Read Online The Ferguson Rifle by Louis L’Amour - Free Book Online

blood.”
    â€œOnly of our enemies,” he said.
    So we rode into camp together, and dismounted by our fire.
    â€œSee anything?” Kemble asked.
    â€œA few buffalo … nothing more.” I cut myself a chunk of meat and began to roast it over the fire. Walks-By-Night had gone down to his own people.
    The meat smelled good, and I was hungry. I thrust a stick into the coals and a few sparks went up … disappeared.
    I began to eat my meat and listen to the campfire talk.

CHAPTER 7
______________
    W E WERE NOTICEABLY higher when we moved out in the morning, the air was cooler, and the vegetation was changing to shorter grass, drought-resisting plants. Yet it was the Cheyennes that interested me most of all, and whenever possible I led Buffalo Dog or Walks-By-Night to talk of their people.
    The horse had revolutionized the Cheyenne way of life, and once the horse had arrived in numbers, the Indians had almost ceased from planting, and had become meat eaters, buffalo hunters. Their way of life was in many ways easier as well as more dramatic. The Cheyenne lived upon the herds much as did the wolf, but the wolf could only kill the poorer stock while the Indian looked for fatter, healthier animals. The white man, when he came in numbers, would do the same.
    Yet much of their killing was wasteful, for often the Indians would stampede a herd over a cliff, killing great numbers, although much of the meat would inevitably rot. Such a way of life could support only a limited number of Indians, but constant warfare and occasional blood feuds kept down their ranks.
    In the distance we could see a faint line along the horizon and gradually I began to realize it was a far-off mountain range. Excitement grew within me. Soon we would be there and settled down to the business of trapping.
    Suddenly Shanagan came racing to me. “Scholar!
Look!
”
    Atop a low line of hills to the south, several warriors had appeared. They sat their horses, watching us.
    Sliding my rifle from its sheath, I made ready for an attack. But Buffalo Dog went racing by us and out upon the plain, calling out to the strange warriors. Slowly, they began to ride down off the ridge and we saw there were but four.
    Walks-By-Night was beside me. “They come. Our people.”
    The four, riding a wide open line, rifles at the ready, came down the slope to meet Buffalo Dog. They drew together, stopped, and there was much talk. Meanwhile we had halted the column.
    Now they came toward us—four warriors, one of them scarcely able to sit his saddle.
    We had the story before the sun was high. They had come up to the Ute encampment, found it empty. Warily they had approached up a draw. Two lodges stood there, a fire was burning, nobody was in sight.
    A rifle lay across a bundle of furs; a pot was over the fire; there were saddles and equipment lying about. The horses were tethered among the trees back of the lodges. Emerging from the draw, the Cheyennes were sure they had come upon a camp where the Utes were gone buffalo hunting.
    They went into the camp. One Cheyenne stooped to lift the rifle; another started for the lodge nearest him. Suddenly there was a burst of fire. Three Cheyennes dropped where they stood, the others scattered, running. Another fell as he ran.
    Hidden in their lodges, with holes made in the buffalo hide tepees from which they could fire, the Utes had waited until the Cheyennes were in their camp and at point-blank range.
    The Cheyennes had recovered some of their horses, most of which had been lost in the chase that followed.
    Was Fernandez with them? He was.
    â€œLikely it was his idea,” Sandy commented. “That’s one we owe him.”
    â€œThe Utes need no ideas,” Talley replied. “I never knew an Indian yet who needed help figuring an ambush. They dread an ambush more than anything, and use it themselves when they can.”
    â€œI’m for cuttin’ loose,” Bob Sandy said.