Our fire had burned low. I could see the red glow of the coals lying just over there. Around me there were furtive stirrings as the others took their places.
Yet when it came we were startled, for they came with a rush and wild warwhoops intended to frighten and demoralize. That such an attack out of the night would have that effect was beyond question, for ready as we were, it was a shock to hear them.
They rushed into the camp, and as one man, we fired. At least two Indians dropped. I think there were more, but in the vague light and with surrounding trees and brush, it was difficult to see.
My own rifle was almost instantly loaded, yet I held my fire a moment to give the others a start on reloading, not wanting all to be empty at once. Shanagan fired his pistol, and then I fired and instantly reloaded… and then there were no targets.
The attackers had vanished as swiftly as they had come.
A body or two lay sprawled near our fire, but that was all, and there was no sound.
The sky was turning gray, with a faint touch of lemon light along the eastern horizon, and far above us a wisp of cloud blushed faintly.
We waited behind our fallen timber, watching the light grow. Slowly the blackness took on shape and form, the shapes became trees, bushes, and rocks, and on the ground a dead Indian. From under the bushes, I saw the feet of another.
Still we waited, and as the light grew, we could see the plain was empty of life. At last Degory Kemble came out from the redoubt and went to the nearest of the fallen Indians.
“Ute,” he said. “This is far north for them.
Mostly they’re mountain Indians.” “From Spanish country?” I asked.
“They claim it, but so did the French. I figure it for Louisiana Territory. The border should be south of there.” “It will need some time to decide that,” I said.
“And meanwhile?” “We’ll hunt there, and trap for beaver, although it would be better for all of us if we could establish relations with Santa Fe. They need the trade and so do we.” “They’re a long way from Mexico City,” Talley agreed. “Saint Louis is closer.” One by one we emerged and scouted our small patch of woods. No Indians were left. We found a spot of blood or two that seemed to indicate a wound, and a dropped rifle of Spanish make. One of the dead Indians had an old musket; the other had been armed with a bow and arrows.
We wasted no time, but packed our horses and moved out, leaving the Indians as they were. Bob Sandy took the scalps for himself. Talley rode point, Kemble twenty yards to the left, and I an equal distance to the right. Ebitt and Sandy followed Kemble and me at about ten yards’ distance, with Heath and Shanagan to bring up the rear.
We presented no good target, yet had a chance to scout the country as we rode. We started at a walk, moving to a trot after a few hundred yards, holding it for some distance.
Except for my own, our horses were prairie-bred mustangs and they held the pace easily. My horse was of better breed but lacked the staying quality of the once wild horses, and was accustomed to better feed.
It was obvious that my horse must adjust to the change in diet and traveling conditions or I must find another one. In time, if allowed to run free, he might fit himself to the country … as I must do also.
Physically my condition had never been bad, and my muscles and skin were hardening to the work. Mentally it was another story. I had fought when attacked, acquitting myself well, and I believe those with whom I traveled believed me adequate for the journey before us. Such was not the case.
As a matter of fact, I had no stomach for killing. I considered myself a reasonably civilized man, and killing was wrong. Nor did I decide this by simple biblical standards, for the Bible, Hebrew scholars had assured me, did not say, “Thou shalt not kill,” but strictly interpreted it says, “Thou shalt not commit murder,” which is quite another thing.
Yet it was not the Mosaic law that guided me, but my own intelligence. I had no right to deprive another human being of his life, nor had I the intention of adding to the violence that was around me. On the other hand, the Indians I had killed would surely have killed me had I not been more fortunate than they.
Nevertheless, the destruction of the Indians did not please me, and I hoped to avoid it in the future.
The problem was that I was a civilized man, but I now existed in an uncivilized world. The standards by which I thought were standards of the ordered world I had left behind. Much had been said in both England and our own eastern states about how we treated the “poor” Indian.
The few I had seen on the plains did not look poor. They were strong, able men.
warriors.
Warriors.
That was the key word. These men did not consider themselves poor. They were proud men, carrying their heads high, walking tall, the equal of any man. What they demanded was not pity, but respect.
The problem was that two kinds of men had now come face-to-face, two kinds of men with two kinds of standards, different scruples, different responses.
Being a civilized, cultured human being was all very well, but I must hedge my bets a little or I would be a dead civilized, cultured human being.
It needs two to make a peace, but only one to make an attack.
Humanity, I decided, must be tempered with reason, and reason with reality.
I said as much to Solomon Talley. He glanced at me and I am afraid he was amused.
“I’m no scholar, Chantry, and I’ve done no reasoning on the question. The first time an Indian notched an arrow at me, I shot him, and I’m almighty pleased that I hit him.” And so it was they began calling me by the name that was to stick through many years. I was no longer Ronan Chantry except at intervals. I became known as Scholar.
Part of it was gentle derision, but another part was, I think, respect.
One thing I learned quickly, in those following weeks. The university of the wilderness that I now attended had simple tests but they came often.
One lived if one passed the tests, but to get a failing grade was to leave one’s scalp on some brave’s belt.
On Talley’s advice we deviated from our planned course and angled off to the north, taking us farther from the disputed territory, and we held to low ground, trying to keep our route unknown to the enemy. For we had no doubt that Captain Fernandez and his Indian allies would be observing us and planning another attack. Nor could we hope to be so successful again. The captain, although our enemy, was no fool. Any officer in his situation might easily have overrated his strength and our cunning. Both he and his Indian friends now knew us better.
Where.were the mountains? They lay somewhere to the westward, but not one of us had seen them, and the endlessness of the plains was beyond belief. The land was higher now, and much drier. We had come into the shortgrass country, and the prickly pear we had originally come upon from time to time now were frequent.
Water was scarce. Many of the streams were dry, the waterholes only trampled mud. Then suddenly we saw the buffalo.
First there was the sound of them, a low, shuffling sound that we thought was the wind, yet a strange, muffled muttering as well. We topped the rise, and they were before us, thousands upon thousands of them, grazing and moving.
“Hold your fire,” I suggested to the others.
“I can reload and we’ll kill just two.” “What about the hides? Ain’t they worth something?” “A buffalo hide, at least the hide of a bull, will weigh nigh to fifty pounds. We’re in no shape to pack them.” While the others held their fire in the event our enemies were near, I rode forward, dismounted near a rock, and using a shoulder of it for a rest, killed two buffalo.
The others seemed not to notice, yet when we rode down to cut up our kill, they moved off.
And then I saw the Indians.
They were several hundred yards off and had been approaching the buffalo from the other flank, the wind, light as it was, being due out of the north.
I saw an Indian rise suddenly from the ground and throw off a buffalo robe. Using it as cover, he had been slowly creeping up to the herd to make a kill, and our moving up had caused him to lose his chance. His disgust was obvious.