CHAPTER XV"Howd'y, Parson! Hello, boy!"The diversion made by the appearance of McShay was a most welcome one to the youth who felt "baffled and beaten and blown about by the winds of the wilderness of doubt." Hal felt helpless in the hands of McCloud with his metaphysical verities, so fixed, unalterable, and unanswerable, but McShay carried with him something that was tangible and workable. Shadows fled before him. Subtleties disappeared before the sun of his genial optimism, or materialized in rain or snow or ice, assumed a form that could be reckoned with. The presence of the man of action was an enormous relief to Hal. McShay's intuitions were quick and he no longer spoke to the clergyman of his health, but he swept him with a searching glance and took his hand gently in his iron grip as he would have taken the hand of a woman."You sent me word you needed help," he said to Hal."Yes.""Things is awful dull over our way; wouldn't like to miss anything. I brought over a few of the boys. It's Wah-na-gi; ain't it?"McShay was adaptable. It was perhaps a large part of his success in life. He could be vulgar and common with the vulgar and common, or he could follow those who went up into the mountains and looked into a far country, and whether with those who grovelled or those who stood on the heights, each kind felt he was one of them, and there was no hypocrisy in this. He understood and sympathized with both. There was nothing offensive in the way he said:"It's Wah-na-gi.""How did you know it was Wah-na-gi?""Why, son," and a broad smile spread over the cowman's face, "everybody on the range knows you're sweet on Wah-na-gi. Presumably, too, you was not unaware that the amiable Ladd had threatened to shoot you on sight, and that the gentle Appah has promised himself your scalp as a Christmas present!""I knew I wasn't exactly popular at the Agency just now.""And so you just went over and took her? Well, it was a fool thing to do; but it's kind of appealin,' Parson, it's appealin'. What was that young feller's name—none of yourEasterntenderfeet—the young feller that come out of the West?""Rode out of the West?" corrected McCloud with a twinkle in his eye. "That hero was a Scotchman, Mike.""Couldn't be, Parson; couldn't be. The Scotchman will risk his neck for religion or a pinch of change, but not for the ladies. No, I'll bet he was on the border, and mostly on our side. But this feller here!" and he put his hand on the shoulder of the boy with unmistakable liking; "an Englishman, too! Beats all, don't it? Anyway he loves a fight. Must have a dash of the Irish in him somewhere, even if it's the damn Protestant variety; savin' your presence, Parson. Sure, I took to him when he put it all over Ladd, and when I count a man my friend, I ain't over-nice as to his failin's. Say, it's too bad he's an Englishman, ain't it? He's saved by the Injin in him, I guess. That's the truth.""We were just discussing race prejudice," said McCloud."Don't believe in it. Nuthin' to it," ejaculated the Irishman warmly."'A mon's a mon for a' that,' eh, McShay?" suggested the countryman of Burns with a smile."No use for narrer-minded prejudice, but theEnglish—excuse me!" Mike's face and body united in a convulsion that was a three-volume exegesis of the traditional Irish point of view."Sure, it's a toss up," he continued. "The English rule Ireland. The Scotch rule England. The Irish rule America, and to hell with the rest of it—it ain't worth rulin'." The preacher laughed heartily. "You know, Hal, me boy," continued Mike, "the parson's human like the rest of us. He don't look like a duck as has swallowed a croquet ball just because a little language slips out now and then. For a gospel-foreman he's aces! Well, as I was sayin' when you interrupted me, we ain't come over to fight, we ain't a-looking fer a fight, but if there's goin' to be one, we'd hate to miss it. Does it look encouragin'?'"I'm afraid there's going to be trouble over Wah-na-gi," sighed the preacher. "I have made a formal application to the Secretary of the Interior to adopt her, but——"He did not say it, and Hal was grateful. Having expressed himself without reservation to the boy, he had the wisdom to know when to let the good seed alone. A worldly twinkle lit up McShay's eyes as he said:"You've made formal application to the Secretary of the Interior. It's a noble move, Parson, and you'll hear from it about the time Wah-na-gi is somebody's great-grandmother, and in the meantime you don't suppose these amiable feller-citizens is goin' to sit down and twirl their thumbs.""Any news from Washington, Mike?" asked Hal."Well, me boy, our fight against Ladd is goin' to precipitate the whole thing. You see, instead of communicatin' in a genteel whisper they're beginnin' to shout in Washington, and when they shout in Washington it makes the God-fearin' business man nervous and hysterical. I guess we ought to let this agitation against Ladd drop.""Why, we can't do that," protested Hal warmly. "Why let it drop?""Well, son, here's the situation. We got a bill before Congress, ain't we? To make good our title if it ain't good already. Well, we're a menace to the Trust. They may queer our bill, but if they do, they got to prove the lands are Government lands, and that shutsthemout, except for a lease from the Injins, and that we can make cost 'em a pretty penny, maybe we can queer it altogether. If everything is quiet in Washington our bill has a good chance, because we can make terms with the Trust tolet it go throughby agreein' to sell them our rights if it does go through. We are bound to git something! How much we can make 'em pay depends on how close we stick together. Now, if we put up a fight against Ladd in Washington, Ladd is the Trust's agent, they're goin' to stand behind him, and we've got a big fight on our hands, and if we get to screamin' at each other in Washington, why, every newsboy in America'll know all about it.""Suppose he does?" asked the preacher, deeply interested."Well, the present Secretary of the Interior has intimated that he might on investigation insist on these lands being held for the benefit of thegeneral public. The 'general public'! What do you think of that? Did you ever hear anything so funny in your life?""Why, that doesn't strike me as funny, McShay," said the preacher. "That seems to be a very just and splendid solution of the difficulty.""And where would we come in?" yelled the Irishman."You're part of the general public.""Hah!" he snorted, then turning to Hal; "ain't parsons the limit?""I know Secretary Walker slightly," added McCloud. "He strikes me as a strong man.""I'll tell you how strong he is," bellowed McShay. now thoroughly aroused. "He can't hold his job. That's how much the 'general public' amounts to. He don't please anybody. He's got to resign.""Well, you may quit the firing line, Mac," said Hal quietly. "But I promised Ladd to have his scalp, and I'd hate to break a promise I'd made to Ladd.""You ain't practical, either," shouted McShay. "That's the Injin in you."And the parson was in a dilemma too. He didn't know whether to praise the boy for being honest or reprove him for being vindictive."Boss, Curley's come in with the mail," said Bill as he came to Hal and handed him a telegram. "Nuthin' but this."Curley completely recovered, but minus a right arm, was now one of Hal's retainers, and like all converts he was a fanatic where the owner of the Red Butte Ranch was concerned."I hope it's news from Washington," said Hal. "No, it's from London."It read: "Your father ill. Come back immediately. Rundall.""It's from my father's physician," explained Hal, handing the cable to McCloud."And say, Boss," said Bill, trying to keep the worst news to the last, "Ladd's out here.""Ain't a-losin' any time, is he?" commented McShay."And he's got quite a few Injins with him," added Bill slowly. "In fact, they got us surrounded, I reckon." And Bill returned to his post."Go out and see Ladd, will you?" Hal said to his two friends. "And let me know what he has to propose? It'll give me a moment to think.""Come on, Parson," said McShay, and he took the preacher affectionately by the arm. "By the way, would you say that Ladd was aScotchname?"McCloud shot him a sly glance."I shouldn't wonder, McShay; but I don't think the yellow canine mixture ismonopolizedby the Scotch, do you?""Oh, ain't you touchy about your damned old race?"And the two queer pals walked away arm in arm."Wah-na-gi, come here, please."Hal called gently at the door. She did not hear. It was a shame to wake her. He called again and then again. When she did awaken it was with a start, her heart throbbing violently until she saw him, then she breathed evenly with an assured smile. He thought she had never looked so beautiful as she stood holding to the support of the portico, and then he noticed for the first time that she was dressed like her people, and the brave flash and glitter of the barbaric colors stirred something within him; something strange, mystical. He felt the touch of an unseen hand, heard the sound of a silent voice. He thrilled to vague impulses, to a half-remembered strain that might have been a love song or a lullaby, that had in it the note of the primeval woods and the vastness of the sky and plain. He forgot the exigency of the moment, the dangers that confronted them, and said: "Wah-na-gi, wait here for a moment. I've something I want to give you."And he disappeared into the house leaving her wondering and alone. She, too, was conscious of some occult force to whose vibration she thrilled. When Hal woke her she was quivering with the ragged remnants of a dream. Nat-u-ritch had come to her and said: "You will be very happy. My son loves you." Then John McCloud had come and led her away to the Land of Shadows. Here were shadow streams and shadow hills, shadow wickiups, shadow horses and cattle, shadow lovers and shadow children. Then Hal had come and called her away, and she woke to see him.This dream came back to her as she waited. There was the grave of Nat-u-ritch. She walked over to it. The gravestone was very simple like her life, a rough bowlder torn from the bed of a mountain torrent. It displayed no date of birth or death, no line of eulogy, no word of sentiment, just her name in rude lettering cut into the face of the rock, but to any one who knew her tragic story it seemed appropriate and impressive. To Wah-na-gi it made the whole dingy, desolate place sacred. Nat-u-ritch seemed very real as she stood there by her grave. She knew Nat-u-ritch's story and understood it. The resignation of the Indian woman toiling patiently through life knowing that she was unloved, finding consolation in her child; then bewildered, unable to understand why her baby should be taken from her arms and given to a strange white woman to be taken into a far country; then the tall chief bringing his dead daughter in his arms and holding her out to the white man, all that was left of the little savage who was wife and mother, with the weapon of destruction in one hand and her child's little moccasins in the other. Nat-u-ritch was very real to Wah-na-gi just then. Her spirit brooded near."Wah-na-gi, I want you to have these as a keepsake."Hal held something in his hands at which he looked intently. Something glittered and gleamed like her buckskin dress. They were a tiny pair of child's moccasins."They were mine," he said, "when I was a little boy running around here on the ranch. Those were happy days," he added dreamily. "My father gave them to me before I left England. He took them from my dead mother's hand. When my father gave them to me I knew I had seen them before, often and often in my dreams. I used to think it was Nat-u-ritch, my little mother, holding them out to me. Then it seemed to me to be you, calling to me, calling me to leave the cities, the limits, the din, the make-believe, the murderous crowds; calling me to the desert, the naked rocks, and the far spaces, the brooding snows, the camp-fires, the songs of the pines, and the angry rapids; calling me to my own, to live my life in the open, and be a man among men."His eye was fixed on space and he spoke like one hypnotized or in a dream. She knew it was the son of Nat-u-ritch speaking to her, speaking to his own soul."Perhaps—you would like them," he added. "I would like you to have them," and he held them toward her. "It's the best I have to give. They are my 'medicine,' my 'sacred bundle.'"Tears were gathering in her eyes as she took and kissed them."And now John McCloud says I must go back to all that—to the land and the life where I was an idler, a drunkard, and a failure."Her heart stood still."Go back! Why?""Because I love you, because I want you, because I can't live without you."She was in his arms and knew the supremest joy of her life."And nobody is going to take you from me," he added defiantly.He was fighting McCloud, doing battle with himself. He had forgotten the agent until McShay entered with a face graver than his wont."Well, what does he say, Mike?""He insists on talkin' things over with you in person.""Oh, well, bring him in. Wah-na-gi," he turned to her as the Irishman disappeared, "Ladd is here."CHAPTER XVIWan-na-gi shrank back, her eyes set with terror."Don't let him take me away. I couldn't go back there. When I sent to you I had stood all I could. Don't let that man put his hand on me. You thought he was protecting me from Appah. I didn't tell you—I was ashamed. It was because, because——""He wanted you for himself.""Yes.""He won't take you back; not if I live. Now listen and don't be afraid. My men believe in me, better still, in my luck. McShay's men want nothing better than a chance to even scores with Ladd. We have the position. Ladd isn't a soldier. He doesn't know this game. I do. He couldn't take the ranch if he had twice as many braves, except at a fearful cost——""My own people!" she said, as if it just occurred to her for the first time. "We shall kill our own people!" This time she included him."You are my people," he said passionately. "You are my country, my all. Nothing else matters. Go in, Wah-na-gi, and don't be afraid.""We must not kill our own people. They're your people as well as mine.""A fight's a fight, Wah-na-gi. Leave it to me.""I didn't think of this when I called to you. I was tortured, mad, desperate, and I cried out for help. It was a mistake. I—I—yes, I will go back.""No, that would be horrible; I could not let you go back. We don't know what may happen, but I could not do that. Won't you leave it to me? Trust to me?"She raised her eyes to him with a look of serene abnegation, of exalted self-surrender, that transported him, then sobered him.He took her in his arms, kissed her as a brother might, and she went within."Howd'y, Calthorpe?" said Ladd easily as he entered with McShay and McCloud."How are you, Mr. Ladd?""I want to talk to Calthorpe alone, if you don't mind," said the agent to the other two."Certainly," said Hal; "these gentlemen will step into the house for a moment."The Irishman drew the preacher toward the upper wing of the house, keeping his eye steadily on the agent who sauntered away. Suddenly he stopped."On second thought you may have him," he saidsotto voceto McCloud."Suppose we divide the responsibility," responded the preacher with a grave face, "and call him—Scotch-Irish?"And they went within to continue the animated discussion as to the relative contributions of each country to the world's greatness.As Ladd turned the two men faced each other."I understand," said Hal easily, "that you threatened to shoot me on sight. Well, I'm on sight.""Well," said the other calmly, "it may come to that, and it may not. That's up to you.""Sit down," and Hal motioned to a seat with a smile."Thanks!" and Ladd sat on the harrow and nursed his knee in a careless off-hand way. "The Indians are very mad. Abduction of women is a serious matter, isn't it? Even a mean, dispirited race will fight for its women. Well, her people think you stole Wah-na-gi."Hal thought for a moment and then as he did not see any advantage in dodging the issue, he said:"Yes, I took her. She's here.""Oh, you admit it?" said the agent with elation. "Well, that's something. Then perhaps you'll be good enough to hand her over to me.""Well, no, not exactly. You see she's claimed my protection.""Yourprotection?" responded Ladd with a cynical laugh. "That's rather feeble, isn't it? Well, the Indians claim my protection; protection for their women, for their homes!"To Hal, who knew the extent of Wah-na-gi's obligations to her own people and their supreme indifference to the girl, this buncombe was peculiarly exasperating, but he did not honor it with a reply.Ladd rose and came over to him. Hal was seated and the other bent down over him: "Now, you're no fool, Calthorpe; you know that you've done a wild, reckless, impossible thing, and you also know that you can't get away with it," and the smooth, cool, even manner gave place to the aggressive attitude of the bully who felt secure in his position. "Now, after what happened at the powwow over at the Agency, no one State is big enough for you and me.""Yes," assented Hal complacently, "I've realized that you and I were a bit crowded.""You're in wrong this time, Calthorpe, and I've got you where I want you," and Ladd chuckled over the prospect.In the cold light of day and in the scrutiny of second thought and under hostile criticism, Hal had a sickening sense that his act was crazy, quixotic, indefensible, and yet what could he have done otherwise? Could he as a man have left this woman he loved to be hounded into self-destruction or dishonor? She had called to him in her desperation. Could he have turned a deaf ear to that cry? He had as usual acted on impulse. Having at very great risk effected her rescue, was he to face the ultimate and inevitable and hand her back to these wolves? It was inconceivable. One step involved another. He must go on, trusting to chance, a perilous trust."What is the idea?" asked Ladd with sarcastic tolerance. "The Government, the Army, and the American nation is behind me."Hal knew that this was too true."I am responsible to the Government and the people for this girl. And you come over and take her away from me by force.""Because you have betrayed your trust.""I was in the very act of affording her protection from the man of whom she complained when you stole her. Well, what are you going to do with her now that you've got her?"Hal did not quail under Ladd's merciless gaze, but inwardly he writhed.What was he going to do? Oh, if he could take this wretch by the throat and say: "She's mine—my wife, my wife!"Ladd waited, then added: "Why, if you try to keep her, we'll wipe you out of existence—you and your ranch.""That sounds like a threat.""We'll make it good. Now you and McShay and your crowd have been getting busy at Washington! You have been trying to get me removed, haven't you?""We have.""And you haven't done it, have you?""Not yet, but we have hopes; we have hopes, Brother Ladd.""It didn't take you long to discover that I had a few friends in Washington myself, did it?""No, we found that you were a patriot who had all his life sacrificed his own interests to the good of his country. We found it was first Washington, then Lincoln, and now Ladd.""Your only excuse is that you're a kid. You make it hard for me to keep my temper. You make it hard for me to let you out of the hole you've put yourself in.""Let me out?""Yes, I can let you out or I can drown you in it. You want this woman.""So do you."The two men stood eye to eye for a tense moment. Then Ladd shrugged his shoulders and returned to the business in hand."Cadger has decided that I cannot afford such a luxury under the circumstances, and perhaps I can't. He thinks, and perhaps he's right, that you and I could do a whole lot better than fight each other. If you think so too, I'll meet you half-way.""What's your game, Mr. Agent?""Well, I can arrest Appah and take these Indians home, and—forget it. Now you call off your crowd in Washington and I'll call off mine here. What do you say?""Your offer takes me by surprise. I'll have to submit it to McShay."As Hal walked to the house it went through his brain that this was a very quick solution of a very dangerous situation. It was obvious that it would meet the worldly views of McShay. That astute politician had just expressed the belief that the war on Ladd was bad policy. It also shot through his brain that it would not coincide with the unworldly views of McCloud. Should he call out McShay alone? It is useless to deny that he was tempted. In fact, he was on the Mount of Temptation and was to miss no phase of that ordeal.Ladd hesitated. "Why, you're not going to—Can't this be settled between you and me?" he suggested nervously."You two Macs come out here," called Hal through the door."These men are interested with me in this fight. I can't act without them. Gentlemen," said Hal to the Irishman and the Scotchman as they came forward with an air of expectancy; "the agent has made me a proposition. Unless we agree to call off the fight against him in Washington, or I surrender Wah-na-gi, he will turn Appah and his friends loose on us and make the ranch a dust heap. That's about it.""Now, ain't that nice?" said McShay with the air of a pleased child. "Now, Parson, you have an introduction to practical politics. Well, son," he continued, turning to Hal; "it's up to you to decide. Of course my constituents will say I was bought off, but it wouldn't be the first time they've said unpleasant things about me, and I'll see you through this either way. To me and the parson you're on the square with regards to this girl, but we're only two people and we ain't a workin' majority. Ladd's got a strangle holt on you in a way, so if you want to buy him off—well, I'll stand in.""Thank you, Mike. What do you say, John?""What you have done, you have done. For the protection of this fine Indian girl, well, trust her to God. Omnipotence can care for her.""Well, Parson," said Mike doubtfully, "just for the sake of argument; why not leave Ladd to Omnipotence? Think the agent's too many for Omnipotence?"The clergyman ignored the irrepressible Irishman."You have asserted," he went on, "that Agent Ladd is unfit for his responsible position, that he has been untrue to his trust. If you go back on that you make yourselves liars and frauds, and continue this man's tyranny, and fasten it on these helpless people. There are those who are looking to you, trusting to you, who have enlisted under you in this fight. You can't betray them. You can't juggle with the right. You can't do it.""That's the answer, Mr. Agent," said Hal quietly."Ain't parsons the limit?" murmured McShay to himself."Then of course you've decided to hand Wah-na-gi over to me," said Ladd with menace."I'll see you damned first," was Hal's reply."Then you'll be responsible for hell cut loose," and the agent started to go."See here; wait a minute!" cried McShay intercepting him. "I've got it, and I can fix it so as to satisfy everybody."He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a coin. "I'll match you for it—to see whether we give up the fight against you in Washington, or you throw up the sponge here. Now that's fair, Parson. That sort of puts it up to Providence, don't you see?""We're wasting time," snapped Ladd, now quivering with rage. "I'll give you ten minutes to produce Wah-na-gi or take the consequences."The participants in this scene had been so intent on the business in hand that they were oblivious to the noise of horses' hoofs beating the plain and the rattle of accoutrements as a couple of troops of United States cavalry swept through the Indian lines and the cowboy outposts without stopping to say by your leave, and came to a sudden and spectacular halt just back of the grave of Nat-u-ritch.Captain Baker dismounted and advanced to the group in front of the house."What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?" he asked in a clear, ringing voice that had the cut of a sabre in it. His mouth was set, his face firm and four square, determination and authority written in every angle. He looked from one to the other and waited for the answer. Meanwhile Appah, in war bonnet and war-paint, pushed his pony to the background as if determined not to be ignored in the settlement of the dispute. Big Bill followed him.It was obvious to Hal and McShay that Baker's advent was not just what Ladd had planned."I didn't call on you, Captain," said the agent, "because my Indian police are quite sufficient.""Police?" said Captain Baker, eying the other sternly. "Why, you've got the whole tribe out here. Some one sent me a wire that a fight was on at Red Butte Ranch between the settlers and the Indians."The Irishman grinned."Sure, I took the liberty of invitin' you, Captain! Knew you wouldn't like to miss a little thing like that."After the asphalt conference Baker's opinion of the agent wasn't printable, and now he looked him over with unmistakable disapproval. That Ladd hadn't appealed to him or notified him of the trouble seemed to him most suspicious."Well, there isn't going to be any scrap between the settlers and the Indians. I'll see to that."Knowing that he could not move without orders, he had telegraphed to head-quarters."Mr. Ladd, your Indians are off the Reservation. I've instructions to put them back."Ladd saw that he could expect no favors from the officer."Correct, Captain," he answered, meeting the challenge."And I call upon you to see to it that they go back,all of them.""I'll do that fast enough."Wah-na-gi could stand the strain no longer. She had crouched within the door of the cabin trying to follow the course of events which were to decide her fate: hearing something, missing much, trying to fill in the gaps, scanning the faces to read there the answer that meant so much to her, every nerve and muscle tense, her heart pounding like an engine carrying too heavy a load. She seemed to be suffocating in the house, and she walked out and faced them. Every eye was turned upon her. She saw the troopers cleared for action, bronzed, clean-cut figures, with no frills or gold braid, their service khaki covered with alkali dust, weather stained, sitting potential on their smoking horses, so much bigger than the Indian ponies or the cowboys' mustangs, waiting for the word of this quiet young man who eyed her sternly. What was all this fuss about? Nothing but an Indian woman! nothing but an Indian woman! That was what she seemed to feel.Realizing that the Army would cast the deciding vote, the Indians had broken their formation, and the cowboys had come in from the cover of the outbuildings and their hastily constructed intrenchments and were standing about in groups awaiting developments. There was Appah's hawk-like face, the agent's penetrating stare! Big Bill and McShay! So many cruel, hostile eyes! The air seemed filled with poisoned arrows.She slipped without design between McCloud and Hal, like a hunted animal seeking shelter. Hal felt her fear, her craving for love and shelter, and put his hand on her arm.The agent advanced toward the officer and pointed at her."Calthorpe, here, has kidnapped an Indian woman, and holds her by force against me, the agent, and against her relatives and friends."Appah cut his pony with a quirt and pushed to the front."My squaw—my woman!" he said, pointing too.So that was it. All this fuss and fury over a woman, an Indian woman at that. The captain was beginning to feel distinctly annoyed. He and his men in a forced march in the broiling sun and the choking dust! A squaw! However, as he took another good look at the Indian Helen, perhaps there were mitigating circumstances—she was pretty; she was damn pretty."Your woman?" he said without looking at Appah, and deciding on the spot that she was entirely too good for that copper-colored malefactor."Are you Appah's squaw?" he asked Wah-na-gi, but in a kinder tone than he intended and which he felt was unmistakably unofficial. He was a young man and rather careful of his dignity."No," she replied with decision."Whether she is or is not," said Ladd sharply; "she's the Government's ward—my ward. I'm responsible for her, and I demand her."The force of this was unanswerable. The captain paused for a moment. Then he addressed Hal, whom he liked."I don't see, Calthorpe, on what theory you take and detain this woman, unless," and he paused again, "unless you claim that she isyourwife."It was Hal's turn to feel that the air was filled with poisoned arrows. Every eye was upon him. Every one waited. It washisturn to speak. There was a clergyman standing beside him who in a half-dozen words could make them man and wife. It was perfectly true he had taken her from the care of the representative of the Government forwhat? The pause was interminable. The silence was maddening. Why didn't some one say something? His position was grotesque, impossible, cowardly. If he shrank from becoming a squaw-man, why didn't he leave the Indian woman to her own life and her own people? He felt as if an armor-piercing shell had burst in his brain, leaving his mind in ruins. He couldn't speak. He hadn't two consecutive words to put together. McCloud, the only one present who knew the truth, had been so conscious of the boy's predicament and so deeply grieved with and for him that he, too, shrank back into silence. The pause was obvious therefore before the clergyman crossed to the officer and began to speak."Thank God some one was talking," was Hal's thought, though he did not hear what McCloud was saying."Captain Baker," said the clergyman, "it is common report that certain interests are trying to get the asphalt lands belonging to the Indians and that Appah is betraying his people for a price. Wah-na-gi is that price. As you know, I have lived on the Agency, and I know of my own knowledge that this woman has been persecuted by this man with the connivance of the agent, and her honor and perhaps her life threatened. In order to protect her I have made an application to the Secretary of the Interior to adopt her as my ward.""With her consent?" asked the officer."Oh, yes, yes," cried Wah-na-gi."Where are the woman's parents?"Dead," she replied."Any near relations?""None.""Captain Baker!" cried the agent, seeing the drift of this; "you haven't any discretionary powers in this case.Iam the Indian agent and I call on you in the interests of peace to restore this woman to the Agency, to my care."The captain paused a moment, shrugged his shoulders, and then said with obvious reluctance: "That is absolutely correct, gentlemen. I have no discretion in this matter. If the agent insists, she must go back to the Agency."Well, that was finished. There was to be no fight and no reviewing of that ultimatum. Every one except those immediately concerned drew a sigh of relief, and Baker walked back to give some instructions to his orderly.What was that? His quick ear detected something."What is it, Sergeant?" he asked of his non-commissioned officer whose gaze was fixed intently on the road by which they had come."Someone from the fort, sir, as I make out.""She must go back to the Agency."That was the final word.So that was the end. The agent had said it. There was the Army to enforce it, and back of these troops the might of millions.The Indian agent was an autocrat, a combination of king, judge, administrator, chief of police, doctor, engineer; in fact, it was a position requiring powers almost unlimited and corresponding responsibilities, and this impossible combination of inconceivable virtues was supposed to be tempted into the service of the Government by a salary of one thousand five hundred dollars a year or less. That these unique powers sometimes fell into incompetent or unworthy hands was inevitable, that the consequences were sometimes tragic, likewise inevitable."She must go back to the Agency."Hal heard it in a numb way. Wah-na-gi heard it. Hal had a wild mad impulse to kill Ladd where he stood, and his fingers sought the handle of his gun, to feel the restraining touch of John McCloud."Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and incline not to thine own understanding," whispered the calm voice of faith in his ear."Come on," said Ladd; "we must be moving."The troopers made way for the new arrival who spurred his tired horse to the side of the young commander."Despatches from department head-quarters, sir," he said, touching his hat. "They arrived at the post just after you left."Few people had been privileged to see Baker hurry. He was a deliberate body. He took his time now. In fact, he took so much time that Ladd, who was nervous and irritable, finally recalled him to the situation by saying:"We have a long, hard ride, Captain; whenever you're ready.""Yes—y-e-s," and Baker drew out the little word until it threatened to break. "I haven't forgotten. Thank you for reminding me."Then he read the papers all over again. By this time the air seemed to become electrical again, and the little group into which the spectators had divided were hypnotized by the soldier's preoccupation. The attention became concentric. Talking stopped. Everybody waited on the captain.Finally he said with great deliberation:"Mr. Ladd, you will probably find similar instructions on your return to the Agency. These are orders from General Ruggles, Department Commander at Denver, directing me to relieve you of your office, pending an investigation, and ordering me to assume your duties until further notice."Ladd was a man of quick and violent temper, and his hand instinctively felt for his gun.The husky cavalryman looked him in the eye and said very slowly:"If you pull a gun on the uniform I wear, you'll go back to Washington as damaged goods. You'd better hit the trail," and he turned away."I'm not afraid to go to Washington," said the agent, white with anger, "and I'm not afraid of an investigation," and he walked deliberately over to Calthorpe and said: "I owe this to you, Calthorpe.""I told you," was the affable reply, "that I'd camp on your trail until I had your official head.""I owe a lot to you, and I've got a damned good memory." And the agent turned on his heel and disappeared.McCloud was the first to recover from his surprise and turn the situation to account."So you are acting agent, Captain Baker. Then youhavediscretionary powersnow. This young woman is like my own daughter. I'm sure the Government will eventually let me adopt her. Will you trust her to me?""Dr. McCloud," said the soldier, a bit embarrassed by the strange situation, "we all know you. Everybody round here knows you. I guess I'll take a chance on you."This disposition of the bone of contention seemed to the captain like a special providence, and he was immensely relieved."My squaw—my woman!"Everybody had forgotten Appah."You get out of here. Savey? Go on! Get your people home."Appah looked at the young officer for a moment. The Indian respects our soldiers. The men who fought the Indians have as a rule been just to them, have kept their promises to them when they could, and the Indian fears our soldiers and also trusts them."Go on or I'll have you in the guard-house."Appah turned his horse's head and rode away, but ugly and surly.Baker was in the saddle and his men were already on the move when he turned and said to the clergyman:"When people get to scrappin' over a young and pretty woman, I guess it's about time for Bobby Baker to pass up the job of chaperon. You got your work cut out for you, Doctor, and by the holy smoke I'll hold you accountable.""Thank you, Captain; thank you. I'll try to be worthy of your confidence," and Baker rode after his men.McShay's eyes were twinkling as he gazed after the boys in khaki."Parson," he said, "the Lord and the little old picayune U.S.A. is a fine workin' combination, ain't it?"And the Irishman went out to round up his desperadoes, almost consoled for missing the fight by the sight of his adopted country's flag and her fighting men. Perhaps it's an inherited impulse, but even the man of peace stirs to the sound of the bugle, the beat of the drum, and the brave glitter of a fluttering flag.McCloud turned to see the troopers round up the Indians like a bunch of cattle and start them back to the Agency."Wah-na-gi," he said without turning, "after to-day I think you can look on that flag as your flag. For once at least it has stood for protection instead of oppression to the Indian. You will learn to love it too, some day."As she did not reply he turned to see her in Hal's arms, held close in a fierce embrace, the young man murmuring incoherently: "You are safe, and you are mine—mine—mine!"They were alone, these three. McCloud regarded the two young people for a moment with sympathy, then he advanced to the side of Hal, touched him on the elbow, and said:"This is yours."It was the cable from the London physician about his father's illness."Oh, yes," Hal said in a dazed way; "I had forgotten.""You can't forget; you can't avoid; you can't postpone. You must choose, and you must choose now."It was hard not to be allowed a moment in which to enjoy the fierce ecstasy of triumph, of possession. Hal's life went out of him. He sank down on the rough bench and buried his face in his hands.McCloud continued: "I have assumed certain obligations to this child which I consider sacred. I know that I have no power over her, no influence with her, except what you may choose to give me. I leave you together to decide this for yourselves, and I pray that you may deny yourselves the present and trust God for the future," and he went within to lie down to rest, for the strain and the excitement had been a great drain on his small store of energy.They were alone together, their fate in their own hands. Wah-na-gi came over to him and put her hand on his bowed head with a caress."It shall be as you wish.""No, my girl, it cannot be as I wish. It cannot be."The acquired powers of review, of analysis, of restraint were forever battling within him with the impulses of the savage. He didn't understand it himself, this tumult, this confusion, this irresolution."I'm all wrong somehow," he cried bitterly. "McCloud is right. I'm not fit to be trusted with a love like yours. I'd soil it or crush and destroy it. I want you; I want you like a madman. I hate McCloud because he stands between us. I can't wait and toil and suffer. I don't know how, and yet I know I must.""Whatever you decide will be right.""It's that makes it impossible. You trust me.""Of course," she said with a smile."You don't know that I'm a coward or a fool or both. I must live up to your belief in me, and I can't. I haven't the will to go back, to leave everything I want and go back to everything I loathe. McCloud says happiness is worth fighting for, worth waiting for, but I want to take it. How do I know if I let it slip from my grasp now that I'll ever see it again? How do I know that if I do go now I'll ever seeyouagain? Oh, Wah-na-gi, worse than all, I haven't had the courage to destroy your belief in me.""You couldn't do that.""You have known for a long time that I loved you. You have wondered, of course you have wondered, why I never asked you to be my wife. You saw me stand here like a helpless imbecile when I ought to have stood out and said proudly: 'She is mine. Touch her if you dare. She is my wife.' And I couldn't, I couldn't, because I am married. My wife is living in England."Wah-na-gi drew a long breath. Then she sat down on a bench beside him."It's always like that," she said with the fatalism of her race. "Happiness goes out like one's breath on a frosty night."She dropped into the figure of speech of her people."There sleeps Nat-u-ritch," she thought. "She, too, loved a white man, and there she lies dreaming. Did God make the Indian woman too? I wonder why?"She always thought of him as a white man."The white woman is waiting for you.""No, she cares for me less even than I care for her. If I go back it will be to be free."McCloud appeared at the door of the cabin. He had tried to rest but he carried with him the sense of the conflict which he had left behind. He must know the result. Was it victory or defeat?"Well, Hal, my son," he said gently; "which is it? Do you stay or do you go?"Hal rose to his feet, pressed his hands to his head and then there was a long silence. Big Bill appeared at the entrance to the stable."Well, Boss," he said, awaiting instructions."My horse ready, Bill?"Hal referred to the fresh horse he had ordered to be ready for the fight."As you ordered, sir.""I'll catch the Overland Limited at Carbon. Send my things after me.""Yes, sir," and Bill disappeared into the stable."You are going," said Wah-na-gi in a scarce audible whisper. "Where?""Back to London. Back home—no, not home. This is home to me."Wah-na-gi crept to McCloud like a timid child."Must he go?""Yes, I think so."Then she turned to Hal with a pitiful cry: "And you'll never come back.""Oh, yes I will, Wah-na-gi; yes I will. I couldn't stay away. It's in my blood. I love this desolate land. It's my land. I love these people. They are my people. McShay is here; Bill is here; John McCloud is here; my mother is here; you are here. I couldn't stay away.""If you do come back," said John McCloud with his eyes filled with tears, "you must bring this Indian woman clean hands and a pure heart. Promise me that.""I'll do that or I won't come back; so help me God."Upon the hands of the two men clasped in solemn pledge rested the small brown hand of Wah-na-gi.John McCloud turned away to hide the emotion that was mastering him. Hal took the girl in his arms, held her long to his breast, then put her at arms' length and, looking into her eyes, said through his own tears:"I'm coming back, Wah-na-gi, dear; I'm coming back."
CHAPTER XV
"Howd'y, Parson! Hello, boy!"
The diversion made by the appearance of McShay was a most welcome one to the youth who felt "baffled and beaten and blown about by the winds of the wilderness of doubt." Hal felt helpless in the hands of McCloud with his metaphysical verities, so fixed, unalterable, and unanswerable, but McShay carried with him something that was tangible and workable. Shadows fled before him. Subtleties disappeared before the sun of his genial optimism, or materialized in rain or snow or ice, assumed a form that could be reckoned with. The presence of the man of action was an enormous relief to Hal. McShay's intuitions were quick and he no longer spoke to the clergyman of his health, but he swept him with a searching glance and took his hand gently in his iron grip as he would have taken the hand of a woman.
"You sent me word you needed help," he said to Hal.
"Yes."
"Things is awful dull over our way; wouldn't like to miss anything. I brought over a few of the boys. It's Wah-na-gi; ain't it?"
McShay was adaptable. It was perhaps a large part of his success in life. He could be vulgar and common with the vulgar and common, or he could follow those who went up into the mountains and looked into a far country, and whether with those who grovelled or those who stood on the heights, each kind felt he was one of them, and there was no hypocrisy in this. He understood and sympathized with both. There was nothing offensive in the way he said:
"It's Wah-na-gi."
"How did you know it was Wah-na-gi?"
"Why, son," and a broad smile spread over the cowman's face, "everybody on the range knows you're sweet on Wah-na-gi. Presumably, too, you was not unaware that the amiable Ladd had threatened to shoot you on sight, and that the gentle Appah has promised himself your scalp as a Christmas present!"
"I knew I wasn't exactly popular at the Agency just now."
"And so you just went over and took her? Well, it was a fool thing to do; but it's kind of appealin,' Parson, it's appealin'. What was that young feller's name—none of yourEasterntenderfeet—the young feller that come out of the West?"
"Rode out of the West?" corrected McCloud with a twinkle in his eye. "That hero was a Scotchman, Mike."
"Couldn't be, Parson; couldn't be. The Scotchman will risk his neck for religion or a pinch of change, but not for the ladies. No, I'll bet he was on the border, and mostly on our side. But this feller here!" and he put his hand on the shoulder of the boy with unmistakable liking; "an Englishman, too! Beats all, don't it? Anyway he loves a fight. Must have a dash of the Irish in him somewhere, even if it's the damn Protestant variety; savin' your presence, Parson. Sure, I took to him when he put it all over Ladd, and when I count a man my friend, I ain't over-nice as to his failin's. Say, it's too bad he's an Englishman, ain't it? He's saved by the Injin in him, I guess. That's the truth."
"We were just discussing race prejudice," said McCloud.
"Don't believe in it. Nuthin' to it," ejaculated the Irishman warmly.
"'A mon's a mon for a' that,' eh, McShay?" suggested the countryman of Burns with a smile.
"No use for narrer-minded prejudice, but theEnglish—excuse me!" Mike's face and body united in a convulsion that was a three-volume exegesis of the traditional Irish point of view.
"Sure, it's a toss up," he continued. "The English rule Ireland. The Scotch rule England. The Irish rule America, and to hell with the rest of it—it ain't worth rulin'." The preacher laughed heartily. "You know, Hal, me boy," continued Mike, "the parson's human like the rest of us. He don't look like a duck as has swallowed a croquet ball just because a little language slips out now and then. For a gospel-foreman he's aces! Well, as I was sayin' when you interrupted me, we ain't come over to fight, we ain't a-looking fer a fight, but if there's goin' to be one, we'd hate to miss it. Does it look encouragin'?'
"I'm afraid there's going to be trouble over Wah-na-gi," sighed the preacher. "I have made a formal application to the Secretary of the Interior to adopt her, but——"
He did not say it, and Hal was grateful. Having expressed himself without reservation to the boy, he had the wisdom to know when to let the good seed alone. A worldly twinkle lit up McShay's eyes as he said:
"You've made formal application to the Secretary of the Interior. It's a noble move, Parson, and you'll hear from it about the time Wah-na-gi is somebody's great-grandmother, and in the meantime you don't suppose these amiable feller-citizens is goin' to sit down and twirl their thumbs."
"Any news from Washington, Mike?" asked Hal.
"Well, me boy, our fight against Ladd is goin' to precipitate the whole thing. You see, instead of communicatin' in a genteel whisper they're beginnin' to shout in Washington, and when they shout in Washington it makes the God-fearin' business man nervous and hysterical. I guess we ought to let this agitation against Ladd drop."
"Why, we can't do that," protested Hal warmly. "Why let it drop?"
"Well, son, here's the situation. We got a bill before Congress, ain't we? To make good our title if it ain't good already. Well, we're a menace to the Trust. They may queer our bill, but if they do, they got to prove the lands are Government lands, and that shutsthemout, except for a lease from the Injins, and that we can make cost 'em a pretty penny, maybe we can queer it altogether. If everything is quiet in Washington our bill has a good chance, because we can make terms with the Trust tolet it go throughby agreein' to sell them our rights if it does go through. We are bound to git something! How much we can make 'em pay depends on how close we stick together. Now, if we put up a fight against Ladd in Washington, Ladd is the Trust's agent, they're goin' to stand behind him, and we've got a big fight on our hands, and if we get to screamin' at each other in Washington, why, every newsboy in America'll know all about it."
"Suppose he does?" asked the preacher, deeply interested.
"Well, the present Secretary of the Interior has intimated that he might on investigation insist on these lands being held for the benefit of thegeneral public. The 'general public'! What do you think of that? Did you ever hear anything so funny in your life?"
"Why, that doesn't strike me as funny, McShay," said the preacher. "That seems to be a very just and splendid solution of the difficulty."
"And where would we come in?" yelled the Irishman.
"You're part of the general public."
"Hah!" he snorted, then turning to Hal; "ain't parsons the limit?"
"I know Secretary Walker slightly," added McCloud. "He strikes me as a strong man."
"I'll tell you how strong he is," bellowed McShay. now thoroughly aroused. "He can't hold his job. That's how much the 'general public' amounts to. He don't please anybody. He's got to resign."
"Well, you may quit the firing line, Mac," said Hal quietly. "But I promised Ladd to have his scalp, and I'd hate to break a promise I'd made to Ladd."
"You ain't practical, either," shouted McShay. "That's the Injin in you."
And the parson was in a dilemma too. He didn't know whether to praise the boy for being honest or reprove him for being vindictive.
"Boss, Curley's come in with the mail," said Bill as he came to Hal and handed him a telegram. "Nuthin' but this."
Curley completely recovered, but minus a right arm, was now one of Hal's retainers, and like all converts he was a fanatic where the owner of the Red Butte Ranch was concerned.
"I hope it's news from Washington," said Hal. "No, it's from London."
It read: "Your father ill. Come back immediately. Rundall."
"It's from my father's physician," explained Hal, handing the cable to McCloud.
"And say, Boss," said Bill, trying to keep the worst news to the last, "Ladd's out here."
"Ain't a-losin' any time, is he?" commented McShay.
"And he's got quite a few Injins with him," added Bill slowly. "In fact, they got us surrounded, I reckon." And Bill returned to his post.
"Go out and see Ladd, will you?" Hal said to his two friends. "And let me know what he has to propose? It'll give me a moment to think."
"Come on, Parson," said McShay, and he took the preacher affectionately by the arm. "By the way, would you say that Ladd was aScotchname?"
McCloud shot him a sly glance.
"I shouldn't wonder, McShay; but I don't think the yellow canine mixture ismonopolizedby the Scotch, do you?"
"Oh, ain't you touchy about your damned old race?"
And the two queer pals walked away arm in arm.
"Wah-na-gi, come here, please."
Hal called gently at the door. She did not hear. It was a shame to wake her. He called again and then again. When she did awaken it was with a start, her heart throbbing violently until she saw him, then she breathed evenly with an assured smile. He thought she had never looked so beautiful as she stood holding to the support of the portico, and then he noticed for the first time that she was dressed like her people, and the brave flash and glitter of the barbaric colors stirred something within him; something strange, mystical. He felt the touch of an unseen hand, heard the sound of a silent voice. He thrilled to vague impulses, to a half-remembered strain that might have been a love song or a lullaby, that had in it the note of the primeval woods and the vastness of the sky and plain. He forgot the exigency of the moment, the dangers that confronted them, and said: "Wah-na-gi, wait here for a moment. I've something I want to give you."
And he disappeared into the house leaving her wondering and alone. She, too, was conscious of some occult force to whose vibration she thrilled. When Hal woke her she was quivering with the ragged remnants of a dream. Nat-u-ritch had come to her and said: "You will be very happy. My son loves you." Then John McCloud had come and led her away to the Land of Shadows. Here were shadow streams and shadow hills, shadow wickiups, shadow horses and cattle, shadow lovers and shadow children. Then Hal had come and called her away, and she woke to see him.
This dream came back to her as she waited. There was the grave of Nat-u-ritch. She walked over to it. The gravestone was very simple like her life, a rough bowlder torn from the bed of a mountain torrent. It displayed no date of birth or death, no line of eulogy, no word of sentiment, just her name in rude lettering cut into the face of the rock, but to any one who knew her tragic story it seemed appropriate and impressive. To Wah-na-gi it made the whole dingy, desolate place sacred. Nat-u-ritch seemed very real as she stood there by her grave. She knew Nat-u-ritch's story and understood it. The resignation of the Indian woman toiling patiently through life knowing that she was unloved, finding consolation in her child; then bewildered, unable to understand why her baby should be taken from her arms and given to a strange white woman to be taken into a far country; then the tall chief bringing his dead daughter in his arms and holding her out to the white man, all that was left of the little savage who was wife and mother, with the weapon of destruction in one hand and her child's little moccasins in the other. Nat-u-ritch was very real to Wah-na-gi just then. Her spirit brooded near.
"Wah-na-gi, I want you to have these as a keepsake."
Hal held something in his hands at which he looked intently. Something glittered and gleamed like her buckskin dress. They were a tiny pair of child's moccasins.
"They were mine," he said, "when I was a little boy running around here on the ranch. Those were happy days," he added dreamily. "My father gave them to me before I left England. He took them from my dead mother's hand. When my father gave them to me I knew I had seen them before, often and often in my dreams. I used to think it was Nat-u-ritch, my little mother, holding them out to me. Then it seemed to me to be you, calling to me, calling me to leave the cities, the limits, the din, the make-believe, the murderous crowds; calling me to the desert, the naked rocks, and the far spaces, the brooding snows, the camp-fires, the songs of the pines, and the angry rapids; calling me to my own, to live my life in the open, and be a man among men."
His eye was fixed on space and he spoke like one hypnotized or in a dream. She knew it was the son of Nat-u-ritch speaking to her, speaking to his own soul.
"Perhaps—you would like them," he added. "I would like you to have them," and he held them toward her. "It's the best I have to give. They are my 'medicine,' my 'sacred bundle.'"
Tears were gathering in her eyes as she took and kissed them.
"And now John McCloud says I must go back to all that—to the land and the life where I was an idler, a drunkard, and a failure."
Her heart stood still.
"Go back! Why?"
"Because I love you, because I want you, because I can't live without you."
She was in his arms and knew the supremest joy of her life.
"And nobody is going to take you from me," he added defiantly.
He was fighting McCloud, doing battle with himself. He had forgotten the agent until McShay entered with a face graver than his wont.
"Well, what does he say, Mike?"
"He insists on talkin' things over with you in person."
"Oh, well, bring him in. Wah-na-gi," he turned to her as the Irishman disappeared, "Ladd is here."
CHAPTER XVI
Wan-na-gi shrank back, her eyes set with terror.
"Don't let him take me away. I couldn't go back there. When I sent to you I had stood all I could. Don't let that man put his hand on me. You thought he was protecting me from Appah. I didn't tell you—I was ashamed. It was because, because——"
"He wanted you for himself."
"Yes."
"He won't take you back; not if I live. Now listen and don't be afraid. My men believe in me, better still, in my luck. McShay's men want nothing better than a chance to even scores with Ladd. We have the position. Ladd isn't a soldier. He doesn't know this game. I do. He couldn't take the ranch if he had twice as many braves, except at a fearful cost——"
"My own people!" she said, as if it just occurred to her for the first time. "We shall kill our own people!" This time she included him.
"You are my people," he said passionately. "You are my country, my all. Nothing else matters. Go in, Wah-na-gi, and don't be afraid."
"We must not kill our own people. They're your people as well as mine."
"A fight's a fight, Wah-na-gi. Leave it to me."
"I didn't think of this when I called to you. I was tortured, mad, desperate, and I cried out for help. It was a mistake. I—I—yes, I will go back."
"No, that would be horrible; I could not let you go back. We don't know what may happen, but I could not do that. Won't you leave it to me? Trust to me?"
She raised her eyes to him with a look of serene abnegation, of exalted self-surrender, that transported him, then sobered him.
He took her in his arms, kissed her as a brother might, and she went within.
"Howd'y, Calthorpe?" said Ladd easily as he entered with McShay and McCloud.
"How are you, Mr. Ladd?"
"I want to talk to Calthorpe alone, if you don't mind," said the agent to the other two.
"Certainly," said Hal; "these gentlemen will step into the house for a moment."
The Irishman drew the preacher toward the upper wing of the house, keeping his eye steadily on the agent who sauntered away. Suddenly he stopped.
"On second thought you may have him," he saidsotto voceto McCloud.
"Suppose we divide the responsibility," responded the preacher with a grave face, "and call him—Scotch-Irish?"
And they went within to continue the animated discussion as to the relative contributions of each country to the world's greatness.
As Ladd turned the two men faced each other.
"I understand," said Hal easily, "that you threatened to shoot me on sight. Well, I'm on sight."
"Well," said the other calmly, "it may come to that, and it may not. That's up to you."
"Sit down," and Hal motioned to a seat with a smile.
"Thanks!" and Ladd sat on the harrow and nursed his knee in a careless off-hand way. "The Indians are very mad. Abduction of women is a serious matter, isn't it? Even a mean, dispirited race will fight for its women. Well, her people think you stole Wah-na-gi."
Hal thought for a moment and then as he did not see any advantage in dodging the issue, he said:
"Yes, I took her. She's here."
"Oh, you admit it?" said the agent with elation. "Well, that's something. Then perhaps you'll be good enough to hand her over to me."
"Well, no, not exactly. You see she's claimed my protection."
"Yourprotection?" responded Ladd with a cynical laugh. "That's rather feeble, isn't it? Well, the Indians claim my protection; protection for their women, for their homes!"
To Hal, who knew the extent of Wah-na-gi's obligations to her own people and their supreme indifference to the girl, this buncombe was peculiarly exasperating, but he did not honor it with a reply.
Ladd rose and came over to him. Hal was seated and the other bent down over him: "Now, you're no fool, Calthorpe; you know that you've done a wild, reckless, impossible thing, and you also know that you can't get away with it," and the smooth, cool, even manner gave place to the aggressive attitude of the bully who felt secure in his position. "Now, after what happened at the powwow over at the Agency, no one State is big enough for you and me."
"Yes," assented Hal complacently, "I've realized that you and I were a bit crowded."
"You're in wrong this time, Calthorpe, and I've got you where I want you," and Ladd chuckled over the prospect.
In the cold light of day and in the scrutiny of second thought and under hostile criticism, Hal had a sickening sense that his act was crazy, quixotic, indefensible, and yet what could he have done otherwise? Could he as a man have left this woman he loved to be hounded into self-destruction or dishonor? She had called to him in her desperation. Could he have turned a deaf ear to that cry? He had as usual acted on impulse. Having at very great risk effected her rescue, was he to face the ultimate and inevitable and hand her back to these wolves? It was inconceivable. One step involved another. He must go on, trusting to chance, a perilous trust.
"What is the idea?" asked Ladd with sarcastic tolerance. "The Government, the Army, and the American nation is behind me."
Hal knew that this was too true.
"I am responsible to the Government and the people for this girl. And you come over and take her away from me by force."
"Because you have betrayed your trust."
"I was in the very act of affording her protection from the man of whom she complained when you stole her. Well, what are you going to do with her now that you've got her?"
Hal did not quail under Ladd's merciless gaze, but inwardly he writhed.
What was he going to do? Oh, if he could take this wretch by the throat and say: "She's mine—my wife, my wife!"
Ladd waited, then added: "Why, if you try to keep her, we'll wipe you out of existence—you and your ranch."
"That sounds like a threat."
"We'll make it good. Now you and McShay and your crowd have been getting busy at Washington! You have been trying to get me removed, haven't you?"
"We have."
"And you haven't done it, have you?"
"Not yet, but we have hopes; we have hopes, Brother Ladd."
"It didn't take you long to discover that I had a few friends in Washington myself, did it?"
"No, we found that you were a patriot who had all his life sacrificed his own interests to the good of his country. We found it was first Washington, then Lincoln, and now Ladd."
"Your only excuse is that you're a kid. You make it hard for me to keep my temper. You make it hard for me to let you out of the hole you've put yourself in."
"Let me out?"
"Yes, I can let you out or I can drown you in it. You want this woman."
"So do you."
The two men stood eye to eye for a tense moment. Then Ladd shrugged his shoulders and returned to the business in hand.
"Cadger has decided that I cannot afford such a luxury under the circumstances, and perhaps I can't. He thinks, and perhaps he's right, that you and I could do a whole lot better than fight each other. If you think so too, I'll meet you half-way."
"What's your game, Mr. Agent?"
"Well, I can arrest Appah and take these Indians home, and—forget it. Now you call off your crowd in Washington and I'll call off mine here. What do you say?"
"Your offer takes me by surprise. I'll have to submit it to McShay."
As Hal walked to the house it went through his brain that this was a very quick solution of a very dangerous situation. It was obvious that it would meet the worldly views of McShay. That astute politician had just expressed the belief that the war on Ladd was bad policy. It also shot through his brain that it would not coincide with the unworldly views of McCloud. Should he call out McShay alone? It is useless to deny that he was tempted. In fact, he was on the Mount of Temptation and was to miss no phase of that ordeal.
Ladd hesitated. "Why, you're not going to—Can't this be settled between you and me?" he suggested nervously.
"You two Macs come out here," called Hal through the door.
"These men are interested with me in this fight. I can't act without them. Gentlemen," said Hal to the Irishman and the Scotchman as they came forward with an air of expectancy; "the agent has made me a proposition. Unless we agree to call off the fight against him in Washington, or I surrender Wah-na-gi, he will turn Appah and his friends loose on us and make the ranch a dust heap. That's about it."
"Now, ain't that nice?" said McShay with the air of a pleased child. "Now, Parson, you have an introduction to practical politics. Well, son," he continued, turning to Hal; "it's up to you to decide. Of course my constituents will say I was bought off, but it wouldn't be the first time they've said unpleasant things about me, and I'll see you through this either way. To me and the parson you're on the square with regards to this girl, but we're only two people and we ain't a workin' majority. Ladd's got a strangle holt on you in a way, so if you want to buy him off—well, I'll stand in."
"Thank you, Mike. What do you say, John?"
"What you have done, you have done. For the protection of this fine Indian girl, well, trust her to God. Omnipotence can care for her."
"Well, Parson," said Mike doubtfully, "just for the sake of argument; why not leave Ladd to Omnipotence? Think the agent's too many for Omnipotence?"
The clergyman ignored the irrepressible Irishman.
"You have asserted," he went on, "that Agent Ladd is unfit for his responsible position, that he has been untrue to his trust. If you go back on that you make yourselves liars and frauds, and continue this man's tyranny, and fasten it on these helpless people. There are those who are looking to you, trusting to you, who have enlisted under you in this fight. You can't betray them. You can't juggle with the right. You can't do it."
"That's the answer, Mr. Agent," said Hal quietly.
"Ain't parsons the limit?" murmured McShay to himself.
"Then of course you've decided to hand Wah-na-gi over to me," said Ladd with menace.
"I'll see you damned first," was Hal's reply.
"Then you'll be responsible for hell cut loose," and the agent started to go.
"See here; wait a minute!" cried McShay intercepting him. "I've got it, and I can fix it so as to satisfy everybody."
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a coin. "I'll match you for it—to see whether we give up the fight against you in Washington, or you throw up the sponge here. Now that's fair, Parson. That sort of puts it up to Providence, don't you see?"
"We're wasting time," snapped Ladd, now quivering with rage. "I'll give you ten minutes to produce Wah-na-gi or take the consequences."
The participants in this scene had been so intent on the business in hand that they were oblivious to the noise of horses' hoofs beating the plain and the rattle of accoutrements as a couple of troops of United States cavalry swept through the Indian lines and the cowboy outposts without stopping to say by your leave, and came to a sudden and spectacular halt just back of the grave of Nat-u-ritch.
Captain Baker dismounted and advanced to the group in front of the house.
"What is the meaning of this, gentlemen?" he asked in a clear, ringing voice that had the cut of a sabre in it. His mouth was set, his face firm and four square, determination and authority written in every angle. He looked from one to the other and waited for the answer. Meanwhile Appah, in war bonnet and war-paint, pushed his pony to the background as if determined not to be ignored in the settlement of the dispute. Big Bill followed him.
It was obvious to Hal and McShay that Baker's advent was not just what Ladd had planned.
"I didn't call on you, Captain," said the agent, "because my Indian police are quite sufficient."
"Police?" said Captain Baker, eying the other sternly. "Why, you've got the whole tribe out here. Some one sent me a wire that a fight was on at Red Butte Ranch between the settlers and the Indians."
The Irishman grinned.
"Sure, I took the liberty of invitin' you, Captain! Knew you wouldn't like to miss a little thing like that."
After the asphalt conference Baker's opinion of the agent wasn't printable, and now he looked him over with unmistakable disapproval. That Ladd hadn't appealed to him or notified him of the trouble seemed to him most suspicious.
"Well, there isn't going to be any scrap between the settlers and the Indians. I'll see to that."
Knowing that he could not move without orders, he had telegraphed to head-quarters.
"Mr. Ladd, your Indians are off the Reservation. I've instructions to put them back."
Ladd saw that he could expect no favors from the officer.
"Correct, Captain," he answered, meeting the challenge.
"And I call upon you to see to it that they go back,all of them."
"I'll do that fast enough."
Wah-na-gi could stand the strain no longer. She had crouched within the door of the cabin trying to follow the course of events which were to decide her fate: hearing something, missing much, trying to fill in the gaps, scanning the faces to read there the answer that meant so much to her, every nerve and muscle tense, her heart pounding like an engine carrying too heavy a load. She seemed to be suffocating in the house, and she walked out and faced them. Every eye was turned upon her. She saw the troopers cleared for action, bronzed, clean-cut figures, with no frills or gold braid, their service khaki covered with alkali dust, weather stained, sitting potential on their smoking horses, so much bigger than the Indian ponies or the cowboys' mustangs, waiting for the word of this quiet young man who eyed her sternly. What was all this fuss about? Nothing but an Indian woman! nothing but an Indian woman! That was what she seemed to feel.
Realizing that the Army would cast the deciding vote, the Indians had broken their formation, and the cowboys had come in from the cover of the outbuildings and their hastily constructed intrenchments and were standing about in groups awaiting developments. There was Appah's hawk-like face, the agent's penetrating stare! Big Bill and McShay! So many cruel, hostile eyes! The air seemed filled with poisoned arrows.
She slipped without design between McCloud and Hal, like a hunted animal seeking shelter. Hal felt her fear, her craving for love and shelter, and put his hand on her arm.
The agent advanced toward the officer and pointed at her.
"Calthorpe, here, has kidnapped an Indian woman, and holds her by force against me, the agent, and against her relatives and friends."
Appah cut his pony with a quirt and pushed to the front.
"My squaw—my woman!" he said, pointing too.
So that was it. All this fuss and fury over a woman, an Indian woman at that. The captain was beginning to feel distinctly annoyed. He and his men in a forced march in the broiling sun and the choking dust! A squaw! However, as he took another good look at the Indian Helen, perhaps there were mitigating circumstances—she was pretty; she was damn pretty.
"Your woman?" he said without looking at Appah, and deciding on the spot that she was entirely too good for that copper-colored malefactor.
"Are you Appah's squaw?" he asked Wah-na-gi, but in a kinder tone than he intended and which he felt was unmistakably unofficial. He was a young man and rather careful of his dignity.
"No," she replied with decision.
"Whether she is or is not," said Ladd sharply; "she's the Government's ward—my ward. I'm responsible for her, and I demand her."
The force of this was unanswerable. The captain paused for a moment. Then he addressed Hal, whom he liked.
"I don't see, Calthorpe, on what theory you take and detain this woman, unless," and he paused again, "unless you claim that she isyourwife."
It was Hal's turn to feel that the air was filled with poisoned arrows. Every eye was upon him. Every one waited. It washisturn to speak. There was a clergyman standing beside him who in a half-dozen words could make them man and wife. It was perfectly true he had taken her from the care of the representative of the Government forwhat? The pause was interminable. The silence was maddening. Why didn't some one say something? His position was grotesque, impossible, cowardly. If he shrank from becoming a squaw-man, why didn't he leave the Indian woman to her own life and her own people? He felt as if an armor-piercing shell had burst in his brain, leaving his mind in ruins. He couldn't speak. He hadn't two consecutive words to put together. McCloud, the only one present who knew the truth, had been so conscious of the boy's predicament and so deeply grieved with and for him that he, too, shrank back into silence. The pause was obvious therefore before the clergyman crossed to the officer and began to speak.
"Thank God some one was talking," was Hal's thought, though he did not hear what McCloud was saying.
"Captain Baker," said the clergyman, "it is common report that certain interests are trying to get the asphalt lands belonging to the Indians and that Appah is betraying his people for a price. Wah-na-gi is that price. As you know, I have lived on the Agency, and I know of my own knowledge that this woman has been persecuted by this man with the connivance of the agent, and her honor and perhaps her life threatened. In order to protect her I have made an application to the Secretary of the Interior to adopt her as my ward."
"With her consent?" asked the officer.
"Oh, yes, yes," cried Wah-na-gi.
"Where are the woman's parents?
"Dead," she replied.
"Any near relations?"
"None."
"Captain Baker!" cried the agent, seeing the drift of this; "you haven't any discretionary powers in this case.Iam the Indian agent and I call on you in the interests of peace to restore this woman to the Agency, to my care."
The captain paused a moment, shrugged his shoulders, and then said with obvious reluctance: "That is absolutely correct, gentlemen. I have no discretion in this matter. If the agent insists, she must go back to the Agency."
Well, that was finished. There was to be no fight and no reviewing of that ultimatum. Every one except those immediately concerned drew a sigh of relief, and Baker walked back to give some instructions to his orderly.
What was that? His quick ear detected something.
"What is it, Sergeant?" he asked of his non-commissioned officer whose gaze was fixed intently on the road by which they had come.
"Someone from the fort, sir, as I make out."
"She must go back to the Agency."
That was the final word.
So that was the end. The agent had said it. There was the Army to enforce it, and back of these troops the might of millions.
The Indian agent was an autocrat, a combination of king, judge, administrator, chief of police, doctor, engineer; in fact, it was a position requiring powers almost unlimited and corresponding responsibilities, and this impossible combination of inconceivable virtues was supposed to be tempted into the service of the Government by a salary of one thousand five hundred dollars a year or less. That these unique powers sometimes fell into incompetent or unworthy hands was inevitable, that the consequences were sometimes tragic, likewise inevitable.
"She must go back to the Agency."
Hal heard it in a numb way. Wah-na-gi heard it. Hal had a wild mad impulse to kill Ladd where he stood, and his fingers sought the handle of his gun, to feel the restraining touch of John McCloud.
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart and incline not to thine own understanding," whispered the calm voice of faith in his ear.
"Come on," said Ladd; "we must be moving."
The troopers made way for the new arrival who spurred his tired horse to the side of the young commander.
"Despatches from department head-quarters, sir," he said, touching his hat. "They arrived at the post just after you left."
Few people had been privileged to see Baker hurry. He was a deliberate body. He took his time now. In fact, he took so much time that Ladd, who was nervous and irritable, finally recalled him to the situation by saying:
"We have a long, hard ride, Captain; whenever you're ready."
"Yes—y-e-s," and Baker drew out the little word until it threatened to break. "I haven't forgotten. Thank you for reminding me."
Then he read the papers all over again. By this time the air seemed to become electrical again, and the little group into which the spectators had divided were hypnotized by the soldier's preoccupation. The attention became concentric. Talking stopped. Everybody waited on the captain.
Finally he said with great deliberation:
"Mr. Ladd, you will probably find similar instructions on your return to the Agency. These are orders from General Ruggles, Department Commander at Denver, directing me to relieve you of your office, pending an investigation, and ordering me to assume your duties until further notice."
Ladd was a man of quick and violent temper, and his hand instinctively felt for his gun.
The husky cavalryman looked him in the eye and said very slowly:
"If you pull a gun on the uniform I wear, you'll go back to Washington as damaged goods. You'd better hit the trail," and he turned away.
"I'm not afraid to go to Washington," said the agent, white with anger, "and I'm not afraid of an investigation," and he walked deliberately over to Calthorpe and said: "I owe this to you, Calthorpe."
"I told you," was the affable reply, "that I'd camp on your trail until I had your official head."
"I owe a lot to you, and I've got a damned good memory." And the agent turned on his heel and disappeared.
McCloud was the first to recover from his surprise and turn the situation to account.
"So you are acting agent, Captain Baker. Then youhavediscretionary powersnow. This young woman is like my own daughter. I'm sure the Government will eventually let me adopt her. Will you trust her to me?"
"Dr. McCloud," said the soldier, a bit embarrassed by the strange situation, "we all know you. Everybody round here knows you. I guess I'll take a chance on you."
This disposition of the bone of contention seemed to the captain like a special providence, and he was immensely relieved.
"My squaw—my woman!"
Everybody had forgotten Appah.
"You get out of here. Savey? Go on! Get your people home."
Appah looked at the young officer for a moment. The Indian respects our soldiers. The men who fought the Indians have as a rule been just to them, have kept their promises to them when they could, and the Indian fears our soldiers and also trusts them.
"Go on or I'll have you in the guard-house."
Appah turned his horse's head and rode away, but ugly and surly.
Baker was in the saddle and his men were already on the move when he turned and said to the clergyman:
"When people get to scrappin' over a young and pretty woman, I guess it's about time for Bobby Baker to pass up the job of chaperon. You got your work cut out for you, Doctor, and by the holy smoke I'll hold you accountable."
"Thank you, Captain; thank you. I'll try to be worthy of your confidence," and Baker rode after his men.
McShay's eyes were twinkling as he gazed after the boys in khaki.
"Parson," he said, "the Lord and the little old picayune U.S.A. is a fine workin' combination, ain't it?"
And the Irishman went out to round up his desperadoes, almost consoled for missing the fight by the sight of his adopted country's flag and her fighting men. Perhaps it's an inherited impulse, but even the man of peace stirs to the sound of the bugle, the beat of the drum, and the brave glitter of a fluttering flag.
McCloud turned to see the troopers round up the Indians like a bunch of cattle and start them back to the Agency.
"Wah-na-gi," he said without turning, "after to-day I think you can look on that flag as your flag. For once at least it has stood for protection instead of oppression to the Indian. You will learn to love it too, some day."
As she did not reply he turned to see her in Hal's arms, held close in a fierce embrace, the young man murmuring incoherently: "You are safe, and you are mine—mine—mine!"
They were alone, these three. McCloud regarded the two young people for a moment with sympathy, then he advanced to the side of Hal, touched him on the elbow, and said:
"This is yours."
It was the cable from the London physician about his father's illness.
"Oh, yes," Hal said in a dazed way; "I had forgotten."
"You can't forget; you can't avoid; you can't postpone. You must choose, and you must choose now."
It was hard not to be allowed a moment in which to enjoy the fierce ecstasy of triumph, of possession. Hal's life went out of him. He sank down on the rough bench and buried his face in his hands.
McCloud continued: "I have assumed certain obligations to this child which I consider sacred. I know that I have no power over her, no influence with her, except what you may choose to give me. I leave you together to decide this for yourselves, and I pray that you may deny yourselves the present and trust God for the future," and he went within to lie down to rest, for the strain and the excitement had been a great drain on his small store of energy.
They were alone together, their fate in their own hands. Wah-na-gi came over to him and put her hand on his bowed head with a caress.
"It shall be as you wish."
"No, my girl, it cannot be as I wish. It cannot be."
The acquired powers of review, of analysis, of restraint were forever battling within him with the impulses of the savage. He didn't understand it himself, this tumult, this confusion, this irresolution.
"I'm all wrong somehow," he cried bitterly. "McCloud is right. I'm not fit to be trusted with a love like yours. I'd soil it or crush and destroy it. I want you; I want you like a madman. I hate McCloud because he stands between us. I can't wait and toil and suffer. I don't know how, and yet I know I must."
"Whatever you decide will be right."
"It's that makes it impossible. You trust me."
"Of course," she said with a smile.
"You don't know that I'm a coward or a fool or both. I must live up to your belief in me, and I can't. I haven't the will to go back, to leave everything I want and go back to everything I loathe. McCloud says happiness is worth fighting for, worth waiting for, but I want to take it. How do I know if I let it slip from my grasp now that I'll ever see it again? How do I know that if I do go now I'll ever seeyouagain? Oh, Wah-na-gi, worse than all, I haven't had the courage to destroy your belief in me."
"You couldn't do that."
"You have known for a long time that I loved you. You have wondered, of course you have wondered, why I never asked you to be my wife. You saw me stand here like a helpless imbecile when I ought to have stood out and said proudly: 'She is mine. Touch her if you dare. She is my wife.' And I couldn't, I couldn't, because I am married. My wife is living in England."
Wah-na-gi drew a long breath. Then she sat down on a bench beside him.
"It's always like that," she said with the fatalism of her race. "Happiness goes out like one's breath on a frosty night."
She dropped into the figure of speech of her people.
"There sleeps Nat-u-ritch," she thought. "She, too, loved a white man, and there she lies dreaming. Did God make the Indian woman too? I wonder why?"
She always thought of him as a white man.
"The white woman is waiting for you."
"No, she cares for me less even than I care for her. If I go back it will be to be free."
McCloud appeared at the door of the cabin. He had tried to rest but he carried with him the sense of the conflict which he had left behind. He must know the result. Was it victory or defeat?
"Well, Hal, my son," he said gently; "which is it? Do you stay or do you go?"
Hal rose to his feet, pressed his hands to his head and then there was a long silence. Big Bill appeared at the entrance to the stable.
"Well, Boss," he said, awaiting instructions.
"My horse ready, Bill?"
Hal referred to the fresh horse he had ordered to be ready for the fight.
"As you ordered, sir."
"I'll catch the Overland Limited at Carbon. Send my things after me."
"Yes, sir," and Bill disappeared into the stable.
"You are going," said Wah-na-gi in a scarce audible whisper. "Where?"
"Back to London. Back home—no, not home. This is home to me."
Wah-na-gi crept to McCloud like a timid child.
"Must he go?"
"Yes, I think so."
Then she turned to Hal with a pitiful cry: "And you'll never come back."
"Oh, yes I will, Wah-na-gi; yes I will. I couldn't stay away. It's in my blood. I love this desolate land. It's my land. I love these people. They are my people. McShay is here; Bill is here; John McCloud is here; my mother is here; you are here. I couldn't stay away."
"If you do come back," said John McCloud with his eyes filled with tears, "you must bring this Indian woman clean hands and a pure heart. Promise me that."
"I'll do that or I won't come back; so help me God."
Upon the hands of the two men clasped in solemn pledge rested the small brown hand of Wah-na-gi.
John McCloud turned away to hide the emotion that was mastering him. Hal took the girl in his arms, held her long to his breast, then put her at arms' length and, looking into her eyes, said through his own tears:
"I'm coming back, Wah-na-gi, dear; I'm coming back."