Red Plume

Chapter I The Sioux Outbreak

It came about that in the summer of 1862, when many friends of the Union almost despaired of the suc¬ cess of our arms, and the most important battles in the field had gone against us, that a vicious outbreak oc¬ curred among the Sioux Indians of Minnesota. These people, known also as the Dakotas, are the most power¬ ful tribe on the continent, and for a time they spread death and destruction, and caused a reign of terror over a large portion of one of the fairest States of the Union.

The outbreak occurred in the month of August, and was so sudden that, as is generally the case, hundreds of settlers were caught wholly unprepared. Recruit¬ ing for the Union armies was going on at the time, and after awhile, when other troops had been sent into the State, the revolt was quelled and summary punishment visited upon the most guilty

Near , the central part of Minnesota is a romantic sheet of water about three miles in length, known as : ' 1

Man-yo-han or Sleeping Water. On one shore stood the dwelling of grim old Captain Swarthausen, a vet¬ eran, who was at home just recovered from a wound received on the Peninsula. He had no family of his own, his housekeeper being Mrs. Muggins, whose hus¬ band looked after outside matters. The captain’s nephew, George Havens, was fighting the battles of his country with the Army of the Cumberland.

On the opposite side of the lake was the home of John Fielding, a young Quaker, and his negro servant Pompey. The two were actively preparing the house for the parents of Fielding, who intended to remove thither from Philadelphia in the coming autumn. Close at hand, was the residence of the Prescotts, in¬ cluding the head of the family, Hugh, who was a wealthy consumptive, his wife, two daughters, Lillian and Edith, and two negro servants, Cato and Elijah, or “ Lige,” as he was always called. Dinah, the cook, was the mother of Cato, who naturally was her pet and pride.

It so happened that on this memorable day in Au¬ gust, the Prescott household was increased by still an¬ other in the person of Augustus Pipkins, a Chicago insurance clerk, and cousin of the young ladies, whose most puzzling problem, after his visit had lasted several days, was to determine which of the fair sisters he ad¬ mired the most.

The Sioux outbreak reached Sleeping Water in a most peculiar manner. The younger members of the

Prescott household had gone for a sail on the lake, and the three lusty negro servants were lazily fishing on the banks of the lake, when a dozen Indians, in their war paint and fully armed, came from the wood as silently as so many shadows and made all three prisoners.

It need not be said that there was consternation, for no one expected mercy, but the incident was accom¬ panied by another whose full significance was not un¬ derstood until sometime afterward. One of the Sioux, known as Jarrik, an under chief, greeted the negro Lige with a grin, and, taking him to one side, talked with him in broken English. In truth, the two were old acquaintances, and the African, surly and reserved by nature, had furnished the chief more than once with whiskey. -■

While Cato and Pompey were bewailing their fate, Lige suddenly made a break for liberty, heading straight for the Prescott house, where young Fielding had gone. Several shots were fired at the fugitive, but they must have been poorly aimed, for he was un¬ touched, and being admitted by Mr. Prescott, told his startling story, whose full meaning was instantly un¬ derstood by all.

Meanwhile Captain Swarthausen had exchanged shots a short time before with the same party of ma¬ rauders, so that he knew what was in the air.

The house in which Mr. Prescott and his family had dwelt during the last two years, was partly an exotic and partly a native of Minnesota.

In the first place he had had a neat little one-story cottage made in St. Louis. When this was put up in proper shape, he had it taken down and set up again on the shore of Sleeping Water Lake, it going through an experience very similar to the habitation of Captain Swarthausen.

It had stood here but a short time when he discov¬ ered that it was altogether inadequate to his wants. So he brought carpenters and masons from the nearest set¬ tlement, and erected an addition so large and roomy that it was really the main building, being two stories in height, cut up into convenient apartments, and con¬ structed in the best style possible.

That portion of this Louse which migrated from St. Louis, of course was simply frame,pwhich barely pro¬ tected them from freezing during the first fearful win¬ ter that they spent in their new home. To prevent the recurrence of their suffering, every part of the building was “ filled in ” with stone, and the red pipestone clay, which is so plentiful in this State.

At the same time Mr. Prescott did not forget that his family incurred some danger in this solitude. Not that he ever dreamed of passing through anything like the Minnesota Massacre, for, had he believed such a catas¬ trophe possible, he would have been the last man to re¬ move his defenceless ones to their new home; but he knew that there were wild animals, which, when driven by hunger, were daring and ferocious; and evil men sometimes tramped through the border counties, ^.nd were not the most pleasant companions to encounter.

With these facts staring him in the face, his house was built. All the lower windows were protected by massive wooden shutters, and the doors were bullet¬ proof, and secured by such a series of bolts and locks that it was far easier for a man to cut and hack his way in than to burst them from their fastenings, or to suc¬ ceed in picking the locks and bolts.

Of course this building, although the strongest one that stood along the lake, was not a fort, and could not be made to answer for one. It was vulnerable from al¬ most any direction, and the dry, seasoned pine which entered largely into its composition made it as com¬ bustible as touch wood. The flames could be easily started, and when once under way would rage with re¬ sistless fury.

Then there were no means to stand a siege, even if the element of fire should*not be employed by the In¬ dians. There was a small quantity of food in the house, and not enough water to last more than a few days.

The Sioux really could not have chosen a more fa¬ vorable time to attack the settlers. Captain Swarthausen was shut up in his own building, not only unable to get out and render any assistance, but sorely needing it himself. Pipkins and his two cousins were on the other side of the lake, while the two negroes were already prisoners in the hands of their enemies.

The forces were scattered and divided, and a half dozen Sioux, with a little circumspection, could fall upon them in detail and destroy them all.

Captain Swarthausen and Mr. Prescott could be easily burned out, Pipkins and the girls were defence¬ less, and could not hope long to escape discovery, so that so far as human foresight was concerned, there could be but one result to this expedition of the red¬ skins.

The barn belonging to the Prescott house was situ¬ ated within a stone’s throw, directly back of it. Noth¬ ing could prevent the Indians from entering and firing this, and should the wind blow toward the lake, the house would be certain to follow its fate.

Indeed the sagacious Quaker had detected unmis¬ takable signs of the Sioux having already ensconced | themselves there; but, as there was not a breath of air J stirring—the zephyr which had wafted the boat across j

the lake having entirely died away—there was little ' fear of a conflagration breaking out at present.

The long summer afternoon was wearing away, and ! night—dreaded night—the time when the treacherous red man steals to his work, was close at hand.

The sky was clear, but the moon was in its last quar¬ ter, and afforded so faint a light, that there was good ^ cause for our beleaguered friends to fear the worst. No one dared hope that their enemies would remain idle during the favorable darkness so close at hand.

It was not strange that two men should come into the thoughts of the whites—two men whom, of all oth¬ ers, they longed to see.

These were Red Plume, a friendly Sioux, and Jubal

Judkins, or “ Old Jud,” as he was more generally known. These strange characters were companions who had often visited the Lake settlements, and had al¬ ways received such hospitable treatment, that they formed a strong attachment for the settlers, and both Lillian and Edith had been the recipients of many curi¬ ous mementoes and trophies of the chase from their dusky friend, and his hardly less dusky comrade.

Was it not more than probable that these men knew of the uprising of the Sioux? And if they did, would they not appear on the ground in time to befriend their imperilled friends.

These were the questions which suggested them¬ selves, and to which Captain Swarthausen, Mr. Pres¬ cott and Fielding could not fail to give favorable an¬ swers.

As yet none of them had any idea that Red Plume was already on the scene of action, and was just getting to work. It was “ Greek against Greek/'’ and there was to be no child’s play.

Chapter II The Canoe Under The Bank

Everything within the Prescott house was speedily put in the best condition for defence. Mrs. Prescott, quiet, calm and self-possessed, never speaking above an ordinary conversational tone, moved hither and thither, carrying her great grief with her, and doing the hun¬ dred little things which are none the less necessary' and inspiring confidence by her freedom from the appear¬ ance of anything like despair.

Dinah had an immense kettle of water boiling on the stove.

“ All I wants is de chance,’’ said she, in explanation, “ and if I doesn’t scald some of dem niggers—dat’s all. Ef dey don’t bring my baby back, I’ll bile ’em all.”

There were four rifles in the house, and an abun¬ dance of ammunition. Prescott and Fielding, as a mat¬ ter of course, were each provided with one, although it was to be remarked that the young Friend thus far had remained true to his faith and had not discharged his weapon, although the opportunity of effectually doing so had not been lacking.

Lige was also given a gun, and he seemed eager for a chance to help punish the marauders.

“ All I wants is de chance,” said he, “ and I’ll pay ’em for takin’ Pomp and Cato, and ’suitin’ me.”

“ I don’t doubt it,” replied Mr. Prescott; “do your duty, Lige, for you can see that our safety is yours, and if you behave like a man I will not forget you.”

“ Yes, sah,” was the hearty response.

When Mrs. Prescott came to the upper story, and took the position assigned her, the whole four sides of the house, or more properly the different directions from which an assault of the Indians was possible, were under the surveillance of those within the building.

There were really but the two points from which they looked for danger—the rear toward the barn, and the west, but, as apparently the most unlikely points were aptest to be the very ones selected by the redskins, Fielding counselled all to relax none of their vigilance for an instant.

In the meantime, the young Friend had taken his station at an upper window, which commanded an un¬ obstructed view of the lake, and with a small but pow¬ erful field-glass, was anxiously searching for the sail boat in which Pipkins and his cousins had set out upon their pleasure excursion.

“ Verily there is danger on every hand,” he mut¬ tered, as simultaneous with the spiteful crack of a rifle, the bullet cut a clean hole through the window pane, and passed within an inch of his face. “ It behooves me to be more careful.”

Moving a short distance back, he succeeded in pro-

IO tecting his face, while he retained the same view of the lake as before.

He first ran his eye rapidly over the water and shore and along the island near its centre, but not a sign of life was visible. Everything was drowsy and seem¬ ingly at rest on this hazy afternoon.

The yellow pine of Captain Swarthausen’s little cot¬ tage could be partly seen through the shrubbery, but that too was silent, and devoid of all appearance of life.

The broad, silvery head of the Crescent River, where it started on its wanderings for the Arctic Sea, was the only break in the wall of green vegetation which en¬ compassed Sleeping Water.

Failing to see anything with the naked eye, Fielding raised his glass and scrutinized the distant land with a closer gaze. He at first directed it toward Captain Swarthausen’s cottage, and plainly discerned the form of an Indian creeping under the bank, as if he were seeking a new position. The Quaker watched him a few minutes until he disappeared in the undergrowth which was so plentiful here, as everywhere else.

He now directed his glass toward the river, and a flush lit up his face as he distinctly saw a stealthy move¬ ment under the bank.

At first, even with the aid of the telescope, he was unable to make out what it was; but as it slowly crept along under the partial shelter of the undergrowth, he made out that it was a small Indian Canoe in which a single person was seated.

Whoever this individual was, it was plain that he in-

II tended to conceal his movements, and so skillfully did he manage it, that when Fielding removed his glass and looked at it with the naked eye, he could detect nothin at all.

Still he crept along until one-fourth the circumfer¬ ence of the lake had been passed, by which time the ca¬ noe was less than a mile distant. Here the man halted, as if fearful of coming any further.

All this time Fielding was doing his utmost to detect the identity of the stranger, but as yet he had not suc¬ ceeded, for only a slight portion of his body was re¬ vealed, and that only now and then, the boat seemingly impelled by a power of its own.

Only the stern of the canoe could now be seen, and for a long time that was as stationary as the island in the centre of the lake. Then the Friend distinctly saw a hunter’s cap raised over the gunwale of the canoe, and slowly waved to and fro, as one would swing a bell.

This was done only once or twice, and then all was motionless again; but it was enough. The eye of the young man sparkled as he laid down his glass, and he walked back and forth in no little excitement.

“ Most grievously am I mistaken, if that is not the hunter Judkins, and he is seeking to communicate with the man, Red Plume. We have need of such friends as these.”

He picked up his glass again, but at this moment Mrs. Prescott touched his shoulder, and whispered:

“ I am afraid something wrong is going on. I don’t like the actions of Lige; please come with me.”

Chapter III Red Plume

“ What dost thou see?” asked Fielding without moving out of the room.

“ I think Lige is signalling to some one in the wood.”

“ I placed him there because I thought he would be less likely to see the heathen than thy husband; but truly I was mistaken. Do thou remain here while I go to him, but let me caution thee against approaching the window too close. It was a narrow escape I had from my rashness.”

It was the wish of the young Quaker to come in upon Lige so softly as to detect him in the act, whatever it might be, but the fellow caught sight of him, and was as mum and motionless as the furniture of the room.

| “ Hast thou discovered anything?” he inquired, as the African looked around at him.

“ Nuffin.”

“ Have seen no indications of the heathen ? ”

“ Can’t ’zactly say dat, Mister Fielding.”

“ Pray what is it? ” asked the latter, his conscience pricking him at his misjudging the fellow.

“ I’ve seen two or free of dem sneakin’ round de

*3 barn, and dere’s lots of dem in it. ’Spect dar’s whar de trouble will begin.”

“ Thou talkest sensibly; keep a bright look-out.”

“ Yes, sah.”

Fielding passed to the room of Mr. Prescott, who, with rifle in hand, was cautiously peering out of the window commanding the approach of the wood, he having changed places with Lige, who had the rear of the house under his guardianship.

The young man was in a dilemma. Fully aware of the violent temper of Mr. Prescott, he dreaded to arouse it by awakening his suspicion of his servant, and, at the same time, it seemed necessary to put him on his guard.

Furthermore, he wished to place the negro under surveillance, without having him suspect it. The few words of conversation that had just passed between Lige and Fielding had almost, but not quite, convinced the latter of his honesty, and he desired to have the point cleared up, and to dissipate that dreadful sense of insecurity which was constantly creeping over him.

He exchanged a few words with Mr. Prescott, inci¬ dentally mentioning that the Sioux were undoubtedly scattered and concealed, so as almost entirely to sur¬ round the house, and that they would not be long in discovering an unguarded point.

This was all that he felt safe in saying, when he re¬ turned to his station; for he had a strong desire to watch the movements of that canoe that had come out of Crescent River, and moved so cautiously around the coast of the lake.

“ I trust thou misjudged thy servant,” said he, as he returned to his station. “ He seems to be on the alert, and quite trusty.”

“ It may be so, John, but I am sorry that he was al¬ lowed to re-enter the house. I would rather have him on the outside.”

“ Do thou endeavor to look in upon him when con¬ venient, and if thou seest anything wrong, instantly ap¬ prise me of it.”

With this admonition the two separated, Mrs. Pres¬ cott going to the end room, which was her own bed¬ chamber, and was at the opposite side of the house from where her husband was stationed.

Directing his field-glass toward the point where he had seen the signal from the canoe, he was not a little surprised and disappointed to find that the latter was gone.

The place was so fixed in his mind that he could not mistake it, and there was nothing to be seen. Old Jud, the hunter, had changed his position in the few minutes during which Fielding had been absent from his post.

The sun was still an hour high, and his slant rays penetrating through the woods in many places, lit up the surface of the lake, giving it a glowing splendor like unto molten gold.

Turning his gaze toward the house of Swarthausen, everything was seen to be as lifeless as if no living

*5 being were within miles. If the family were still be¬ sieged, it was with the same persistent quiet with which the Prescotts themselves were surrounded. The Sioux were probably waiting for night, before striking what they intended to be the final blow.

Fielding was gazing in this wandering manner, not knowing where to look for the canoe, but supposing that it had been drawn so far up under the bank as to make it invisible, when he made another discovery, that gave him greater wonder than before.

From the source of the Crescent River, where the lake poured out its surplus water, he saw another boat issue, following precisely in the track of the canoe, which had preceded it by something over an hour.

As he scrutinized this, however, he observed that it was of different construction, and considerably larger than the small vessel, and like that, contained but a sin¬ gle person.

The wonderment of the Quaker was not a little in¬ creased when he recognized the boat as the identical one in which Pipkins and the girls had crossed the lake. The sail and even the small mast was gone—proof that the individual controlling it was taking every means to avoid observation.

Fielding’s first thought was, that the party had been captured, and this was one of their captors proceeding to some point with the boat.

But he could not satisfy himself on this point, as he could think of no reason for such a course being puri6 sued. There must be some other explanation of the singular proceeding.

Steadily the large boat followed in the wake of the smaller, taking precisely the same course, but checking its speed before it had proceeded to so great a distance.

Now and then the Friend resumed his glass, and at¬ tempted to follow the movements of the boat with his eye, but found it so difficult that it practically amounted to nothing.

The next moment the mystery of the occupant was explained. Something red flashed out upon the air, and the eye of the Friend sparkled again.

“ Verily, it is Red Plume! ”

Chapter IV The Fugitives On The River

Red Plume, the friendly Sioux, had suddenly pre¬ sented himself to the cousins on the other side of the lake and warning them to keep out of sight, departed with the boat to give what help he could to their friends, who were in great danger.

The sisters sat side by side. The face of the elder was blanched with her great fear, and she held her right arm around the waist of the younger, whose head was pillowed on her shoulder, while her face was covered with her two hands, pressing her handkerchief as if to keep back the overwhelming sofrow.

In that hour of supreme woe, the sisters, with the trusting faith of childhood, were sending up petitions to the Great Being for the safety of those whom they had left behind, and who were in such dire extremity.

Not a tear moistened the eye of Edith, who seemed to be gazing through the interstices of the under¬ growth, up the river and across the lake to her friends, who in turn were looking for her; but who shall doubt the great woe that was weighing her down, and almost checking the flow of the life-current in her veins?

i8

Lillian was swayed like a leaf in the tempest. Her frame quivered and shook, and the hot tears dropped through her fingers, while she nestled, like a frightened bird, closer to her stronger sister, who drew her warmly and lovingly to her embrace. The arrow aimed the highest has the farthest to fall. Naturally light-hearted and joyous, with spirits like the morning sunlight, her depression was all the greater, and the darkness the more gloomy, when the change did come.

They sat without speaking, for what could either say to comfort the other? There was but one Source to which they could look, and the hearts of both were earnestly fixed upon that blessed Refuge.

Pipkins sat at the other end of the boat, now and then looking dolefully and askance at them.

“ Jingo, this is rough! ” he repeated, as he began ner¬ vously searching his pockets. “ My pipe has gone out, and I hain’t got a match.”

As is apt to be the case with those similarly circum¬ stanced, he examined each pocket at least a half-dozen times, continually “ pulling ” furiously at his pipe, as if there were a spark lingering somewhere in it.

“No use,” he finally exclaimed, with a despairing look. “ The pipe is extinguished, and I hain’t a match. I say, Edith, you hain’t got such a thing as a lucifer about you? ”

When he had repeated the question several times she merely swayed her head, without removing her fixed gaze from the direction of the lake.

i9

“ I don’t ’spose Lil has any? ”

But no attention was paid to the hint, and he did not press it.

“ Just as like as not we’ll have to stay here all night/'* he soliloquized; “ and I’ll catch cold, and be laid up a week. If I had a match it wouldn’t be so thundering bad—bless the Lord! ”

All the time he was fumbling and thrusting his thumbs into his pockets, and his exclamation was caused by his fishing up the fraction of a match with the phosphorus upon it.

“ Ain’t that jolly, now! ” he added, as he twisted up his last love-letter, the better to catch the flame. Then bending down, so that his body and the two sides of the boat kept away whatever puff of wind might be in the air, he carefully struck it upon the dry, painted board.

The result was all that he could wish; and, a few seconds later, his head was enwreathed in the volumes of tobacco smoke that issued from his mouth.

“ That mends things somewhat. Lillian, confound it! what’s the use of feeling so bad? ”

But neither of the sisters paid any heed to this prac¬ tical question; and, after surveying them a moment or two, he added:

“ Edith, hangnation! what’s the use? If you keep on that way you’ll make me feel bad.”

This he considered an unanswerable appeal; and it did cause his cousin to turn her dark eyes reproach^ fully upon him.

“ How can we help it? ”

“ I know—I know. But then cheer up—what’s the use? Try and keep it back on account of me. If you go on that way you’ll have me in the blubbering busi¬ ness, too, before long.”

The few words uttered by Edith seemed to open her heart, and, for a few minutes, her grief was more vio¬ lent in its manifestations than Lillian’s; but, by-and-by, it spent itself with both, and they became more calm and composed.

During these trying moments Augustus Pipkins sol¬ emnly smoked his meerschaum, and wondered which was the shortest route back to Chicago, and, whether, if a favoring breeze should spring up, it wouldn’t be a wise plan to crowd on all sail down the river, and get out of this dangerous neighborhood.

He said nothing while his cousins were in the tem¬ pest of their grief. When it had passed over, and they had calmed down and uncovered their faces, he ven¬ tured to console them in his own peculiar way.

“ I don’t believe the folks are all killed. It would take considerable time for the Indians to do that.”

“ Dolph, how can you talk so! ” was the reproving response of Edith, who could scarcely restrain another outburst.

“ I—I meant to comfort you,” he stammered; “ but that’s the way I always put my foot in it. I told our col¬ ored washerwoman, when she was blubbering about her little boy that kicked the bucket, that she ought to be thankful for it, because, if he had lived to grow up, he wouldn t have been anything but a nigger; and never, after that, would she put a smitch of starch in my shirts, except just where I didn’t want it.”

“ I wonder whether Red Plume will get there soon enough to help them ? ” said Lillian, whose face showed that some degree of hope was returning.

“ I think so,” replied her sister. “ If—if he had not, we should hear the shots of the Indians, and see the smoke of the burning buildings; but I haven’t heard the report of a gun since he went away.”

At that instant the distant sound of the rifles fired by the Sioux, as Lige rushed into the house, came across the lake, and penetrated the concealment of the girls.

“ What does that mean ? ” asked Lillian, trembling again with her nervous fear.

“ Oh, that’s nothing! ” replied Pipkins, still smoking his pipe. “ I’ve read in Cooper that the redskins fire promiscuously when they get a chance, and it ain’t likely they’ve killed more than one or two of your folks; but then Cooper always makes his females get shot at the last minute, so we won’t quote him as authority.”

“ I wish old Jud would come,” added Lillian; “ why did I not think to ask Red Plume about him? ”

“ They seem to be together nearly all the time,” re¬ plied Edith.

“ I tell you what,” said Pipkins, with the air of a man who was about to reveal a tremendous secret, I’ve got a plan! ” .. v. --

He puffed his meerschaum more vigorously than ever, while the cousins looked as if they did not under¬ stand what it meant.

“ You have a plan for what? ” inquired Edith, seeing that he was waiting to be questioned.

“ For our escape. Would you like to hear it? ”

Supposing his scheme included all , he received an affirmative reply.