Hugh Pendexter

“ How easy it would be to eliminate the man from all further consideration by the simple process of raising his pistol and pulling the trigger! A child could do it.
"Don't wave that gun so keerless-like, Joey. Ye make me nervous," remonstrated Murty.
Clay colored and thrust the pistol into his belt. Murty was dull of wit but he had absorbed enough from the savages to be abnormally intuitive. ”

“ Bowls dropped the weapon and whimpered:
"Th' Injun with th' painted hair. Is he dead?"
Clay by this time began to realize their predicament. With a snarl of fear he jumped to the door and glared up and down the trail. There was no one in sight. Turning to the stupefied immigrant he commanded:
"Help me git him outer here. Oh, Lawd! What won't they do to us if they find him!"
"I knew him when I seen his hair," shivered Bowls. "Reckon I killed him."
"Catch hold of his heels, you fool! He can't hurt you." ”

“ The rank liquor registered quickly on the Indian, and maniacal lights shone in his black eyes. A white man must be sacrificed to the Evening Star. The Evening Star was jealous, and the Dakota were advancing. Were there no other white man available the chief would have sentenced Black Buffalo himself.
"Come!" he ordered, and his crest of black and gray hair seemed to bristle. "The medicine pipe has passed from left to right. Black Buffalo says for you to come."
"You have not seen Black Buffalo. I stay here," boldly replied Clay. ”

“ It seemed as if they never would cross the narrow opening and gain the shelter of the woods. Only by fearful imprecations could Clay hold Bowls to the grim task till they reached the river bank. Directing him to procure some stones for weights Clay crouched beside the' dead chief and tried to think. As his mind cleared he could foresee the wild excitement and mad search for the chief. Four years on the Arkansas had taught the trader many things; he knew the Pawnees would quickly trace their leader to the post and at once read the signs on the floor and along the river path. ”

“ And yet, when in a genial mood, Murty frequently declared that the ideal combination was a man like himself to mix with the Indians and win their good-will, with another, like Joey Clay, to stick at the trading-post and keep the accounts. ”

“ White Hair sprang to a horse, saying:
"The victim must not know he is to be sacrificed till brought to the painted cross. I will go to the Black Buffalo and bring him and the little trader back with me. I will ride outside of the trail and meet any of our scouts who have seen the Dakotas since the first runners came in."
Because of his slight detour toward the open prairie White Hair missed meeting Murty on the river trail, and arrived at the trading-post shortly after his friend set out for the village. ”

“ Now that Clay viewed the Pawnees as his potential murderers he took notice of details as he slowly rode into the village. Murty was lounging before White Hair's lodge, watching a procession of priests escorting a comely woman about the village. Clay remained on his horse as the little band approached the chief's lodge. The woman, prompted by the priests, asked for gifts. ”

“ The last was said seriously as befitting the expression of a self-evident truth.
"But she laffed," exclaimed Clay incredulously.
"That's th' funny part of it. She don't know what's goin' to happen. She thinks it's all a game," replied Murty. "It has to be done that way, or th' medicine wouldn't be no good. They've treated her better'n her own people did. She likes here better'n she did to home. Today they dress her up an' tell her to ask f'r presents at each lodge. Every lodge gives her some dry wood. She won't guess what's up till they come to sacrifice her an' bury her in th' cornfields." ”

“ They'll kill her!" gasped Clay.
"None o' that," ominously warned Murty from the corner of his mouth. "Want to make th' chief here thinkin' ye're ag'in his medicine? They've got to have corn, ain't they?"
"But burying a dead woman won't make corn grow," expostulated Clay, his soul sick and quivering.
"Th' devil it won't!" growled Murty, his brows growing black. "Think all th' real medicine is made east o' th' Mississippi? This village can't go north arter buf'ler till th' Dakotas git over that last raid on th' Republican. ”

“ No Southern Injuns up this way, an' th' Pawnees ain't stirred from their village f'r a long time. Yas, Joey, it's Dakota work, all right. That means I've got to hustle to White Ha'r's village an' warn him th' Dakotas have come. Sit tight at th' post an' keep yer eye peeled. I'll be back to-night, or tomorrer."
"I could hear 'em swearin' an' screamin', th' men'n' women," mumbled Bowls as Murty disappeared up the path.
"Many women folks in th' outfit?" whispered Clay.
"Th' wagon-boss' woman an' th' wives o' five Missouri men. I'm from Ohio. Thank th' Lawd there wa'n't no children." ”

“ Murty stared after the priests and the woman and exploded in a loud laugh.
"What's the idea, Murt?" genially asked Clay, his narrow face twisting into a propitiating grin.
"That fool squaw," chuckled Murty. "She's Comanche; caught in a raid 'bout a month ago. She don't know th' medicine smoke warned White Hair to sacrifice to th' Mornin' Star. Mornin' Star's a man, Joey, so they allers sacrifice a woman to him. They don't do it reg'lar. This is th' furst time since we opened th' post. ”

“ Heretofore Murty had taken care not to goad his partner too far, but the trade whisky had destroyed his sense of proportion, and he roughly replied:
"I reckon that's 'bout th' size of it. If ye're a free man, strike out f'r th' settlements."
Clay made no response to this challenge. With sickening force the truth came home to him. Throughout the day he silently sat in the doorway while Murty drank and slept. Next morning Murty was early astir and galloping up the trail. Clay cleared away the tin plates and sat down outside the door and smoked and thought. He had shied away from the ugly fact ”

“ He's got to lead his men ag'in th' Dakotas an' hit 'em hard afore they strike th' Arkansas, or we'll all be wiped out. You did right, Joey, in not letting him have the goods. He mustn't git the notion he can come an' help himself. But we'll take them up to him. Ye'll be safer at the village till we know how the game is goin' with th' Dakota. Git yer hoss."
"If you think best," meekly assented Clay, passing over the parcel of gifts. "But we'll be leaving Bowls."
"Ain't he 'round here?" cried Murty. "He's too white-livered to go far. No ”

“ Dead tired. Talk more tomorrer."
"Th' Injuns ye see was Dakota tryin' to round up Little Pawnee Village," informed the guard. "They tried it four weeks ago an' got a awful drubbin'. Seems ol' White Ha'r's people fed a white man to one o' their star gods th' night afore th' battle, an' their medicine was so strong they licked 'bout five times their number. What Dakotas escaped hustled back home, an' now they've come back with some eight hundred. Yeh; Arkansas is a good river to keep shet of till th' trouble's over atween th' two tribes."
The firelight struck sparks from Clay's pale eyes. ”

“ His young men had been reporting their progress ever since sunrise. The sacrifice must be made at once if the impending evil was to be avoided. He lamented his negligence in not taking some of the immigrants alive. ”