Having seen the horsemen ride away, Jennie and Elsie came across the road tense with excitement.
"Tell us all about it? Have they gone?"
"Who are they?"
"We hope they are gone," Curtis replied, as lightly as he could. "It was the sheriff of Pinon County and a lynching party. I have persuaded one mob to drive away the other. They were less dangerous than they seemed."
"See those heads!" exclaimed Lawson, pointing out several employés who were peering cautiously over roofs and around corners. "Not one has retained his hat," he added. "If the danger sharpens, off will come their shirts and trousers, and those belligerent white men will find themselves contending with six hundred of the best fighters in the world."
"We must temporize," said Curtis. "A single shot now would be disaster." He checked himself there, but Lawson understood as well as he the situation.
Jennie was not yet satisfied. "Has the sheriff come for some one in particular?"
"No, he has no warrant, hasn't even a clew to the murder. He is really at the lead of a lynching party himself, and has no more right to be here than the men he is driving away."
"What ought he to do?" asked Elsie.
"He should go home. It is my business as agent to make the arrest. I have only a half-dozen police, and I dare not attempt to force him and his party to leave the reservation."
"The whole situation is this," explained Lawson. "They've made this inquest the occasion for bringing all the hot-headed fools of the country together, and this is a bluff which they think will intimidate the Indians."
"They wouldn't dare to begin shooting, would they?" asked Elsie.
"You can't tell what such civilized persons will do," said Lawson. "But Curtis has the sheriff thinking, and the worst of it is over."
"Here they come again!" exclaimed Wilson, who surprised Curtis by remaining cool and watchful through this first mutiny.
At a swift gallop the sheriff and his posse came whirling back up the road—a wild and warlike squad—hardly more tractable than the redoubtables they had rounded up and thrown down the valley.
"I think you had better go in," said Curtis to Elsie. "Jennie, take her back to the house for a little while."
"No, let us stay," cried Elsie. "I want to see this sheriff myself. If we hear the talk we'll be less nervous."
Curtis was firm. "This is no place for you. These cowboys have no respect for God, man, or devil; please go in."
Jennie started to obey, but Elsie obstinately held her ground.
"I will not! I have the right to know what is threatening me! I always hated to go below in a storm."
In a cloud of dust—with snorting of excited horses, the posse, with the sheriff at its head, again pulled up at the gate. The young men stared at the two daintily dressed girls with eyes of stupefaction. Here was an unlooked-for complication. A new element had entered the controversy. The sheriff slid from his horse and gave a rude salute with his big brown fist.
"Howdy, ladies, howdy." It was plain he was deeply embarrassed by this turn of affairs.
Elsie seized Curtis by the arm and whispered: "Introduce me to him—quick! Tell him who I am."
Curtis instantly apprehended her plan. "Sheriff Winters, this is Miss Brisbane, daughter of ex-Senator Brisbane, of Washington."
The sheriff awkwardly seized her small hand, "Pleased to make your acquaintance, miss," he said. "I know the Senator well."
Curtis turned to Jennie, who came forward—"And this is my sister."
"I've heard of you," the sheriff said, regaining his self-possession. "I'm sorry to disturb you, ladies—"
Elsie looked at him and quietly said: "I hope you will not be hasty, sheriff; my father will not sanction violence."
"You're being here makes a difference, miss—of course—I—"
Jennie spoke up: "You must be hungry, Mr. Sheriff," she said, and smiling up at Calvin, added, "and so are your men. Why not picket your horses and have some lunch with us?"
Curtis took advantage of the hesitation. "That's the reasonable thing, men. We can discuss measures at our ease."
The cowboys looked at each other with significant glances. Several began to dust themselves and to slyly swab their faces with their gay kerchiefs, and one or two became noticeably redder about the ears as they looked down at their horses' bridles.
Calvin broke the silence. "I don't let this chance slip, boys. I'm powerful keen, myself."
"So'm I," echoed several others.
The sheriff coughed. "Well—really—I'm agreeable, but I'm afeerd it'll be a powerful sight o' trouble, miss."
"Oh no, let us attend to that," cried Jennie. "We shall expect you in fifteen minutes," and taking Elsie by the arm, she started across the road.
As the cowboys followed the graceful retreating figures of the girls, Lawson and Curtis looked at each other with eyes of amazement; Lawson acknowledged a mighty impulse to laugh. "How unmilitary," he muttered.
"But how effective," replied Curtis, his lips twitching.
The cowboys muttered among themselves. "Say, is this a dream?"
"Who said pork-and-beans?"
"Does my necktie kiver my collar-button?" asked a third.
"Come, boys!" called Curtis, cheerily. "While the sheriff and I have a little set-to, you water your ponies and dust off, and be ready for cold potatoes. You're a little late for a square meal, but I think we can ease your pangs."
With a patter of jocose remarks the cowboys rode off down towards the creek, taking the sheriff's horse along with them.
Curtis turned to Lawson. "I wish you'd bring that code over to the house, Lawson. I want to show that special clause to the sheriff."
Turning to Winters, he said: "Come, let's go across to my library and talk our differences over in comfort."
The sheriff dusted his trousers with the broad of his hand. "Well, now, I'm in no condition to sit down with ladies."
"I'll give you a chance to clean up," replied Curtis, who plainly saw that the girls had the rough bordermen "on the ice and going," as Calvin would say. A man can brag and swear and bluster out of doors, or in a bare, tobacco-stained office; but in a library, surrounded by books, in the hearing of ladies, he is more human—more reasonable. Jennie's invitation had turned impending defeat to victory.
Curtis took Winters into his own bedroom and put its toilet articles at his service and left him. As the sheriff came out into the Captain's library five minutes later, it was plain he had washed away a large part of his ferocity; his hair, plastered down smooth, represented the change in his mental condition—his quills were laid. He was, in fact, fairly meek.
Curtis confidentially remarked, in a low voice: "You see, sheriff, we must manage this thing quietly. We mustn't endanger these women, and especially Miss Brisbane. If the old Senator gets a notion his daughter is in danger—"
Winters blew a whiff. "Great God, he'd tear the State wide open! No, the boys were too hasty. As I say, I saw the irregularity, but if I hadn't consented to lead a posse in here that whole inquest would have come a-rampin' down on ye. I said to 'em, 'Boys,' I says, 'you can't do that kind of thing,' I says. 'These Tetongs are fighters,' I says, 'and you'll have a sweet time chasin' 'em over the hills—just go slow and learn to peddle,' I says—"
Lawson, entering with the code, cut him short in his shameless exculpation, and Curtis said, suavely: "Mr. Winters, I think you know Mr. Lawson."
"We've crossed each other's trail once or twice, I believe," said Lawson. "Here is the clause."
Curtis laid the book before the sheriff, who pushed a stubby forefinger against the letters and read the paragraph laboriously. His thick wits were moved by it, and he said: "Seems a clear case, and yet the reservation is included in the lines of Pinon County. 'Pears like the county'd ought 'o have some rights."
"Well, here comes the posse," said Curtis; "we'll talk it all over with them after lunch. Come in, boys!" he called cheerily to the straggling herders, who came in sheepishly, one by one, their spurs rattling, their big, limp hats twisted in their hands. They had pounded the alkali from each other's shirt, and their red faces shone with the determined rubbing they had received. All the wild grace of their horsemanship was gone, and as they sidled in and squatted down along the wall they were anything but ferocious in manner or speech.
"Ah, now, this is all right," each man said, when Curtis offered chairs. "You take the chair, Jim; you take it, Joe—this suits me."
Lawson was interested in their cranial development, and their alignment along the wall gave a fine opportunity for comparison. "They were, for the most part, shapeless and of small capacity," he said afterwards—"just country bumpkins, trained to the horse and the revolver, but each of them arrogated to himself the judicial mind of the Almighty Creator."
The sheriff, leaning far back in the big Morris chair, wore a smirking smile which seemed to say: "Boys, I'm onto this luxury all right. Stuffed chair don't get me no back-ache. Nothing's too rich formyblood—if I can get it."
The young fellows were transfixed with awe of Calvin, for, though the last to enter the house, he walked calmly past the library door on into the dining-room, and a moment later could be heard chatting with the girls, "sassy as a whiskey-jack."
One big, freckled young fellow nudged his neighbor and said: "Wouldn't that pull your teeth? That wall-eyed sorrel has waltzed right into the kitchen to buzz the women. Say, his neck needs shortening."
"Does he stand in, or is it just gall?"
"It's nerve—nothing else. We ain't onto our job, that's all."
"Oh, he knows 'em all right. I heered he stands in with the agent's sister."
"The hell he does! Lookin' that way? Well, I don't think. It's his brass-bound cheek. Wait till we ketch him alone."
Cal appeared at the door. "Well, fellers, come in; grub's all spread out."
"What you got to say about it?" asked Green.
"Think you're the nigger that rings the bell, don't ye?" remarked Galvin. "We're waitin' for the boss to say 'when.'"
Not one of them stirred till Curtis rose, saying to the sheriff, "Well, we'll take time later to discuss that; come right out and tame the wolf."
The fact that Curtis accepted Calvin's call impressed the crowd deeply.
"You'd think he was one o' the fambly," muttered Galvin. "Wait till we get a rope 'round his neck."
The table, looking cool and dainty in its fleckless linen, was set with plates of cold chicken and ham, with pots of jelly and white bread at each end of the cloth, beside big pitchers of cool milk. To the cowboys, accustomed only to their rude camps and the crude housekeeping of the settlers round about, this dainty cleanliness of dining-room was marvellously subduing. They shuffled into their seats noisily, with only swift, animal-like glances at the girls, who were bubbling over with the excitement of feeding this band of Cossacks.
As they drank their milk and fed great slices of bread and jelly into their mouths, fighting Indians seemed less necessary than they had supposed. Whiskey and alkali dust, and the smell of sweating ponies, were all forgotten in the quiet and sweetness of this pretty home. The soft answer had turned wrath into shamefaced wonder and awkward courtesy.
Curtis, sitting at the head of the board as host, plied the sheriff with cold chicken, discussing meanwhile the difficulties under which the Tetongs labored, and drew from that sorely beleaguered officer admissions which he afterwards regretted. "That's so, I don't know as I'd do any better in their places, but—"
Jennie, with a keen perception of her power over her guests, went from one to the other, inquiring, in her sweetest voice: "Won'tyouhave another slice of bread? Please do!"
Elsie, less secure of manner, followed her with the pitcher of milk, while the young men bruised each other's shins beneath the table in their zealous efforts to diminish the joy each one took in the alluring presence of his cup-bearer.
Calvin sat near the end of the table, and his assured manner made the others furious. "Look at that stoatin' bottle," growled Green, out of the corner of his mouth; "he needs killin'."
"Ah, we'll fix that tommy-cod!" replied Galvin.
While the girls were at the upper end of the table the man on Calvin's right leaned over and said:
"Say, Cal, 'pears like you got the run o' the house here."
Calvin, big with joy and pride, replied: "Oh, I ride round and picket here once in a while. It pays."
"Well, I should say yes—carry all your cheek right with ye, don't ye?"
As the boys began to shove back, Curtis brought out a box of cigars and passed them along the line.
"Take hearty, boys; they don't belong to the government; they're mine, and you'll find them good."
As they were all helping themselves, the sheriff coughed loudly and called out: "Boys, the Major and me has fixed this thing up. I won't need but three of you; the rest can ride back and tell the gang on the West Fork it's all right. Cal, you and Tom and Green stay with me. The rest of you can go as soon as your dinner's settled."
The ones not chosen looked a little disappointed, but they made no protest. As they rose to go out they all made powerful effort to do the right thing; they lifted their eyes to the girls for a last glance and grumbled:
"Much obliged, ladies!"
And in this humble fashion the ferocious posse of the sheriff retreated from the house of their enemy.
Once outside, they turned on each other with broad grins. They straightened—took on grace and security of manner again. They were streaming with perspiration, and their neckerchiefs were moist with the drip of it, but they lit their cigars nonchalantly, flung their hats rakishly on their heads, and turned to take a last look at the house.
Elsie appeared at the door. "Boys!" she called, and her clear voice transfixed every soul of them. "You mustn't do anything reckless. You won't, will you?"
Galvin alone was able to reply. "No, miss, we won't. We won't do nothing to hurt you nor the Major's sister—you needn't be scart."
"You can trust Captain Curtis; he will do what is right, I'm sure of that. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," they answered, one by one. Nothing further was said till they had crossed the road. Then one of the roughest-looking of the whole gang turned and said: "Fellers, that promise goes. We got to keep that mob from goin' to war while these girls are here. Ain't that right?"
"That's right!"
"Say, fellers, I'll tell you a job that would suit me—"
"Hain't got any work into it if it does."
"What is it?"
"I'd like to be detailed to guard these 'queens' from monkeys like you."
The others fell upon this reckless one with their hats and gloves till he broke into a run, and all disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust.
Meanwhile the sentinels on the hills missed little of the movement in the valley. They quivered with rage as the horsemen dismounted and entered the agent's house, for that seemed a defeat for their friend; but when the strangers remounted and rode away all were reassured, and Two Horns said, "I will go down and see what it all means."
One by one the principal native employés reappeared. Crane's Voice came out of the barn, where he had lain with his eyes to a crack in the wall, and Peter Big-Voice and Robert Wolf stepped cautiously into view from behind the slaughter-pen. Old Mary, the cook, suddenly blocked the kitchen door-way, and, with tremulous lips, asked: "Cowboys gone?"
"Yes, all gone," replied Jennie, much amused.
"Good, good," replied the old woman.
"Where have you been, Mary?"
Her white teeth shone out in a sudden smile. "Ice-house—heap cold."
"What did you go in there for?"
"Cowboy no good—mebbe so shoot."
"They won't hurt you," said Jennie, gently. "Go to work again. The Captain will take care of you."
"Little Father no got gun—cowboy heap gun."
"Little Father don't need gun now; you are all right," Jennie said, and the old woman went to her work again, though nervously alert to every sound.
From nowhere in particular, two sharp-eyed lads sauntered up the road to play under the office window, so that if any loud word should be spoken the tribe might know of it.
Jennie and Elsie discussed the situation while sitting at the library window with a view of the agency front door.
"I can't for the life of me take a serious view of this episode," said Jennie. "These cowboys wouldn't be so foolish as to fire a first shot. They are like big, country school-boys."
"The Parkers!" cried Elsie, suddenly. "Where are the Parkers?"
Jennie gasped. "True enough! I had forgotten all about them. I don't believe they have got back from their ride."
"They will be scared blue. We must send for them."
"I'll have Crane's Voice go at once," said Jennie. "I will go with him."
"Don't do that—not without letting the Captain know. How far is it?"
"Just over the hill—not more than five miles."
But even as she was hurrying across to the corral to find an angel for this mission of mercy, she saw the Parkers coming down the hill-side, moving slowly, for both were very bad riders. It was plain they had heard nothing, and as she watched them approach Jennie cried:
"Don't say a word. They won't see anything suspicious."
There was something irresistibly funny in the calm stateliness of the blond Parker as he led the way past the store which was deserted of its patrons, past the school-house where the students were quivering with excitement, and close beside the office behind whose doors Curtis was still in legal battle with the sheriff.
Jennie met her visitors at the gate, her hands clinched in the effort to control her laughter. "You are late. Are you hungry?" she asked.
"Famished!" said Parker. "I had to ride slow on Mrs. Parker's account."
"I like that!" cried Jennie. "As if any one could be a worse rider than you are."
"How do women get off, anyway?" asked Parker, as he approached his wife's pony.
"Fall off," suggested Jennie, and this seemed so funny that she and Elsie went off into simultaneous hysterical peals of laughter.
"You are easily amused," remarked Parker, eying them keenly. "Laugh on; it is good for digestion. Excuse me from joining; I haven't anything to digest."
Putting his angular shoulder to Mrs. Parker's waist, he eased her to the ground awkwardly but tenderly. Upon facing the girls again and discovering them still in foolish mirth, Parker looked himself all over carefully, then turned to his wife. "We seem to be affording these young ladies a great deal of hearty pleasure, Mrs. Parker."
Mrs. Parker was not so dense. "What is the matter?" she asked, sharply. "What has happened? This laughter is not natural—you are both hysterical."
Both girls instantly became as grave as they had been hilarious a moment before.
"Now Iknowsomething is wrong," said Mrs. Parker. "Where is the Captain? What made you laugh that way? Have the savages broken out?"
Jennie met Parker's eyes fairly popping from his head, and went off into another shout. At last she paused and said, breathlessly: "Oh, you are funny! Come into the house. We've been entertaining a lynching party—all the Indians are in the hills and the sheriff's in the office throttling the agent."
While the Parkers consumed their crusts of bread and scraps of cold meat, Jennie told them what had happened.
Parker rose to the occasion. "We must get out o' here—every one of us! We should never have come in here. Your brother is to blame; he deceived us."
"He did not!" replied Jennie. "You shall not hold him responsible!"
"He knew the situation was critical," Parker hotly retorted. "He knew an outbreak was likely. It was criminal on his part."
"Jerome Parker, you are a donkey," remarked Elsie, calmly. "Nothing has really happened. If you're so nervous, go home. You can't sculp an Indian, anyway—grasshoppers and sheep are in your line." She had reverted to the plain talk of the studios. "Your nervousness amused us for a while, but it bores us now. Please shut up and run away if you are afraid."
"You're not very nice," said Mrs. Parker, severely.
"I don't think it's very manly of your husband when he begins to blame Captain Curtis for an invasion of cowboys."
"You admitted you were scared," pursued Parker.
"Well, suppose we were, we didn't weep and complain; we set to work to tide over the crisis."
Jennie put in a word. "If you'd feel safer in the camp of the enemy, Mr. Parker, we'll set you down the valley with the settlers. I intend to stay right here with my brother."
"So do I," added Elsie; "if there is danger it is safer here than with the cowboys; but the mob is gone, and the Captain and Osborne will see that we are protected."
Meanwhile the office resounded with the furious argument of the sheriff. "The whole western part of the State is disgusted with the way in which these Indians escape arrest. They commit all kinds of depredations, and not one is punished. This has got to stop. We intend to learn this tribe it can't hide thieves and murderers any longer." He ended, blustering like a northwest wind.
"Produce your warrants and I'll secure the men," replied Curtis, patiently. "You shall not punish a whole tribe on a pure assumption. You must come to me with a proper warrant for a particular man, and when you receive him from me you must prove his guilt in court. As the case now stands, you haven't the slightest evidence that an Indian killed this herder, and I will not give over an innocent man to be lynched by you."
As the sheriff stormed up and down the floor Lawson said, in a low voice: "Delay—delay."
Curtis, who had been writing a note, slipped it to Lawson, who rose and went out of the door. Curtis continued to parley.
"I appreciate your feeling in this matter, Mr. Sheriff, and I am willing to do what is right. I have called a council of my head men to-night, and I will ask them to search for the murderer. An Indian cannot keep a secret. If one of the Tetongs killed your herder he will tell of it. I again suggest that you go back to your people and assure them of my willingness to aid in this affair. Give me three days in which to act."
"That crowd will not be satisfied unless we bring an Injun with us. We've got to do that or they'll come rompin' in here and raise hell with you. I propose to take old Crawling Elk himself and hold him till the tribe—"
"If you attempt such a crime I will put you off the reservation," replied Curtis, sharply.
"Put me off! By ——, I think I see you doing that! Why, the whole State would rise and wipe you and your tribe out of existence." He turned threateningly and towered over Curtis, who was seated.
"Be quiet, and keep your distance, or I'll put you in irons! Sit down!"
These words were not spoken loudly, but they caused the sheriff's face to blanch and his knees to tremble. There was a terrifying, set glare in the officer's eyes as he went on:
"What do you suppose would be the consequences of firing upon a captain of the United States army in the discharge of his duty, by a sheriff acting outside the law? You have only three men out there, and one of them is my friend, and you know the quality of Calvin Streeter. I am still in command of this reservation, Mr. Sheriff."
Lawson re-entering at this moment, Curtis said: "Ask Streeter to come in, will you, Mr. Lawson?"
Calvin entered smilingly. "Well, what's the up-shot?" he asked.
"It is this, Calvin. The sheriff has no warrant for anybody, not even for a suspect. I have asked him to go back and wait till I can find some clew to the murderer. Do you consider that reasonable?"
"It sounds fair," admitted Calvin, growing grave.
"Now the question of whether the State or county authority covers a federal reservation or not is too big a question for us to settle. You see that, Calvin?"
Calvin scratched his head. "It sure is too many fer me."
"Now I'll compromise in this case, Mr. Sheriff. You discharge the rest of your deputies and send them away, while you and Calvin remain with me to attend a council—not to arrest anybody, but to convince yourself of my good-will in the matter. I will not permit you to be armed nor to arrest any of my Indians until we know what we are doing. When we secure evidence against any man I will arrest him myself and turn him over to you. But I insist that you send away the men in the outer office."
Calvin spoke up. "I reckon the Major's right, sheriff. How ye goin' to arrest a man if you don't know who he is? I reckon you better do as he says. I ain't a-lookin' fer no fuss with the agent, and the United States army only fifty miles off."
The sheriff growled surlily. "All right, but there ain't no monkey business about this. I get my man sooner or later, you bet your heart on that." As he went out into the general office and announced the agent's demand, Green blurted out defiant phrases.
"I'll be damned if I would! No—stick it out! Do? Why, take old Elk and hold him till the tribe produces the right man—that's the way we always done before."
The arguments of Calvin could not be heard, but at last he prevailed, and the sullen deputies withdrew. The sheriff scrawled a hasty note to the county attorney to explain his failure to bring his man, and the three deputies went out to saddle up. Their cursing was forceful and varied, but they went.
Parker, seeing them come forth, met them, inquiring anxiously:
"Well, what do you think of the situation?"
Green looked at him surlily. "You belong here?"
"No, I'm just a visitor."
"Well, you better get out quick as God'll let ye."
"Why, what is going to happen?"
"Just this: we're goin' to have the man that killed Cole or we'll cut this whole tribe into strips. That's all," and they moved on, cursing afresh.
Parker fell back aghast, and watched them in silence as they saddled their horses and rode off. He then hurried to the office. Wilson, after going in to see his chief, came back to say: "The Major will see you in a moment. He's sending out his police."
A few moments afterwards six of the Indian policemen came filing out, looking tense and grave, and a couple of minutes later Curtis appeared.
"What is it, Parker?"
"What is going on, Captain? I am very anxious."
"You need not be. We've reached a compromise. Wait a moment and I will go over to the house with you."
When he reappeared, Lawson was with him. Nothing was said till they were well in the middle of the road. Then Curtis remarked, carelessly:
"You attended to that matter, Lawson?"
"Yes, Crane's Voice is ten miles on his way."
"There go two dangerous messengers," said Curtis, lifting his eyes to the hill-side, up which the sullen deputies were climbing.
Parker was importunate—he wished to understand the whole matter. Curtis became a little impatient. "I will explain presently," he replied, and nothing more was said till they entered the library, which was filled with the women of the agency. Jennie had reassured them as best she could, but they were eager to see the agent himself. Miss Colson, the kindergarten teacher, was disposed to rush into his arms.
Curtis smiled round upon them. "What's all this—a council of war?"
Miss Colson seized the dramatic moment. "Oh, Major, are we in danger? Tell us what has happened."
"Nothing much has happened since dinner. I have persuaded the sheriff to discharge all his deputies except Calvin, and they are to remain over. I have sent for the head man to come in, and we are going to council to-night. The trouble is practically over, for the sheriff has given up the attempt to arrest Elk as a hostage. Now go back to your work, all of you. You should not have left your children," he added, rather sternly, to Miss Colson. "They need you now."
The women went out at once, and in a few minutes Curtis was alone with the members of his own little circle. "Now I have another story for you," he said, turning to Elsie. "While I am sure the worst of the sheriff's work is over, I realize that there are two hundred armed men over on the Willow, and that it is better to be on the safe side. Therefore I have sent to Fort Lincoln for troops. Crane's Voice will reach there by sundown—the troops should arrive here by sunrise to-morrow. Meanwhile I will talk with Elk—"
"Suppose Elk don't come?" asked Jennie.
Curtis looked grave. "In that case I shall go to find him."
Elsie cried out, "You wouldn't do that?"
"Yes, it would be my duty—I have promised—but he will come. He trusts me. I have ordered him to bring all his people and camp as usual just above the agency store. Now, of course, no one can tell the precise outcome of all this, and if you, Miss Brisbane, and Mr. and Mrs. Parker, want to go down to the white settlement, I will send you at once. Mr. Lawson will go with you, or I will ask the sheriff to take you—"
"The safest place on the reservation is right here!" said Lawson. "Suppose the ranchers return—they will take control here, and use the agency as a base of supplies; the fighting will take place in the hills. Besides, our going would excite the settlers uselessly, and put Captain Curtis deeper into trouble. I propose that we stay right here, and convince the employés and the Indians that we are not alarmed. I don't want to assume the responsibility of a panic, and our going this afternoon might precipitate one."
Curtis was profoundly grateful to Lawson for this firm statement. "I think you are right, Mr. Lawson," he said, formally. "You see my position clearly. I feel sure I can control the sheriff by peaceable means—and yet my responsibility to you weighs upon me." He looked at Elsie again. "I think you can trust me. Will you stay?"
"Of course we will stay," she replied, and Parker sank into his chair as if resigned to his fate.
Curtis went on: "I am not speaking to reassure myself. Perhaps I am too positive, but my experience as an officer in the army has given me a contempt for these six-shooter heroes. The thing I really fear is a panic among the settlers. Naturally, I am disinclined towards the notoriety I would gain in the press; but the troops will certainly be here to-morrow, and that will settle the turmoil. The sheriff is less of an embarrassment, now that he has only Calvin as deputy."
"Send the sheriff over here—we'll entertain him by showing him the photograph album," called Jennie. "We helped out this forenoon, and we can do it again."
"I don't think such heroic methods are necessary; an extra good dinner will do quite as well," replied Curtis, smiling. "I'm sorry, Mr. Parker, that your expedition for material is coming to this grewsome end."
Elsie interposed. "It is precisely what he wants; he will know from positive knowledge how a Tetong brave dresses for war. I have always claimed that no Indian ever wore that absurd war-bonnet."
Lawson added: "Andyouwill gain valuable information as to the character of white settlers and 'Indian outbreaks.'"
"I ought to telegraph papa."
"I have already done so," replied Lawson—"in anticipation of the hullabaloo that will break forth in the papers of the State to-morrow."
"I shall wire the department a full statement to-night," said Curtis. "But we must be careful what we say at this point."
"Isn't it a foolish thing not to have a telegraph line connecting the fort and the agency?" cried Jennie. "The troops could have been half-way here by this time."
"It's the same penny-wise and pound-foolish method by which the Indian service is run," responded Lawson.
"Here comes one of my scouts," said Curtis, as a young Tetong galloped up to the gate, threw himself from his reeking pony, and strode into the hall-way without knocking, his spurs clattering, his quirt dangling from his wrist. As he stood before his chief, delivering his message with shadowy silence and swiftness, Elsie thrilled with the dramatic significance of the scene. The stern, almost haughty face of the young man was in keeping with his duties.
Curtis dismissed the boy and translated his message. "He says the settlers below us have fled towards Pinon City, taking all their goods with them. White Wolf's band are all in camp except the young men, who are scouting for the chiefs to see what it all means. That mob of cowboys took delight, no doubt, in scattering consternation as they passed. The settlers are in stampede."
"Wilson is coming across the street," said Jennie, "and has an Indian with him."
"Another scout," said Curtis. "Now I will let you know all that goes on, but I must ask you all, except Mr. Lawson, to leave me the library to transact this business in." As Elsie passed him, she drew towards him with a little, shrinking movement which moved him deeply. It was as though she were clutched by a force greater than her will.
"It's like being at army headquarters," she said to Jennie.
"It is a little like a commander's tent in the field. I wish we dared to throw that old sheriff off the reservation. He has no right to be snooping round here."
Parker slumped deep in a big rocker, and Mrs. Parker sat beside him and put her hand on his arm.
"Don't worry about me, Jerome."
He looked up gloomily. "I got you into this, dearest, and I must get you out. If the soldiers come to-morrow I will ask for an escort to the fort, and then we can reach the railway and get out of the cursed country. I'd as soon live in a den of hyenas and rattlesnakes."
Elsie laughed. "Parker, you are too amusing. You are pathetic. When I think of you as you pranced about the camp-fire two days ago and look upon you now, my heart aches for you."
"I don't think it generous of you to make fun of us at this time, Bee Bee," Mrs. Parker replied, reproachfully.
"Oh, let her go on. Her Latin Quarter English doesn't disturb me," Parker answered, savagely.
Curtis at this moment appeared. "My message was from the farmer at Willow Spring. He says all his employés, with one or two exceptions, have disappeared; that the band of Crawling Elk was threatened by a mob of white men early this morning, and that they are all breaking camp in order to flee to the hills. All the settlers on the Willow are hurrying their women and children down towards Pinon City. The whole country has been alarmed by the menace of the coroner's inquest, which is camped below the agency at Johnson's ranch, waiting the sheriff's return. The deputies had not reached there when this letter was written," added Curtis. "The sheriff's message will disperse the crowds, and I am sending a note of reassurance to the farmers and to the settlers."
"It's getting mighty serious, don't you think so?" asked Parker. "I wish the troops were here. Can't we hurry them up?"
"No, all that can be done has been done. I am telling you all that goes on, and I must request you not to repeat it. I wish you would all be specially guarded in the presence of the sheriff. You might engage him in a game of 'cinch' after dinner. Anything to keep him out of my way."
"We'll absorb him," said Jennie.
One by one Curtis called in his most trusted employés, and, quieting their fears, put them to their duties. Special policemen were uniformed and sent to carry messages to the encampments on the hills, asking the head men of each band to come at once to the agency for council, and to order their people into camp. The tranquillizing effect of the agent's bearing made itself felt immediately. The threads of the whole tangle were soon in his hands and made straight, and when he received the sheriff at six o'clock he was confident and serene of bearing.
Two Horns came down from the hills, and at the agent's order gathered his band close around his own tepee to camp until the trouble was ended. Together they made a tour of the village, and Curtis made it plain that he would protect them, and that no more armed men would come among them to incite violence.
"They have turned back, for fear of the Little Father and of Washington," said Two Horns to the old men, and they were glad of his words.
Curtis was by no means at ease. As he recalled the threats of the cattlemen, the encroachments of their flocks, the vicious assaults made on Crow Killer and Yellow Hand, he divined a growing antagonism which could go but little further without producing war. His mind dwelt on the hurrying figure of Crane's Voice. Much depended on him. He saw him as he faced the sentry. "If he should fail to reach the Colonel! But he will not fail, and troops will be instantly despatched."
From these considerations he turned to the growing trust and confidence which Elsie was displaying. That movement towards him, slight as it was, and the softened look in her eyes, quickened his breath as he allowed his inward self to muse on their meaning. She was looking to him for protection, and this attitude was not only new, it was disturbing; and the soldier found it necessary to put away his pipe and fall savagely upon some work to keep his mind from ranging too far afield.
The sheriff came to dinner rather shamefacedly, but Calvin, being profoundly pleased, was on his very best behavior. "This being deputy suits me to the ground," said he to Wilson, as he rose in answer to the call to dinner.
As they were crossing the road he said, confidentially: "Now see here, you mustn't talk politics round the ladies over there, sheriff."
"Politics?"
"You know what I mean. You keep to the weather and the crops, and let this murder case alone for a minute or two, or I'll bat you one for luck."
Winters took this threat as a sign of their good understanding, and remarked, jocosely, "You damned young cub, I'd break you in two for a leather cent."
"That's all right, but what I say goes," replied Calvin. And remembering old Joe Streeter's political pull, the sheriff did not reply.
Jennie kept the talk pleasantly inconsequential during dinner by a cheery tale of the doings of a certain Chinaman she had once tried to train into a cook, and Calvin, laughing heartily, matched her experience with that of his mother while keeping house in Pinon City one winter. This left Elsie to a little conversation with Curtis.
"You must let me see this council to-night," she said, and her request had the note of a command.
"I know how you feel," he said, "and I wish I could do so; but I can't make an exception in your favor without offending the Parkers."
"Are you not the general?" she asked, smilingly. "If you see fit to invite me and leave them out, they can only complain. I'm going to stay here with Jennie, anyhow."
"In that case we can manage it."
"Do you know what I think? You've instigated this whole affair to convert me to your point of view. Really, the whole thing is like a play. I'm not a bit frightened—at least, not yet. It's precisely like sitting in a private box and seeing the wolves tear holes in Davy Crockett's cabin. You are the manager of the show."
"Well, why not? When the princess tours the provinces it is customary to present historical pageants in her honor. This drama is your due." And as he spoke he observed for the first time the absence of the ring from her significant finger. The shock threw him into a moment's swift surmise, and when he looked up at her she was flushed and uneasy. She recovered herself first, and though her hand remained on the table it had the tremulous action of a frightened small animal—observed yet daring not to seek cover.
"I hope this council to-night will not fail. I am eager to see what you will do with them," she hastened to say.
"They will come!" he replied.
Calvin was relating a story of a mountain-lion he had once treed for an Eastern artist to photograph.
"Just then the dern brute jumped right plum onto the feller and knocked him down, machine and all; for a minute or two it was just a mixture o' man and lion, then that feller come up top, and the next thing I seen he batted the lion with his box, and that kind o' stunted the brute, and he hit him again and glass began to fly; he was game all right, that feller was. When the lion stiffened out, he turned to where I was a-rollin' on the pine-needles, and says, quiet-like, 'Give me your revolver, please.' I give it to him, and he put it to the lion's ear and finished him. When he got up and looked at his machine he says, 'How much is a mountain-lion skin worth?' ''Bout four dollars, green,' I says. He looked at the inwards of his box, which was scattered all over the ground. Says he, 'You wouldn't call that profitable, would you—a seventy-dollar instrument in exchange for a four-dollar pelt?'"
Everybody laughed at this story, and the dinner came to an end with the sheriff in excellent temper. Lawson offered cigars, and tolled him across the road to the office, leaving Curtis alone in his library.
He resolutely set to work to present the situation of the sheriff's presence concisely to the department in a telegram, and was still at work upon this when Jennie entered the room, closed the curtains, and lit the lamp.
Elsie came in a little later to say, sympathetically:
"Are you tired, Captain Curtis?"
He pushed his writing away.
"Yes, a little. The worst of it is, I keep saying:If so and so happens, then I must do thus and thus, and that is the hardest work in the world. I can deal with actual, well-defined conditions—even riots and mobs—but fighting suppositions is like grappling with ghosts."
"I know what you mean," she replied, quickly. "But I want to ask you—could father be of any help if I telegraphed him to come?"
He sat up very straight as she spoke, but did not reply till he turned her suggestion over in his mind. "No—at least, not now. What troubles me is this: the local papers will be filled with scare-heads to-morrow morning; your father will see them, and will be alarmed about you."
"I will wire him that I am all right."
"You must do that. I consider you are perfectly safe, but at the same time your father will think you ought not to be here, and blame me for allowing you to come in; and, worst of all, he will wire you to come out."
"Suppose I refuse to go, would that be the best of all?" Her face was distinctly arch of line.
His heart responded to her lure, but his words were measured as he answered: "Sometimes the responsibility seems too great; perhaps you would better go. It will be hard to convince him that you are not in danger."
She sobered. "There really is danger, then?"
"Oh yes, so long as these settlers are in their present mood, I suppose there is. Nothing but the life of an 'Injun' will satisfy them. Their hate is racial in its bitterness."
"You think I ought to go, then?"
He looked at her with eyes that were wistful and searching.
"Yes. It is a sad ending, but perhaps Captain Maynard will be here to-morrow with a troop of cavalry, and—I—think I must ask him to escort you to the railway."
"But the danger will be over then."
"To your father it will seem to be intensifying."
"I will not go on that account! I feel that the safest place will be right here with you, for your people love you. I am not afraid when I am near you."
Curtis suddenly realized how dangerously sweet it was to sit in his own library with Elsie in that mood seated opposite him. The sound of a tapping on the window relieved the tension of the moment.
"Another of my faithful boys," he said, rising quickly. Then, turning to her with a tenderness almost solemn, he added: "Miss Brisbane, I hope you feel that if danger really threatened I would think of you first of all. You will stay with Jennie to-night?"
"If you think best, but we want to know all that goes on. I can't bear to be battened down like passengers in a storm at sea; there is nothing so trying to nerves. I want to be on deck with the captain if the storm breaks."
"Very well. I promise not to leave you in ignorance," and, raising the curtain, he signed to the man without to enter. It was Crow, the captain of the police, a short man with a good-humored face, now squared with serious dignity.
"Two Dog has just come in from Willow Creek," he reported. "He says the cattlemen are still camped by Johnson's ranch. They all held a council this afternoon."
"Are any of the head men here?"
"Yes, they are all at my tepee. They want to see you very bad."
"Tell them to come over at once; the council will take place here. I want you, but no more of the police. I want only the head men of each band."
After the officer went out Curtis moved the easy-chairs to the back of the room and set plain ones in a semicircular row at the front. Hardly was he settled when Elk, Grayman, and Two Horns entered the room, and, after formally shaking hands, took the seats assigned them. Their faces, usually smiling, were grave, and Grayman's brow was knotted with lines of anxiety. He was a small man, with long, brown hair, braided and adorned with tufts of the fine feathers which grow under the eagle's wings. He was handsome and neatly dressed, the direct antithesis to Crawling Elk, who was tall and slovenly, with a homely, grandfatherly face deeply seamed with wrinkles, a face that would be recognized as typical of his race. He seemed far less concerned than some of the others.
Two Horns, also quite at his ease, unrolled his pipe and began filling it, while Curtis resumed his writing.
Jennie, looking in at the door, recognized the chiefs, and they all rose politely to greet her.
"I'm coming to the council," she said to Two Horns.
He smiled. "Squaws no come council—no good."
"No, no, heap good," she replied. "We come. Chiefs heap talk—we catchim coffee."
"Good, good!" he replied. "After council, feast."
One by one the other chiefs slipped in and took their places, till all the bands were represented save that of Red Wolf, who was too far away to be reached. Curtis then sent for the sheriff and Calvin and Elsie and Lawson, and when all were seated began his talk by addressing the chieftains. He spoke in English, in order that the sheriff could hear all that was said, and Lawson interpreted it into Sioux.
"You know this young man"—he pointed at Calvin. "Some of you know this man"—he touched the sheriff. "He is the war chief of all the country beyond where Grayman lives. He comes to tell us that a herder has been killed over by the Muddy Spring. He thinks it was done by an Indian. The white people are very angry, and they say that you must find the murderer. Do you know of any one who has threatened to do this thing?"
One by one the chiefs replied: "I do not know who did this thing. I have heard no one speak of it as a thing good to be done. We are all sad."
Two Horns added a protest. "I think it hard that a whole tribe should suffer because the white man thinks one redman has done a wrong thing."
Grayman spoke sadly: "My people have had much trouble because the cattlemen want to drive their herds up the Willow, and we are like men who guard the door. On us the trouble falls. It is our duty—the same as you should say to a policeman, 'Do not let anybody come in my house.' Therefore we have been accused of killing the cattle and stealing things. But this is not true. I remembered your words, and I did nothing to make these people angry; but some of my young men threw stones to drive the sheep back, and then the herder fired at them with revolver. This was not our fault."
"He lies!" said the sheriff, hotly, when this was interpreted. "No one has fired a gun but his reckless young devils. His men were riding down the sheep, and the herder rocked 'em away."
"You admit the sheep were on the reservation, then?" asked Curtis.
"Well—yes—temporarily. They were being watered."
"Well, we won't go into that now," said Curtis, turning to the chiefs and speaking with great solemnity, using the sign-language at times. And as he sat thus fronting the strongly wrought, serious faces of his head men he was wholly admirable, and Elsie's blood thrilled with excitement, for she felt herself to be in the presence of primeval men.
"Now, Grayman, Elk, Two Horns, Standing Elk, Lone Man, and Crow, listen to me. Among white men it is the law that when any one has done a wrong thing—when he steals or murders—he is punished. If he kills a man he is slain by the chief, not by the relatives of the man who is slain. As with you, I am here to apply the white man's rule. If a Tetong has shot this herder he must suffer for it—he and no one else. I will not permit the cattlemen to punish the tribe. If you know who did this, it is your duty to give him up to the law. It is the command of the Great Father—he asks you to go back to your people and search hard to find who killed this white man. When you find him bring him to me. Will you do this?"
No one answered but Two Horns, who said, "Ay, we will do as you say," and his solemnity of utterance attested his sincerity.
"Listen to me," said Curtis again, fixing their eyes with his dramatic action. "If my only brother had done this thing, I would give him up to be punished. I would not hesitate, and I expect you to do the same."
"It is always thus," Standing Elk broke out. "The cattlemen wish to punish all redmen for what one bad young warrior does. We are weary of it."
"I know it has been so, but it shall not be so again, not while I am your chief," Curtis responded. "Will you go home and do as I have commanded? Will you search hard and bring me word what you discover?"
One by one they muttered, "Ay!" and Curtis added, heartily: "That is good—now you may go."
"I want to say a word," said the sheriff.
"Not now," replied Curtis. "These people are in my charge. Whatever is said to them I will say," and at his gesture they rose, and Crow, Standing Elk, and Lone Man went soberly out into the night.
Grayman approached Curtis and took his hand in both of his and pressed it to his breast. "Little Father, I have heard your words; they are not easy to follow, but they have entered my heart. No white man has ever spoken to me with your tongue. You do not lie; your words are soft, but they stand like rocks—they do not melt away. My words shall be like yours—they will not vanish like smoke. What I have promised, that I will fulfil." As he spoke his slight frame trembled with the intensity of his emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears, and his deep, sweet voice, accompanying his gestures, thrilled every soul in the room. At the end he dropped the agent's hand and hastened from the house like one afraid of himself.
Curtis turned to Lawson to hide his own emotion. "Mr. Lawson, I assume the sheriff is as tired as the rest of us; will you show him the bed you were kind enough to offer?"
"Sheriff Winters, if you will come with me I'll pilot you to a couch. It isn't downy, but it will rest a tired man. Calvin, you are to bunk alongside."
"All right, professor." Calvin rose reluctantly, and as he stood in the door he said, in a low voice, to Jennie, "Now if you want me any time just send for me."
"Hold the sheriff level—that's what you do for us."
"I'll see that he don't get gay," he replied, and his hearty confidence did them all good.
After the sheriff and his deputy went out, Elsie said: "Oh, it was wonderful! That old man who spoke last must be the Edwin Booth of the tribe. He was superbly dramatic."
"He took my words very deeply to heart. That was Grayman, one of the most intelligent of all my head men; but he has had a great deal of trouble. He comprehends all too much of the tragedy of his situation."
Elsie sat with her elbows on the table, gazing in silence towards the empty fireplace. She looked weary and sad.
Curtis checked himself. "I regret very deeply the worry and discomfort all this brings upon you."
"Oh, I'm not thinking of myself this time, I am thinking of the hopeless task you have set yourself. You can't solve this racial question—it's too big and too complicated. Men are simply a kind of ferocious beast. They go to work killing each other the way chickens eat grasshoppers."
"Your figure is wrong. If our Christian settlers only killed Indians to fill their stomachs they'd stop some time; but they kill them because they're like the boy about his mother—tired of seeing 'em 'round."
There was a time when Elsie's jests were frankly on the side of the strong against the weak, but she was becoming oppressed with the suffering involved in the march of civilization. "What a fine face Grayman has; I couldn't help thinking how much more refined it was than Winters! As for the cowboys, they were hulking school-boys; I was not a bit afraid of them after they were dismounted."
"Unfortunately they are a kind of six-footed beast, always mounted; there isn't a true frontiersman among them. It angered me that they had the opportunity to even look at you."
His intensity of gaze and the bitterness of his voice took away her breath for an instant, and before she could reply Jennie and Lawson came in.
Lawson was smiling. "Parker is righteously incensed. He tried to enter the council an hour ago and your dusky minions stopped him. He is genuinely alarmed now, and only waiting for daylight to take flight."
"Jerome is a goose," said Elsie.
"He's a jackass at times. A man of talent, but a bore when his yellow streak comes out." Turning to Curtis he said, very seriously, "Is there anything I can do for you, Captain?"
"You might wire your version of the disturbance to the Secretary along with mine. We can safely look for an avalanche of newspaper criticism, and I would like to anticipate their outbreak."
"Our telegrams will be at once made public—"
"Undoubtedly, and for that reason we must use great care in their composition. I have mine written; please look it over."
Jennie, who had dropped into a chair, checked a yawn. "Oh, dear; I wish it were morning."
Curtis looked at her and laughed. "I think you girls would better go to bed. Your eyes are heavy-lidded with weariness."
"Aren't you going to sleep?" asked Jennie, anxiously.
"I shall lie down here on the sofa—I must be where I can hear a tap on the window. Good-night."
Both girls rose at his word, and Elsie said: "It seems cruel that you cannot go properly to bed—after such a wearisome day."
"You forget that I am a soldier," he said, and saluted as they passed. He observed that Lawson merely bowed when she said "Good-night" politely. Surely some change had come to their relationship.
Lawson turned. "I think I will turn in, Captain; I have endorsed the telegram."
"It must go at once." He tapped on the pane, and almost instantly a Tetong, sleeping under the window, rose from his blanket and stood with his face to the window, alert and keen-eyed. "Tony, I have a long ride for you."
"All right," replied the faithful fellow, cheerfully.
"I want you to take some letters to Pinon City. Come round to the door."
As he stepped into the light the messenger appeared to be a boy of twenty, black-eyed and yellow-skinned, with thin and sensitive lips. "Take the letters to the post-office," said Curtis, speaking slowly. "You understand—and these despatches to the telegraph-office."
"Pay money?"
"No pay. Can you go now?"
"Yes, go now."
"Very well, take the best pony in the corral. You better keep the trail and avoid the ranches. Good-night."
The young fellow put the letters away in the inside pocket of his blue coat, buttoned it tightly, and slipped out into the night, and was swallowed up by the moonless darkness.
"Aren't you afraid they will do Tony harm if they meet him?"
"Not in his uniform."
"I wouldn't want that ride. Well, so long, old man. Call me if I can be of any use."
After Lawson went out Curtis sank back into his big chair and closed his eyes in deep thought. As he forecast the enormous and tragic results of the return of that armed throng of reckless cattlemen he shuddered. A war would almost destroy the Tetongs. It would nullify all he had been trying to do for them, and would array the whole State, the whole Indian-hating population of the nation, against them. Jennie re-entered softly and stood by his side. "It's worrisome business being Indian agent, after all, isn't it, George?" she said, with her hand in his hair.
He forced himself to a cheerful tone of voice. "Oh, I don't know; this is our first worry, and it will soon be over. It looks bad just now, but it will be—"
A knock at the outer door startled them both. "That is a white man—probably Barker," he said, and called, "Come in."
Calvin Streeter entered, a little abashed at seeing Jennie. Meeting Curtis's look of inquiry, he said, with winning candor, "Major, I been a-studyin' on this thing a good 'eal, and I've come to the conclusion that you're right on all these counts, and I've concluded to ride over the hill and see if I can't argue the boys out of their notion to kill somebody."
Jennie clapped her hands. "Good! That is a splendid resolution. I always knew you meant right."
Curtis held out his hand. "Shake hands, my boy. There isn't a moment to be lost. If they are coming at all, they will start about sunrise. I hope they have reconsidered the matter and broken camp."
Calvin looked a little uneasy. "Well, I'll tell ye, Major, I'm afraid them lahees that we sent back home will egg the rest on; they sure were bilun mad, but I'll go and do what I can to head 'em off. If I can't delay 'em, I'll come along with 'em, but you can count on me to do any little job that'll help you after we get here. Good-night."
"Good-night. Don't take any rest."
"Oh, I'm all right. Nobody ain't huntin' trouble with me."
After he went out Jennie said: "I call that the grace of God working in the soul of man."
Curtis looked at her keenly. "I call it the love of woman sanctifying the heart of a cowboy."
She colored a little. "Do we women go on the pay-rolls as assistant agents?"
"Not if we men can prevent it. What kind of a report would it make if I were forced to say, 'At this critical moment the charming Miss So-and-so came to my aid, and, by inviting the men in to dinner with a sweet smile, completely disarmed their hostility. Too much honor cannot be given,' etc."
"I guess if history were written by women once in a while those reports wouldn't be so rare as they are."