A RECRUIT FROM THE WORLD.
"Oh, cam' ye here the fight to shun,
Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?"
Spring, with its showers and promises, drifted into the dim perspective,
as summer, with flaunting assumption, took possession of the foreground.
All through the changing weeks rumors came from the south and east,
telling of disaffection among the hereditary lords of the soil, and
petty troubles in different localities, that, like low mutterings of
far-off thunder, promised storms that might be remembered.
Some rust on the wheels of the slow-moving machinery of government had
caused a delay in the dealings with the people on the reservations.
Treaties ignored through generations, in both letter and spirit, are not
calculated to beget faith in the hearts of the red nations, or teach
them belief in the straightness of our tongues. Was it the fault of the
Department of the Interior at Washington, or the dishonesty of their
local agents?--the chicanery of the party in office or the scheme of
some political ring that wanted to get in by bringing forward a cause
for condemnation of the existing regime? Whatever one of the
multitudinous excuses was finally given for neglect of duty--treaties,
promises of government--Mr. Lo had now--as he has ever had--to bear the
suffering in question, whether just or unjust.
Small wonder if, now and then, a spark of that old fire in the blood
ignites, and even the most tamed spirits rise up ready to write pages of
history in blood. The only wonder is that they ever pass by the house or
the offspring of the white race without that call of the red heart for
vengeance being too strong for the hand to resist.
Through the late winter, whether through storms or floods or the schemes
of men, on one of the reservations to the south the rations had not been
forthcoming; and from week to week excuses were given that were no
longer listened to with credence by the Indians. In vain were visits
made, first to the agency, next to the nearest fort, supplicating for
their rights. One delegation after another turned back from those visits
unsatisfied, told by the first that the rations would be distributed
when they arrived, not before; told by the second that the War
Department was not in any way responsible for deficiencies of the
Department of the Interior, and could not interfere--at the same time
advising them to be patient, as eventually their wants would be
satisfied. Eventually! and in the meantime they could go back to their
tribes and eat their horses, their dogs, and see their people grow weak
as the children for the want of food.
Small wonder if one group after another of the younger braves, and even
the older warriors, broke loose from the promise of peace and joined the
hostile bands that thieved along the border, sweeping the outlying
ranches of horses and cattle, and beating a retreat back into the hills
with their booty.
Of course, the rations arrived eventually, and were distributed by those
fair-minded personages whose honest dealing with the red man is
proverbial along the border; but the provisions came too late to stem
the tide of secession that had set in, and the War Department had found
that, after all, it would be influenced by the actions of the Department
of the Interior, and that its interference was demanded for the
protection of the homes on the frontier. As the homes were the homes of
white citizens, its action was, of course, one of promptness. White
men's votes decide who shall continue to sit in the high places of the
land, or who shall step down and out to make way for the new man of new
promises.
But they found ordinary methods of war were of little avail against the
scattered bands, who, like bees in the summer-time, divided their
swarms, and honey-combed the hills, knowing every retreat, and posted as
to every movement by Indian runners and kindred left behind.
It was simply a war of skirmishing, and one not likely soon to cease.
Reinforcements came to the hostile tribes from all the worthless outlaws
of the border--some of white, others of mixed blood; and from those
mongrels resulted the more atrocious features of the outbreak. They
fought and schemed with the Indian because they wanted his protection,
and any proposed treaty for peace was argued against by them most
vehemently. And while an Indian makes a good thief, a half-breed makes a
better; but the white man, if his taste runs in that direction, is an
artist, and to him his red brother is indebted for much teaching in the
subtle art through many generations.
That, and like accomplishments, made them comrades to be desired by the
tribes who depended for their subsistence on the country guarded by
troops; and scientific methods of thievery were resorted to, methods
that required the superior brain and the white face of the Caucasian.
Thus was the trouble fostered, and the contagion spread, until far-off
tribes, hearing of it, missed now one, now another, of their more
restless spirits; and the white authorities found it would not do to
trust to the peace of any of the nations--the only surety was to guard
it. This they tried to do, locating posts and stationing troops near
even the most peaceable tribes--their presence suggesting the
advisability of remaining so.
And, now through one, now another, and generally by MacDougall, the
people at the ranch heard at times of the Arrow and of Genesee. They
were with the troops, and were together; and the latter's knowledge of
Indian tactics was counting much in his favor evidently, as his opinions
were cited in the reports and prophecies of results, and his influence
had decided more than one movement of the campaign that had won him the
commendation of his superior officers--circumstances that were, of
course, discussed pro and con by the people of the Kootenai. There was
little of local news in so isolated a place, and Rachel declared they
were all developing into gossips because of the avidity with which the
slightest of events in their own region was talked over; and of course
the Indian question was an all-absorbing topic, and to Aunty Luce was
attended by a sort of paralysis of terror. In vain to point out the
friendly listlessness of the Kootenais, their nearest neighbors of the
red race, for the Kootenais were simple hunters or fishers, making war
on none, unless now and then a detachment of thieving Blackfeet from
east of the mountains would file through the old Flathead Pass and run
off portions of their stock; in the time of the fishing, the greater
part of the village would move for the season away from their
pasture-lands, in search of the fish that they smoke, dry, and pack in
osier baskets for the winter. It was generally during that temporary
flitting that a visit from those neighboring tribes would be made, and
an assessment levied, to the extent of all loose cattle in reach, and an
occasional squaw now and then. And so, though the Kootenais were on the
most friendly terms with the few whites about them, their relations with
their red brethren on the east, and across the line in the Northwest
Territories were decidedly strained.
But it was useless to talk "good Indian" to Aunty who was afraid to stay
in the house or out of it; afraid to start back to Kentucky, yet sure
that delay meant death. And all through the summer, let the rest have
faith if they chose, yet the baby's wardrobe and her own were always
packed ready for flight at the first sign of danger.
With this one exception, the Indian question troubled the people at the
ranch but little. They found too many duties in the new country to take
up their time and attention. The sheep-raising experiment showed signs
of such thorough success that it would require more than the skirmishing
of the races a couple of hundred miles away to disenchant Hardy with the
country; and where he was content, Tillie was, of course; and
Rachel--well, Rachel was deemed a sort of vagabond in regard to a
settlement anywhere. She was satisfied with any place where the fences
were not too high, or the limits of her range too narrow.
She often wondered that the world in general knew so little of that
beautiful corner of the earth. She knew that people flocked to "resorts"
that possessed not at all the wealth of beauties that whimsical nature
had scattered on those Indian hills.
In the fall, about a year after the cultus corrie, she began to think
that, after all, they might meet with deserved appreciation some day,
for one man rode up to them, not for stock, or to locate land, or for
any of the few reasons that brought people to the Kootenai country, but
simply and only for pleasure and rest--so he said.
It was in late September, and as he rode leisurely through the dusky
shadows of the pines, and along the passionate, restless path of some
mountain stream, his expressive face showed a more than casual interest
in the prodigality of delightful vistas and the impressive grandeur of
the mountains, as they loomed about him or slowly drifted beneath him.
All the beauty of autumn was around him, yet he himself looked like one
of the people who belong only to summer, judging from his eager eyes and
the boyish laugh that broke on the still air as he watched the pranks of
some squirrels making holiday in their own domain.
Not that the stranger was so young. He was not a boy in years; but the
spirit of youth, that remains so long with some natures, shone in his
glance, and loitered about the sensitive mouth. In seeing him smile, one
would forget the thread of premature silver that shone through the
bronze of his hair. He was almost beautiful in face; yet his stature,
which was much above the average, and his exceptionally complete
proportions, saved him from the beauty that is effeminate; but whatever
beauty he possessed, however, was in every way refined.
It was noon when stragglers of sheep met his gaze, dotting with white
the green and amber grasses of the great park, and showing, as he forded
Missoula Creek, a picture before him, framed in the high wall of the
hills, and restful with pastoral peace that was a striking contrast to
the untamable wilds through which he had passed.
"Almost there," he whispered eagerly, as he rode along the corrals and
was greeted by a tumbling lot of sheep-dogs. "Will it be of use?"
Before he reached the gate he was met by Hardy, who, bare-headed, had
left the dinner-table to welcome a visitor whom, from the porch, all had
decided was a stranger.
The host scattered the dogs. There were a few words, a shake of hands,
and they could hear Hardy's hearty invitation to dismount.
Meanwhile, Aunty Luce was bustling about as fast as her stout, short
form would allow her, arranging a place at the table for the late guest,
and thanking her stars that a real gentleman was to be company for them
once more--her opinion that he was a gentleman having foundation in the
fact that he wore "store-clothes" instead of the trappings of buckskin
affected by the natives of the Kootenai.
They found he was possessed of more decided points due the idea of a
gentleman, both in breeding and education, and before many remarks were
exchanged, the rest of the family, as well as Aunty, were congratulating
themselves on this acquisition from the world.
"Yes, I am altogether a stranger up here," he said pleasantly, in answer
to a query; "and at Holland's they told me there was one of my Statesmen
up in this park; so I asked the way and started west, instead of north,
as I had thought of doing."
"Doing a bit o' prospectin', then?" was MacDougall's query.
It was a visiting-day of his, and he had been watching the new-comer's
face with scrutinizing eyes ever since the first words of
self-introduction, in which the visitor's name had been overlooked.
"Well--yes," answered the other slowly, as if he was not decided, or had
not anticipated the question.
"I thought as much, since ye carry no hunting gear," remarked the
trapper; "and in this country a man is likely to be the one thing or the
other."
"And in this case it is the other," smiled the stranger, "as I have not
as yet found any vocation; I have come out here to forget I ever had
one--prospecting for a rest."
"Well, there is plenty of room here to rest in," said Hardy hospitably.
"Yes, or work in," added Rachel; "and a new country needs the workers."
Tillie threw an admonishing glance as payment for the uncivil speech,
and the stranger turned his attention to the speaker. The contour of her
face must have been pleasing, since he looked at it interestedly, as if
forgetting in its contemplation the words uttered; and then--
"Indeed?" he said at last. "Well, who knows but that I may develop into
a worker; is industry contagious here?"
And Rachel, whose tone had been more uncivil than her intention, felt
herself put at a disadvantage by the suavity that was not a feature of
Kootenai character.
"Indeed, then," said MacDougall, "it's gettin' to be a brisk, busy
country these late days, an' ye canna go a matter o' twenty mile without
trippin' up on a settlement. An' ye come from Holland's without a guide?
That's pretty good for a stranger in the parts, as I doubt na ye be,
Mr.--" And he stopped suggestively.
The stranger laughed, and drew a card from his pocket.
"I told Mr. Hardy my name at the gate," he observed, "but evidently it
escaped his memory; he introduced me only as a stranger."
"It does not matter, however, what a man is called out here," returned
Hardy. "It is the man that is valued in the West--not the name given
him; now, back home they weighed about equal."
"And in my country," said MacDougall, looking up from the card, "here's
a name that would carry ye many a mile, an' bespeak ye good-will from
many an old heart--Charles Stuart. It's a name to take unco' good care
of, my man."
"I try to take good care of the owner of it, at all events," answered
the stranger; "but it is not an uncommon name in America; there are few
parts of the country in which I am not able to find a namesake."
"Indeed, then, an' I have run across none o' the name these seven odd
year," said MacDougall; "an' then it was a man in the Bitter Root
Mountains, who spelt it with the 'e-w' instead of the 'u,' an' had never
e'en heard tell o' Prince Charlie."
"And you have known no one in this country by the name of Stuart?" asked
the stranger, his eyes seeming to watch at the same time both Hardy and
the old man. Ivans and Jim had left the table and lounged out to the
stables to smoke.
"No," answered Hardy; "we are comparatively new-comers here, but all the
settlers within a radius of fifty miles are already known to us by
name--it is not so difficult where white men are so scarce; and I have
never heard of any Stuarts among them."
"Then I have dropped literally into a strange country," said Stuart,
rising and walking to the end of the porch; "and from what I have seen
of it, a decidedly interesting one. Hunting good?"
"Excellent," returned Hardy. "We've been too busy to get to the hills so
far this year, but now we have a little breathing-spell, and if you
would care to try your luck with game, I should take pleasure in showing
you our hunting grounds."
"That is certainly kind of you," said Mr. Stuart heartily, "and I will
accept the offer most gratefully. The fact is, I've been rather used up
with a professional life, and was in hopes a trip up through this
country would set me on my feet again. Over there at Holland's they told
me about you and your family, and--"
"Yes," completed Hardy, "a man with his family and household goods up in
these hills is a marked individual; but my wife and cousin do not rebel
at the exile; they are both philosophers, in their way."
"Yes?" and Stuart's agreement had the intonation of a man who hears, but
ceases to grasp the sense of words. Some closer thought seemed present
with him. He glanced at Hardy, a swift, quickly withdrawn scrutiny, and
then said: "Do you know, Mr. Hardy, I should like to propose myself for
membership in your household for a few weeks; would it be deemed an
impertinence? I can't stay at Holland Centre with any comfort, and this
place of yours seems to be a haven of rest. Could you give me space to
live in for a while, without my being a nuisance to the establishment?"
"Yes, and welcome," answered Hardy. "You don't seem to appreciate what a
treat it is to have a visitor from civilization ride our way; and one
from our old State is especially in demand. I was going to propose that
you move your outfit up here and make the ranch your headquarters while
in the country. A nuisance! No, sir."
And thus was the simple ceremony concluded that introduced this stranger
to the Hardys, to the general satisfaction of all concerned. Rachel was
the only member who did not seem especially delighted.
"Oh, yes, he is clever and entertaining," she agreed to Tillie, "and his
manner is so charmingly insinuating that I may end by falling in love
with him; but I am beginning with an unreasonable desire to say snappy
things to him."
"I should say it was unreasonable--a thorough gentleman, of fine family
connections. He mentioned several Kentucky families that Hen might know
what his standing was back home, and his profession is that of
medicine--I noticed the M. D. on his card; and altogether I can not see
what ground you have for objecting."
"I am not objecting--bless the man! no," returned Rachel; "only, because
a man has acquired a charming manner and possesses a handsome face is no
reason for me devoting myself to admiration of him, like Aunty Luce. She
is jubilant over having so fine a gentleman to wait on. You are
discreetly elated over having so charming a person to entertain; even
Miss Margaret (Miss Margaret was the baby)--everything feminine about
the place has succumbed. And I suppose my reason for keeping on my own
side of the fence is that I'm jealous. I am no longer first in the
affections of anyone about the place. MacDougall is likely to swear
allegiance at any time because his name is Stuart--and, above all,
Charlie Stuart; even Jim is wavering in the balance, and shows a
wonderful alacrity in anticipating the wishes of this tenderfoot. Is it
any wonder I rebel?"
"Well, for the comfort of the rest of us, do not begin a civil war,"
admonished Tillie, and was only reassured by a promise that there should
be no active hostilities. "If you are more comfortable in war than in
peace, go south and fight with the skirmishing Indians," suggested the
little woman.
"I will," said Rachel. "If you get any more civilized recruits up here
to make the place tame and commonplace, I will seek service under the
standard of the Arrow, or Genesee." And at the mention of the last name
Tillie discreetly subsided.
The girl found the raw recruit rapidly making himself a power in the
social world of the ranch. There was something of charming grace in the
man's personality; and that rare gift of a sympathetic nature that had
also the faculty of expression, at once accorded him the trust of women
and children.
It may be that a degree of physical beauty influenced them also, for his
fine, well-shaped head was very good to look at; the poise of the erect,
tall figure bespoke serene self-confidence; the curves of his lips,
slightly hidden by a mustache, gave a sweetness of expression to the
lower part of his face; while the wide brows and fine eyes gave an
intellectual cast to a personality that did not lack attractive points.
"The lad has the old grace o' the Stuarts," MacDougall affirmed,
sticking to his fancy of connecting the old blood-royal with the slip of
the name grown on alien ground. "And it is much the same free-handed
manner o' the old stock--free o' their smiles, an' winning o' hearts by
the clasp o' the hand; but there's a bit about this one that is a rare
puzzle to me. I think like enough it's the eyes, they're main handsome
ones; but I'm always a-rackin' o' my brains to tell where I've seen them
before."
Rachel, to whom this speech was made, only laughed.
"He has never been West until now, so you can not have seen them," she
argued; but her tone made the old man regard her with attention.
"What do ye mean by that, lass?"
"Oh, nothing, only he says so;" and then she went into the house,
leaving her guest sitting on the bench of the porch.
"The Stuart," as the others had already dropped into calling him, after
MacDougall, had been at the ranch about a week. The proposed hunt was
yet to be; and in the meantime he rode through the parks, and saw all
that was near-about the ranch. He talked stock raising with Hardy,
medicinal herbs with Aunty Luce, babies with Tillie, and with Rachel
numerous worldly topics of interest, that, however, never seemed to
change the nature of their acquaintance; which remained much as it was
the first day--on her side, arms burnished and ready for action; on his,
the serene gentleness of manner, almost a caress, a changeless
good-humor that spoke volumes for his disposition, and at times forced
even her into a sort of admiration of him.
The health-recruiting trip he had come on, he was evidently taking
advantage of, for he almost lived out-of-doors, and looked wonderfully
healthy and athletic for an invalid. In the house, he wrote a great
deal. But the morning Rachel left MacDougall on the porch, the Stuart
came sauntering up the path, the picture of careless content with
himself and the world. "Where has Mr. Hardy gone?" he inquired, seating
himself on the porch. "I've been looking for him out at the pens but the
men have all disappeared."
"Gone up the range for the yearlin's that strayed off the last week; but
they'll no go far."
"I wanted to ask Mr. Hardy about mail out here. How often is it brought
to the ranch?"
"Well," said the old man, between the puffs of his pipe, "that depends a
bit on how often it is sent for; just whene'er they're a bit slack o'
work, or if anybody o' them wants the trip made special; but Hardy will
be sendin' Jimmy across for it, if it's any favor to you--be sure o'
that."
"Oh, for that matter--I seem to be the most useless commodity about the
ranch--I could make the trip myself. Is Jim the usual mail-carrier?"
"Well, I canna say; Andrews, a new man here, goes sometimes, but it's no
rare thing for him to come home carrying more weight in whisky than in
the letters, an' Hardy got a bit tired o' that."
"But haven't you a regular mail-carrier for this part of the country?"
persisted Stuart.
MacDougall laughed shortly at the idea. "Who'd be paying the post?" he
asked, "with but the Hardys an' myself, ye might say, barring the
Kootenais; an' I have na heard that they know the use of a postage
stamp."
"But someone of their tribe does come to the Centre for mail," continued
Stuart in half argument--"an Indian youth; have you never seen him?"
"From the Kootenais? Well, I have not, then. It may be, of late, there
are white men among them, but canna say; I see little o' any o' them
this long time."
"And know no other white people in this region?"
"No, lad, not for a long time," said the old man, with a half sigh.
The listener rose to his feet. "I think," he said, as if a prospect of
new interest had suddenly been awakened in his mind--"I think I should
like to make a trip up into the country of the Kootenais. It is not very
far, I believe, and would be a new experience. Yes, if I could get a
guide, I would go."
"Well," said MacDougall drily, "seeing I've lived next door to the
Kootenais for some time, I might be able to take ye a trip that way
myself."
Rachel, writing inside the window, heard the conversation, and smiled to
herself.
"Strange that Kalitan should have slipped MacDougall's memory," she
thought; "but then he may have been thinking only of the present, and
the Stuart, of months back. So he does know some things of people in the
Kootenai, for all his blind ignorance. And he would have learned more,
if he had not been so clever and waited until the rest were gone, to
question. I wonder what he is hunting for in this country; I don't
believe it is four-footed game."