The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 by J Fenimore Cooper (top non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📖

And Sending It,  With A Sudden And Deadly Aim,  Full At The

Naked Bosom Of His Generous And Confiding Enemy.

 

The Action Of The Treacherous Teton Was Too Quick,  And Too Well

Matured,  To Admit Of Any Of The Ordinary Means Of Defence On The Part

Of The Pawnee. His Shield Was Hanging At His Shoulder,  And Even The

Arrow Had Been Suffered To Fall From Its Place,  And Lay In The Hollow

Of The Hand Which Grasped His Bow. But The Quick Eye Of The Brave Had

Time To See The Movement,  And His Ready Thoughts Did Not Desert Him.

Pulling Hard And With A Jerk Upon The Rein,  His Steed Reared His

Forward Legs Into The Air,  And,  As The Rider Bent His Body Low,  The

Horse Served For A Shield Against The Danger. So True,  However,  Was

The Aim,  And So Powerful The Force By Which It Was Sent,  That The

Arrow Entered The Neck Of The Animal,  And Broke The Skin On The

Opposite Side.

 

Quicker Than Thought Hard-Heart Sent Back An Answering Arrow. The

Shield Of The Teton Was Transfixed,  But His Person Was Untouched. For

A Few Moments The Twang Of The Bow And The Glancing Of Arrows Were

Incessant,  Notwithstanding The Combatants Were Compelled To Give So

Large A Portion Of Their Care To The Means Of Defence. The Quivers

Were Soon Exhausted; And Though Blood Had Been Drawn,  It Was Not In

Sufficient Quantities To Impair The Energy Of The Combat.

 

A Series Of Masterly And Rapid Evolutions With The Horses Now

Commenced. The Wheelings,  The Charges,  The Advances,  And The

Circuitous Retreats,  Were Like The Flights Of Circling Swallows. Blows

Were Struck With The Lance,  The Sand Was Scattered In The Air,  And The

Shocks Often Seemed To Be Unavoidably Fatal; But Still Each Party Kept

His Seat,  And Still Each Rein Was Managed With A Steady Hand. At

Length The Teton Was Driven To The Necessity Of Throwing Himself From

His Horse,  To Escape A Thrust That Would Otherwise Have Proved Fatal.

The Pawnee Passed His Lance Through The Beast,  Uttering A Shout Of

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Triumph As He Galloped By. Turning In His Tracks,  He Was About To Push

The Advantage,  When His Own Mettled Steed Staggered And Fell,  Under A

Burden That He Could No Longer Sustain. Mahtoree Answered His

Premature Cry Of Victory,  And Rushed Upon The Entangled Youth,  With

Knife And Tomahawk. The Utmost Agility Of Hard-Heart Had Not Sufficed

To Extricate Himself In Season From The Fallen Beast. He Saw That His

Case Was Desperate. Feeling For His Knife,  He Took The Blade Between A

Finger And Thumb,  And Cast It With Admirable Coolness At His Advancing

Foe. The Keen Weapon Whirled A Few Times In The Air,  And Its Point

Meeting The Naked Breast Of The Impetuous Sioux,  The Blade Was Buried

To The Buck-Horn Haft.

 

Mahtoree Laid His Hand On The Weapon,  And Seemed To Hesitate Whether

To Withdraw It Or Not. For A Moment His Countenance Darkened With The

Most Inextinguishable Hatred And Ferocity,  And Then,  As If Inwardly

Admonished How Little Time He Had To Lose,  He Staggered To The Edge Of

The Sands,  And Halted With His Feet In The Water. The Cunning And

Duplicity,  Which Had So Long Obscured The Brighter And Nobler Traits

Of His Character,  Were Lost In The Never Dying Sentiment Of Pride,

Which He Had Imbibed In Youth.

 

"Boy Of The Loups!" He Said With A Smile Of Grim Satisfaction,  "The

Scalp Of A Mighty Dahcotah Shall Never Dry In Pawnee Smoke!"

 

Drawing The Knife From The Wound,  He Hurled It Towards The Enemy In

Disdain. Then Shaking His Arm At His Successful Foe,  His Swarthy

Countenance Appearing To Struggle With Volumes Of Scorn And Hatred,

That He Could Not Utter With The Tongue,  He Cast Himself Headlong Into

One Of The Most Rapid Veins Of The Current,  His Hand Still Waving In

Triumph Above The Fluid,  Even After His Body Had Sunk Into The Tide

For Ever. Hard-Heart Was By This Time Free. The Silence,  Which Had

Hitherto Reigned In The Bands,  Was Suddenly Broken By General And

Tumultuous Shouts. Fifty Of The Adverse Warriors Were Already In The

River,  Hastening To Destroy Or To Defend The Conqueror,  And The Combat

Was Rather On The Eve Of Its Commencement Than Near Its Termination.

But To All These Signs Of Danger And Need,  The Young Victor Was

Insensible. He Sprang For The Knife,  And Bounded With The Foot Of An

Antelope Along The Sands,  Looking For The Receding Fluid Which

Concealed His Prize. A Dark,  Bloody Spot Indicated The Place,  And,

Armed With The Knife,  He Plunged Into The Stream,  Resolute To Die In

The Flood,  Or To Return With His Trophy.

 

In The Mean Time,  The Sands Became A Scene Of Bloodshed And Violence.

Better Mounted And Perhaps More Ardent,  The Pawnees Had,  However,

Reached The Spot In Sufficient Numbers To Force Their Enemies To

Retire. The Victors Pushed Their Success To The Opposite Shore,  And

Gained The Solid Ground In The Melee Of The Fight. Here They Were Met

By All The Unmounted Tetons,  And,  In Their Turn,  They Were Forced To

Give Way.

 

The Combat Now Became More Characteristic And Circumspect. As The Hot

Impulses,  Which Had Driven Both Parties To Mingle In So Deadly A

Struggle,  Began To Cool,  The Chiefs Were Enabled To Exercise Their

Influence,  And To Temper The Assaults With Prudence. In Consequence Of

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The Admonitions Of Their Leaders,  The Siouxes Sought Such Covers As

The Grass Afforded,  Or Here And There Some Bush Or Slight Inequality

Of The Ground,  And The Charges Of The Pawnee Warriors Necessarily

Became More Wary,  And Of Course Less Fatal.

 

In This Manner The Contest Continued With A Varied Success,  And

Without Much Loss. The Siouxes Had Succeeded In Forcing Themselves

Into A Thick Growth Of Rank Grass,  Where The Horses Of Their Enemies

Could Not Enter,  Or Where,  When Entered,  They Were Worse Than Useless.

It Became Necessary To Dislodge The Tetons From This Cover,  Or The

Object Of The Combat Must Be Abandoned. Several Desperate Efforts Had

Been Repulsed,  And The Disheartened Pawnees Were Beginning To Think Of

A Retreat,  When The Well-Known War-Cry Of Hard-Heart Was Heard At

Hand,  And At The Next Instant The Chief Appeared In Their Centre,

Flourishing The Scalp Of The Great Sioux,  As A Banner That Would Lead

To Victory.

 

He Was Greeted By A Shout Of Delight,  And Followed Into The Cover,

With An Impetuosity That,  For The Moment,  Drove All Before It. But The

Bloody Trophy In The Hand Of The Partisan Served As An Incentive To

The Attacked,  As Well As To The Assailants. Mahtoree Had Left Many A

Daring Brave Behind Him In His Band,  And The Orator,  Who In The

Debates Of That Day Had Manifested Such Pacific Thoughts,  Now

Exhibited The Most Generous Self-Devotion,  In Order To Wrest The

Memorial Of A Man He Had Never Loved,  From The Hands Of The Avowed

Enemies Of His People.

 

The Result Was In Favour Of Numbers. After A Severe Struggle,  In Which

The Finest Displays Of Personal Intrepidity Were Exhibited By All The

Chiefs,  The Pawnees Were Compelled To Retire Upon The Open Bottom,

Closely Pressed By The Siouxes,  Who Failed Not To Seize Each Foot Of

Ground Ceded By Their Enemies. Had The Tetons Stayed Their Efforts On

The Margin Of The Grass,  It Is Probable That The Honour Of The Day

Would Have Been Theirs,  Notwithstanding The Irretrievable Loss They

Had Sustained In The Death Of Mahtoree. But The More Reckless Braves

Of The Band Were Guilty Of An Indiscretion,  That Entirely Changed The

Fortunes Of The Fight,  And Suddenly Stripped Them Of Their Hard-Earned

Advantages.

 

A Pawnee Chief Had Sunk Under The Numerous Wounds He Had Received,  And

He Fell,  A Target For A Dozen Arrows,  In The Very Last Group Of His

Retiring Party. Regardless Alike Of Inflicting Further Injury On Their

Foes,  And Of The Temerity Of The Act,  The Sioux Braves Bounded Forward

With A Whoop,  Each Man Burning With The Wish To Reap The High Renown

Of Striking The Body Of The Dead. They Were Met By Hard-Heart And A

Chosen Knot Of Warriors,  All Of Whom Were Just As Stoutly Bent On

Saving The Honour Of Their Nation,  From So Foul A Stain. The Struggle

Was Hand To Hand,  And Blood Began To Flow More Freely. As The Pawnees

Retired With The Body,  The Siouxes Pressed Upon Their Footsteps,  And

At Length The Whole Of The Latter Broke Out Of The Cover With A Common

Yell,  And Threatened To Bear Down All Opposition By Sheer Physical

Superiority.

 

The Fate Of Hard-Heart And His Companions,  All Of Whom Would Have Died

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Rather Than Relinquish Their Object,  Would Have Been Quickly Sealed,

But For A Powerful And Unlooked-For Interposition In Their Favour. A

Shout Was Heard From A Little Brake On The Left,  And A Volley From The

Fatal Western Rifle Immediately Succeeded. Some Five Or Six Siouxes

Leaped Forward In The Death Agony,  And Every Arm Among Them Was As

Suddenly Suspended,  As If The Lightning Had Flashed From The Clouds To

Aid The Cause Of The Loups. Then Came Ishmael And His Stout Sons In

Open View,  Bearing Down Upon Their Late Treacherous Allies,  With Looks

And Voices That Proclaimed The Character Of The Succour.

 

The Shock Was Too Much For The Fortitude Of The Tetons. Several Of

Their Bravest Chiefs Had Already Fallen,  And Those That Remained Were

Instantly Abandoned By The Whole Of The Inferior Herd. A Few Of The

Most Desperate Braves Still Lingered Nigh The Fatal Symbol Of Their

Honour,  And There Nobly Met Their Deaths,  Under The Blows Of The

Re-Encouraged Pawnees. A Second Discharge From The Rifles Of The

Squatter And His Party Completed The Victory.

 

The Siouxes Were Now To Be Seen Flying To More Distant Covers,  With

The Same Eagerness And Desperation As,  A Few Moments Before,  They Had

Been Plunging Into The Fight. The Triumphant Pawnees Bounded Forward

In Chase,  Like So Many High-Blooded And Well-Trained Hounds. On Every

Side Were Heard The Cries Of Victory,  Or The Yell Of Revenge. A Few Of

The Fugitives Endeavoured To Bear Away The Bodies Of Their Fallen

Warriors,  But The Hot Pursuit Quickly Compelled Them To Abandon The

Slain,  In Order To Preserve The Living. Among All The Struggles,  Which

Were Made On That Occasion,  To Guard The Honour Of The Siouxes From

The Stain Which Their Peculiar Opinions Attached