The Prairie Chief | Page 6

high above the din of battle. The combatants heard and paused. The two horsemen were seen careering towards them with furious gesticulations. Red Indians seldom face certain death. The Blackfoot men knew that an attack by only two men would be sheer insanity; the natural conclusion was that they were the leaders of a band just about to emerge from the thicket. They were thus taken in rear. A panic seized them, which was intensified when Little Tim repeated his roar and flourished the instrument of death, which he styled his "little carving-knife." The Blackfeet turned and fled right and left, scattering over the plains individually and in small groups, as being the best way of baffling pursuit.
With that sudden access of courage which usually results from the exhibition of fear in a foe, Bald Eagle's men yelled and gave chase. Bald Eagle himself, however, had the wisdom to call them back.
At a council of war, hastily summoned on the spot, he said--
"My braves, you are a parcel of fools."
Clearing his throat after this plain statement, either for the purpose of collecting his thoughts or giving his young warriors time to weigh and appreciate the compliment, he continued--
"You chase the enemy as thoughtlessly as the north wind chases the leaves in autumn. My wise chief Whitewing, and his friend Leetil Tim-- whose heart is big, and whose voice is bigger, and whose scalping-knife is biggest of all--have come to our rescue alone. Whitewing tells me there is no one at their backs. If our foes discover their mistake, they will turn again, and the contempt which they ought to pour on themselves because of their own cowardice they will heap on our heads, and overwhelm us by their numbers--for who can withstand numbers? They will scatter us like small dust before the hurricane. Waugh!"
The old man paused for breath, for the recent fight had taken a good deal out of him, and the assembled warriors exclaimed "Waugh!" by which they meant to express entire approval of his sentiments. "Now it is my counsel," he continued, "that as we have been saved by Whitewing, we should all shut our mouths, and hear what Whitewing has got to say."
Bald Eagle sat down amid murmurs of applause, and Whitewing arose.
There was something unusually gentle in the tone and aspect of the young chief on this occasion.
"Our father, the ancient one who has just spoken words of wisdom," he said, stretching forth his right hand, "has told you the truth, yet not quite the truth. He is right when he says that Leetil Tim and I have come to your rescue, but he is wrong when he says we come alone. It is true that there are no men at our backs to help us, but is not Manitou behind us--in front--around? It was Manitou who sent us here, and it was He who gave us the victory."
Whitewing paused, and there were some exclamations of approval, but they were not so numerous or so decided as he could have wished, for red men are equally unwilling with white men to attribute their successes directly to their Creator.
"And now," he continued, "as Bald Eagle has said, if our foes find out their mistake, they will, without doubt, return. We must therefore take up our goods, our wives, and our little ones, and hasten to meet our brothers of Clearvale, who are even now on their way to help us. Our band is too small to fight the Blackfeet, but united with our friends, and with Manitou on our side for our cause is just, we shall be more than a match, for them. I counsel, then, that we raise the camp without delay."
The signs of approval were much more decided at the close of this brief address, and the old chief again rose up.
"My braves," he said, "have listened to the words of wisdom. Let each warrior go to his wigwam and get ready. We quit the camp when the sun stands there."
He printed to a spot in the sky where the sun would be shining about an hour after daybreak, which was already brightening the eastern sky.
As he spoke the dusky warriors seemed to melt from the scene as if by magic, and ere long the whole camp was busy packing up goods, catching horses, fastening on dogs little packages suited to their size and strength, and otherways making preparation for immediate departure.
"Follow me," said Whitewing to Little Tim, as he turned like the rest to obey the orders of the old chief.
"Ay, it's time to be lookin' after her," said Tim, with something like a wink of one eye, but the Indian was too much occupied with his own thoughts to observe the act or appreciate the allusion. He strode swiftly through the