The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista

Phil took his turn at guard duty the latter half of thatnight, walking about at some distance from the camp, now and then meeting his comrades on the same duty, and exchanging a word or two. It was very dark, andthe other sentinels were not in the best of humor, thinking there was little need for such a watch, and Phil byand by confined himself strictly to his own territory.

Although his eyes grew used to the darkness, it wasso heavy that they could not penetrate it far, and heextended his beat a little farther from the camp. Hethought once that he heard a light sound, as of footsteps, perhaps those of a horse, and in order to be certain, remembering an old method, he lay down and put his earto the ground. Then he was quite sure that he heard asound very much like the tread of hoofs, but in amoment or two it ceased. He rose, shaking his headdoubtfully, and advanced a little farther. He neither saw norheard anything more, and he became convinced that thefootsteps had been those of some wild animal. Perhapsa lone buffalo, an outlaw from the herd, had beenwandering about, and had turned away when the human odormet his nostrils.

He returned toward the camp, and something coldpassed his face. There was a slight whistling sounddirectly in his ear, and he sprang to one side, as if hehad narrowly missed the fangs of a rattlesnake. Heheard almost in the same instant a slight, thuddingsound directly in front of him, and he knew instinctivelywhat had made it. He ran forward, and there was anarrow sticking half its length in the ground. Theimpulse of caution succeeded that of curiosity. RememberingBill Breakstone's teachings, he threw himself flatupon the ground, letting his figure blend with thedarkness, and lay there, perfectly still. But no other arrowcame. Nothing stirred. He could not make out amongthe shadows anything that resembled a human figure, although his eyes were good and were now trained to thework of a sentinel. Once when he put his ear to theearth he thought he heard the faint beat of retreatinghoofs, but the sound was so brief and so far away that hewas not sure.

Phil felt shivers, more after he lay down than whenthe arrow passed his cheek. It was the first time that adeadly weapon or missile had passed so close to him, fired perhaps with the intent of slaying him, and no boycould pass through such an experience without quiversand an icy feeling along the spine.

But when he lay still awhile and could not detect thepresence of any enemy, he rose and examined the arrowagain. There was enough light for him to see that thefeathered shaft was exactly like that of the arrow theyhad found in the tree.

He pulled the weapon out of the ground and examinedit with care. It had a triangular head of iron, withextremely sharp edges, and he shuddered again. If ithad struck him, it would have gone through him as BillBreakstone said the Comanche arrows sometimes wententirely through the body of a buffalo.

He took the arrow at once to the camp, and showed itto the men who were on guard there, telling how thisfeathered messenger-and he could not doubt that it wasa messenger-had come. Woodfall and Middleton wereawakened, and both looked serious. It could not be anyplay of fancy on the part of an imaginative boy. Herewas the arrow to speak for itself.

"It must have been the deed of a daring Comanche,"said Middleton with conviction. "Perhaps he did notintend to kill Phil, and I am sure that this arrow, likethe first, was intended as a threat."

"Then it's wasted, just as others will be," saidWoodfall. "My men do not fear Comanches."

"I know that," said Middleton. "It is a strongtrain, but we must realize, Mr. Woodfall, that theComanches are numerous and powerful. We must makeevery preparation, all must stay close by the train, andthere must be a strict night watch."

He spoke in a tone of authority, but it fitted so wellupon him, and seemed so natural that Woodfall did notresent it. On the contrary, he nodded, and then addedhis emphatic acquiescence in words.

"You are surely right," he said. "We must tightenup everything."

This little conference was held beside some coals of acooking fire that had not yet died, and Phil waspermitted to stand by and listen, as it was he who hadbrought in the significant arrow. The coals did not givemuch light, and the men were half in shadow, but theboy was impressed anew by the decision and firmnessshown by Middleton. He seemed to have an absolutelyclear mind, and to know exactly what he wanted. Philwondered once more what a man of that type might beseeking in the vast and vague West.

"I'll double the guard," said Woodfall, "and no manshall go out of sight of the train. Now, Bedford, myboy, you might go to sleep, as you have done your partof a night's work."

Phil lay down, and, despite the arrow so vivid inmemory, he slept until day.

CHAPTER III

AT THE FORD

As Phil had foreseen, his latest story of warning founduniversal credence in the camp, as the arrow washere, visible to all, and it was passed from handto hand. He was compelled to tell many times how ithad whizzed by his face, and how he had found itafterward sticking in the earth. All the fighting qualities ofthe train rose. Many hoped that the Comanches wouldmake good the threat, because threat it must be, andattack. The Indians would get all they wanted andplenty more.

"The Comanche arrow has been shot,
For us it has no terror;
He can attack our train or not,
If he does, it's his error,"

chanted Bill Breakstone in a mellow voice, and a dozenmen took up the refrain: "He can attack our train or not,if he does, it's his error."

The drivers cracked their whips, the wagons, in adouble line, moved slowly on over the gray-green plains.A strong band of scouts preceded it, and another, equallyas strong, formed the rear-guard. Horsemen armed withrifle and pistol rode on either flank. The sun shone, anda crisp wind blew. Mellow snatches of song floated awayover the swells. All was courage and confidence. Deeperand deeper they went into the great plains, and the lineof hills and forest behind them became dimmer anddimmer. They saw both buffalo and antelope grazing, a mileor two away, and there was much grumbling becauseWoodfall would not let any of the marksmen go inpursuit. Here was game and fresh meat to be had for thetaking, they said, but Woodfall, at the urgent insistenceof Middleton, was inflexible. Men who wandered fromthe main body even a short distance might never comeback again. It had happened too often on former expeditions.

"Our leader's right.
A luckless wight
Trusting his might
Might find a fight,
And then good night,"

chanted Bill Breakstone, and he added triumphantly:

"That's surely good poetry, Phil! Five lines allrhyming together, when most poets have trouble to maketwo rhyme. But, as I have said before, these plains thatlook so quiet and lonely have their dangers. We mustpass by the buffalo, the deer, and the antelope, unless wego after them in strong parties. Ah, look there! Whatis that?"

The head of the train was just topping a swell, andbeyond the dip that followed was another swell, ratherhigher than usual, and upon the utmost crest of thesecond swell sat an Indian on his horse, Indian and horsealike motionless, but facing the train with a fixed gaze.The Indian was large, with powerful shoulders and chest, and with an erect head and an eagle beak. He was of abright copper color. His lips were thin, his eyes black, and he had no beard. His long back hair fell down onhis back and was ornamented with silver coins andbeads. He wore deerskin leggins and moccasins, sewedwith beads, and a blue cloth around his loins. The rest ofhis body was naked and the great muscles could be seen.

The warrior carried in his right hand a bow about onehalf the length of the old English long bow, made of thetough bois d'arc or osage orange, strengthened andreinforced with sinews of deer wrapped firmly about it. Thecord of the bow was also of deer sinews. Over his shoulderwas a quiver filled with arrows about twenty inches inlength, feathered and with barbs of triangular iron. Onhis left arm he carried a circular shield made of twothicknesses of hard, undressed buffalo hide, separated byan inch of space tightly packed with hair. His shieldwas fastened by two bands in such a manner that itwould not interfere with the use of the arm, and it wasso hard that it would often turn a rifle shot. Hanging athis horse's mane was a war club which had been made bybending a withe around a hard stone, weighing about twopounds, and with a groove in it. Its handle of wood, about fourteen inches in length, was bound with buffalohide.

Apparently the warrior carried no firearms, usingonly the ancient weapons of his tribe. His horse was amagnificent coal black, far larger than the ordinaryIndian pony, and he stood with his neck arched as if hewere proud of his owner. The Indian's gaze and mannerwere haughty and defiant. It was obvious to every one, and a low murmur ran among the men of the train. Philrecognized the warrior instantly. It was Black Panther,no longer the sodden haunter of the levee in the whiteman's town, but a great chief on his native plains. Phillooked at Middleton, who nodded.

"Yes," he said, "I know him. He has, of course, been watching us, and knows every mile of our march.Unless I am greatly mistaken, Phil, this is the thirdwarning."

Woodfall had ridden up by the side of Middleton, andthe latter said that Black Panther would probably speakwith them.

"Then," said Woodfall, "you and I, Mr. Middleton, will ride forward and see what he has to say."

Phil begged to be allowed to go, too, and they consented.Woodfall hoisted a piece of white cloth on theend of his rifle, and the Indian raised his shield in agesture of understanding. Then the three rode forward.The whole of the wagon train was massed on the swellbehind them, and scores of eyes were watching intentlyfor every detail that might happen.

The Indian, after the affirmative gesture with theshield, did not move, but he sat erect and motionless likea great bronze equestrian statue. The blazing sunlightbeat down upon horse and man. Every line of thewarrior's face was revealed-the high cheek-bone, the massivejaw, the pointed chin, and, as Phil drew nearer, theexpression of hate and defiance that was the dominant noteof his countenance. Truly, this Black Panther of theslums had undergone a prairie change, a wonderful changethat was complete.

Woodfall, Middleton, and Phil rode slowly up thesecond swell, and approached the chief, for such theycould not doubt now that he was. Still he did not move, but sat upon his horse, gravely regarding them. Philwas quite sure that Black Panther remembered him, buthe was not sure that he would admit it.

"You wish to speak with us," said Middleton, who insuch a moment naturally assumed the position of leader.

"To give you a message," replied Black Panther ingood English. "I have given you two messages already, and this is the third."

"The arrows," said Middleton.

"Yes, the Comanche arrows," continued the chief."I thought that the white men would read the signs, andperhaps they did."

"What do you wish of us?" said Middleton. "Whatis this message which you say you now deliver for thethird time?"

The chief drew himself up with a magnificent gesture, and, turning a little, moved his shield arm with a widesweeping gesture toward the West.

"I say, and I say it in behalf of the great Comanchenation, 'Go back.' The country upon which you comebelongs to the Comanches. It is ours, and the buffaloand the deer and the antelope are ours. I say to youturn back with your wagons and your men."

The words were arrogant and menacing to the lastdegree. A spark leaped up in Middleton's eye, but herestrained himself.

"We are but peaceful traders going to Santa Fé," hesaid.

"Peaceful traders to-day, seizers of the land to-morrow,"said the Comanche chief. "Go back. The wayover the Comanche country is closed."

"The plains are vast," said Middleton mildly. "Onecan ride hundreds of miles, and yet not come to the end.Many parts of them have never felt the hoof of a Comanchepony. The plains do not belong to the Comanches or toanybody else."

"They are ours," repeated the chief. "We tell youto go back. The third warning is the last."

"If we still come on, what would you do?" said Middleton.