on
horseback, un’ by keeping to the little timber, we can easily
avoid them ; they won’t be apt to attack for an hour or so yet,
an’ if we run into 'em an’ have u leetle tussle, why, 1 guess
we can git out of it, an’ at any rate it’ll give the camp (air

'arning an’ spoil the Injuns’ idea to surprise us.”

So, noiselesst the two guides stole down along ‘the riVer,
keeping close watch before them for the advancing,r Indians.
We will leave them to pursue their scout and return to the
camp of the emigrants.

,It was half an hour after the departure of the two guides
on their scout that the two Hickmuns stood. together, near the
wagon that contained Grierson’s family and Leona._

“ Look'here, father," said Dick. “ I go on picket up the
river in about ten minutes; there isn’t any danger of an

  
  
  

 

    
   
   
  
   
 

       
     
   
     
   
   
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     
       
  
   
  
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   

80 THE WHITE vumunn.

  
     

attack. I don’t believe there’s an Indian within ten miles of us,
so that idea of ours Won‘t work."

“ What shall we do then ?” asked the father.

“I’ll tell you. Al'terl go on the picket, you go to the
wagon and ask Leona it' she don‘t want to go out for a walk
as turns where Dave Reed is on duty. Tell her that the guides
are convinced'there isn’t any danger and he’d like to say
good—night to her before she goes to sleep. She’ll jump at
the chance; then you just take her up the river, past my post,
and I’ll contri’ve not to see you when you go by me. Now
when you get her a couple of hundred yards beyond where I
am, you suddenly shout ‘ Indians !’ and rush back to the camp.
I'm on picketduty, and of course it" I hear an alarm and see
anybody coming inI shall think it‘s an Indian and fire at
it. Then I’ll put for camp,and when in the morning they
find her dead, ‘why, it will be an uniortunate mistake—that’s
all.” And the scoundrel told the details of his infernal plot
against the'life of the orphan girl with perfect coolness.

“But, suppose they accuse us of intending to kill her?”
said the old man. "

“Who will dare to? who will have a reason to? W'e are
all strangers to each other; no one will know that there is a
motive for the deed. Men don‘t commit crimes for nothing, you
know. It will he set down by all as a blunder, not a. pre-
meditated act. ‘It's the most natural thing in the world for me,
after you give the alarm, to the at the first thing that ap-
proaches me.”

“ Yes,” said the old man, convinced that the scheme was a
good one. “ Be careful; don’t make a mistake and hit me in
the darkness.” '

“Oh, no i” cried the son, “ you just keep near the river; you
can easily run faster than she can.”

And so the plot was arranged.

The pickets were relieved and Dick Hickman took his post
to the west of the camp by the river. Then the e2der Hick-
man went to‘ the wagon that contained Leona. The poor
girl had not thought of sleep; she was too anxious for the
Safety of her lover. She accepted the invitation to go out to
Dave’s post with gladness, and the assurance of the old vil-
lain that. all danger was over relieved her mind of 9. heavy load.

 

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Old

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Now
ere I
tmI)_
see

A FELL swoon 61

Eben Hickman and Leona, passed beyond the wagon-line,
and walked into the darkness of the prairie. Dick at his
post saw them coming and laid down tlat on the ground, so
that he would escape Leona’s notice.

()ltl Hickman and Leona passed on beyond the pieket~line
and walked a hundred yards or so out on the prairie.

“Are we near his post ‘3” asked Leona, the dense gloom
and stillness of the prairie waste striking a dread fair to her
heart.

“ Yes, just beyond us," answered the man, “don't you see
him ‘8" and he pointed before them in the darkness.

Leona strained her eyes and lgazed through the gloom.

“ Yes,” she said, after a moment's anxious gaze, “I see him
now," and then, with a light heart, she was about to proceed,
when Hickman laid his hand upon her arm; she could feel
that he was trembling violently.

“You see him? where ‘2" and the voice of the old man
trembled with fear. _

“There!” she answered, pointing straight before her.
“ Don’t you See those forms in the darkness ?—there are three
or four with him, and some one on horseback t"

“ My God i" shrieked the old man, in terror, “the Indians i"
and then he would have turned to fly, but the red warriors
swooped down upon them; with a lightning stroke a savage
elet‘t his head with a tomahawk, and struck him dead to the
ground. Another grim warrior, bending from the saddle,
seizad the almost fainting Leona in his arms, and raising her,
held the maiden before him. Her screams rung shrill on the
night-air; then came the quick reports of shots tired to the
eastward of the camp: ’twas the signal for the attack. The
picket-guards fired their rifles, then ran for the wagon-train.

Dick Hickman heard the exclamation of his father and the
scream of the girl, but first thought it. was only the execution
of the plan contrived ; then he heard the rush of the lndiaus
and the struggle attending the killing of his father, and real-
izing that the Indians had come in reality, he fled hastily for
the camp.

The attack had now begun in downright; earnest. Abe and
Dave had scouted down the bank of the river until they de-
tected the advancing Indians, then skillfully withd 'awing

 

 

 

02 'nm warm ‘rmxrmm.

without being observed, they had returned and alarmed the
camp, so that when the ()rows made their (lash, intended for
a complete surprise, to their astonishment they found the em-
igrants fully prepared to reeeive them.

The Indians, eontrary to their wonted eltstom,(lasltt-tl in
among the wagons, and thug-ht, the emigrants hand to hand.
The contest was long and bloody, hot the whites \\'t rt,
lighting t'or all that was dear to them in the world, and made
a “lost desperate I‘(‘\l>‘l:|ll('C. Being, too, armed tar superior
to the IlltililllS‘g‘NVU them an advantage, though outnumbered.
'l‘ht-ir revolvers did terrible service, thinning the ranks of the
Crows with dreadlttl effect. The emigrants, too, had the. ad-
vantage of the cover of the. wagons. Abe and Dave fought
like demons. The Indians gave way Define the two guides,
who, on horsehaek, wielding their heavy rifles like reeds,
brought the hutts of them down with terrihle effect upon the
heads of the red assailants. The “White Vulture ” led on
the Crows with desperate bravery, hut, at last, the Indians,
having lost nearly a. third of their three, reluctantly drew ofl‘
and left the (migrants in possession of the field.

It was a hard-earned victory, for six of the emigrants had
been killed outright, and hardly a man escaped without some
wound.

Ahe and Dave instantly exerted themselves to place the
camp again in a proper state for defense.

The old Italian-tighter knew full well that the Crows, though
det'eated for the present, might renew the attack at any mo-
ment.

The bodies of the slain Indians were rolled into the river;
the emigrants, killed in the tight, were placed‘in a wagon un-
til they could be given decent burial.

“A tough tight, Abe,” said Grier-son, who had manfully
done his part in the struggle.

“ What will he the next movement do you suppose ‘2” asked
an emigrant.

“ Wal, I ’spect they‘ll kinder hem us in here, an’ try an’
starve us out,” said Ahe.

“ They can’t do that,” cried Grierson, “ we have plenty of
provisions.”

“ For us, yes,” answered the “ Crow Killer,” “ but for the

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A PLACE VACANT. . 68

cattle, no. The four-looted beasts will want fodder, un’ if we
drive 'em outside our wagon-line, we’ve got to tight for it.”

“ Then how to feed the cattle is the question," said Grierson.

“ That‘s so, an’ that's jist what the red skunks are eal'lating
on. If they'd only stumpeded our beasts last night, they’d
had us.”

' “ That was the reason that you had ’em tied so securely,"
broke in an emigrant.

“ Sart’in; 'now you’re talkiu’.
here, I reckon," said Abe.

The gray streaks of the coming day were now seen in the
eastern clouds, and the dense gloom vanished rapidly from
the face of the prairie.

Abe divided the camp into watches, as before, attended in
person to the wounded men, und imposed watehfulness upon
the guards. ‘

As the morning advanced, the emigrants looked out: with
anxious eyes for traces of the foe.

Far beyond, rifle-range on the prairie, the Crows had formed
a cordon of men around the camp of the emigrants, so as to
:ut off all hope of eseztpe.

Abe looked at them with an evil expression in his dark
eyes.

“ If I don’t wipe out some of your big chiefs afore I’m a
day older, then I'm a sucker,” and he shook his fist; savagely
toward the foe.

Abe then directed the breakfast to he prepared.

“ We can’t fight unless we eat, and thank gracious, we’ve
got enough for the humans if we haven’t for the beasts.”

So the women went busily to Work getting the breakfast.
Then, for the first} time, the absence of Leona was discovered.
Of Course, Mrs. Grierson and Eunice had noticed her absence
(min the wagon, but thought she had taken refuge in some
other one, but now it was discovered that she was not in the
temp! -

Dave was excited and alarmed.

Abe, in his cool way, inquired all the particularswf the
affair. Eunice, awake when Leona. had left the wagon, of
course knew that she had left it with the elder Hickman, for
the purpose of seeing Dave. Inquiry was then made f0!

We’ve got to stand a siege

 

    
 

64 THE WHITE VULTUKE.

Hickman, and he was announced as among the missing. Dick,
the son, was questioned, but he professed ignorance of his fa-
ther's fate. Leona and his father both dead, he was the sole
heir to Rattlesnake Gulch ; so he determined to hold his
tongue, and thus avoid unpleasant questions.

But one conclusion Could he drawn, and that was that pos-
sihly the elder Hickman had taken Leona, ventured beyond
the picket-line, and fallen into the hands 01' the savages.

“ Well ?" said Dave, in a calm voice, though his lips trem-
bled as h_e spoke. Dave and Abe had walked off together.

“Dave, boy, your gal’s in the hands of the Crows; thar
ain‘t any mistake ’bout it. That cuSscd fool Hickman took
her out onto the prairie, an’ both on 'em got gobbled up ;"
and the “ Crow-Killer‘s” face, more than his words, expressed
the grief he felt at his friend's loss.

“ Abe," said Dave, in a tone of earnest determination, “ I’ll
rescue her, if she’s alive, from the hands of the Crows, or if
she’s dead, I’ll avenge her i”

“ Au’ I’m with you, boy, to the death I" cried the “ Crow-
Killer,” extending his hand. A moment the two men grasped
each other’s hands; ’twas a solemn compact, and from that
time the Crow nation had two unrelenting enemies instead
of one.

CHAPTER VIII.
A scon'rnw EXPEDITION.

AFTER the emigrants had partaken of their breakfast, Aha
thought of a plan to give the beasts something to eat; the
grass within the little camp had long since disappeared, but

,outside of the wagon-line there was plenty. The question

was how to protect the cattle from the Indians while they
grazed.

Abe directed a passage-way to be made by pulling two of
the wagons apart; then he dispatched five of the cattle at a
time to feed, while he, Dave and Grierson, who was an ex-
cehent shot, mounted and rode on before the cattle. The first

 

 

“\ 1‘

ABE MEDITATES MIBCHIEF. 65

five cattle that went out, the Crows made a dash for,hut Abe,
the moment they got within range, shot the first in the shoulder
and checked the advance, the rifles of the whites having so
much greater carrying powers than the guns of the Indians,
gave them a decided advantage. 7

Then the Crows tried their favorite maneuver of hiding
themselves behind their horses, riding by at full speed and
firing at the cattle. The whites speedily stopped that by
shooting the Indian horses, and after the Crows had lost three
animals they gave up the attempt and left ,the beasts of the
emigrants to eat in quiet.

“ Wal, thar‘s another idea of the red-skins blocked,” cried
Abe. “ I guess they won’t starve either as or our cattle.”

“ But we can not advance,” said Grierson, “ while they'
surround us.”

“Of course not," replied Abe, “but they’ll get tired of
squatting down out thar an’ watching us, ‘foré long, see if they
don't. Another p’int, I ain’t a-goin’ to ,stay quiet hyar au’,
let ‘em alone. ’Fore long, I’ll worry ’em a little, see if I
don‘t."

And so, after all the cattle were fed, Abe and Dave held a
prlvate consultation.

“ Dave,” said the“ Crow-Killer," “ I think I’ll take a leetle
scout out among the Crows an’ See what they aie arter."

“ Shall I go with you ?" asked Dave. '

“ No, you remain hyar in command of the train, but, arter
I‘m gone, if the Grows on the north and east don’t appear to
be up to any thing; you fust select a little party, say five or
six good men, and ambush yourself, about a half a mile be-
yond the bend, in the timber on the river-bank. I‘m goin' to
take advantage of the timber on the bank to walk into the
Crow camp an’ see what they’re up to; an‘ when I‘ve found.
out all I can an’ git ready to leave, I’ll fix things so as to lean
some of the red devils right into your ambush.”

“ Be careful, Abe; don’t run heedlessly into danger,” said
Dave.

“ Sart’in, I have the highest respect in the world for my
t(JP-knot, an’ Iiain’t inclined to part with it yet. You bet,
none of the painted sarpints get it, without a big tussle. An-
“her thing I’m arter. I want to find out whether the little

    
   
 
 
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
    

  

 

 

66 THE WHITE vurxrunn.

gal is alive or not. I ’speet, of course, that you want to find
that out, yourself, but, Dave, it’s better that I should go. I
know thar ain’t any hope of snatching her out of the red-
skins’ hands jist now; but I can tind out, I guess, whether
she’s alive or dead. You know, Dave, thar isn’t a man in
the north-west that knows the Crows as well as I do. Are you
willin’ to stay behind, look arter the camp, an’ let me go ‘3”
and the old Indian~fighter laid his hand kindly on the shoulder
of the young guide as he spoke.

“ Yes, Abe," said Dave, his voice choked with emotion;
“you are right. It is both-r that you should go than I; for
it' I saw her in the hands of the red devils, I should do
something, not only to endanger my own life but hers. G0,
therefore, in Heaven’s name. I will faithfully obey all your
instructions." \

“That’s jist as it ought to he,” cried Abe, wringing his
hand warmly. “ All I’ve got to say is this: I‘m going to
take advantage of the timber to crawl up the bank of the
river and sneak into their camp, for from what Isaw on the
prairie, I’m satisfied that their head-quarters is up the river.
Now it ain‘t likely that they’ll keep a very strict guard, ’cos
they've been fightin’ all night, an’ besides, they won’t expect
a visit. If I can only get near enough to hear their talk—
you know I know the Crow language as well as I do iny
own——why then, I shall find out what they’re goin’ to do, an’
perhaps what’s goin’ to become of the little gal. Jist you
ambush your men ’bout hall' a mile above nu’ lay low in the
bushes till you see me. I’ll lead some of the red imps right
into your fire. That’s all I’ve got for to say.”

Then the guide’weut to the bank of the river, crawled
under a wagon and disappeared in the little thicket beyond.

Noiselessly and carefully, Abe, the “ Crow-Killer,” threaded
his way through the thicket, his ears ever on the alert to
catch the slightest sound before him; his keen eyes piercing
the tit use wood, eager for a. sight of the foe,

The line of the savages was some three hundred yards from
the camp. Abe, calculating that he must now be near it, pro-
ceeded onward with increased caution. In a few steps more
he came to where the little thicket ended, and an open glade,
perhaps a hundred feet in space, intervened; beyond that,.tha

 

  

ABE MEETS WITH AN OBS’XKCLE. 

thicket commenced again; and on the grass by the thicket
itth 21 Crow Chief. He was evidently on the Watch. and yet;
his watch was any thing but strict. The savage did not
dream of danger and sat lazily cutting the grass around him
with his totnahawk, while his eyes were vacantly tixed tttcn
the distant prairie.

To cross the open glade, so near the savage camp, was a
dangerous task, but to cross it with the Indian sitting there
on the watch was clearly an impossibility.

The old Indian-fighter surveyed the ground before him,
long and earnestly.

“Jerusalem I" he muttered, “ that dnrned red Injun is right
in my track; if I could get by him, guess I could walk right
into the Crow camp, without trouble, but how in creation am
I to git across that glade? The cuss has got a carbine t’other
side of him too, .’Pears to me, these Crows must have been”
making a raid on some of Uncle Sam‘s wagons. Oh I- you
long-legged red imp !" and he shook his fist. at the unconscious
savage, “ I’d like for to get hold of your top-knot.”

“ Wal,” Soliloquizetl the “ Crow-Killer.” “ I can’t cross the
glade, that‘s sart’in ; now let’s see if I can’t get. round it some
way-H

First he looked to his right; before him was the open
prairie; no hope there, of course. Then he looked to the
left; there rolled the river. His eyes fell upon the little
growth of timber on the opposite bank, w‘lfichgrgw- (lawn to
the edge the same as did that in which the hunter lay con-
cealed. r

“ Thunder 1" he cried, again communing with himself, “1
lnought have gone up on the other bank of the river, but
then,” and he thought the matter over carefully, “I should be
as had ofi" as I am now, for I couldn’t cross the river ag‘in,
,without being seen anymore that I can cross this glztde. Je~
rusnleni ! whar are my ideas ?” The guide racked his brains
for a method to cross this hundred feet of open space guarded
by the Indian. Just then the savage opened his mouth and
indulged in a loud yawn.

' 7“ Oh! if he’d only go to sleep for jistn two minutes, jist
“lat long, an’ I’d send him to kingdom come, quicker’p a
wink)!

 

  

 

88 THE WHITE VULT'JRE.

Put the savage, beyond yawning, evinced no desire or dis-
position to sleep.

The hunter hit his lips in desperation ; his eyes wandering
vacantly around, fell again upon the opposite bank of the
river. Suddenly a smile stole over his features; he had an
idea how to cross the glade, or if not to cross it, how, in
military parlance, “to turn the enemy’s position.”

As we have said, the trees on the opposite side, as well
as on the one on which the guide was hid, grew down to
the edge of the batik; but, from the edge of the bank to
the water of the river was at least six feet, the river being
low; the washing of the rapid-rolling waters in time of the
spring freshets and at other periods of high water had
worn away the earth of the bank and tunneled it out to
quite an extent underneath the brink,

“I’ve got it l” said the “ Crow-Killer" in triumph; “ if
this ’ere bank is hollowed out underneath like t’other one, all
I’ve got to do is to get down to the edge, get under the
bank and crawl along till I reach the timber again; the
bank will hide me snug as can be.” '

So the “ Crow-Killer ” quietly withdrew from his position
at the edge of the timber and wormed his way, snake-like, to
thebank of the river. Then he carefully lowered himself otf
the bank into the soft clay-earth fringed by the rolling waters.

Then noiselessly he crept along, bent almost double, under
the overhanging bank.

,The “ Crow-Killer ” safely accomplished his purpose,
reached the timber on the other side of the glade without ex-
citing the suspicions of the savage. The position of the en-
emy was turned. \

The guide took the precaution to go some distance beyond
the glade, before he left the shelter of the overhanging bank—-
that had so kindly shielded him—and took to the thicket.

“ ‘Pears to me,” he said, musingly, “ that I onc’t hearn one

of the sodgers at Fort Benton say that it was bad policy for,

an invading army to leave a strong post of the enemy in their
rear. Now, as I suppbse I stand for the same as an invading
army, it would be bad policy for me to let that ’are Crow hold
his position 'wjthout a try‘to boost him out of it, ’cos if I
should happen to get into any lcetle difiiculty beyond hyar

qumw... ~_~_e 

    
  
  
   
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
     

we...» ,rmflwwmrvam- ,.~.._. 4. V

- have feund out What made that ’are noise.

A ‘ NARROW escspn. 69

with the Crows, my only chance of escape is by this timber,
'eos, on the prairie, their horses would run me down, easy as
fallin’ off a log. Tharfore, it’s very clear to my mind that
the first thing to be done is to put that Crow out of the way."

Through the timbers cautiously stole the guide; he was
now approaching the Indian in the rear. He had formed so
true a calculation of the spot upon which sat the Crow chief,
that, after five minutes’ continued progress he could distinguish
the dusky figure on the outskirts of the timber.

“ Thar’s the red devil i" muttered the hunter. Just then he
happened to step upon a dried twig, which snapped beneath
his tread. Noiselessly and with the quickness of the light-
ning’s flash, the “ Crow-Killer " sunk at full length upon the
ground. '

The quick ear of the Indian caught the sound of the break-
ing twig, and he lazily turned his head in the direction of the
noise. The action was prompted by curiosity only, not alarm,
for he had no suspicion of danger; he looked for the foe be-
fore not behind him.

A moment or two the Indian kept his eyes fixed in the di-
rcction of the “ Crow-Killer.” All was still, however, no
sound came from the little thicket. »

The Indian, at last satisfied that the not'se came from some
little animal or bird within the thicket, again resumed his
watch down the river. I

“ Wei,” the “ Crow-Killer” whispere l, “ that were a. nar-
row escape. If that Injun had as mueh sense as a pig, he'd
Bah i talk ’bout
Injun sense and skill l Thar never were an Injun yet that
could come up to a white man trained in their ways; they
ain't got the head on their red bodies (‘01 to do it. A moment
ago, I thought it Were a difficult question to decide, whether
he’d take my top-knot or I’d take 1.15’11, but thar ain’t any
doubt ’bont it now; he's a gone sucker, as sure as my name's
Abe.”

‘ Then drawing his keen-edged hunting-knife, with a stealthy

a"epithe old hunter crept upon his foe. The Indian, uncon-

Be'llius of danger, and wearied from the toil of last night’s

‘5‘“, sat upon the grass, idly reclining upon his elbow, his car-

‘ne by his side, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the open prairie.
3

 

    

 

    

THE WHITE VULT {11115.

With a spring like that of the panther leaping upon his
prey, the old hunter sprung upon his foe, and while one broad
hand, clutching the hrnwny throat of the savage, stifled his
Cries, the other drove the brood-bladed knife deep into his h0-
Soni. A single convulsive movement of‘the snvnge’s limbs, 8
stifled gasp in the thront, nnd the soul of the Crow ehief had
fled to the happy hunting-gt'onnds. Another hrave of the
Crow nation had fallen by the hand of the Avenger.

A strange expresflon wns in the eyes of the old “ Crow-
Killer ” as he knelt hy the side of the deud warrior.

“ A yonnjjr brave,” he muttered, gazing on the features of
the Crow—tinted with the gay \\'2tr-p:tint——-that a few nio-
ments b’L‘fOl'B lmd been radiant with life, health and strength,
yet now were rigid in death. “ Probably this was his first ex-
pedition," he continued, “ the first time that he hns decked his
face with the wur-pnint and gone on the war-trail ag‘in’ the
whites ; yet I don’t know that; the ‘ \Vhite Vulture’ isn’t much
older than this chap, un’ he hns seen many :1 bloody fight.
‘Tain’t for nothing that they call him the ‘greatcst fighting;
man of the Crow nation!”

The scout took another long look atfthe youthful features
of the dead warrior, from the wound in whose breast the blood
was streaming freely.

“ It seems a pity to kill the red devils arter all ; yet when I.
think of the wrong they have done me, cuss ’eml” and the
guide shut his teeth together vindiotively. “ When I think of
my father, dead, killed by these red dogs—when I think of
my little Injun wife that they stole away from me, an’ then,
when I think of my two boys, my twin boys—«if they hud
lived they’d have been about the age of this fetter now—it
makes me feel so bitter, that I really believe if I had the
power I could wipe out the whole dnrned Crow nation, with
as little remorse as I would feel for killin’ a wolf. One of these
days, I ’spect I’ll find the truth about my wife and those twin
babies. It makes 'me feel, right had sometimes, when I think
that, maybe, the Crows didn’t kill my two boys, but have
reared ’em up an’ made ’em Crow warriors, taught’em to fight

g‘in’ their father, nn’, seine _day, I may meet an’ kill ’em or they,
me. I think I should know ’em though, ’cos they must look
likethe mother an’ something like me." And then the 010

 

his
ind
h is

, 8
ad
L10

 

 

THE WAY CLEAR. 71

hunter was shout for a moment; then he took the body of
the Indian, placed it carefully with its back against». tree,
facing it toward the prairie.

“ 'l‘har.” said Abe, “ if any of the red skunks on the prairie
pass by they’ll think he's on his post, all right ; they won’t
see that he’s done [or unless they come mighty close. Now
then," he said, picking up his rifle from where he had laid it
in the thicket, “ now I think I can walk right into the Crow
camp without any trouble ; I must be careful, though, I don't
stumble on ’em More I know it, ’cos a fight is the last thing
that I want to git into now.”

C H A P T E R I X .
THE cnows m ConNeIL.

Tim “ Crow-Killer " now made his way again to the river-
bank, struck the stream at the place where he had letlt it, de-
scended under the bank and then turned up the current——his
footprints heng in water, of course were soon washed from
sight. r v

“ Thar,” he thought, with a sly chuckle, “ I guess the Crows

- will have some diflieulty to foller me. If they find the dead ‘

Injun, then they’ll truck‘me to the river an’ then they’ll be
bothered. They “on‘t think for a single moment that I’ve
gone up-stream right into their camp, ’cos that’s foolhardy,
but, bless their stupid souls, the bold game is the one that
wins in the long run. No, of course they‘ll imagine that I’ve
gone down the river an’ they won’t dare to track the very far
in that direction for fear of gettin’ within range of our rifles.
I think I’ve fooled ’em ’bout as cute as it can be done.
They‘ll get sick of tackling the ‘Crow-Killer’ ’fore long, I
reckon; if they don’t, they’re bigger fools than I take ’em to
be." '

' 80 up the river, hid by the overhanging bank, cautiously
went the “Crow-Killer.” It was necessary to again ascend
the bank in order to get within ear-shot of the Indians; but

      
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
    
  
 
  
       
   

 

 

 

  

72 THE wnrrrr‘ VULTURE.

how to do it without leaving the marks of his feet upon the
soft clay bank was a puzzle. Circumstances favored him.
Right before hhn a stunted oak grew out of the bank and
overhung the stream; grasping the trunk with his hands, light
and quick as a. cat, Abe lifted and swung himself up over the
bank, his feet finding a resting-place on the bottom of thqtree-
trunk and thus leaving no mark.

The bank thus again gained, he plunged once more into the
thicket. ‘ '

After advancing a few steps, he heard the sound of horses
pawing the ground, a sure proof that he was near the camp.

Cautiously he stole forward a few steps more, when the
thicket ended suddenly, and before him extended another little
glade, not tenanted by a single savage as was the other, but
by a score or more of the red braves. Extending himself
flat on the ground, the guide, snake-like, wormed himself for-
ward among the tangled underbrush, until he arrived at the

~ Very edge of the thicket, where he could not only command a

full View of what was going on, but could hear nearly every
word that was said. As he conjectured, he‘looked upon the
main camp of the war-party.

0n the prairie, close to the timber, the horses ofthe party,
the wild Indian ponies, hardy and savage as their masters, the
red chiefs, were tethered.

Some thirty warriors were in the little glnde; the rest of
the party, as the scout had surmised, were watching the camp
of the emigrants. ~

‘All of the thirty warriors, excepting some eight. who ap-
peared to the practiced eyes of the “ Crow~Killer ” to be the
principal chiefs, were scattered over the prairie edge of the
little glade near the horses, nearly all reclining on the ground.

The eighfchiefs, among whom was the “ White Vulture,"
were seated near the middle of the glade in a circle, appa-
rently holding a council. So the scout judged, and also that
the council had just commenced, as the calmnet, from which
the smoke lazily curled, was being passed from mouth to
month. i

“ Now then,” thought the guide, “ we’ll see what the red
devils are arter.” Then his eyes wandered anxiously over the
Indians near the horses. ‘

 

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
    
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
   
   

 

    

 

    

A “'AR 01" WORDS.

“ W'hat on earth have they done with the little gal? I
can‘t see her anywhar. Can the red-skins have murdered
her ‘?” and tiSed as the “ Crow-Killer” was to scenes of blood,
he shuddered when he thought of Leona lying dead on the
prairie and the beautiful l‘edgold hair hanging at the belt of
some savage chief as a trophy of victory.

The pipe was passed around, and when it had completed
the circle, the old warrior, the uncle of the “ White Vulture,”
who was called the “ ’I‘hunder-Clmul,“ spoke.

“My brothers are in council ; their hearts are brave like
the great white bear; their tongues are straight as the arrow.
Will the chiefs of the Crow nation attack the white wagons
'again, or will they go to their lodges in the great mountains ‘2"

hen up rose a brawny savage, hideously streaked with
black paint. It was the same Indian who had, on the pre-
vious night, captured the hapless Leona. He was known
among the Crows as the “Black Dog." ‘

It was very evident to the scout, from the “ Black Dog’s ”
speech, that he was a rival of the “ White Vulture."

The “ Black Dog” advocated an immediate descent upon
the train—declared that the whites were whipped and would
fly before another attack—in a covert way insinuated that
the chiefs in favor of returning home were cowardsT—a course
which gained the “ Black Dog ” no friends, but made him an-
emies, for the majority of the Crows were fully satisfiedrthat
the emigrants, headed by the dreaded “Crow-Killer,” were
more than a match for them.

Then the “ White Vulture ” spoke.

“ My brothers," he said, “have listened to the words of the
‘Black‘ Dog’; he has said that some of the hearts of the Crow
chiefs were white—-that they feared the pale—faces. My brother,
ule ‘ Black Dog,’ is a great warrior, 9., great chief,” and the lip
of the “White Vulture ” curled in scorn. “ While the other
Chiefs of the Crow nation can show wounds from the fight
With the white wagons, my brother, the ‘Black Dog,’ can
a110W none. He has no wounds, but he has a pale-face squaw,
that he took in single figh‘t. My brotheris amighty war-
riohn '

It Was evident that all the chiefs sided With the “White

' “lture,” as a. sneer was upon every lip. The “Black Dog's’

 

 

 

  
  
   
   
   
    
  
   
 
 
 
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
     

THE “WHITE

 

VULTURE.

 

brows were dark with rage. In a voice trembling with sup-
pressed passion he answered the “ White Vulture.”

“ The ‘ White Vulture’ speaks with a forked tongue; his
heart is black toward his brother. The ‘ Black Dog’ has no
wounds because the Great Spirit smiled on him and the pale-
faces could not harm him. Though he has no wounds, yet
he gave wounds; the white-wagon braves shrunk before him
like the grass before the wind The ‘ Black Dog’ is not a
snake; he crawls not on the ground ; but his way is like the
eagle. The ‘ Black Dog’ is not blind like an owl, he would
not have run his head against; the white wagons to slaughter
the braves of the Crow nation. The ‘White Vulture’ is a.
great chief; the snakes that crawl in the grass and the (logs
that lick the hand that feeds them, say he is the ‘great fight- .
ing-man of the Crow nation ;’ yet the squaws at our lodges,
at the great mountains, will mourn for. the braves that fell by
the hands of the white warriors, by the Yellowstone, when
the ‘ White Vulture’ led them."

Astonishment was visible upon the faces of the other 
chiefs, the “ White Vulture " alone excepted, at. this speech.
The face of the “ great fighting-man of the Crow nation " was
like marble, no trace of anger appeared upon it at the bitter
speech or his foe. The “ Crow-Killer” watched the scene
eagerly. _

“ He’ll give the ‘ Black Dog ’ a lick under the short ribs, the
inst thing he knows on. He a tighter, wah l” and the expres' .‘
sion of contempt was evidently intended for the Dog cltiefi}
“If the ‘ White Vulture’ goes for him, I’ll bet my pile on
him every'time."

The “ White Vulture” arose from his seat to answer the
speech of the “Black Dog ”; all the chiefs looked on with ev-'
ident anxiety; that a storm was brewing that might end in
blood was evident to all. j -‘ ‘7 .

“The ‘ White Vulture’ has listened with his ear-slopen to
the words of the ‘ Black Dog’,” began the chiefi'_ 
has said that the ‘ White Vulture ’ led the braves bf‘itlieIVQrtM
nation to death: what is death to a. warrior? I: Nothing!
Does the ‘ Black Dog ’ know the reason why the braves ot’tlti
wlntc wagons beat the red chiefs? If not, the ‘White Vlfl‘
ture’ will tell him. The red braves were to creep upon thfl'

 

I

 

Luv-sw-

§

 

>0.

FROM worms T0 BLows. 75 .
white wagons as the panther creeps upon his prey; then they
were to springr upon the whites as quick as the forde light
Comes from the hand of the Great Spirit—the red ehiet's were
closing in upon the white wagons, hut tlu-y were not rently for
the attack, when the squall of u Squaw, the mighty capture of
the ‘ lllurzk Dog,’ gave warning to the whites that their toes
wure near. It the ‘ Blut'k Dog' hail not captured the white
Squaw the CI‘U\\'> u'oultl have beaten the pale-laces."

A low murmur went l'tllllltl the eirtle; :1” ugreml with the
“White Vulture,” NtVt‘, of course, the “Black Dog,” who,
with his hand clutched instinctively on his knife, glared upon
his foe.

“ My brother talks straight 1” said the “ Thunder-Cloud.”

Then, calm as a statue, the“ White Vulture ” went on in his
speech : '

“My brothers gave me the commantkof the expedition; it
Was good ; they are great chiefs, as brave as the white‘ bear
and wise as the beaver."

All the chiefs bowed assent; the compliment pleased
them. Human nature is the same, whether embosomed in
the red breast or the white. The “ Black Dog ” alone
looked surly; he saw clearly that the chiefs were‘all against
him, and his heart swelled with rage to see his foe triumph.

The “ White Vulture” continued:

“The ‘ Black Dog’ has said that the squnws of the Crow
nation will mourn and sing the death-song- for the young
braves that the ‘ White Vulture ’ led 'to their graves. The
‘Black Dog] lies I" and the accusation came forth with ter~
Title force from the lips of the chief. “The squaws in the
Crow lo lges by the big mountain will mourn for the braves
slaughtered by the ‘Black Dog’ for the sake of the white
Squaw.”

The face of the “ Black Dog ” was purple with passion. In
aVoice hoarse with rage, and drawingthe sharp seaming-knife
from his girdle as he spoke, he addressed the “White Vul-
ture n : r
a “If the great: fighting-man of the Crow nation does not
far, he will follow the ‘Black Dog

And with a stately step the warrior,knifc in hand,marched
"EC toward the thicket wherein the “ Crow-Killer ” was

 

 

 

 

7 6 THE WHITE vurrrumu.

concealed. The “ White Vulture ” understood the challenge to
m'ortnl combat, and drawing his knife he followed the“ Black
Dog.” The rest of the chiefs remained seated in the circle
awaiting the result.

The “ Black Dog" headed directly for the spot where the
“ Crow-Killer" lny.

“Jerusnlem l" muttered the “ CromKiller,” as the warriors
came toward his hiding-place, “if they keep on, they‘ll set-
tle me. I‘ll kill thrtt skunk first any way, un’ save the ‘ White
Vulture ’ the trouble."

The scout drew his knife, but the “ Blnck Dog ” turned ofl“
abruptly to the right and entered the thicket not fair from
where the scout was ambushed. Behind stalked the “ White
Vulture.”

Some thirty feet from where the “ Crow-Killer" lay, was a,
little space unincumbcred by bushes. To this spot the “ Black
Dog" led the “ White Vulture.”

The “Crow-Killer," from his hiding-place, commanded a.
full View of the scene, by merely turning his head.

“ Sho l” he muttered, “it will be as good as a circus; but
if the ‘ White Vulture’ don’t settle that fellow’s hash, I ain’t
any judge of fighting," and then with eager eyes he looked
upon the scene. . - ,

The two chiefs surveyed each other fog a moment, their
long, keen-edged blades glittering in their hands. Then the
“ BLle Dog ” advanced upon the “ White Vulture " and be-
gan the attack. A moment they swayed from side to side,
like pugilists, the glittering eyes watching for a weak spot in
their opponent’s guard ; then suddenly the “ Black Dog ” made
a. desperate lunge at the breast of the “ White Vulture.” The
chief avoided it by skillfully jumping back, and before the
“ Black Dog ” could recover himself. with a quick downward
motion he slashed the “ Black Dog ” across the face, cutting a
terrible gash from the forehead to the chin, from which the‘
blood streamed freely. Maddened with the pain and'biinded‘
by the blood which streamed into his eyes, the “ Black Do "’f
made a. desperate push on his nimble opponent as if to crush;
him by his weight; the “White Vulture,” quick as a. catfiv
avoided the thrust, by stepping to one side, and then, as thO
“ Black Dog " passed by him in his mad rush, he lunged 36’

I

 

FINISHED. 77

t him and made a terrible wound in his side. The “Black Dog”
fell on his knees, the blood streaming from the two wounds;
his strength was going fast—the wound in his side was mor-
, tal. Twice he attempted to rise and twica he sunk back on
9 his knees. The “White Vulture " stood at a little distance
_, with folded arms and regarded him with a calm smile. A
5 third time the “ Black Dog” cssayed to gain his feet, his eyes
l still glaring vengeance upon his foe. Willi a mighty efibrt
the chief arose and stood erect. A single instant only did he
keep his feet; and then his strength failing, the knife
dropped from his nerveless hand and he sunk to the ground,
3 dead. '

,t For a. few moments the “White Vulture "—who had no‘
l received even a single scratch in the encounter—regarded t’.. ,
foe who had fallen by his arm. Calmly he looked upon him,
then approached, took the body of the dead Indian in his arms,
carried it to the river’s bank and committed it to the waters‘
then he carefully washed off the blood-stains caused by hand-
ling the body, from his hands and breast, cleaned his knife
, and returned to the camp.

l “ He’s chain-lightning l” said Abe, who had not losta single
incident of the exciting scene.

The “ White Vulture " strode into the circle of chiefs, and

took his former seat. They all surveyed him earnestly, but no
trace of the deadly conflict through which lie/had just passed
Was upon his person.
. “Brothers, listen," he said, as he resumed his seat. “ The
“v Great Spirit is angry with the ‘ Black Dog ’ for having caused
80 many young braves to he slain by the white-wagon braves;
lhe ‘ Black Dog’ fell into the swift waters and the Crow na-
tion will see him no more. The ‘ White Vulture’ will take
the pale-face squaw of the ‘Black Dog,’ and he will give his
brothers his share of the fur-wagons. Is it good ?”

The chiefs gravely nodded assent; it was not well for any
of the braves of the Crow nation to cross the Will 0f the
“ White Vulture.” _

The scout in his hiding-place Was struck With a. sudden
idea. ‘

“Dumed if I don’t believe he picked the quarrel Win) “1‘9
'V‘Black Dog’ just to get hold of this ‘ white squaW’; that”

 

 

a

 

 

   
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 

 

 

78 THE WHITE VULTURE.

\
why he wiped him out. He’s a. chte Injun,” soliloqnized the
guide. “ The ‘ white squnw ’ must be Miss Leona, ’cos that
ain't any other female missing. I’m afraid that the ‘Blatek
Dog’ won’t be the only man he's got’ to wipe out More
he can have the ‘white squuw.’ But. whar on earth is
the gal? Icuu't see her anywhur. She must be in the
timber."

And so the “ Crow-Killer” watched the Indians eagerlyI
keen to discover their plans.

CHAPTER X.
om) ABE ON A CRUISE.

AFTER 9. very.brief debate, the Crow chiefs decided to, give
up the attack on the wagon-train {and return to their homes,
being fully satisfied there was but little chance of success in
continuing the fight with the pale-faces.

Not a single word was [said respecting the fate of the
“ Black Dog ”; all accepted the story of the “White Vulture ”
that the Dobr chief had fallen into the swift waters; and
though of course the braves were too sensible not to know
that. the “ White Vulture” must have hard some agency in the
matter, yet the explanation was reasonable and probably
would satisfy the friends and relatives of the dead brave at
home.

The council broke up, and braves were dispatched to call
in the warriors to prepare for the march. Hardly had they
departed when two mounted Indians, bearing the body of the

young brave slain on his post in the little glade by the “ Crow- 1

Killer,” dashed into the cnmp.
The warriors crowded around and examined the body
with wonder. That a foe should dare to slay one of their

pickets; and accomplish it, too, without exciting the slightest-

alarm, was a. puzzle to them. .

The old chief, the “Thunder-Cloud," carefully examined '
the body; he could see no other wound save the single knife- v

    

 

 

 

vl‘-

    

 

‘ clutches.

    

“axe SILENTLY STOLE AWAY."

thrust through the heart—a. blow evidently driven home by a
powerful and practiced arm.

There was silence in the throng. .

“’l‘lte ‘Crow-Killer'l” said the old chief. He had often
seen the deadly effects of the old Intlian-tighter’s arm, and
rightly guessed who had slain the young brave.

Within half an hour, the “ Crow-Killer,” from his hiding-
place, had tlte satisfitction -of seeing the red braves gather in
their warriors, mottnt their horses and depart, taking a course
that led to the west; but no sign (lid he see of Leona. Yet
it was evident from the Words of the chiefs, that she was a
prisoner in their hands.

“ l‘m sart’in that she’s in their hands,” he reflected, as the
last of the red chiefs disappeared front the little glade and
was hid from his eyes by the thicket which cut off his view
of the distant prairie to the west. “ Now, the best thing,r I
can do is to get back to the wagons as soon as possible. 1‘“
send Dave on with the train to Montana, and then I’ll trail
the red devils an’ try an' sneak the little gal out of their
That will be no easy matter, I’m at'eard; but,
thar's nothin’ like tryin’. I’ve been wanting to go to the
Crow nation for adong time; now hyar’s a chance. First,
to rescue the little gal; second, to find out ’bout my lnjttn
wife. The sooner I’m off for camp the better.”

' Carefully through the timber the guide retraced‘his steps.

\Vhen the “ Crew-Killer ” reached the glade where he had
slain the Crow warrior, he halted for a moment inthe timber

‘ at its edge.

“ ’Pears to me.“ he said, talking low to himself, as usual,
“that the other side of this leetle opening- in the timber
imam be jist the place for Dave to ambush_himse1t‘. I’m
downright sorry that I hain’t had a chance to lead a dozen
“1‘ So of the red (levils into his fire, but, what can’t; be cured
must be endured, as I‘ve hearn suy.- Guess I'll flLd out
whether Dave's thar or not." .

Putting his haatls to his mouth, Abe gave a short quick
l.‘ark like a coyote. _

In a second the bark was repeated on the other stdemf the
Elude from the thicket.

Fearlessly the “ Crow-Killer” stepped from the timber into

 

 

 

80 THE WHITE VULTURE

the open space, and as he did so, DaVe, rifle in hand, steppet
from among the bushes on the opposite side of the glade
while behind him appeared some four of the emigrants.

“ Are the Indians near?" questioned Dave, as he met the
“ Crow-Killer” in the center of the little opening and wrung
him warme by the hand.

“ Nary lnjun,” responded the old hunter. “ They’ve taken
the back track un‘ gone off, bag un’ baggage, for the moun-
tains.”

“ And Leona ?” anxiously questioned the young guide.

“ I hain’t seen her,” said Abe.

‘ The expression of disappointment upon the manly features
of Dave waspaint'ul to behold. The old guide hastened to
relieve his mind.

“ Don’t look or feel downhearted, man.
seen her, yet I’ve hearn of her."

“ You have t” cried Dave, eagerly.

“ You bet! But. ’tain‘t much consolation for you. She’s
in the hands of the Crows, un’ they‘re carrying her off for
the mountains.”

Then the “ Crow-Killer" told Dave all that he had wit—
nessed from his hidingplace. When he had finished his
story, Dave for a few minutes was silent, apparently in deep
thought.

“Abe, what shall I do ?” he asked, at length.

“I s’pose you want my honest advice," said the “ Crow-
Killer." '

“ Yes,” responded the young guide.

“ Wal, the case is jist hyar; the Crows are ' carrying the
gal off to their lodges in the mountains, in the Crow nation,
probably to the village of the ‘ Thunder-Cloud.’ When they
get thar, of courso they’ll celebrate their capture of the fur-/
wagons; then they’ll probably marry the little gal to the
‘ White Vulture ’ ; that’s the programme, I think,"

“ But, if we with a small party follow them instantly, we
might be able to rescue Leona tl‘om their hands,” said Dave,
eagerly.

“ Small chance of that, Dave,” replied the “ Crow-Killer,”
shaking his head graVely. “The Injuns are sixty or seventy
‘ strong, an’ they won’t let the grass grow under their feet new,

Jew   

Though I hain’t

/

 

 

THE LOST ONE. 81

till they reach home. If we foileer an’ come up with ‘em,
the chances are, ten to one, that we’d all be wiped out.
Besides, Dave," and the “ Crow-Killer” laid his hand on the
young man’s shoulder, “ you forget the wuxgon-train. We've
pledged our word to take the train safe to Montana, to guide
it an’ fight for it, an’ you know, Dave, 21 man ain't got much
left in this world arter he loses his word. It’s a hard thing,
I know. You love the little gal, an‘ it's a hard thing to go
on an’ leave her helpless, as it ’pears, in the hands of these
red devils; but, thar’s women and children in that ’are train,
an’ our word is pledged to put. ’em through to Montana."

“ I know it! I know it I” cried the young man, wrestling
with the agony of pain that thrilled through his heart, as
he thought of the peril of his Leona, the only woman in the
World that he had ever loved. “I know our word is pledged,
but, to think of; Leona being borne away helpless in the
hands of these red demons! Oh, Abel show me some way
that I can at least risk my life in an attempt to save her.”

“ Don't take it so hard, Davy, lad," said the “ Crow-Killer,”
in a voice that showed his deep feeling for the young hunter.
“ I’ve got a‘plan in my head that I think will help us a little.
Two days’ travel due north will bring the train to Fort 'Ben-
ton. At Fort Benton you can get guides to take our places.
Now, this is the way we’ll fix it. I’ll speak to the emigrants,
explain how the matter stands, an’ ask’em to let me off now.
I don’t think they’ll hesitate for a minute to do it; then I’ll
foller the Crows. Iknow the country as well as I do my
own hand; I’ve been in the village of the ‘Thunder-Cloud’
before, though it were years ago. You carry the train on to
Fort Benton, get the guides thar for ’em,then strike down the
Missouri. The Injun village is ’bout a hundred miles, as the
crow flies, from the fort; it lies in u leetle plain, between the
Missouri and the mountains. The country is all timbered and
fine for scouting. It will take you two days to reach Ft-rt
Brnton, an’ then two days more to get to the Injun village.
When you get near the village, you foller the river all the
time. Jist hide your horse in the timber an’ scout in on
foot. I’ll keep a look-om for you. Now, what do you .think
of the plan? My idea for you to go on With the tram an"
let me foller the Crows is ’cos I know the country out. thfl

 

  

 

82 THE WHITE VULTUKIP

so much better than you do, an‘ Ican See exactly how things
air, more you come."

“I agree with you t" cried Dave, shaking:r the old hunter‘s
ha‘nd warmly. “I will go on with the train, and then will
join you on the Missouri. I t'eel sure we shall save her from
the hands of these red devils."

“ Yes, an’ cunning alone can do it, for in that country of
theirz, the Crows can whip ten times their number easy;
but if we use our heads I think we can flax ’etn.”

To the men of the train, Abe briefly explained his plan to
rescue Leona from the hands of the Crows. The emigrants'
willingly gave their consent to his departure, for not a man
was there—Dick Hickman alone excepted—but would have
risked their lives for the captive girl. So the wagon—train
again proceeded on its march for golden Montana.

With a hearty shake of the hand, Abe and Dave parted——
Dave riding on with the train, and Abe, mounted on the
trusty roan mare, heading westward on the trail of the
Crows.

“ Guess I needn’t to hurry myself much,” said the “ Crow-
Killt-r,” as, holding his steed by the spot where the Indians
had been camped, he watched the White-topped wagons as
they disappeared in the distance over the rolling prairie.

Finally the last one was lost to sight, and he remained
alone upon the prairie. v

“ I reckon I shan’t bother myself much to foller their trail,"
soliloquized the old guide. “ The Injuns, of course, are go-
i113,r to the village of the ‘ Tlumder-Clolul;’ an’ I think Ieould
tind that in theldarkest night. I ever did see. So I’ll ride on
slowly an’ not worry myself. It's ’bout two days’ journey,
if the Crows traVel fast, an’I kinder think they will. So,
old hoss, you an’ I will take it easy."

And so the hunter journeyed on leisurely. For the first;
five miles the trail led by the bank of the Yellowstone; then
the river turned abruptly to the south, and the trail, partng
from it, led across the prairie, westward.

At sundown the hunter selected a convenient clump of
timber, let his horse feed on the fresh young prairie—grass,
made a. scanty meal from a store of sun-dried beef and Some
hard crackers that. he carried. soldier-tashion, in his saddle-

 
  
   
  
  
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

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Forum,me 1N Punsurr. 83

bags; then, after a careful survey of the country around, went
to sleep.

Early at sunrise on the following morning the “ Crow-
Killer " awoke, made another scanty meal, mounted his horse
and again rode on the trail.

The savages had not even talten the trouble to conceal their
tracks, confident, doubtless, in the number of their band and
the ituprolalbility of any one following in pursuit. So 11.0
old hunter had but little trouble in following the plainly-de-
fined trail.

On the evening of the second day, thinking that he was
within ten miles of the Indian camp, the old guide dismounted
and halted for the night.

The third morning's light found him again in the saddle.

The surface of the country had greatly changed, and showed
that he was at the base of the Rocky Mountains; though on
the east bank of the river, beyond the timber that fringed the
stream, commenced the vast prairie that extended eastward
to the junction of the Yellowstone and the Missouri rivers,
and which is commonly called the valley of the Yellowstone,
as fertile a spot of land as the sun ever shone upon.

“The “Crow-Killer” recrossed the river, made a circuit
around the Indian village so as to approach it from the north,
as Dave would come up the bank of the river from the north
and it would clearly be an impossibility for the guide to meet
him if he remained south of the Indian village.

The “ Crow-Killer" accomplished his purpose; he could
easily tell the position of the village, by the smoke arising
from it; and floating on the clear mountain air.

The guide carefully hid his horse in a thicket on the river’s
bank, some three miles from the Indian settlement, and then
carefully approached it on foot.

The Country was rough and uneven, and, as the “Crow-
Killer " had said, excellent for scoutitw. The village lay in
a little hollow, near the Missouri, surrounded on all sides, ex-
cept the one washed by the river, by hillsyheavily titnbered.

The scent had got within a mile or so of the village—he
could tell its position by the smoke—and was proceeding can-
tiously along through a little glade between two rocky hills,
W40!) he was suddenly startled by a poise in tin shrubbery

 

r

  

 

 

84 THE wnrrn VULTCRE.

right before him. Hardly had he stopped, and before he
could turn to retreat, forth from the thicket came a huge
grizzly bear, who made directly for the hunter. Abe did not
dare to use his rifle, for the report would bring the Indians
upon him—flight was his only hope, for a man stands but
little chance for his life in a close encounter with the brown
monarch of the Rocky Mountains.

Luckily a tree was near at hand, a good-sized oak. [Drop-
ping his rifle, the “Crow-Killer" sprung for the tree, and
soon ensconced himself in its lower branches. ‘

The grizzly came to the foot of the tree and looked up-
ward; then, to Abe‘s dismay, forth from the thicket marched
another grizzly, it‘ any thing larger than the first.

“ Wal, I’m in for it I” thought Abe. “ I'd ratherfight the
Injuns than these durned brutes. If I ain‘t in a pesky diffi-
culty then my name’s not Abe.”

The second grizzly joined the first at the bottom of the
tree, and then both beasts looked up at the hunter and licked
their jaws as if they expected he would soon fall into them.

Luckily for the man, as it proved, the oak was a small tree,
and but one of the bears could amend it at a time, for the
grizzly is a tree-climber as well as his brother, the black bear.

Abe watched the grizzlys closely; he knew their habits
Well; these were evidently hungry, and would soon ascend
the tree for their prey. '

How repulse the attack of the brutes? All of the bear
kind have very tender noses; the‘grizzly ascending the tree
could not very well begin an attack until he reached the
limbs. So the hunter drew his sharp knife, cut a heavy club
from a convenient branch, and trimming it of its limbs,
. awaited the bear’s approach.

Bruin stood upon his hind legs a moment, and then, hug-
ging the tree-trunk in his strong paws, began his slow ascent.

As the ugly creature came within reach, Abe dealt it a ter-
ritic blow with the club on the tender snout, that brought a
howl of agony from the mountain king and drove him back.
Again he came on; again the strong arm of the “ Crow:
Killer ” brought the heavy club down upon his nose; this
time a shower of blows followed the first, and the bear, hong
mg with agony, relinquished the assault and descended hastily

1

 

 

 

 

 

A FIGHT WITH TWO szzms. 85

to the ground, where he rolled around and rubbed his nose
with his great paws, evidently in extreme pain.

The hunter chuckled with delight.

Then the second bear, not understanding the cause of his
companion’s defeat, ascended the tree; the same reception V
that the first hear met with was accorded to the second. and
he, too, speedily retreated from the shower of blows rained
down upon his tender snout.

The two hears held a. sort of a consultation at the foot of
the tree, rubbing their noses in a comical way, and evidently
greatly astonished at their defeat, and then, as if fully satis-
fied, they trotted oil‘ to the thicket from which they came,
and left the “ Crow-Killer" master of the field. ‘

The guide had great difficulty to refrain from saluting the
departing brutes with n yell of triumph, but the near neigh-
borhood of the Indians checked him.

After being fully satisfied that the grizzlys really had retired,
Ahe.descen'ded from his perch, picked up his rifle, and again
resumed his advance toward the Crow village.

CHAPTER XI.
r A RAID INTO THE cnow VILLAGE.

THREE days had passed since the “ Crow-Killer” had rm.
rived at the Indian village. On the afternoon of the second
he was joined by Dave, who had ridden night as well as
day from Fort Benton.

The two scouts had taken up a position in a thicket. on
one of the hills overlooking the Crow village, and {lisumt
from it about a half a mile. From their post they could see
all that passed in the Indian town.

From the strict watch kept around one of the lodgta apart
from the rest in the northern section of the village, and from
the fact that the “White Vulture ” seemed to be the only
chief that visited it, the “ Crow-Killer” came to the conclu-

lion that Leona. was. there confined.

The Indians had celebrated their capture of the fur-wagons

 

 

 

 

 

    

 

 

  

86 THE WHITE vumnim.

in their usual manner, and it was evident that with the furs
they had also captured some “ fire-water,” for half the braves
were crazy drunk, and several murderous afIrays already had
taken place between the drunken savages. It had required
all the efforts of the “ White Vulture” and the older chiefs to
prevent a general fight taking place.
“ Well, Abe,” said Dave, as the evening of the third day
drew on, “have you devised any plan yet, so that we can
penetrate into the village and at least make an attempt to
rescue my poor Leona ?”
“ Go easy, Dave," said the “ Crow~Killer," in his usual
calnr’ivay; “I ain’t a-goin’ only to attempt to rescue the little
gal, but I’m a-goin’ to do it—that is if Heaven is willin’, an’ I
don’t know why it shouldn’t be, when the object is so good.
If you’ve noticed, the ‘White Vulture,’jist ’beut dusk, gen-
erally walks alongr past the lodge—where I think the little
gal is—an‘ goes into the woods beyond it. I s’p0se he likes
to get away from the rest of the drunken crowd. Now, my
idea is, we’ll leave this ambush, steal down an’ hide in the
thicket jist beyond the lone lodge; when the ‘ White Vulture,’
_ comes into the thicket, we’ll jump upon, gag and bind him,
takingr care not to let him cry out; then we’ll strip him of
his toggery, an’ you put it on. You look so much like him,
now that he's got the war-paint off, that with a little red
(laubed on your face—an’ we’ll be apt to find thatjn his
pouch—none of the red devils will detect you. Then I’ll put
on his blanket, which will hide me, fix my face up a leetle,
and we‘ll walk hold as can be, right into the camp. You
shall walk right into the hut; I’ll t'oller you; the braves at
the door will take you for the ‘ White Vulturp ’ an’ they won’t
say nary word. When he goes within the lodge, I notice the
guards always go away, and so we‘ll have the coast clear.
VVe’ll not wait, but take the gal and break for our horses.
The Crows won’t be apt to discover that thar’s any thing
wrong, for an hour or two, an” by that time we’ll be in the
saddle, goin’ down the Missouri like lightning. How’s that ?”

“ Excellent 1” cried Dave. “ It can not fail I”

“Don’t; be too sure. I’ve seen the best laid plans fail;
tha’r’s a good ieal in luck, arter all,” said the “ Crow-Killer,”
sagely.

 

 

 

 

t

_ mouth.

Aunustuw. 87

Cnutiously the tWo left their ambush, and by a circuitous
route, gained the timber on the north of the village.

A little path from the open glade, wherein the huts were
located, ittto tlte thicket, went some thirty or t'orty feet and
there Stopped, as thottgh the person or persons that made it
had been in the habit of going so tar and no further.

“ You see," said the “ Crow-Killer,” pointing to the little
path, “hyar’s where he comes. All these big chief's go away i
from the rest at times; the other lujuns think that they go
into the woods to talk with the Great Spirit, butI that's all
humbug. Now, we’ll put ourselvesjist inside the thicket, an’
when he comes, We’ll jump for him. Now for a gag." Then
the old hunter look a small piece of wood, tore a piece of
tlanuel from his shirt, and wouml it round the wood, thus
forming a ball; then, with his knife he cut a long strip from
the tail of his hunting-shirt. “ That will do to bind it in his
Now for our ambush." I

Then the two men lnd themselvus carefully in the thicket—
one on each side of the little path.

Just as the shades of night were descending over the In-
dian village, the two guides in ambush heard3the'seund of
approaching footsteps. ' .

A second more and the tall form of the “ White‘Vulture ”
entered the little thicket. ' l , i ‘

’l‘lu'ee steps; he made within the wood; then, .with the
lightning dash of the panther, the “ Croquiller” sprung
upon and bore him over backward 'upon the earth, his broad
hand clutching him by the throat and checking his utterance;
but the “ White Vulture,” though taken by surprise and un-
armed, showed no disposition to cry for help. A moment he
struggled with his the, but the iron weight of the “ Crow—Kil-
ler” was upon him, and then, after this brief efl‘ort, as if satis-.
fied that resistance was useless, he lay motionless and silent,
while the two guides stripped otf his hunting-shirt—wltielr
was curiously trimmed with the fur ot' the grizzly bear—und‘
his leggins lrom him; the gag had been placed in his mouth
and firmly secured there; then they bound his arms and legs
together tightly with their belts.

The warrior bore the treatment without resistance.

The “ Crow-Killer” wrapped himself in the blanket of the

l

;

 

 

 

    
 

88 THE WHITE VULTURE.

chief. Dave put on the hunting-shirt and logging. In the

Indian’s pouch, as the guide had anticipated, they found red

paint, with which they stained their faces, each acting as artist

to decorate the other.

Casting a final glance at the prostrate warrior, the two
whites left the little thicket and stalked toward the village.
Dave had placed the head-dress of the “ White Vulture ” upon
his head, when he became a perfect likeness of the Crow
chtet.

On went Dave with a slow and stately step, followed by
the “Crow-Killer.” They reached the little isolated lodge.
The braves, mistaking Dave for the “ White Vulture," took
but little notice of him, and left their post as soon as he en-
tered the little lodge. ’l‘he “ Crow-Killer" quickly followed,

"as it' by order of the chief. '

By the dim light of the tire that. blazed fitfully in a corner
of the lodge, Dave discerned a female figure reclining on a low
couch of bear-skins; the face was hidden by the hands, but

the red-gold locks, that hung down over her shoulders, told
who the female was.

She raised her head, hearing his approach; and heholding,
as she thought, the hated painted lace of the “ White Vul-
ture,” she shrunk from him.

“ Leona, do not scream I" said Dave, in a voice tremulous
with emotion.

She did not scream, but murmured, “ Saved—saved l"

“ Yes, if human aid can save you," said Davo, earnestly,
pressing her to his breast. ,

“ Come,” commanded the “ Crot'v-Killer"; “ no time to lose.”
/ No time indeed ! for an Indian whoop rung out on the still
air. Dave started, and Leona clung tighter to the breast of
Ler lover.

Then there was a rush of footsteps by the lodge.

“ Shall we venture i" said Dave.

“ We thought as well," replied Abe.

Then again came another" prolonged whoop, this time an-
swered by a dozen others, seemingly in rage.

“By ginger 1" and the “ Crow—Killer ” started in astonish-
ment, “the ‘ White Vultnre’ l”

“Impossible l” cried Dave; “ he could not have got the

Qt

 

can

 

 

AN noun 0F SUSI'ESSE. 89

gag out of- hls mouth. “Let us make the attempt to escape
at once.”

“All right,” replied Abe; “come on." As he lifted the
skin, unothet series of-wur-whoops, coming from the north,
from the direction of the little thicket where they had left
the “ White Vulture," caused him to fause.

“ What is the matter ‘8" asked Dave, in alarm.

“Matter enough i" said the “ Crow—Killer,” earnestly. “ The
path between us an’ the thicket is filled with the red-skins."

“ Do you think they have discovm‘ed the ‘ White Vulture’ ?"
cried Dave.

“ I don’t know," replied Ahe, despondingly, “ but I'm al'eurd
they have.”

“ 011, Dave i” cried Leona, clinging to her lover, “ will they
separate us? Oh. I would rather die than Lose you i"

“ Hope for the best, Leona,” said Dave, softly, yet in a
voice tretnulous with emotion. ‘

“ Do you think we can escape ?” she asked, looking up
into the guide’s face with those large blue eyes, so beautiful,
so full of love and trust. -

“I don’t know," said Dave, sadly. “ Heaven alone knows.
We‘ll do the best we can ; but, it‘ the. red-skins have discov-
ered us, I’m afraid that nothing on earth can save us.”

The “ Crow-Killer " had been listening anxiously at the
.‘door of the lodge. The war-whoops had ceased, and a dead
silence reigned in the Indian camp.

“ Well, Abe ‘3" questioned Dave.

“ I don’t hear any thing more,” said Abe. “ After all, may-
be it was only some of the Injuns in one of their drunken
Sprees; but. what they were dong up hyar, beyond the lodge,
puzzles me. At present they're right between us an' the
wood ; so‘ we can’t stir without running into their clutches."

Just then another chorus of yells rung out on the air; the
Indianswere apparently approaching the lodge,.as the yells
Were getting nearer and nearer every moment.

“ Dave i” cried the “ Crow-Killer,” “I’m afeard we‘re gone
up ; the Injuns are coming nearer every moment.”

“ Can we not fight our way through them 2” cried the
young guide, in desperation.

“ Nary chance for that,” and the “ Crow-Killer ” shook his

 

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

a

90 THE WHITE VULTURE

head sagely. “ If we are discovered, better not make any re-
sistance; we shall only enrage ’em without doing us any
good. If we fight ’em, we’re sure to be overpowered, ’eoa
they‘re a hundred to one; they‘ll only kill us outright; while,
it" we submit, they’ll shut us up as prisoners, till they get
ready to torture us, and we then stand some chance of escap-
ing. Just think, Dave, you an’ I dead, what will become of
the little gal ‘3”

Then came on the night~air the sound of hurried footsteps,
upprmtehing closer and closer.

“ They’re coming i” cried the “ Crow-Killer.” “ I'm afeard,
Dave, that it's all up with us; the devils seem to be heading
right for the lodge.” '

“ ()an we not cut a hole and escape through the hack of
the lodge I?" said Dave, eagerly. ’

“ That’s jist what 1 were a thinking ’bout ; but the cussed
red-skins St‘tflll to be all around us. I guess we mought as
well keep quiet awhile, ‘cos they may not be after us, artcr
all—that‘s no tellin’. Maybe it’s only some of the drunken
Injuns."

But, as if to, give the lie to the hunter‘s words, the Indian
war-whoop rung:r around the lodge, showing it. to be com-
pletely surrounded by the Crow warriors; then came/the
Sound of many footsteps approaching the door of the wigwam.
The “ Crow-Killer” stepped back a few paces, tolded his arms
and waited for the entrance of the foe.

Dave was in despair; he had dared every thing to save
the girl he loved, and now, at the very moment of success,
after penetrating to the Indian village after gaining access
to the prison of the captive girl—~40 be baflied by the red-
skins was terrible. Oh, how he wished for a giant’s strength
to crush the yelling red demons that surrounded hi1: l ’ But,
no avenue of escape was open; resistance was useless; fate
was against and had crushed him. .

A few minutes the scouts waited in breathless suspense;
they could hear the footsteps of the Indians as they moved
around the lodge, but as yet they had not attempted to enter.

“ The red sarpints are mighty aleard7 I should think, if
they have discovered us, not to come an’ go for us,” said Abe,
listening to the sounds without. .

 

 

 

 

  

musomcns. , 9t

“ Prny Heaven 1” excluitned Dave, “ that they do not suspect
that we are here."

“ Wnl, if they don't know that we are hyur, I would like
to know what in thunder they’re cuvorting round ltyztr for.”

Another torrent of yells hroke forth ttpon the 2111‘.

Leona clung lighter to her lover’s ln'eust.

“ Oh, they will Kill you," cried the poor girl, more eager
for her lover's salt-1y than l'ot,‘ her own.

“We must all die some time, Leona,” snid Dave, sadly,
imprinting a farewell hiss upon her lips, now colorless with
dreztd.

Again the yells echoed :LrOund the lodge and footsteps ap-
prottehed the door.

“ They’re contin’, sart’in,” said the “ Crow-Killer," coolly.

Then the skin that served its a door was torn away, and
the tall form of the “ White Vulture ” stalked into the lodge,
followed by the Crow bl‘ttVL‘S. '

As the hunter had thought, the “White Vulture ” had con-
trived to slip the gag from his mouth, and it was his Wur-
whoop Stttlttnonittg the Crows to his assistance that had first
startled the guides.

The “ White Vulture” surveyed the scene before him for a
few moments in silence.

The guides, on their part, spoke not. The “Crow—Killer"
stood, with folded arms, and looked upon his foes, while Dave
supported the slight form of Leona.

“ The ‘ Crow-Killer" is a great warrior, to. dare to come
into the lodges of his foes," said the “ White Vulture?" “The
Great Spirit has given him into the hands of the Crow nation,
and he shall die like a chief.”

Then, at a motion from the “ White Vulture,” the Indians
proceeded to bind Dave and the “ Crow-Killer,” who submit-
ted without resistance—which would, indeed, have been hope-
less. Leonzt, nltnost fainting, was taken from Dove’s side,
and then the five whites were retnoVed to another lodge, [Will
the center of the village, and plum-d under a. strong gunrth

I

 

 

THE WHITE VULTURE.

 

pink“

\istei‘

thiné

CHAPTER XII. W“

enet

“ 'nIUNmmeLouo’s" REVELATION. ‘4

“ Wal, we‘re in for it," said the “ Crmv-Killer," philosophi- 0‘“

cally. “ But, it' they will only give us time, we may trick ’em 0"

yet,” he said. as
“ Yes, but they will not give us time; they are too afraid

of us to lingerin their vengeance." ll
“You’re right, Dave; I expect they‘ll settle our hash in

short ,order. Wal, I’ve been fighting the Crows ’hont twenty \'

years now; I’ve shed the lil'e's blood of many 21. Crow chief, ‘

and they can only take my life in return; so the odds are on
my side,” said the “ Crow-Killian”

At that moment the old chief, the “ 'I‘hunder-Cloud," fol-
lowed by two other warriors entered the lodge.

“Take the young brave to the lodge of the ‘Thnndexu .0
Cloud.’ ” The Indians assisted Dave to rise from the skin-
couch upon which he had been placed.

“ Let the ‘Crow-Killer ‘ open his ears and hear the words
of the Crow chiel'," continued the old brave.

The two Indians conducted Dave I'ro'm the lodge, through
the village, to the hut of “ Thunder-Clonal.” Just at the en-
trance, the party was met by the “ White Vulture,” who looked
at the warriors in astonishment.

“Who has dared to take the pale-face from the lodge wliere
the ‘White Vulture’ placed iiilll ?” questioned the chief, un-
grily. /

“ The ‘ 'I‘lmnder-Cloud’ would talk with the ‘ Crow-Killer‘
alone,” responded one of the Indians; “he has a secret to
tell the pale-face that will make the great chief howl like a
dog."

“It is well; the ‘ ThumlerCloud’ is a great chief; let my
brothers go on,” replied the “ Vt’hite Vulture ” us he walked {
away. The Indians placed Dave in the lodge and left him
to solitude and the bitterness of his own reflections.

The “ White Vulture” walked slowly through the villageI

/

 

 

 

 

‘5“

 

“ THUNDER-CLOUD ” srmks. 93

paused at the hut wherein was confined the “ Crow-Killer”—
listened for a moment at the door, and then as it' hearing some-
thing to excite his curiosity, he noiselessly stole round to the
back of the lodge, extended himself upon the ground and list-
ened to the conversation going on within.

After the Indians had departed with Dave, the “ Thunder-
Clond ” gazed with a look of curiosity upon the massive form
of the great enemy of his nation—the famous“ Crow-Killer”—
as he lay extended on the bed of bear—skins.

The hunter’s face was stoically intliti‘erem as he gazed upon
the old chief.

After a long silence, the old chief stirred up the little fire
burning within the lodge, which threw a glimmering, uncer-
tain light around.

“ The ‘ Crow-Killer’ is a great chief,” said the old warrior,
breaking the silence.

“ What does the ‘ Thunder-Cloud’ want with the ‘ Crow-
Killer ’ ‘3“ asked the guide, speaking in the Crow tongue.

“Many braves of the Crow nation have been sent to the
happy hunting-grounds by the knife and the bullet of the
‘ Crow-Killer;I ” _

“The ‘Thunder-Clond’ speaks truth,” replied Abe. “ I’ve
done for enough Crows to keep the race on short allowance for
braves."

“ The ‘Crow-Killer’ is a great warrior; he steals like a
snake into the lodges of the Crows and he overcomes the
great chief, the ‘ \Vhite Vulture,’ in single fight; the blood of
the Crow braves is red upon his hands; their spirits cry from
the white clouds for vengeance. It is good ; the chiefs of the
Crows listen ; their ears are open, they hear the wail of their
slaughtered brothers; the ‘Crow-Killer’ is a great chief, he
will die before the sun comes over the big river.”

“ The chief speaks with a straight tongue; the ‘ Crow
Kili'e‘rt'has done all that the chief has said ; he is a great war
rior‘aiid the Crows are dogs that howl and» run before him
nohCrow chief dares tonneet the‘ Crow-Killer’ in single fight
He has slain every Crow warrior that has faced him. The
‘Th'under—Cloud’ had a brother; that brother, the ‘Rolling
Cloud,’ fell by the knife of the ‘ Crow-Killer ’ ; he stole away
tbejlhging bird of the Crows, and the ‘ Little Star sung many

 

 

94 Tllltl \VllI'l‘lC VUL'l'UIlE.

moons in the Wigwam of the white Cilit‘f. 'I‘he‘ Crow-Killer"
does not fear death; he is not a dotor to howl with fear; he
will be lit‘ti to the torture—stake and he will laugh at the Crow
warriors that run from him when he is free anu dance around
him when he is tied. ’l‘he Crows are dogs and the ‘ Crt w-
Killer ‘ spits upon them l"

The veins upon the lbrt-ht-ad of the Indian swelled purple
with rage, a,» he listened to the taunts ot the demon of his
race—“taunts hurled at him in his own tongue. At last, the
Warrior found his Vuit'u:

“The ‘ Urmv-Killer’ talks big; let him open his ears and
the ‘ ’l‘hutnler»()lou<l ’ will Speak words that will make him
howl like a dog. The“ Crow-Killer ’ will not die like a chief i
at the torture-stake; he'will die here in the wigwam of the '
Crow—die by the knife of the ‘ ’l‘hunder-Cloud ’; but, before i
the red chief strikes the pale-face, he shall listen to words that 

kill."
The “Thunder-Cloud” approached nearer to the ‘Crow- 1
Killer," and then, with a glance of deadly hatred, he spoke 5

again :

“The ‘ Crow-Killer ’ has said that he stole away the ‘ Little i
Star ’ and that she sang many moons in his Wigwam by the ‘
big river. The white chief speaks truth. He did steal the t
singing bird of the Crow nation; she sang in his lodge, and i
when the ice in the big river melted, the ‘ Little Slat" gave i
the ‘Crow-Killer’two young braves. The white (thief was I
proud of his pappooses, bttt the Crows had not forgotten the ‘
singing bird, and when the leaves and grass began to die, the ‘

’l‘liundeinUloud’ led‘ the warriors of the Crows to the big
river to the lodge of the ‘ Cl'th-Kiiit)!" and took his squaw
md his two pappooses. Then they traveled to the Crow vil-
lages, bttt when all was dark they halted by the bank of the
big river; there the Blackfeet surprised the Crow camp; the
Crow braves tintght like the white bear, but the Blackfeet were
like the blades of grass on the prairie and took the‘Little
Star’ and the two pappooses of the ‘ Crow-Killer ’; but the
blue-coated white braves came upon the Blackfeet and took
their scalps. Then the Blackfeet warriors, flying,r with the
‘ Little Star ’ and the pappooses, were set upon ,by the Crow
braves, who again took the‘ Little Stur’ and the young braves

\

 

 

 

 

A MYSTERY UNRAVELED. 95

but, afler the fight, one of the pappooses was gone." The old
hunter started in astonishmant.

“ Either the Blackfeet braves or the blue-coated whites had
taken one of the pappooses, but the Crows had the 1‘ Little
Star’ and the other pappoose. They carried them to their
lodges by the big mountains. The ‘Little Star’ would not
marry the ‘ Rolling Cloud,’ and she was killed by the Crow
nation; but the young pappoose—the pappoose of the ‘ Crow-
Killer’ and the‘Little Star’——wns reared and made a warrior
of by the Crows. He is now the ‘ great fighting-man of
the Crow nation.’ Does the ‘ Crow-Killer" understand? the
‘ White Vulture is his son i That son, to-night, has given him
into the hands of the Crows. The ‘ Crow-Killer ’ has killed
many a young warrior of the Crow nation. but the red chiefs
will he avenged, for the ‘Crow-Killer ’ will (lie. and know that
his son is a great chief of the Crow nation, and that son hates
and will kill the whites. lIas my brother heard i”

And the old chief looked down upon the guide with a
glance of triumph. Busy thoughts were in the mind of the
‘Crow—Killer.’ He replied not to the Crow, and looked at
him with an expression of contempt.

“ My brother is silent. Have the words of the ‘ Thunder-
Clond ’ taken away his tongue? Let the ‘ Crow-Killer’listen
again. When the light comes over the big river, the ‘ Thun-
der-Cloud’ will come back, and the knife of the Crow chief
will drink the blood of the ‘Orow-Killer.’ The chief hus ‘
said; it is ,good.” Saying 'which, the Indian stalked from the
lodge. - ' '

In a. few minutes Dave was brought back by the two guards,
and again plaCed within the hut; then the Indians withdrew
and laid themselves down before the door.

The “ Crow-Killer ” repeated the story of the “ Thunder-
Cloud " to Dave; the mystery of the birth of the young guide
was all made plain, as well as the wonderful resemblance be-
tween him and the “ White Vulture”: they were brothers!

r“ Wal, it’s fate,” finally exclaimed Abe; “I don't rebel
ag’in’. it. I confess, though, I’d like to have a chance to tell
the Crows what I think about ’em afore I die. It kinder
makes me feel proud to think, too, that a. son of mine is their
great chief. Blood will tell; the white blood, my blood, has

 

 

 

96 THE WHITE VUL'I‘ 31in.

made him what he is—the biggest fighting-man in all the
Crow nation."

“ “'0 have not many hours before us, said Dave.

“ No, our time is ’liout up; the old chief don’t dare to let
us die in public, now that we know this secret. Lle'll proh-
slily send the Indians that guard the lodge away on some
pretense, an’ then quietly finish us." _

And so we’ll leave the two guides to their reflections and
return to Leona. The poor girl was in despair; she thought
to herself that she alone was to blame for the danger of her
lover, for, if it had not been for her, he would never have
come, and would have escaped the certain death that now
a 'aited him.

“ ()h l” she cried, in agon ', “ why did I ever see him—~why
should I cost him his me :2"

Some time had passed since the Indians had removed .the
two guides from the lodge; she dreaded every moment lest
she should hear the sounds that would announce to her
the death of her lover; but, the Indian village was still as
death.

Suddenly the poor girl heard the sound of footsteps ap-
proaching the lodge; ’twas but a single man; the skin of the
doorway was presently pushed aside, and the tall form of
the “White Vulture ” stood before the helpless maid; In
terror she gazed upon the Indian; hy the dim light of the
flickering tire she could distinguish his features, new utterly
divested of paint, and for the lirst time she noticed the won-
derful resemblance that the Indian chief here to her lover.

“ Why does the Singing Bird weep ‘3" asked the “ White
Vulture,” in soft tones, and speaking English plainly, and
with a very slight Indian accent.

“ Because I am unhappy," truthfully answered the maiden.

“ Why? No harm shall come to the white squaw."

Leona shook her head sorrowt'ully, as if in doubt.

“The Wigwam of the ‘ White Vulture ’ is empty; will not
the white bird come and sing in the lodge of the Crow chief?”

“What, I?” For the first time Leona. guessed the fate
that was intended for her, and her heart sunk within her at
the very thought. ~

“ Yes, you I, The ‘ White Vlutnre ’ is a. great chief of the

n

 

“C

th

 

 

 

 

 

  

soxrnrnmo FOR SOMETHING. 9’7

I
Crow nation; he loves the Singing Bird of the whites; he
would take her to his wigwnm ; she shall not work like the
red squnws: she shall be the Singing Bird of the grentest
chief in the Crow nution. Will the white squnw come ?”

“ Nol not I can not l” cried Leone, looking pleudingly in-
to the face of the “White Vulture."

“ The Singing Bird loves unothel‘ ?” asked the “ White Vul~
ture,“ in his calm, clear tones.

“Yes,” replied Leona.

“ Is the Singing Bird sure that she loves another?” contin-
ued the chief.

“ Yes, I am sure,” said Leona, wonderingly.

“ The white squaw loves the young guide vflio looks like
the red chief, and is D. prisoner in the village of the Crows ?”

“ Yes," answered Leona, mournt'ully but tirmly.

“ It is good ; does the white hunter love the Singing Bird ?"
said the chief.

“ Yes, loves her as his life.”

“Does the white sqnuw know that the young hunter will
die by the hands of the Crows before the sun riscsovcr the
big river 1?” "

Leona hid her face in her hands, sobbing.

“ The Singing Bird says she loves the white hunter; if she
loves him, will she save him from deuth ?" ' '

Leona, through her tears, gazed in astonishment up at the
stolid features of the Indian. '

“ I save him? How ‘2” she cried.

“ The white hunter’s life belongs to the ‘ White Vulture.’
If the‘ White Vulture’ says ‘ Go free,’ no warrior in the Crow
nation will dare say ‘No.’ If the Singing Bird will promise
to come and sing in the lodge of the ‘ White Vulture,’ the
white hunter shall return to his people.” And the Indiuu
bent his full, dark eyes upon her as he spoke.

A few moments Leona hesitated; she could save her lover’s
life by sacrificing her own, for she knew full well that death
would soon claim her as his own should she remain in the
wilderness. Her lover had risked his life and was now to fall
a sacrifice in endeavoring to save her; she could save him,
and as she loved him better than she did her own life. she
resolved‘upon her own sacrifice.

 

  

 

t

98 THE “'11 I'X‘E VU L'I‘URE.

“ Set him free and I promise to do whatet or you will."

“ The Singing Eird is wise,” responded the “ White Vulture,”

in the Same calm tone as before; no trace of feeling,r could
be discerned upon his face. “Let the Singing Bird follow
me.”

Then from the Indian lodge went the “White Vulture,"
and Leona follovt'ed him.

The chief led the way through the village, which seemed 

deserted, as it really was—as all the braves, with the excep-
tion of the two who watched the lodge wherein the whites
were confined, were assembled at a grand council at the upper
end of the tillage.

The chief, passing the lodges, reached the little thicket
Where the “ Crow-Killer ” and Dave had captured him a few
hours before. _

“The Singing Dir!" will wait for the chief’s return and
not stir It" questioned the “ White Vulture."

“ Yes," replied Leona, now passive in her agony.

“It is good—wait!" responded the chief. ‘

Then the “ White Vulture ” left the girl, walked back
through the village and halted at the door of the lodge
wherein were confined the two guides. The two braves on
watch at the entrance drew off to a respectful distance as the
chief entered the hut: ‘ ,

The two hunters, hy the dim light thrown from the fire,
could discern who their visitor was, and they exchanged a
glance of meaning as the elder looked upon his son and the
younger hunter upon his brother.

Noiselessly and without a word the “ \Vhite Vulture " drew
his keen-edged scalping-knite, stepped across the lodge and
slit the skins that fornicdlhe back of the lodge so as to make
a passage through them; then passing through, he beckoned
the hunters to follow. Their lntnds'alonc were bound; they
obeyed the gesture in wonder. The “White Vulture‘" cau-
tiously led the way back of the lodges to the outskirts of the
village to the little thicket; there he halted and brought: Le-
ona forth from the wood; with a. cry of joy sherushed to
her lover’s side, clinging to him in a passionate frenzy.

“ The Singing Bird has saved the life of the white hunter
by consenting to sing in the lodge~of the ‘ White Vulture.’ ”

It 
cond
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V

b\ m

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cla:
the
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sh
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.4.

 

SAVAGE MAGNANIMXTY. 99

“Never!” cried Dave. “I will not accept life on such
conditions i”

The “ Crow-Killer " regarded the “ White Vulture ” with a
puzzled look.

Without a word, the Indian chief removed the thongs that
bound the arms of the whites.-

“’l‘he ‘ White Vulture’ is the great. fighting-man of the
Crow nation; he has heard the words of the "l‘hinuler-Ctoml’
—his ears were open ; father! brother l" and as he spolte he
clasped them by the hand. “ ‘ Little Star" looks down from
the happy hunting-grounds upon her son. See l" and he led
the way, followed by all, to one side of the thicket where
stood three horses. “Mount and ride for the Big Fort. The
‘ White Vulture ” will die 11 Crow, but he will never more
shed the blood of the whites. Will my father, my brother,
think of the chieflsotnetitnes, and will the Singing Bird, when
she sings in the happy Wigwam of my brother, think of the
‘ White Vulture’ who is desolate and alone? Awayl Ride
fast, for the Crow braves must not know that I have saved
my father, my brother, and the Singing Birt ."

soon all were mounted, and walking their horses at first,
till they.got beyond ear-shot of the village, they then pushed
the animals to their utmost speed, taking the hiding-place of
the “ CrotwKiller‘s" roan mare and Dave’s horse ‘on their
way.

The“ White Vulture " watched them until they disappeared
in the distance; then he turned and retraeed his steps through
the village, entered the lodge by the slit he had cut in the
rear, and then went out through the door, passing the two
braves, who still kept watch.

When the “ 'I‘hunder-Cloud ” entered the lodge to execute
his vengeance upon the hunters, he found, to his astonishment,
that they had disappeared l '

A terrible commotion was the result of this, and hot chase

'as given, but it was a useless chase, and the Crows “believe
to this day that the “ Crow—Killer” was aided by some evil
power in his escape.

 

Abe, Dave and Leonie reached Fort Benton in safety, and
then proceeded to Spur City, where young Dick Hickman

 

 

 

 

100 mm wm’rn VULTURE.

was made to disgorge the property that he had taken posses-
sion of us his father’s heir.

Leona nnd\Dnve were married; true love met its reward.

The “ Crow-Killer” still continues to not as guide, but his
account with the Crow nation is closed, and he no longer
fights Indians, except in self-defense.

The “White Vulture ” became the chief of all the Crow
nation, and the terror of all the surrounding tribes. All re-
cognized him as the greatest fighting-man of the north-west.
He died 213 became :1 great chief, during a mid into the Black-
foot country, at the close of a bloody fight, in which, as usual,
he had seemed to bear a charmed life. The victory was with
the Crows, and the Blackfeet were scattering, routed, through
the timber, when the “ White Vulture” suddenly fell from his
saddle. Examination showed a bullet, shot from the rear,
passing through the head : the chief had been shot by one of
his own nation—-a relative, doubtless, of the “Black Dog”
chief, that had died by the hand of the 3‘ White Vulture " on
the banks of the Yellowstone. Sorrowfully the Crows bore
home the body of the great fighting-man of the Crow nation

 

eve “A:

 

- 3W:I:"3F‘.‘fx a

 

 

 

 

 

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