The Prairie Chief | Page 5

anon turning out and in to avoid the rocks
and ruts and rugged places; or sweeping to right or left to keep clear of
clumps of stunted wood and thickets, but never for a moment drawing
rein until the goal was reached, which happened very shortly before the
break of day.
The riding was absolute rest to Whitewing, who recovered strength
rapidly as they advanced.
"There is neither sight nor sound of the foe here," murmured the Indian.
"No, all safe!" replied the trapper in a tone of satisfaction, as they
cantered to the summit of one of the prairie waves, and beheld the
wigwams of Bald Eagle shining peacefully in the moonlight on the
plain below.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE SURPRISE AND COMBAT.

How frequently that "slip 'twixt the cup and the lip" is observed in the
affairs of this life! Little Tim, the trapper, had barely pronounced the
words "All safe," when an appalling yell rent the air, and a cloud of
dark forms was seen to rush over the open space that lay between the
wigwams of the old chief Bald Eagle and a thicket that grew on its
westward side.
The Blackfoot band had taken the slumbering Indians completely by
surprise, and Whitewing had the mortification of finding that he had
arrived just a few minutes too late to warn his friends. Although Bald
Eagle was thus caught unprepared, he was not slow to meet the enemy.
Before the latter had reached the village, all the fighting men were up,
and armed with bows, scalping-knives, and tomahawks. They had even
time to rush towards the foe, and thus prevent the fight from
commencing in the midst of the village.
The world is all too familiar with the scenes that ensued. It is not our
purpose to describe them. We detest war, regarding it in ninety-nine
cases out of a hundred as unnecessary. Sufficient to say here that the
overwhelming numbers of the Blackfoot Indians were too much for
their enemies. They soon began to overpower and drive them back
towards the wigwams, where the poor women and children were
huddled together in terror.
Before this point had arrived, however, Whitewing and Little Tim were
galloping to the rescue. The former knew at a glance that resistance on
the part of his friends would be hopeless. He did not therefore gallop
straight down to the field of battle to join them, but, turning sharply
aside with his friend, swept along one of the bottoms or hollows
between the undulations of the plain, where their motions could not be
seen as they sped along. Whitewing looked anxiously at Little Tim,
who, observing the look, said:--
"I'm with 'ee, Whitewing, niver fear."
"Does my brother know that we ride to death?" asked the Indian in an
earnest tone.

"Yer brother don't know nothin' o' the sort," replied the trapper, "and,
considerin' your natur', I'd have expected ye to think that Manitou
might have some hand in the matter."
"The white man speaks wisely," returned the chief, accepting the
reproof with a humbled look. "We go in His strength."
And once again the latter part of the preacher's text seemed to shoot
through the Indian's brain like a flash of light--"looking unto Jesus."
Whitewing was one of those men who are swift to conceive and prompt
in action. Tim knew that he had a plan of some sort in his head, and,
having perfect faith in his capacity, forbore to advise him, or even to
speak. He merely drew his hunting-knife, and urged his steed to its
utmost speed, for every moment of time was precious. The said
hunting-knife was one of which Little Tim was peculiarly fond. It had
been presented to him by a Mexican general for conspicuous gallantry
in saving the life of one of his officers in circumstances of extreme
danger. It was unusually long and heavy, and, being double-edged, bore
some resemblance to the short, sword of the ancient Romans.
"It'll do some execution before I go down," thought Tim, as he regarded
the bright blade with an earnest look.
But Tim was wrong. The blade was not destined to be tarnished that
day.
In a very few minutes the two horsemen galloped to the thicket which
had concealed the enemy. Entering this they dashed through it as fast as
possible until they reached the other side, whence they could see the
combatants on the plain beyond. All along they had heard the shouts
and yells of battle.
For one moment Whitewing drew up to breathe his gallant steed, but
the animal was roused by that time, and it was difficult to restrain him.
His companion's horse was also nearly unmanageable.
"My brother's voice is strong. Let him use it well," said the chief

abruptly.
"Ay, ay," replied the