2 The Red Circle

Will awoke after dawn and found the fire, dispenser of warmth and life, burning anew, fresh and vivid, and Roka ordered them all to eat a plentiful breakfast. Indians on the war path are usually very sparing of food, but this little band had not gone forth for war, unless war should be brought to it, and there was no reason why they should not take their comfort as they traveled, in particular as they had every reason to expect plenty of game. So, the morning, which was bright and cold, was full of cheer, and the tide of vitality in the white lad’s veins rose very high. It seemed to him that he had the finest comrades a primeval world could afford, and life, with the new wonders about to be unfolded before him, was intensely interesting.

But his sanguine state of mind did not make him forget the wolves, to the ominous conversation of which Inmu had listened the night before. In the sunshine, his sense of their presence was as heavy as it had been in the dark. They could not be far away, slinking among the dense bushes and watching those whom they expected to devour. With a little, subdued laugh at his own caution, he resolved to keep well in the line when they started again on their snowshoes. It was evident, too, that Inmu had told all to Roka and that the leader believed fully, as he directed the men not to wander, and warned them that a pack of huge and hungry mountain wolves, full of cunning and tenacity, were the greatest of all foes to be dreaded.

Pehansan and two others, side by side, and with bows strung, scouted a little, reporting soon that traces of wolves were abundant on the snow on both sides of them, and that the tracks were of enormous size. Roka looked very grave.

“They are beasts that have come out of the far north,” he said, “where all bears and wolves grow much larger than they do anywhere else, and as Inmu has predicted, they are sure to follow us. They will be a check upon our hunting.”

But the others, with all the courage and pride of youth, cried out that they were not afraid. What were all the wolves in the world to them, no matter how large, when they could send their arrows straight and true? By day, at least, they rather courted the combat, and while the sage Roka was still resolved to be cautious, his eye gleamed with pleasure at the bold front of his young men.

After the abundant breakfast, they fastened on their snowshoes with care, and resumed their journey up the gorge, which led north slightly by east, and was here about a mile wide, with very high mountains on both sides, and dense fringes of bushes at the foot of either cliff, although the valley at first had been bare of undergrowth. Nor were the trees so large as they had been farther down, and Will surmised that they were approaching a high pass.

They bore toward the cliff on the right, and the white youth more than once thought he saw the snowy bushes there shaking. About the fourth or fifth time he called the attention of Inmu to it, and the young Dakota, keen of eye, confirmed his observation.

“You know what it is, Waditaka?” he said.

“The great wolves following on our flank.”

“Beyond a doubt. I know it as truly as if I saw them. They will keep their place all day and tonight they will wait their chance to cut out some incautious one among us.”

“I’m sure I won’t be the incautious one.”

Inmu laughed.

“Nor will any other of us,” he said. “We will be very careful until we grow used to them, and then, when familiarity makes us forget the danger or despise it, a warrior may wander from the band, and lo! the wolves are upon him. That is why the lords of creation, as they think themselves, follow and wait. They are quite sure their patience is greater than ours and that their time must come.”

A shiver once more ran down Will’s spine. There was something awful in the patient ferocity that could follow for days and days and yes, for weeks and weeks! A single unguarded minute in a month might be fatal, and a month contained a multitude of minutes. It was almost impossible to keep at unbroken tension so long. He recognized anew the formidable character of the danger assailing them.

It grew warmer toward noon, and they heard the sound of sliding snow on the slopes. Roka thought deer might be found in the undergrowth and they wanted game, but, owing to the threat of wolves, he did not send out any hunters. In the afternoon the ascent became greater, as Will had foreseen, and when the second night came they built their fire at a narrow point in the pass where the cliff rose at a vast and almost perpendicular height. Shortly after dark, the wolves gave tongue a few times but then were silent.

“They are merely telling us,” said Inmu, “that they are still following. They do not expect to catch any of us tonight, or they would have kept still.”

Will was in the first watch, and, when his time to sleep came, he protected himself thoroughly in his heavy buffalo robe. But he did not sleep long, a sound like a groan and a grind awakening him. He sprang to his feet and found all his comrades also standing. It was very dark save where the fire smouldered, and the mountain far above them was moaning. It was thence that the sounds had come.

In a few instances the grind and groan changed to a roar and then, snatching up their baggage, they leaped for their lives. Will saw a white wall rushing down upon them, and he knew now that the mountain had given forth a cry of pain, because an avalanche was rent from its side. He ran instinctively toward the center of the pass and waves of snow poured over him. It was not the snow that he feared, but the trees and stones brought down with it. Luckily none struck him and as he ran he collided with Inmu who shouted that he was unhurt.

“Back down the pass!” cried Roka, and ten struggling figures obeyed him as best they could. One was bleeding in the shoulder where he had been struck by a stone but his hurt was not bad, and Roka, able and experienced, had all his wits about him. The avalanche was of narrow front, and their rush soon carried them to its edge, where the depth of snow was not so great. Nevertheless Will had been thrown down twice, but on each occasion he regained his feet without harm.

They had just emerged from the white shower, when Roka uttered a fierce shout of warning. The warrior with the bleeding shoulder was in advance and he was staggering a little when a long, sinister shadow emerged from the bushes and leaped straight for the man’s throat. Will, for caution’s sake, had left his great horn bow strung, and he never understood exactly how he did it, but an arrow fairly jumped from his quiver and then to the string. The next instant it sang through the air and was buried to the feathers in the throat of the leaping wolf. The huge figure was still carried by its impetus through the air, but it stopped short of its destined prey and, yet open of mouth and slavering, fell with a crash on the snow.

Behind them the avalanche roared for a minute or two longer, and then was still. The wound in the side of the mountain ceased to bleed, but Roka and his warriors, in the dim light, looked down at the figure of the slain wolf.

“It was a deed well done, Waditaka,” said Roka with emphasis. “If your arrow had not been so ready and true, Tatokadan (the Antelope) would have been killed instantly by the monster’s terrible bite. Teeth like those would have torn through his neck as mine go through a corn cake. I say again, it was a great deed, greatly done.”

Will flushed in the darkness with pride and pleasure.

“It was no will of mine, O, Roka,” he said. “It was Manitou that made me do it.”

“All our good deeds are done by Manitou,” said Roka devoutly, “but your arrow, nevertheless, was well sped, Waditaka. The wolves were waiting their chance, and thought they saw it, when we were struggling from the avalanche, but with true caution they sent forth only one to make the leap. You do not see the shadows of any more, do you, men?”

“No,” they replied with one voice.

“Pull out your arrow, Waditaka,” said Roka. “We must not waste a single shaft.”

It required the combined strength of Will and Inmu to withdraw the arrow from the neck of the wolf, and then the white youth, wiping it carefully on the snow, replaced it in his quiver. The wolf, even in death, was a most formidable beast, belonging to the largest of all the wolf tribe, those found in the northwestern mountains of North America, a full seven feet in length, fanged and powerful.

“If we were not traveling far we would take his skin,” said Roka, “but we must leave him to the others of the pack.”

“It’s a pity we help to feed wild beasts that want to feed on us,” said Will.

“It cannot be prevented,” said Roka. “We will go back down the pass, beyond the reach of avalanches, and make a new camp.”

As they withdrew they heard the patter of feet, and saw the rush of shadowy forms, wolves coming forward to devour their dead comrade. A half mile back, and they built their fire anew, but early the next day they resumed the ascent, passed by the clean skeleton of the monster Will had slain, and then advanced over the new snow brought down by the avalanche. As the pass became very narrow they were in constant fear of other falls, but they reached the summit without mishap, and looked into a vast valley, timbered heavily and extending toward the east, a bare surface in its center evidently the frozen and snow-covered surface of a lake. Beyond it high mountains showed dimly. Will reckoned that the valley was at least twenty miles long and that it might have an exit toward the northeast through a narrow gorge, in which direction they must travel in order to reach the great plains.

“What is the plan, Roka?” he asked.

“We will descend into the valley,” replied the leader, “seek game there, delay two or three days and then go on.”

A few moments later, he gave the word and the flying column on snowshoes went forward, the slope now becoming so precipitous that the men were compelled to use great care. Will’s ankles grew weary and he hoped that when they reached the floor of the valley they might be able to dispense with the snowshoes. It was certainly far more comfortable to walk on the soles of one’s own feet.

“Maybe the deep snow and the height of the pass will keep back the wolves,” he confided to Inmu. “I’m willing to suffer tired ankles if the same fate overtakes those fierce prowlers.”

“Not a chance of it,” replied the Lynx, with emphasis. “The leader of the wolves said to his pack that they would follow us, no matter how far we went. You will take note, Waditaka, that we have yet seen no game, and it is likely the wolves have seen none either. So they follow us, as their only hope. We must be on guard against them all the time.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” said Will. Such a deadly pursuit shook his nerves a little, but he steadied himself, and grasped with confidence his splendid bow of horn. The last part of the slope was very steep, and they were all thoroughly weary when they reached the valley, where the snow was not so deep, as it had been in the pass and the upper valley. They also saw tracks of game, and knew they had come into a land of plenty, but it being nearly dark they built the usual fire and passed a peaceful night.

A warm wind was blowing in the morning, and there were signs of a thaw. A little brook near them was running free of ice, but Will’s hopes that they might dispense with the snowshoes could not yet come true.

“When we pass out of this valley into the next one perhaps we may walk on solid earth,” said Roka, “but for a while we will have to travel on runners.”

“Since we’ve seen enough to know that game is abundant about us,” said Will, “why not let Inmu and me seek a deer? We ought to find one down by the brook, and you know that sooner or later we’ll have to shoot game.”

“That is true. Take your bows and go. But be sure you keep together.”

They promised strict heed to his advice, and, bows in hand, departed joyfully among the trees. The heavy traveling had grown monotonous and any diversion was welcome. Good marksmen with arrows, they had no fear, and they sped along on their snowshoes, looking here and there among the bushes bordering the brook. It was a fine little stream flowing rather swiftly, and they were sure game would soon be found on its banks. Inmu announced several times that he had seen elk signs and in their eagerness they left the camp far behind them.

Elk was noble game. The gigantic deer of the far northwestern mountains might weigh fifteen hundred pounds, and Will’s heart throbbed with anticipation. He had become a hunter with all a hunter’s instincts, and he believed, as his ancestors thousands of years before him had believed, that the elk was given to man that man might live on the elk. He looked at the tracks in the snow and saw that they were fresh. The big fellow could not be far away, and the pulses in his temples began to beat hard.

“We’ll get him,” he whispered to Inmu, “and he’ll furnish food enough for many days.”

“We will overtake him in less than half an hour,” said the young Dakota, “and our arrows will find his heart.”

He, too, had all the ardor of the chase, and, fitting their arrows to the string, they hurried forward, presently catching a glimpse of the great body among the bushes. He was all they had hoped, vast beyond the average of his fellows, like all the animals of this region, and picking at a shrub he seemed totally unaware that hunters were near. Will and Inmu cautiously edged a little nearer. The great animal, still unconscious that creatures so much smaller but so much more dangerous than himself were close by, continued his gastronomic business with the shrub.

“Suppose you take his throat, and I will aim at his heart,” said Inmu.

“Agreed,” said Will. “You give the word.”

“Up bow!” whispered Inmu.

Up went the bows.

“Fit arrow!”

The arrows were on the string.

“Bend bow!”

The two great bows curved deep.

“Take aim!”

Will looked at the throat and Inmu looked at the heart of the elk.

“Let go!”

The two arrows whistled through the air, and each went straight and true to its mark. But the elk was a mighty animal. An enormous amount of vitality was stored in his huge frame, and, although smitten deep at both points, he made gigantic leaps across the snow, the two young hunters following as swiftly as they could.

“Hold your second arrow!” cried Inmu excitedly. “He has been struck mortally! It is merely a convulsion that is carrying him on!”

Will put back in his quiver the arrow that he had snatched from it, but he ran at full speed in pursuit of the elk. The bounds of the great deer were becoming shorter, and the life blood was pouring from him. It was evident that he would soon fall, but as he began to stagger a long, dark form stole from the bushes and seized him by the throat. He went down with a crash as the teeth of the wolf gave him the finishing stroke.

Both the white youth and the red were seized with rage when they saw the monster leap upon their prize and take it for his own. Such impudence was beyond endurance, and their hands flew again to their arrows.

“Hold your shot!” cried Inmu. “One of his comrades may be near and you will need it for him! Let me kill this wolf!”

The arrow of the young Sioux whistled through the air. The range was short, and it pierced the wolf to the heart, but the teeth of the killer remained clenched in the throat of the deer, and the two fell dead together on the snow. Will was about to rush forward, but Inmu’s hand on his shoulder held him back. A second figure gliding from the bushes made a leap for the elk. Will instantly shot an arrow, but as the beast was in the air it struck him in the flank and did not inflict a mortal wound. Growling and trying to snap at the barb it ran back among dwarf pines.

“We’ll dispose of our elk,” said Inmu, and drawing their knives they went forward to cut up the body, being compelled first to drag away the body of the huge wolf, the teeth of which were still deep in the flesh of the great deer. It required all their strength for the effort, and they looked curiously at the savage animal, a dark, dirty gray, long, muscled powerfully, and formidable even in death.

“He is bigger even than the mountain wolf of Montana and Idaho,” said Inmu. “Now I know he belongs to some fierce tribe of wolves that has come down from the lands of eternal snow and ice. I think, Waditaka, that the great animals we drove off in the winter have told their brethren of us, and that they are resolved to pull us down and eat us.”

“And then we’ll be waylaid on our journey not only by the wolves, but by the bears, and maybe by other ferocious beasts, of which we haven’t yet heard?”

“It seems to me, Waditaka, I can hear the wolves moving among the dwarf pines now not far away. Perhaps the arrow has fallen out of the shoulder of the one you shot, and he was not badly hurt, otherwise his comrades would have eaten him. I think they must be watching us now. Suppose you be ready with your finest arrows while I finish cutting up the elk.”

Will felt that the caution was fully justified. Ho heard many rustlings among the pines, and, once or twice, he saw long, sinister shadows pass. He was back in the primordial age, when man was in incessant danger from fierce wild beasts. It occurred to him that the pack now expected to secure an uncommon prey, a magnificent elk and two human beings together. Inmu, to facilitate his task, had taken off his snowshoes, and, as the area around the elk was now well trampled, Will, always glad to get rid of these cumbrous aids to walking, did likewise. The pressure of his moccasined feet upon the snow gave him more confidence, but the feel of the great bow in his hands was the strongest assurance of all. The revolver, the only firearm in the little expedition, was in his belt, but he did not think of it at the time. His trust was wholly in the bow and in the sharp arrows that filled his quiver.

Inmu stopped now and then in his task to listen. It was evident to Will that he was apprehensive, and he had great faith in the wilderness lore of the young Dakota.

“I think more wolves have come,” he said at last.

“It seems so to me, too,” said Will. “There’s a constant brushing of the pine boughs and the light pad of feet.”

“We may be attacked. The wolves now know what arrows are, but, like chiefs who lead their warriors into battle, they may be willing to endure a loss for the sake of a great gain. A vast elk and two human beings, well fed like ourselves, would make food enough for a great pack of the hungriest wolves that ever lived.”

“Stop, Inmu! Don’t talk of such horrible things!”

“But we must think of them, Waditaka, and so it is well to talk of them, too. I will call to Roka. He may hear us, and, then, if the whole band comes, we and our elk will be safe.”

He uttered a long, wailing cry of the Dakota, a note which would carry a vast distance in the clear, mountain air, and both waited eagerly for a reply, but none came. A minute or two later Inmu sent forth a second call. As before, no answer came from Roka, but a rustling in the pine thickets told them that not they alone were listening.

“Did you hear the master wolf laugh?” asked Inmu, gravely.

“Laugh, Inmu? What do you mean? Why, a wolf can’t laugh! And I heard nothing but the brushing of their bodies against the pine boughs!”

“You are foolish, Waditaka. You have a vain conceit because you are a man, and so you think that only men can laugh. The master wolf who considers himself superior to a man can laugh, too, but he laughs in his own way, and I, who listened not only with my ears, but with all my other senses, heard him. There was meaning also in his laugh, and I understood it. He said to his comrades and to the new followers that have come to him that we had foolishly wandered away from the other eight of our band, that we had slain an elk of immense size, but that we had slain it for the wolves, not for ourselves. He said that tonight we would fall a prey to them. Do you think he spoke the truth, Waditaka?”

“No, I don’t! Nor do you, Inmu!”

“Hark! I hear him laughing again, although you do not, and these are the words that run through his laugh: ‘They cannot escape us a second time, because we know how to be patient, O, my comrades! So, the skies work for us! See how the clouds come! The air grows dark! By-and-by the snow will pour down, and it will make a thick, white curtain between these two and their friends! Then we will steal upon them! They will not see us until it is too late! They cannot loose their arrows before we spring, and then we can devour them and their elk!’”

Will looked up instinctively. The trailing clouds covered nearly all the heavens, and it had grown much darker. He knew it was going to snow soon, and the new danger was fast closing in upon them.

“We’ve many sharp arrows,” he said, “and both can shoot them fast and true.”

“But if the snow comes so thick that we can see through it only a yard or two?”

“Then we’ll build a fire. There’s an abundance of dead wood under the snow.”

“Well spoken, Waditaka.”

“You’re better at that work than I am. While I watch the bushes suppose you stop your task with the elk and build the fire.”

Inmu began at once to drag up dead brush, working with a speed and energy at which Will marveled, and throwing it into heaps all about the elk and themselves. Well the young Dakota knew the need of the hasty bonfire. It had turned so dark now that the pine bushes were growing dim, but the wolves there were stirring and creeping a. little closer. Inmu prayed to his Manitou and to all his lesser gods that the snow would hold off yet a while longer. It was the white deluge with its covering for attack that he dreaded most. And the pack, seeing what he and Waditaka planned, might not wait for the snow. So cunning a wolf as the huge leader would know that fire was intended, and he might try to forestall it with a rush.

Inmu never worked with more desperate speed, and Manitou helped him. He flew straight to the wood, he never made a false step, and when at last his leaps were finished and he drew out his flint and steel the sparks flew forth at once in a more copious shower than he had ever seen before. Throughout all his labors he had never ceased to send forth at frequent intervals his clear call to Roka, nor did he stop now, as the wood ignited with speed and flames ran all around the circle.

“You have been beaten, O, Xunktokeca (Wolf)! The snow will come too late!” he chanted. “You thought you could creep upon us through the white veil! You know many things, but you did not know that we could build a fire so quickly! There is now red fire between us and you and you do not dare to cross it! Wolf is not the master of man in all things, because we can create the fire which protects us, and you cannot! You are mad with anger, O, King of the Wolves, because we have cheated you so! Ah! you do not laugh now! You snarl! But we do not care for your snarling! We are safe within our red circle!”

The soul of the young Dakota was filled with fierce exultation. He and his comrade had not only saved their lives but they had snatched from the wolves a prey they had deemed sure, and, for the moment, at least, he was near enough to them in type to rejoice at the chagrin of their enemies.

“You’re sure our wood will last long enough, Inmu?” asked Will.

“It will last until Roka finds us.”

“And the pouring snow won’t smother the flames?”

“No, Waditaka. When a fire is strong enough, snow and rain only feed it. Look, the snow comes at last and behold our flames leap higher!”

There was a rush of great flakes, and the fire sputtered beneath them, but it burned more brightly. A circling white bank moved up closer and closer, but through the blaze Will thought he saw dark shadows outlined against it, shadows that, transmitted through red, assumed gigantic size.

“I see the wolves,” he said, “and I think they look at least ten feet tall. I think, Inmu, I must send an arrow at the shadow nearest us.”

“It will not help us to slay one of them,” said the Lynx, “save that it will be a relief to our minds.”

“And that I call an important aid. A calm mind at such a time is worth at least twenty arrows.”

“Waditaka speaks a great truth. To have peace doubles our strength, so let fly, but first be sure that your aim is good.”

Will bent his bow, looked well, and his shaft rushed to the target. The stricken wolf uttered a howl, and then was dragged back to be devoured by his comrades. When they were engaged in their cannibalistic repast Inmu sent an arrow among them and slew another. While he also was feeding his comrades the two youths sat in the center of the fiery ring, and ate strips of the elk, which they fried on the coals in front of them. The snow, all the while, was increasing in volume, the circling white bank came very near, but they knew the wolves would never dare the fiery ring. The imminent presence of a danger which yet could not reach them, gave them, inured as they were to wilderness life, an extraordinary sense of comfort, and of actual mental luxury. Inmu could not keep from taunting the disappointed leader.

“Come on, O, wolf!” he cried through flame and snow. “We are here, not more than fifteen or twenty feet from you! We are waiting! We grow impatient! There are so many of you, too! Why don’t you spring! Ah! you are afraid! And man, not wolf, is really the king!”

The Indian leaped back and forth within the fiery ring, and continually shouted defiance, his spirits growing wilder and wilder. It was evident to Will that he felt to the full a sort of fantastic enjoyment, as he shouted to the wolves to come on and attack, and prove which was the superior, wolf or man. The snow poured more heavily, but, as Inmu had truly predicted, it merely fed the flames, which ate voraciously into the dead wood, their crackle and roar rising above the steady swish of the snow.

Will could never account for it, but either a kind of mesmeric influence passed from the young Dakota to himself, or the power of a scene so wild and primitive filled him with extravagant spirits. He began to shout with Inmu, shout for shout, and he flung spoken taunts at the wolves, as if they understood every word they said. In truth, he believed at the time that they did understand. Once a darting shadow came near, and quick as a flash Inmu sent an arrow into the heart of a wolf, which made a convulsive spring back into the bushes, to be devoured there by his comrades.

But Inmu did not forget, as he shouted, to vary his taunts with his call to Roka. His piercing cries cut through the driving snow and distance, and the forest rang with them. Will, who perhaps was listening the more intently of the two, suddenly held up his hand.

“What is it?” asked Inmu.

“I thought I heard an answer to your call. Listen!”

Inmu ceased to bound and stood perfectly still a moment or two. Then he sent forth a shout containing the utmost power of his voice, and, when he had waited an instant, he exclaimed joyfully:

“I hear it. Roka is speaking to us! He tells us to be of good heart, that he and Pehansan, and the others are at hand! Now come, you wolves! It is your last chance to attack us before our comrades are here! Come and take our elk, a fine, fat elk, food for a hundred of you!”

But the wolves did not attack. The relieving shout of Roka now rose clearly, and the master wolf, hearing it, was too intelligent to press the attack. He and the pack melted away in the forest and the snow, and, ten minutes later, Roka and his men arrived, fairly flying on their snowshoes. Will and Inmu welcomed them with joyous shouts and then sank exhausted upon the ground. Roka stood an instant or two on the snow outside the fiery ring and regarded them with gravity and approval.

“You have done well, Inmu and Waditaka,” he said. “You have found a good elk which will furnish food for us for a long time, and you have known how to defend yourselves against the giant wolves of the north. Now roll yourselves in your buffalo robes and sleep. We will do what remains to be done.”

They spread their robes on brush and wood inside the ring and then, wrapped in them, shut their eyes. Only the hardiest could have slept on such rough beds, but both the white lad and the red were asleep in an amazingly short time. Meanwhile, eight pairs of strong and cunning hands worked with wonderful dexterity. Their great blades flashed as they finished cutting up the elk, and they disposed of the pieces so they would freeze and keep. Now and then, one of them would stop work to brush the snow from the sleeping figures.

“They are brave and wise youths,” said Roka to Pehansan. “It is well that we brought them with us. It was reserved for the youngest to find the elk, and they mean luck to us.”

Pehansan nodded assent. The ten were already knitted firmly together by the needs and dangers of the wilderness. Necessity often forced union upon primitive men and they recognized its great advantage. Besides, everyone felt esteem for every other one, as a hunter and warrior of approved mettle. But the eight who worked were far from gloomy or apprehensive now. They knew their numbers protected them from attack by fierce carnivora. They had that for which primordial man struggled all through his life, food abundant and good, and they interrupted their toils now and then to eat great broiled steaks of the elk. When the congenial task was finished Roka bade all except Pehansan and himself to sleep, and those two watched until dawn.

When Will awoke the snow had ceased, but its depth had increased by at least a foot and a half in the night. Nevertheless the space within the ring of fire had been kept clear, and the fire itself had never been permitted to die down. He rose in a buoyant mood and looked around at his red comrades.

“It was a bad night,” he said, “but it’s a good morning.”

“So it is,” said Roka, “and we are well provided here. We can live.”

“What do you mean to do? Are we to go on at once through the valley and then over the mountains?”

“It will be wiser to wait. More snow may come, and we might get lost in it. There is wood in great quantity and we can have fires all the time, though we remain for many days.”

They spent the morning in throwing back snow and widening the bare area, keeping the cheerful flames burning at a good height, and in the afternoon they broke a path to a brook. In the evening they did nothing but sit within the circle of the fire, wrapped in their warm robes, and listen to a warrior called Hoton (Crow) tell tales. The teller of tales was a recognized and respected institution in nearly all Indian tribes, and Hoton, though young, had a distinct gift. Much of the legendary lore handed down through generations of Sioux was stored in him, and his accounts of the great animals that once walked the earth gave them all many pleasant shudders.

“It is true,” he said, “that ages and ages ago the wolves were three or four times as large as they are now, and it may be that those attacking us are survivals of that old, old time. The bears and panthers also were then great monsters, before which man always fled. Man lived only by hiding from the great brutes, which were the undisputed lords of the earth. He was a poor, stooping creature, cowering in holes in the ground and in hollow trees.”

Will had read something like this in books, but in his new state of primitiveness he merely accepted the books as cumulative evidence that Hoton’s statement was true. He had learned to have wonderful faith in Indian legends, which, for all he knew, may have been passed on for several thousand years.

“A man threw a stone, and he rose a step higher among the beasts,” said Hoton. “He made a club, and he went up two steps at a bound. He invented the lance and he jumped three more. Then he invented the bow and arrow and he went up five at a leap, and, when the white man across the sea found out how to use powder and bullets, he stood on top of the stair.”

“But as we haven’t powder and bullets with us, save those in the cartridges for my revolver,” said Will, “we’ve gone back down the stairway a few steps.”

“But we are still more than a match for the beasts,” said Roka, “though I think the greatest in our world will be sent against us. Perhaps the evil spirits that are always in the air wish our destruction.”

“But the good spirits favor us,” said Pehansan, “and they will fight and conquer the evil.”

A long, faint cry, like a moan, came on the wind.

“That is one of the wolves which Inmu and Waditaka defeated,” said Roka. “He and his comrades hoped still to pull them down while we were away, but since we have come and are ten strong, they know they will have to wait a long time for another chance.”

“But they will wait,” said Will. “I know it.”

The flakes poured down again that night, and the next morning the snow was another foot deeper. They could have made some progress on their snowshoes, but, still bearing in mind that haste was not needed, they remained quietly in camp. Will, having acquired the tremendous patience of the Indian, was not unhappy. His world for the time being passed in an orbit of about fifty feet, but it was full of variety and interest. He watched the warriors cook steaks of the elk, and he helped them. He studied the skies and tried to foretell from them whether it would rain or snow, or turn colder, or warmer. He listened to the wind in the trees and tried to detect in it another howl of the disappointed wolf. Then the stories of Hoton were numerous, picturesque and well worth hearing. The fires were very high, very ruddy, very warm and one could read all kinds of fortunes in the magnificent beds of coals that had formed. When there was nothing else to do one could fold his buffalo robe about him and sleep beautifully. Life was not so bad, surrounded by friends, safety and plenty.

Yet danger was always hovering about them. At twilight Tarinca (the Deer) went down the runway they had made to the brook for a drink and just as he stooped a huge beast leaped for him. Doubtless the deep snow made an unsteady base for the spring, as the wolf missed the fatal hold and merely ripped Tarinca’s shoulder, striking in the deep snow beyond the runway, where he floundered for a moment or two. But the precious instants saved Tarinca’s life. Uncommonly agile and alert, and with the fear of death pressing on him, he leaped back, fired an arrow that wounded the brute, and then, lest the wolves be at hand, ran with all his might down the runway toward the camp.

Tarinca reached the fiery circle and the wounded wolf disappeared, but Roka was alarmed. He gave orders that no one was to leave the camp alone, nor even in twos or threes should they go except in full daylight. Tarinca’s wounded shoulder was bathed very carefully with melted snow to remove the poison from the wolf’s teeth, and then bound up. His iron health and hardiness would do the rest. In view of the warning, the fires were built a little higher the next night, but the following day it turned so cold that the surface of the snow froze, and they decided to leave, carrying with them their fresh supplies. Every man bore, including his equipment, a weight of more than a hundred pounds, but the coating of ice sustained their snowshoes, and traveling slowly they reached the lake which they had seen from the slopes. Here in a very dense grove which gave them partial protection, they made a new camp, and, with the aid of their tomahawks, built two wickiups, each large enough for three, which supplied the balance of the protection.

They halted there, because a warm wind was blowing, and Roka foresaw an immense thaw accompanied by driving rain. His forecast was right in both respects, as the clouds, coming out of the Pacific Ocean, surmounted the lofty ridges, and poured upon them a deluge that lasted two days and two nights. Hundreds of streams ran down from the mountains, and every brook and creek was flooded past the brim. The water would have taken all the life out of them had it not been for the dryness afforded by the wickiups, but the waiting in such close quarters, even with patience like theirs, was painful. Will was glad that Hoton was in their wickiup, as the Crow, who had invincible spirits, whiled away much of the time with tales, most of which had to do with great wild beasts.

Twice in their stay Will heard the howling of the wolves above the swish and pour of the rain, and he knew that the terrible man-eaters were hanging to their trail, waiting and hoping. There was something horrible in such ferocity and tenacity, and, as well as he could in the narrow space, he sharpened anew the arrows in his quiver.

On the third day the rain ceased, but the valley looked like a vast swamp. The ice had broken up on the lake and nearly all the ground was covered with water. The slopes of the mountains fairly smoked in the thaw and their peaks were lost in the mists and vapors.

“It will be best to stay here two or three days longer,” said Roka. “The snow is melting so fast that soon it will all be gone in the valley, at least.”

But they did not have to remain inside the close and narrow wickiups, and they spent the whole time outside now, managing to build another fire under the trees. Here Will, with a tincture of the white man’s habit still in his veins, took vigorous exercise, stretching and tensing his muscles and expanding his chest. But the Indians, true to the customs of centuries, made no exertion that was not necessary. Their lives had always required so much physical effort that when there was no work to be done their idleness was complete and utter. But they sat by and watched Will with lazy interest.

“Why do you swing your arms so hard, Waditaka?” asked Hoton, the teller of tales.

“That the blood in them may circulate freely and that their muscles may grow.”

“Manitou has made you what you are, Waditaka. Do you think you can improve upon his work?”

“Manitou merely gave me a start, Hoton, and then he told me to do the rest. In the sacred Book of the white people to whom I once belonged there is a story of men to whom various numbers of talents were given by Manitou, and when Manitou, some time later, asked what they had done with them those who had increased their store were praised and rewarded, but the one who guarded his and kept it just as it was, neither more nor less, was punished. It is what my former people called a parable. What you have you must improve. You must turn your five talents into ten.”

“What are ‘talents,’ Waditaka?”

“An old name for money. It occurs often in the sacred Book of the white people, called the Bible, but in the parable of which I tell you it may mean anything, your strength, your spirit, or whatever you may do best.”

“Then if I should kill two of the terrible wolves that follow us it would not be enough; if I had the arrows and the strength I should go on and kill four.”

“I think that states it well enough, Hoton.”

“But the wolves, which consider themselves lords of the forest, would think me very wicked if I killed two of them, and doubly wicked if I killed four. Manitou made the wolves as well as ourselves. Why should he reward me for killing his creatures?”

“I think you’re trying to get me into arguing in a circle, Hoton. I’ll go back where I started, and merely say that what you have you must make better. Now, I’m trying to keep myself strong and flexible. I feel much stronger already.”

“I am glad of it, Waditaka, because now you may cease waving your arms like a bough in a strong wind and may stop hopping about like a dog with a thorn in its foot. All that you say may be true, but it pleases me better to see a man rest, when there is nothing to be done.”

Will failed to convert any of them to his theory of exercises, but he kept it up alone, usually accompanied by the whimsical comment of Hoton, who was in his way a humorist, and who loved to chaff Waditaka, because the youth took it in good spirit, and often paid him back in his own coin. Meantime the warm wind blew steadily, and the surface of the valley began to dry somewhat.

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