Two Arrows: A Story of Red and WhiteStoddard, William O.
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Two Arrows: A Story of Red and White
Stoddard, William O.
Indians of North America -- Fiction
It was a matter to lessen the value of One-eye that he understood his
own interests, and his master ceased, wearily, his efforts to entice
him. He pushed on through the bushes, but now he was instantly aware
that One-eye was searching them with him, keeping at a safe distance,
but performing regular hunter's duty. He even scared up a solitary
sage-hen, but she did not fly within range of bow and arrow. She was an
encouragement, however, and so were the remains of the rabbit to which
One-eye managed to pilot the way. They seemed like a promise of better
things to come, and One-eye stood over them for a moment wagging his
tail, as much as to say,
"There; take that and let me up!"
The boy picked up the rabbit and said several things to the dog in a
clear, musical voice. He spoke the guttural, Nez Perce dialect, which is
one of the most difficult in the world, and One-eye seemed almost to
understand him--and yet there are white boys of fifteen who stumble
dreadfully over such easy tongues as Greek and Latin.
The boy and dog seemed to be on better terms after that, and went on
through the sage-brush towards where a straggling line of mesquite
scrubs marked the plain. The dog was ranging the bushes right and left,
while the boy slowly followed the narrow lane of an old, hard-beaten
"buffalo path," with an arrow on the string, ready for anything that
might turn up. They were nearly out of the mesquites when One-eye
uttered a quick, sharp, low-voiced whine, which his master seemed to
understand. It is not every dog that can whine in the Nez Perce dialect,
but the boy at once dropped upon his hands and knees and crept silently
forward. He had been warned that something was the matter, and his
natural instinct was to hide until he should discover what it might be.
Again the dog whimpered, and the boy knew that he was hidden ahead and
beyond him. He crawled out of the trail and made his way under and
through the bushes. He made no more sound or disturbance than a snake
would have caused in doing the same thing, and in half a minute more he
was peering out into the open country.
"Ugh! buffalo!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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