The Great Sioux Trail: A Story of Mountain and Plain

"What is it?"

"I told you once that I was as good a rifle shot as there was in the West, over a range of a million and a half square miles of mountain and plain, but I forgot, for a moment, about one exception. That exception is Giant Tom, here. He has one of the fine repeating rifles like ours, and whether with that or a muzzle loader he's quicker and surer than any other."

The face of Giant Tom turned red through his tan.

"See here, Jim Boyd, I'm a modest man, I'm no boaster, don't be telling wild tales about me to young William. I don't know him yet so well as I do you, an' I vally his good opinion."

"What I say is true every word of it. If his bullet would only carry that far he'd pick off a deer at five miles every time, and you needn't deny it, Giant Tom."

"Well, mebbe thar is some truth in what you say. When the Lord sawed me off a foot, so I'd hev to look up in the faces o' men whenever I talked to 'em, He looked at me an' He felt sorry fur the little feller He'd created. I'll have to make it up to him somehow, He said to Hisself, an' to he'p me along He give me muscles o' steel, not your cast steel, but your wrought steel that never breaks, then He put a mockin' bird in my throat, an' give me eyes like an eagle's an' nerves o' the steadiest. Last, He give me patience, the knowin' how to wait years an' years fur what I want, an' lookin' back to it now I think He more than made up fur the foot He sawed off. Leastways I ain't seen yet the man I want to change with, not even with you, Jim Boyd, tall as you think you are, nor with you, young William, for all your red cheeks an' your youth an' your heart full o' hope, though it ain't any fuller than mine."

"Long but mighty interesting," said Boyd. "Now, you can see our wickiup, over there in the open. We use it only when it rains. We'll help you take the packs off your mules and they can go grazing for themselves with our horses. You are not saying much about it, but I imagine that you and the mules, too, are pretty nearly worn out."

"Them's good mules, mighty good mules, but them an' me, I don't mind tellin' it to you, Jim Boyd, won't fight ag'inst restin' an' eatin' awhile."

"I'll light the fire and warm food for you," said Will. "It's a pleasure for me to do it. Sit down on the log and before you know it I'll have ready for you the finest lake trout into which you ever put your teeth."

"Young William, I accept your invite."

Will quickly had his fire going, and he served not only trout, but bear steaks and hot coffee to the Little Giant, who ate with a tremendous appetite.

"I've got provisions of my own in my packs," he said, "but sometimes the other feller's feed tastes a heap better than your own, an' this that you're offerin' me is, I take it, the cream o' the mountains, young William. A couple more o' them trout, if you don't mind, four or five more pounds o' that bear meat, an' a gallon o' coffee, if you've got it to spare. With them I think I kin make out. How are my mules gettin' on, Jim?"

"First rate. They've already introduced themselves to the horses, which have given their names, pedigrees and the stories of their lives. The mules also have furnished their histories, and, everybody being satisfied with everybody else's social station and past, they're now grazing together in perfect friendship, all six of 'em, just beyond that belt of woodland. And that being the case, I'll now give you the history of Will and myself, and I'll tell you about the biggest thing that we expect from the future."

"Go ahead," said the Little Giant, settling himself into a comfortable position.

CHAPTER IV

THE FLIGHT

Boyd had no mean powers as a narrator. He did not speak at first of their own immediate search, but alluded to the great belief that gold was scattered all through the West, although it seldom had a trace or trail leading to it. Then he spoke of Clarke's father, and what he had discovered, returning soon afterward to the civil war, in which he had fallen.

The Little Giant's eyes brightened with the flame of pursuit as the hunter talked. He who had sought gold for so many years without finding a particle of it was seeing it now, in pockets, and in almost solid ledges, beyond anything he had ever dreamed. But when Boyd told of the officer's death on the battlefield he sighed deeply and his face clouded.

"That's always the way," he said. "Jest when you've got it, it slips through your fingers, though I will say to you, young William, that it's not the lost gold only I'm mournin' 'bout. I'm sorry, too, for the death of your brave father."

"But, knowing the uncertainties of war, he took thought for the future," said Boyd. "He drew a map showing where his great mine is, and it's now in the possession of his son, Will, who sits before you."

The shadow left the face of the Little Giant, and his eyes glistened as Will produced the precious map, spreading it before him. After examining it carefully, he said:

"Ef you fight off many thousand Sioux, run through fifty or a hundred mountain blizzards, starve a dozen times, freeze twenty times an' stick to it three or four years you'll git that thar gold."

Then the Little Giant sighed, and his face clouded again – it had perhaps been years since his face had clouded twice in one day.

"You fellers are in great luck. I wish you well."

"We wish ourselves well," said Boyd, watching him closely.

A sudden thought seemed to occur to the Little Giant and his face brightened greatly.

"Do you two fellers want a hired man?" he asked.

"What kind of a hired man?" said Boyd.

"A likely feller, not very tall, but strong an' with a willin' heart, handy with spade an' shovel, understandin' hosses an' mules, an' able to whistle fur you gay an' lively tunes in the evenin', when you're all tired out from the day's work in the richest mine in the world."

"No, we don't want any hired man."

"Not even the kind I'm tellin' you 'bout?"

"Not even that, nor any other."

"An' both o' you hev got your minds plum' made up 'bout it?"

"Plumb made up."

The Little Giant's face fell for the third time in one day, an absolute record for him.

"I reckon thar ain't no more to say," he said.

Boyd was still watching him closely, but now his look was one of sympathy.

"We don't want any hired man," he said. "We've no use for hired men, but we do want something."

"What's that, Jim Boyd?"

"We want a partner."

"Why, each of you has got one. You hev young William and young William hez you."

"Well, young William and me have talked about this some, not much, but we came straight to the point. For such a big hunt as ours, through dangers piled on dangers, we need a third man, one that's got a strong heart and a cheerful soul, one that can shoot straighter than anybody else in the world, one whose picture, if I could take it, would be the exact picture of you, Tom Bent."

"But I ain't done nothin' to come in as a pardner."

"Neither did I, but Will took me in as a guide, hunter and fighting man. Don't you understand, Giant, that to get the Clarke gold we'll have to pay the price? We'll have to fight and fight, and we'll have to risk our lives a thousand times apiece. Why, in a case like this, you're worth a cool hundred thousand dollars."

"Then I come in fur a tenth – ef we git it."

"You come in for the same share as the rest, share and share alike, but I will say this to you, Little Giant, that we expect you to do the most tremendous fighting the world has ever seen, we expect you to wipe out whole bands of Sioux and Blackfeet by yourself while Will and me stand by and rest, and, after it's all over, we expect you to sit down and whistle an hour or two, until you soothe us to sleep."

"Then, on them conditions I come in as a full pardner," said Giant Tom, and he grinned with pleasure, the most amazing grin that Will had ever seen. It spread slowly across his face, until the great crack seemed to reach almost to each ear, revealing a splendid set of powerful white teeth, without a flaw. Above the chasm two large blue eyes glistened and glowed with delight. It was all so infectious, so contagious that both Will and Boyd grinned in return. They were not only securing for a perilous quest a man who was beyond compare, but they were also giving the most exquisite mental pleasure to a likable human being.

"It shorely does look," said the Little Giant, "ez ef my luck wuz goin' to hev a turn. At any rate, I'll be with you boys, in the best company I've had fur years."

"You and the mules rest a day," said Boyd, "and then we'll be off. We'll keep to the mountains for a while, and then we'll curve back to the plains, where we'll take up the line laid down on the map, and where the going is easier. Maybe we can dodge the Sioux."

The Little Giant made his bed under one of the trees, and he slept very soundly that night, eating prodigiously in the morning. The three were discussing the advisability of leaving at once or of waiting until the dusk for departure, when Will, happening to look toward the east, saw what he took at first to be a tiny cloud in the clear blue sky. He carried his glasses over his shoulders, and he raised them at once. The hunter and the Little Giant had noticed his act.