At last the day arrived when the actual charge came. The enemy had massed their wheeling, shouting ranks as usual, while the defenders watched, weapons at hand. The horsemen whirled and thundered in the noisy charge straight at the barricade. The high yipping falsetto of their war cry echoed across the plain.
The front ranks of screaming warriors reached the point of bowshot range, where they always turned back. But today, they only increased speed and thundered on. Men of the People shouted and rushed toward the barricade.
“Aiee,” Coyote muttered softly to Heads Off at his elbow, “today they come!”
“The woods! Watch the woods!” Heads Off yelled. Several running warriors turned and sprinted toward the edge of the timber.
But there was no attack there. The entire mass of yipping horsemen were massing the attack against the barricade. Heads Off watched, fascinated, as the front ranks neared the flimsy wall of brush.
A big bay with a yelling warrior on his back pounded along in the lead. This would be the first animal to reach the jump. The horse tucked his forefeet neatly and cleared the brush at a low point. Suddenly, what should have been a graceful landing turned into a grotesque nightmare. One of the sharp stakes, still unseen by the attackers, plunged into the body of the big horse
and he went down, the rider thrown violently over the animal’s head.
In the space of the next heartbeat, elk-dogs all along the line of brush cleared the barricade and impaled themselves on the waiting spears. The yipping war cry of the Head Splitters was drowned in the screaming of stricken horses and men. Dying animals floundered and kicked, rolling on injured riders. In turn, the next wave, moving too rapidly to stop, cleared the jump, only to fall and tumble as they tripped over struggling, plunging wounded.
Warriors rushed forward, shooting, spearing, clubbing the wounded enemy. Few of the attackers managed to strike a blow. Most who were still able clambered frantically across the damaged barrier to escape, followed by a hail of arrows. Heads Off saw a throwing stick whirl from the ranks of defenders, and bounce smartly off the head of a retreating warrior. The women were joining the fight. The Head Splitter somersaulted forward off the barrier and was lost to sight.
Mounted Head Splitters who had managed to stop before their elk-dogs made the jump wheeled to pick up unhorsed comrades. In a few more moments the whole thing was over. The Head Splitters were in full retreat.
Heads Off still stood numbly, half sick at the destruction his tactics had caused. His horseman’s instinct rebelled at the loss of fine stock. Still, first things must come first.
“We did it!” he breathed, half to himself. “We stopped them.”
A ragged cheer rose from the beleaguered camp. Some of the youngsters had to restrained from chasing after the retreating Head Splitters.
Warriors moved along the barrier, making sure the fallen enemy presented no further threat. A few confused elk-dogs, saved
from major injury by having fallen over the bodies of their stricken companions, wandered inside the brush wall, calling frantically. Several badly wounded animals were quickly destroyed.
An old woman shuffled forward, butchering knife in hand.
“The Head Splitters have brought us meat!” she cackled merrily. Her flint knife fell to work at the task of skinning.
Others joined in the butchering, and in a short while the village appeared remarkably as if there had been a successful hunt. Strips of horse meat were strung on the drying racks, and even the skins were pegged out like those of buffalo.
A celebration began to take shape for the evening hours. True, there was little to celebrate, and the respite was only temporary, but after all, it was a victory of sorts. The enemy had been stopped.
The Head Splitters, for their part, had withdrawn to their camp, still within plain sight of the People. They seemed confused and enraged. Apparently the People’s defense had been a complete surprise. About midday, a group of three Head Splitters were seen to mount and ride away across the plain, finally disappearing in the west.
“They go to tell the others,” Coyote stated simply.
Realization had begun to sink home to Heads Off already. The Elk-dog band of the People was little better off than before. They still could not move from their present location, could not hunt, could do nothing but wait for the end.
Again, he considered the possibility of an attack on the camp of the enemy war party. Now would be the time, with a sizable number of their warriors killed or wounded, and many of their elk-dogs dead.
But, he reflected, the fighting status of his own band was even worse. They had only a handful of young warriors trained in the use of elk-dogs and lances. It would, of course, have to be a
horseback attack. An encounter on foot would make them completely vulnerable as they approached the enemy across the open plain. The foot warriors would be cut to pieces by mounted enemy.
Even with the Head Splitters in temporarily weakened condition, the People could not risk an attack. The enemy would soon bring reinforcements, each new warrior hot for revenge.
Equally out of the question was the thought of attempting a move. The band was seldom more vulnerable than when on the move, even under the best of circumstances. They could be easily trapped in the open, encumbered by the women and children and all the miscellaneous baggage that represented the life of the People.
Now, at weakened strength and with few elk-dogs, the band would be as helpless as an orphan calf before wolves.
For a short while, Heads Off considered a move in desperation. If they left all their belongings, lodges, poles, everything, and took only food, they could move more rapidly. Everyone must take all the food he could carry.
But if they were pinned down by the enemy in the open plain, they would be unable to move at all. There would be no way to replenish the thin supplies of food and water. They would have only increased their vulnerability. He discarded the plan, at least for the present. There were more pressing things to think about.
The bodies of the enemy dead were dragged outside the barrier. Young men repaired and reinforced the damaged portions. There was no need to replace the sharpened spears which had been broken or torn away by the thrashing bodies of dying horses. They would no longer be effective. Now that the enemy was aware of this device, he would not try the same frontal attack again.
Heads Off wondered idly where the next attack would come. Through the woods, probably.