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Updated: May 1, 2025
"But if the bad Indians you and mamma have been talking about come here, they will read it too." The father started. He had not thought of that. The next moment, however, he laughed. "The Indians don't know how to read writing or print, so it won't do them any good." "But Starcus can read as well as anybody."
"Yes, you have, many a time; he's been at our house within the past few weeks." "Who is he?" "Starcus." "Git out!" "I'm not mistaken," insisted young Starr, compressing his lips and shaking his head. "He's painted and dressed like his people, but his short hair made me suspicious, and when he turned to jump down from the bowlder, he made a movement that fixed his identity beyond all doubt."
The wounded arm was bandaged in a piece of the lining of Warren Starr's coat. The crimson stain showed through the cloth, though the flow of blood was checked. Sound and unhurt as was Starcus in all other respects, he was unable to use the injured limb, and was therefore as useless in any impending hostilities as if out of existence.
"Why not?" asked Warren, suspecting his meaning, but desirous of testing him a little further. "Look toward the ridge," was the significant reply. The inaction of the other Sioux, as has been intimated, was due to their belief that Starcus was master of the situation.
Even when they saw him pitch from the back of his pony they must have thought it a part of the strategy designed to lure the young man to his death. But the sight of the youth bending over the prostrate figure of their comrade told the truth. Starcus had been wounded, and was at the mercy of his conqueror.
Evidently Starcus was earnest in his desire to befriend the imperilled ones; the fact that he was journeying alone in the direction of the fort constituting the strongest evidence. He explained that the ridge where he believed the whites were doing their best to escape the Sioux was much more approachable from the other side.
They numbered nearly twenty, under the command of a young lieutenant, a recent graduate of West Point. They were accompanied by a couple of Indian scouts familiar with the country. Starcus was quick to make a signal of friendship, and then rode forward to meet the soldiers, who had halted upon seeing him. The Sioux was well known to the two Indians, the officer, and several of the cavalry.
He saw half a dozen Sioux gathered around the wounded Starcus, evidently in conversation. Being strong in his lower limbs, and with his wounded arm bandaged as well as it could be, he required no attention or help from them. After all, knowing the buck had been a close friend of the young rancher, they must have seen nothing remarkable in the mercy that had been shown to him.
Accustomed as are the Sioux to scenes of violence, it is not probable that any members of the party to whom we have been referring ever looked upon a sight so remarkable as the prairie duel between Starcus and the young rancher.
Besides," added the young rancher, "you can do as the officer suggested show your own people the right course for them to follow." "I will try," replied Starcus firmly; "I cannot understand how it was my senses forsook me, but they have come back, and," he said, with a meaning smile, "I think they will stay." "I am sure of that, and you will do much good."
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