Read Online Son of the Hawk by Charles G. West - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles G. West
Ads: Link
four hours’ ride, that way.” He pointed toward the northwest. “I’ll show you.”
Buck scratched his head, thinking hard in an effort to recall what valley Bull Hump might possibly be referring to. The somber Sioux scout was not very adept at transmitting information. But Buck figured it couldn’t be many miles from where they stood, if it was no more than three or four hours away, because itwould be slow travel in the direction he pointed out. It would require following a series of valleys and canyons to make their way through the high hills.
Within half an hour, the troopers were in the saddle and moving out behind the stoic Sioux scout. Buck rode beside Luke Austen and Sergeant Post, a few paces behind the Indian. Annie and Robert Dimeron were next in line before the column of troopers. There had been no rain for weeks, promising another dusty ride, so Annie and Dimeron rode near the head of the column to avoid most of the dust. Leaving the grassy knoll, they followed a dry canyon through a low line of mountains. After approximately two hours’ ride, Bull Hump turned back east, following a narrow cross canyon that appeared to make a blind turn some two hundred yards ahead.
Buck stood up in his stirrups, peering intently toward the point where the canyon turned. “I ain’t too sure about this,” he mumbled, wondering if the Indian had made a mistake in his directions. He nudged his horse and moved up beside Bull Hump. “You sure this is the canyon you found? It don’t look like it leads anywhere.”
If Bull Hump was insulted by Buck’s lack of confidence in his sense of direction, it did not register on his face. He only gazed intently at Buck for a few moments as if considering the old scout’s question. In fact, Bull Hump’s answer surprised Buck. “Maybe you are right. It was dark when I found it yesterday. Before we go any farther, maybe it is best if I ride on ahead and make sure this is the way.”
“Well . . .” Buck hesitated, “all right.” He pulled his horse to a halt and turned back to tell Luke what the Sioux scout had said, shaking his head in wonder.
That might be the first Injun I ever met that couldn’t find his way outta his own tipi.
Luke halted the column before proceeding any farther up the narrow canyon, and they sat and watched the Sioux scout until he disappeared around the bend. “I guess a lot of these canyons and draws look alike, even to an Indian,” Luke offered in defense of his scout. He knew what Buck was thinking, though, and he himself was beginning to wonder about Bull Hump’s ability.
Buck inwardly scoffed at the lieutenant’s remark. None of these canyons looked alike to him. To Buck, the greater part of his life spent in the mountains, every canyon, draw, coulee, gulch, and gully had its own distinguishing characteristics. They might be small and undefined by the casual eye, but a real mountain man could tell one from another right enough. He was about to share that opinion with Luke when Bull Hump reappeared at the turn of the canyon, and signaled for them to come on.
“Looks like he knew where he was going after all,” Luke commented as he signaled his troopers into motion.
“Shit,” Buck mumbled too low to be heard as he gave his horse a tap with his heels.
Bull Hump waited at the bend of the canyon, watching stolidly until the soldiers were within fifty yards. Then he wheeled his pony and disappeared again around the turn. Buck went on ahead at a fast trot to catch up with the Indian. The canyon’s walls closed in even more before the bend, and when he made the turn, there was no sign of Bull Hump anywhere. Buck was confused for only a moment before he realized what was happening, then immediately alarmed when he glanced ahead and found himself in a box canyon, the end of it no more that four or five hundred yards away.
At once, he wheeled his horse and raced back towarn the lieutenant. It was too late. As his horse skidded around the
Buck scratched his head, thinking hard in an effort to recall what valley Bull Hump might possibly be referring to. The somber Sioux scout was not very adept at transmitting information. But Buck figured it couldn’t be many miles from where they stood, if it was no more than three or four hours away, because itwould be slow travel in the direction he pointed out. It would require following a series of valleys and canyons to make their way through the high hills.
Within half an hour, the troopers were in the saddle and moving out behind the stoic Sioux scout. Buck rode beside Luke Austen and Sergeant Post, a few paces behind the Indian. Annie and Robert Dimeron were next in line before the column of troopers. There had been no rain for weeks, promising another dusty ride, so Annie and Dimeron rode near the head of the column to avoid most of the dust. Leaving the grassy knoll, they followed a dry canyon through a low line of mountains. After approximately two hours’ ride, Bull Hump turned back east, following a narrow cross canyon that appeared to make a blind turn some two hundred yards ahead.
Buck stood up in his stirrups, peering intently toward the point where the canyon turned. “I ain’t too sure about this,” he mumbled, wondering if the Indian had made a mistake in his directions. He nudged his horse and moved up beside Bull Hump. “You sure this is the canyon you found? It don’t look like it leads anywhere.”
If Bull Hump was insulted by Buck’s lack of confidence in his sense of direction, it did not register on his face. He only gazed intently at Buck for a few moments as if considering the old scout’s question. In fact, Bull Hump’s answer surprised Buck. “Maybe you are right. It was dark when I found it yesterday. Before we go any farther, maybe it is best if I ride on ahead and make sure this is the way.”
“Well . . .” Buck hesitated, “all right.” He pulled his horse to a halt and turned back to tell Luke what the Sioux scout had said, shaking his head in wonder.
That might be the first Injun I ever met that couldn’t find his way outta his own tipi.
Luke halted the column before proceeding any farther up the narrow canyon, and they sat and watched the Sioux scout until he disappeared around the bend. “I guess a lot of these canyons and draws look alike, even to an Indian,” Luke offered in defense of his scout. He knew what Buck was thinking, though, and he himself was beginning to wonder about Bull Hump’s ability.
Buck inwardly scoffed at the lieutenant’s remark. None of these canyons looked alike to him. To Buck, the greater part of his life spent in the mountains, every canyon, draw, coulee, gulch, and gully had its own distinguishing characteristics. They might be small and undefined by the casual eye, but a real mountain man could tell one from another right enough. He was about to share that opinion with Luke when Bull Hump reappeared at the turn of the canyon, and signaled for them to come on.
“Looks like he knew where he was going after all,” Luke commented as he signaled his troopers into motion.
“Shit,” Buck mumbled too low to be heard as he gave his horse a tap with his heels.
Bull Hump waited at the bend of the canyon, watching stolidly until the soldiers were within fifty yards. Then he wheeled his pony and disappeared again around the turn. Buck went on ahead at a fast trot to catch up with the Indian. The canyon’s walls closed in even more before the bend, and when he made the turn, there was no sign of Bull Hump anywhere. Buck was confused for only a moment before he realized what was happening, then immediately alarmed when he glanced ahead and found himself in a box canyon, the end of it no more that four or five hundred yards away.
At once, he wheeled his horse and raced back towarn the lieutenant. It was too late. As his horse skidded around the
Similar Books
