"Yes, but so is all life, except to Calvin Streeter, and even he wants
what he can't get. He told me this morning he wanted to go to Chicago
and take a fall out of a judge who fined him for carrying a gun. So even
he has his unsatisfied ambition. As he told me about it he snarled like
a young tiger."
At about one o'clock, Calvin, who was riding ahead, halted on the crest
of a timbered ridge and raised a shout.
"He's topped the divide!" called Curtis to Jennie, who was riding
behind. "We'll soon be in."
"I'm glad of it. I'm tired."
When they reached the spot where Calvin waited they could look down into
the main valley of the Elk, and the agency, a singular village of
ancient barracks, sheds, corrals, and red-roofed storehouses was almost
beneath them. All about on the low hills the criss-crossing trails gave
evidence that the Tetongs were still a nation of horsemen. Theirs was a
barren land, a land of pine-clad, precipitous hills and deep valleys,
which opened to the east--a region of scant rains and thin, discouraged
streams.
The sight of the officers' whitewashed quarters and the parade-ground
brought a certain sadness to Curtis.
"The old garrison don't look as it did when I was here in 188-," he
said, musingly. "Army days in the West are almost gone. The Indian war
is over. What a waste of human life it was on both sides! Yes, Louie, go
ahead."
As they alternately slid and trotted down the trail, native horsemen
could be seen coming and going, their gay blankets sparkling in the
clear air. Others on foot were clustered about the central building,
where the flag hung droopingly on a tall staff. As they passed the
corral, groups of young Tetongs smiled and nudged each other, but
offered no greeting. Neither did the older men, though their keen eyes
absorbed every detail of the stranger's dress and bearing. It was plain
that they held every white man in suspicion, especially if he came
attended by a cowboy.
Calvin was elaborately free and easy with them all, eager to show his
wide acquaintanceship. "Hello, Two Horns; hello, Hawk," he called to a
couple of fine-looking men of middle age. They did not reply. "Hello,
Gray Wolf, you old sardine; want to try another horse-race?"
Gray Wolf, evidently something of a wag, smilingly replied: "You bet.
Got new pony--heap fast."
Calvin wheeled and spurred into the bunch of young fellows, who
scattered with shouts of laughter, while the Captain and Jennie followed
Louie, their guide, to the agency gate.
They were met at the fence before the office by two men, one a
middle-aged man, with a dirty-gray beard and fat, bloated cheeks, who
said, blandly: "Good-morning, sir. Good-morning, miss; nice day."