The Last of the Chiefs: A Story of the Great Sioux War by Joseph A. Altsheler
Chapter XIIThe Fight with Nature
Dick realized suddenly that he was very cold. The terriblepursuit was over, ending mortally for the pursuer, but he wasmenaced by a new danger. Sheltered though his little valley was,he could, nevertheless, freeze to death in it with great ease.In fact, he had begun already to shiver, and he noticed thatwhile his feet were dry, the snow at last had soaked through hisdeerskin leggings and he was wet from knee to ankle. The snowhad ceased, although a white mist hovered in a great circle andthe chill of the wind was increasing steadily. He must have afire or die.
He resumed his search, plunging into the snow banks under thecottonwoods and other trees, and at last he brought out deadboughs, which he broke into short pieces and piled in a heap inthe center of the open space. The wood was damp on the outside,of course, but he expected nothing better and was not discouraged.Selecting a large, well-seasoned piece, he carefully cut away allthe wet outside with his strong hunting knife. Then he whittledoff large quantities of dry shavings, put them under the heap ofboughs, and took from his inside a pocket a small package oflucifer matches.
Dick struck one of the matches across the heel of his shoe. Nospark leaped up. Instead, his heart sank down, sank further,perhaps, than it had ever done before in his life. The match waswet. He took another from the pocket; it, too, was wet, and thenext and the next and all. The damp from the snow, melted by theheat of his body, had penetrated his buckskin coat, although inthe excitement of pursuit and combat he had not noticed it.
Dick was in despair. He turned to the snow a face no lesswhite. Had he escaped all the dangers of the Sioux for this? Tofreeze to death merely because he did not have a dry lucifermatch? The wind was still rising and it cut to his very marrow.Reality and imagination were allied, and Dick was almostoverpowered. He angrily thrust the wet little package of matchesback into the inside pocket of his coat--his border training ineconomy had become so strong that even in the moment of despairhe would throw away nothing--and his hand in the pocket cameinto contact with something else, small, hard, and polished.Dick instantly felt a violent revulsion from despair to hope.
The small object was a sunglass. That wagon train was wellequipped. Dick had made salvage of two sunglasses, and in amoment of forethought had given one to Albert, keeping the otherfor himself, each agreeing then and there to carry his always forthe moment of need that might come.
Dick drew out the sunglass and fingered it as one would a diamondof great size. Then he looked up. A brilliant sun was shiningbeyond white, misty clouds, but its rays came through them dimand weak. The mists or, rather, cloudy vapor might lift or thin,and in that chance lay the result of his fight for life. Whilehe waited a little, he stamped up and down violently, and threwhis arms about with energy. It did not have much effect. Thewet, cold, the raw kind that goes through, was in him and, despiteall the power of his will, he shivered almost continually. But hepersisted for a half hour and then became conscious of an increasingbrightness about him. The white mist was not gone, but it wasthinning greatly, and the rays of the sun fell on the snow brilliantand strong.
Dick took the dry stick again and scraped off particles of woodso fine that they were almost a power. He did not stop until hehad a little heap more than an inch high. Meanwhile, the sun'srays, pouring through the whitish mist, continued to grow fullerand stronger.
Dick carefully polished the glass and held it at the right anglebetween the touchwood, that is, the scrapings, and the sun. Therays passing through the glass increased many times in power andstruck directly upon the touchwood. Dick crouched over the woodin order to protect it from the wind, and watched, his breathconstricted, while his life waited on the chance.
A minute, two minutes, three minutes, five passed and then aspark appeared in the touchwood, and following it came a tinyflame. Dick shouted with joy and shifted his body a little toput shavings on the touchwood. An ill wind struck the feebleblaze, which was not yet strong enough to stand fanning intogreater life, and it went out, leaving a little black ash to markwhere the touchwood had been.
Dick's nerves were so much overwrought that he cried aloud again,and now it was a cry of despair, not of joy. He looked at thelittle black ash as if his last chance were gone, but his despairdid not last long. He seized the dry stick again and scraped offanother little pile of touchwood. Once more the sunglass andonce more the dreadful waiting, now longer than five minutes andnearer ten, while Dick waited in terrible fear, lest the sunitself should fail him, and go behind impenetrable clouds.
But the second spark came and after it, as before, followed thelittle flame. No turning aside now to allow a cruel chance to anill wind. Instead, he bent down his body more closely than everto protect the vital blaze, and, reaching out one cautious arm,fed it first with the smallest of the splinters, and then withthe larger in an ascending scale.
Up leaped the flames, red and strong. Dick's body could notwholly protect them now, but they fought for themselves. Whenthe wind shrieked and whipped against them, they waved backdefiance, and the more the wind whipped them, the higher andstronger they grew.
The victory was with the flames, and Dick fed them with wood,almost with his body and soul, and all the time as the wind bentthem over they crackled and ate deeper and deeper into the wood.He could put on damp wood now. The flames merely leaped out,licked up the melted snow with a hiss and a sputter, anddeveloped the stick in a mass of glowing red.
Dick fed his fire a full half hour, hunting continually in thesnow under the trees for brushwood and finding much of it, enoughto start a second fire at the far end of the sheltered place,with more left in reserve. He spent another half hour heaping upthe snow as a bulwark about his den, and then sat down betweenthe two fires to dry and warm, almost to roast himself.
It was the first time that Dick understood how much pleasurecould be drawn from a fire alone. What beautiful red and yellowflames! What magnificent glowing coals! What a glorious thingto be there, while the wind above was howling over the snowy andforlorn plain! His clothes dried rapidly. He no longershivered. The grateful warmth penetrated every fiber of him andit seemed strange now that he should have been in despair only anhour ago. Life was a wonderful and brilliant thing. There wasno ache in his bones, and the first tingling of his hands, ears,and nose he had relieved with the application of wet snow. Nowhe felt only comfort.
After a while Dick ate again of his jerked buffalo meat, and withthe food, warmth, and rest, he began to feel sleepy. He plungedinto the snow, hunted out more wood to add to his reserve, andthen, with the two blankets, the Indian's and his own, wrappedabout him, sat down where the heat of the two fires could reachhim from either side, and with a heap of the wood as a rest forhis back.
Dick did not really intend to go to sleep, but he had beenthrough great labors and dangers and had been awake long. Hedrew up one of the blankets until it covered all of his head andmost of his face, and began to gaze into the coals of the largerfire. The wind--and it was now so cold that the surface of thesnow was freezing--still whistled over him, but the blanketprotected his head from its touch. The whistle instead increasedhis comfort like the patter of rain on a roof to him who is dryinside.
The fire had now burned down considerable and the beds of coalswere large and beautiful. They enveloped Dick in their warmthand cheer and began to pain splendid words of hope for him. Hecould read what they said in glowing letters, but the singularfeeling of peace and rest deepened all the while. He wonderedvaguely that one could be so happy.
The white snow became less white, the red fire less red, and agreat gray mist came floating down over Dick's eyes. Up rose ashadowy world in which all things were vague and wavering. Thenthe tired lids dropped down, the gray mist gave way to a softblackness, and Dick sank peacefully into the valley of sleep.
The boy slept heavily hour after hour, with his hooded head sunkupon his knees, and his rifle lying across his lap, while overhim shrieked the coldest win
The fires ceased to flame and became great masses of glowingcoals that would endure long. The alcove was filled with thegrateful warmth, and when the sun was in the zenith, Dick stillslept, drawing long, regular breaths from a deep strong chest.The afternoon grew and waned, twilight came over the desolatesnow fields, the loom of the mountains was gone, and the twilightgave way to an icy night.
When Dick awoke it was quite dark, save for the heaps of coalswhich still glowed and threw out warmth. He felt at first alittle wonderment that he had slept so long, but he was notalarmed. His forethought and energy had provided plenty of woodand he threw on fresh billets. Once more the flames leaped up tobrighten and to cheer, and Dick, walking to the edge of his snowbank, looked over. The wind had piled up the snow theresomewhat higher before the surface froze, and across the barrierhe gazed upon some such scene as one might behold near the NorthPole. He seemed to be looking over ice fields that stretchedaway to infinity, and the wind certainly had a voice that was acompound of chill and desolation.
It was so solemn and weird that Dick was glad to duck down againinto his den, and resume the seat where he had slept so long. Heate a little and then tried to slumber again, but he had alreadyslept so much that he remained wide awake. He opened his eyesand let them stay open, after several vain efforts.
The moonlight now came out with uncommon brilliancy and theplain glittered. But it was the coldest moon that Dick hadever seen. He began to feel desolate and lonely again, and,since he could not sleep, he longed for something to do.Then the knowledge came to him. He put on fresh wood, andbetween firelight and moonlight he could see everythingclearly.
Satisfied with his light, Dick took from his pocket the Historyof the United States that was accompanying him so strangely inhis adventures, and began to study it. He looked once more atthe map of the Rocky Mountain territories, and judged that he wasin Southern Montana. Although his curiosity as to the exact spotin which he lay haunted him, there was no way to tell, andturning the leaves away from the map, he began to read.
It was chance, perhaps, that made him open at the story thatnever grows old to American youth--Valley Forge. It was not agreat history, it had no brilliant and vivid style, but thesimple facts were enough for Dick. He read once more of the lasthope of the great man, never greater than then, praying in thesnow, and his own soul leaped at the sting of example. He wasonly a boy, obscure, unknown, and the fate of but two rested withhim, yet he, too, would persevere, and in the end his triumphalso would be complete. He read no further, but closed the bookand returned it carefully to his pocket. Then he stared into thefire, which he built up higher that the cheerful light mightshine before him.
Dick did not hide from himself even now the dangers of hisposition. He was warm and sheltered for the present, he hadenough of the jerked buffalo to last several days, but sooner orlater he must leave his den and invade the snowy plain with itstop crust of ice. This snow might last two or three weeks or amonth. It was true that spring had come, but it was equallytrue, as so often happens in the great Northwest, that spring hadrefused to stay.
Dick tried now to see the mountains. The night was full ofbrilliant moonlight, but the horizon was too limited; it endedeverywhere, a black wall against the snow, and still speculatingand pondering, Dick at last fell asleep again.
When the boy awoke it was another clear, cold day, with the windstill blowing, and there in the northwest he joyously saw thewhite line of the mountains. He believed that he could recognizethe shape of certain peaks and ridges, and he fixed on a spot inthe blue sky which he was sure overhung Castle Howard.
Dick saw now that he had been going away from the mountains. Hewas certainly farther than he had been when he first met theSioux, and it was probable that he had been wandering then in anirregular course, with its general drift toward the southwest.The mountains in the thin, high air looked near, but hisexperience of the West told him that they were far, forty milesperhaps, and the tramp that lay before him was a mightyundertaking. He prepared for it at once.
He cut a stout stick that would serve as a cane, looked carefullyto the security of his precious sun glass, and bidding his littleden, which already had begun to wear some of the aspects of ahome, a regretful farewell, started through the deep snow.
He had wrapped his head in the Indian's blanket, coveringeverything but eyes, nose, and mouth, and he did not suffergreatly from the bitter wind. But it was weary work breaking theway through the snow, rendered all the more difficult by the icycrust on top. The snow rose to his waist and he broke it atfirst with his body, but by and by he used the stick, and thus heplodded on, not making much more than a mile an hour.
Dick longed now for the shelter of the warm den. The cold wind,despite the protection of the blanket, began to seek out thecrannies in it and sting his face. He knew that he was wet againfrom ankle to knee, but he struggled resolutely on, alike for thesake of keeping warm and for the sake of shortening thedistance. Yet there were other difficulties than those of thesnow. The ground became rough. Now and then he would gosuddenly through the treacherous snow into an old buffalo wallowor a deep gully, and no agility could keep him from falling onhis face or side. This not only made him weary and sore, but itwas a great trial to his temper also, and the climax came when hewent through the snow into a prairie brook and came out with hisshoes full of water.
Dick shivered, stamped his feet violently, and went on painfullybreaking his way through the snow. He began to have that dullstupor of mind and body again. He could see nothing on thesurface of the white plain save himself. The world was entirelydesolate. But if the Sioux were coming a second time he did notcare. He was amused at the thought of the Sioux coming. Therewere hidden away somewhere in some snug valley, and were toosensible to venture upon the plain.
Late in the afternoon the wind became so fierce, and Dick was sotired, that he dug a hole in the deepest snow bank he could find,wrapped the blankets tightly around him, and crouched there forwarmth and shelter. Then, when the muscles were at rest, hebegan to feel the cold all through his wet feet and legs. Hetook off his shoes and leggings inside the shelter of hisblankets, and chafed feet and legs with vigorous hands. Thisrestored warmth and circulation, but he was compelled after awhile to put on his wet garments again. He had gained a rest,however, and as he did not fear the damp so much while he wasmoving, he resumed the painful march.
The mountains seemed as far away as ever, but Dick knew that hehad come five or six miles. He could look back and see his ownpath through the deep snow, winding and zigzagging toward thenorthwest. It would wind and zigzag no matter how hard he triedto go in a straight line, and finally he refused to look back anymore at the disclosure of his weakness.
He sought more trees before the sun went down, as his glass couldno longer be of use without them, but found none. There could beno fire for him that night, and digging another deep hole in thesnow he slept the darkness through, nevertheless, warmly andcomfortably, like an Eskimo in his ice hut. He did not suffer asmuch as he had thought he would from his wet shoes and leggings,and in the night, wrapped within the blankets they dried on him.
Dick spent the second day in alternate tramps of an hour andrests of half an hour. He was conscious that he was growingweaker from this prodigious exertion, but he was not willing toacknowledge it. In the afternoon he came upon a grove ofcottonwoods and some undergrowth and he tried to kindle a fire,but the sun was not strong enough for his gla
He was awakened by the patter of something warm upon his face,and found that the day and rain had come together. Dick oncemore was struck to the heart with dismay. How could he standthis and the snow together? The plain would now run rivers ofwater and he must trudge through a terrible mire, worse even thanthe snow.
He imagined that he could see his mountains through the rainsheets, and he resumed his march, making no effort now to keepanything but his rifle and ammunition dry. He crossed more thanone brook, either permanent or made by the rain and melting snow,and sloshed though the water, ankle deep, but paid no attentionto it. He walked with intervals of rest all through the day andthe night, and the warm rain never ceased. The snow melted at aprodigious rate, and Dick thought several times in the night thathe heard the sound of plunging waters. These must be cataractsfrom the snow and rain, and he was convinced that he was near themountains.
The day came again, the rain ceased, the sun sprang out, the warmwinds blew, and there were the mountains. Perhaps the snow hadnot been so heavy on them as on the plain, but most of it wasgone from the peaks and slopes and they stood up, sheltering andbeautiful, with a shade of green that the snow had not been ableto take away.
The sight put fresh courage in Dick's heart, but he was veryweak. He staggered as he plowed through the mixed snow andmud, and plains and mountains alike were rocking about in amost uncertain fashion.
In a ravine at the foot of the mountains he saw a herd of abouttwenty buffaloes which had probably taken refuge there from thesnowstorm, but he did not molest them. Instead, he shook hisrifle at them and called out:
"I'm too glad to escape with my own life to take any of yours."
Dick's brain was in a feverish state and he was not whollyresponsible for what he said or did, but he began the ascent witha fairly good supply of strength and toiled on all the day. Henever knew where he slept that night, but he thinks it was in aclump of pines, and the next morning when he continued, he feltthat he had made a wonderful improvement. His feet were lightand so was his head, but he had never before seen slopes andpeaks and pines and ash doing a daylight dance. They whirledabout in the most eccentric manner, yet it was all exhilarating,in thorough accord with his own spirits, and Dick laughed aloudwith glee. What a merry, funny world it was! Feet and head bothgrew lighter. He shouted aloud and began to sing. Then he feltso strong and exuberant that he ran down one of the slopes,waving his cap. An elk sprang out of a pine thicket, stared amoment or two with startled eyes at the boy, and then dashed awayover the mountain.
Dick continued to sing, and waved his fur cap at the fleeingelk. It was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life.The whirling dance of mountain and forest became bewildering inits speed and violence. He was unable to keep his feet, andplunged forward into the arms of his brother, Albert. Theneverything sank away from him.