The Secretary took up a slip of paper. "Are you the Streeter located on
the reservation itself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you are an interested witness. How can you expect me to take your
word against that of Captain Curtis? He tells me the Tetongs are
peaceful, and quick to respond to fair treatment. The department has
absolute confidence in Captain Curtis, and you are wasting time in the
effort to discredit him. The tribe will _not_ be removed. Is there any
other question you would like to raise?"
Streeter took his dismissal hard. He hurried at once to Brisbane, his
face scarlet with rage. "He turned me down," he snarled, "and he's got
to suffer for it. There's a way to get at him, and you must find it."
Brisbane was too crafty to promise any definite thing. "Now wait a
moment, neighbor; never try to yank a badger out of his den--wait and
catch him on the open plain. We must sound the Committee on Indian
Affairs, and then move on the House. If we can't put through our removal
bill we'll substitute the plan for buying out the settlers. If that
don't work I've a little scheme for cutting down the reservation. We
must keep cool--and don't mention my name in the matter. What we want to
do is to pave the way for my return to the Senate next fall; then I can
be of some real service to you. I am now entirely out of it, as you can
see, but I'll do what I can."
Streeter went away with a feeling that Brisbane was losing his vigor,
and a few days later returned to the West, very bitter and very
inflammatory of speech. "The bill is lost. It will be smothered in
committee," he said to Calvin.
Brisbane, after leaving Streeter that day, went home to dinner with an
awakened curiosity to know more about this young man in whom the
department had such confidence. Lawson was dining at his table that
night, and it occurred to him to ask a little more fully about Curtis.
"See here, Lawson, you were out there on the Fort Smith reservation,
weren't you? Wasn't that where you and Elsie camped this summer?"
Elsie replied, "Yes, papa. We were there when Uncle Sennett was
dismissed."
Brisbane started a little. "Why, of course you were; my memory is
failing me. Well, what about this man Curtis--he's a crank on the Indian
question, like yourself, isn't he?"
Lawson smiled. "We believe in fair play, Governor. Yes, he's friendly to
the Indians."
"And a man of some ability, I take it?"
"A man of unusual ability. He is an able forester, a well-read
ethnologist, and has made many valuable surveys for the War
Department."
"His word seems to have great weight with the department."
"Justly, too, for he is as able a man as ever held an agent's position.
A few men like Curtis would solve the Indian problem."
Elsie, who had been listening in meditative silence, now spoke.
"Nevertheless, his treatment of Uncle Sennett was brutal. He arrested
him and searched all his private papers--don't you remember?"
Brisbane looked at Lawson solemnly and winked the eye farthest from his
daughter. Lawson's lips quivered with his efforts to restrain a smile.
Turning then to Elsie, Brisbane said: "I recall your story now--yes, he
was pretty rigorous, but I'm holding up the department for that; the
agent wasn't to blame. He was sent there to do that kind of a job, and
from all accounts he did it well."
Elsie lifted her eyebrows. "Does that excuse him? He kept repeating to
me that he was under orders, but I took his saying so to be just a
subterfuge."
"Mighty little you know about war, my girl. To be a soldier means to
obey orders from general down to corporal. Moreover, your uncle has
given me a whole lot of trouble, and I wouldn't insist on a relationship
which does us no credit. I've held his chin above water about as long as
I'm going to."
Elsie was getting deeper into the motives and private opinions of her
father than ever before, and, as he spoke, her mind reverted to the
handsome figure of the young soldier as he stood before her in the
studio, asking for a kindlier good-bye. His head was really beautiful,
and his eyes were deep and sincere. She looked up at her father with
frowning brows. "I thought you liked Mr. Sennett? He told me you got
him his place."
Brisbane laughed. "My dear chicken, he was a political choice. He was
doing work for our side, and had to be paid."
"Do you mean you knew the kind of a man he was when you put him there?"
Brisbane pulled himself up short. "Now see here, my daughter, you're
getting out of your bailiwick."
"But I want to understand--if you knew he was stealing--"
"I didn't know it. How should I know it? I put him there to keep him
busy. I didn't suppose he was a sot and a petty plunderer. Now let's
have no more of this." Brisbane was getting old and a trifle irritable,
but he was still master of himself. "I don't know why I should be taken
to task by my own daughter."
Elsie said no more, but her lips straightened and her eyes grew
reflective. As the coffee and cigars came in, she left the two men at
the table and went out into the music-room. It seemed very lonely in the
big house that night, and she sat down at the piano to play, thinking to
cure herself of an uneasy conscience. She was almost as good a pianist
as a painter, and the common criticism of her was on this score. "Bee
does everything _too_ well," Penrose said.
She played softly, musingly, and, for some reason, sadly. "I wonder if I
have done him an injustice?" she thought. And then that brutal leer on
her father's face came to disturb her. "I wish he hadn't spoken to me
like that," she said. "I don't like his political world. I wish he
would get out of it. It isn't nice."
In the end, she left off playing and went slowly up to her studio, half
determined to write a letter of apology. Her "work-shop," which had been
added to the house since her return from Paris, was on a level with her
sitting-room, which served as a reception hall to the studio itself. Her
artist friends declared it to be too beautiful to work in, and so it
seemed, for it was full of cosey corners and soft divans--a glorious
lounging-place. Nevertheless, its walls were covered with pictures of
her own making. Costly rugs and a polished floor seemed not to deter her
from effort. She remained a miracle of industry in spite of the scoffing
of her fellows, who were stowed about the city in dusty lofts like
pigeons.
Proud and wilful as she seemed, Elsie had always prided herself on being
just, and to be placed in the position of doing an honorable man a wrong
was intolerable. The longer she dwelt upon her action the more uneasy
she became. Her vision clarified. All that had been hidden by her absurd
prejudice and reasonless dislike--the soldier's frank and manly
firmness, Lawson's reproaches, her aunt's open reproof--all these grew
in power and significance as she mused.
Taking a seat at her desk, she began a letter, "Captain Curtis, Dear
Sir--" But this seemed so palpably a continuance of her repellent mood
that she tore it up, and started another in the spirit of friendliness
and contrition which had seized upon her:
"DEAR CAPTAIN CURTIS,--I have just heard something which
convinces me that I have done you an injustice, and I hasten
to beg your pardon. I knew my uncle Sennett only as a child
knows a man of middle age--he was always kind and good and
amusing to me. I had no conception of his real self. My present
understanding of him has changed my feeling towards your
action. I still think you were harsh and unsympathetic, but I
now see that you were simply doing the will of the department.
So far I apologize. If you come to Washington I hope you will
let us know."
As she re-read this it seemed to be a very great concession indeed; but
as she recalled the handsome, troubled face of the soldier, she decided
to send it, no matter what he might think of her. As she sealed the
letter her heart grew lighter, and she smiled.
When she re-entered the library her father was saying: "No, I don't
expect to get him removed. The present administration and its whole
policy must be overthrown. Curtis is only a fly on the rim of the wheel.
He don't count."
"Any man counts who is a moral force," Lawson replied, with calm
sincerity. "Curtis will bother you yet."