"I wonder what has become of that everlasting Yankee? He promised to meet me here at noon, yet I have stood here and seen the shadows of these old pines lengthen for the last hour. Surely something must have happened to detain him, for he never deceived me yet, and I do not like to believe he will commence now—"
"Yew are 'tarnal right; he won't!" interrupted the second speaker, who was no other than the "everlasting Yankee" himself.
Thus soliloquized the celebrated scout, Lew Kelly, and thus replied his tried friend and companion, Jehiel Filkins, as they stood upon a peak of the Black Hills, west a five-day's ride from Fort Randall—the nearest place where white men could be found, for they were already in the hunting-grounds of the Blackfeet.
The two scouts, well-mounted, and armed to the teeth, were spending a sort of vacation in that dreaded vicinity to satisfy themselves as to the truth of certain rumors, rife at Fort Randall and Yankton, concerning the gold, which it was asserted was laying around loose in the ravines and damp, dark gulches of the Black Hills; and of the existence, in the hills and valleys of the North-west, of bear, elk, antelope and beaver, which an adventurous scout had asserted made that country a perfect paradise for the hunter and trapper.
They had gone far enough, and seen enough to convince them that there was good foundation for these rumors. Gold they had found in the black sand washed down from the hills, and in the quartz ledges underlying or jutting out from the very crag upon which they stood. As to game, they wondered they had not heard of it before, so abundant was it.
"What was you sayin', Lew?" asked Filkins. "Are you getting in a hurry to go home? Wal, I ain't, then. There ain't an Ingin within forty miles of here, and if there was I know you would not be afeared of them; but if you will wait just a week longer I will go anywhere with you, if it's to Halifax."
"You said those same words, ten days ago, Jehiel, yet here we are, a hundred miles further west than we were then."
"Sartin!" replied Jehiel. "But what's the hurry, Lew? You're too old a scout to get homesick so soon; I wouldn't."
"Mighty good reason why you wouldn't, and why you never tire out or get homesick. Your home is wherever you happen to find yourself, and you care for nothing but that old coat of yours. Besides, you forget that away over the hills there a dear little wife is waiting and watching for me, and no doubt alarmed at my protracted stay."
"Jes' so, Lew. A scout has no business gettin' married. It e'ena'most makes a coward outen him—"
"You lie, and you know it!" exclaimed the scout, angrily. "Have you forgotten our fight with the Blackfeet, two years ago? Where would your old yellow scalp have gone to then, if it had not been for me? And wasn't I married then, you old fool?"
"Cor-reck, Lew; I take it all back, and beg yer pardon. But, I never see'd such a kentry fur game as this, and besides, I hev' jes' set my heart on goin' over to that round peak there where it looks so foggy. You see it is right on the home stretch, and I can camp there while you pack up and foller to-morrer."
"All right, Jehiel; I will wait another day. But if you are bound to go you had better make a start; it is a good ten miles over there and a pretty rough trail."
"Cor-reck ag'in, Lew, and I'll jog along."
And the Yankee shouldered his rifle and started for the designated point. He was soon out of sight of the scout, who descended the western slope of the bluff and made his way to their camp, beside a limpid stream which flowed through the valley to the north.
He had nearly reached his camp when a sight met his eye which caused him to halt and take shelter behind a tree.
He saw, coming down the valley from the west, three persons on horseback, who seemed to be riding for dear life.
Two rode side by side, and fully a hundred yards in advance of the third, and all were lashing their horses to their best speed.
Of those pursued, one was evidently a female, and as she was bound, it was also evident that she was a prisoner.
The Indian in the rear, who was in such hot pursuit of the foremost, was lashing his horse in a perfect fury; and as they passed the tree where the scout was concealed, he said:
"It looks like a long chase, but I don't see any signs of anybody after them. If the squaw was only a white woman I would sail in and help her out of the fix—but then it is none of my business, and I guess I won't meddle. And I reckon they have too much on their hands now to take any notice of me."
Just as he reached his camp he looked after the Indians and saw the horse of the pursuer drop dead from exhaustion, and its rider was thrown violently upon the rocky path.
The Indian lay so very still that the scout thought he must be dead, and he started out to ascertain.
As he approached the fallen Indian, he discovered that he was still conscious, though unable to stand upon his feet.
The Indian was the first to break silence.
"Me know you—you are White Panther!"
"Yes, that is what some folks call me. But who are you, and what is the matter with you?"
"Me Gray Eagle, big chief of the Blackfeet. Heap matter! Leg broke, arm broke! Red Pine, the Sioux, has stolen Snowdrop, the daughter of Gray Eagle, and if I can not get her back, then my heart broke!"
"Then you are old Gray Eagle, are you? Are you alone?"
"Gray Eagle all alone. Kill him if you want."
"Well, I don't know as I want to; scalping broken-legged Indians is not my business, just now. But, I'll tell you what I will do! If you will agree not to make war upon the whites again, but let them hunt and trap in these hills when they please, I will go for Snowdrop, and I will not return until I bring her and Red Pine's scalp! What do you say?"
"Gray Eagle will promise!"
"But your promise is not worth shucks unless you swear to it."
"Gray Eagle will swear!"
"Swear by the Great Spirit?"
"Yes."
"Swear by your knife and your tomahawk, and your horse?—even if he is dead he is good enough to swear by."
"Yes, I swear by all these that I will be a friend to the pale-faces as long as I live if Snowdrop is saved."
"Well, I don't know but that is about all you can do, and I will trust you; though if Jehiel was here he would say, 'Shoot him and let the Sioux keep the gal.' But I will carry you to my camp, and then I will go for Snowdrop; and I'll get her, too, if I have to follow Red Pine clear home!"
The scout raised the chief in his arms and carried him to the camp.
"There," he said, as he laid the chief upon a blanket, "you keep quiet until I come back."
He called his horse, a beautiful black stallion, and mounting, started on the trail of the Sioux.