The hearing took place at ten o'clock, but Curtis had opportunity for a
little helpful consultation with Lawson before the chairman called the
committeemen to order. The session seemed unimportant--perfunctory. The
members sat for the most part silent, ruminating, with eyes fixed on the
walls or upon slips of paper which they held abstractedly in their
hands. Occasionally some one of them would rouse up to ask a question,
but, in general, their attitudes were those of bored and preoccupied
business men. They came and went carelessly in response to calls of
their clerks, and Curtis perceived that they had very little real
interest in the life or death of the redmen. He would have been
profoundly discouraged had not the chairman been alert and his questions
to the point. After his formal statement had been taken and the hearing
was over, the chairman approached Curtis informally and showed a very
human sympathy for the Tetongs.
"Yes, I think we can hold this raid in check," he said, in answer to
Curtis, and added, slowly, "I am very glad to find a man of your quality
taking up this branch of service." He paused, and a smile wrinkled his
long, Scotch face. "They accuse me of being a weak sentimentalist,
because I refuse to consider the redman in the light of a reptile. I was
an abolitionist"--the smile faded from his eyes and his thin lips
straightened--"in days when it meant something to defend the negro, and
in standing for the rights of the redman I am merely continuing my
life-work. It isn't a question of whether I know the Indian or not,
though I know him better than most of my critics; it's a question of his
dues under our treaties. We considered him a man when we bought his
land, and I insist he shall be treated the same now. I should like to
hear from you--unofficially, of course--whenever you have anything to
say. Lawson's testimony"--he laid a caressing hand on Lawson's
shoulder--"is worth more to me than that of a thousand land speculators.
He's a comfort to us, for we know he is disinterested, and has nothing
to gain or lose in any question which concerns the reds, and we find
very much the same about you, Captain Curtis, and I am determined that
you shall have free hand."
Curtis shook hands with the old man with a sense of security. Here, at
least, was a senator of the old school, a man to be depended upon in
time of trouble. He began also to realize Lawson's power, for he seemed
to be the personal friend of every honest official connected with the
department.
As the two young men stepped out into the hall they came face to face
with Elsie and her father.
"Are we too late?" cried the girl. "Is the hearing over?"
"My part of it is," answered Curtis--"at least for to-day. They may
recall me to-morrow."
Brisbane was visibly annoyed. "I didn't suppose you would come on till
eleven; that's the word I got over the 'phone. I particularly wanted to
hear your deposition," he added, sourly.
"Papa has an idea your opposition to this bill is important," Elsie
said, lightly, as Curtis edged away from Brisbane.
Brisbane followed him up. "Well, now that your hearing is over, suppose
you get into our carriage and go home with us to lunch?'
"Please do!" said Elsie, with flattering sincerity.
Curtis hesitated, and was made captive. "It is a great temptation," he
said, looking at Lawson.
Elsie saw him yielding and cried out: "Oh, you must come--and you, too,
Osborne."
Lawson was plainly defeated. "I can't do it. I have a couple of New York
men to lunch at the club, and I couldn't think of putting them off."
"Oh, I'm so sorry; we would have made a nice little lunch party."
"There are other days coming!" he replied, as lightly as possible.
As they drove away Curtis had a premonition that his impending interview
would be disagreeable, for Brisbane sat in silence, his keen eyes full
of some sinister resolution. He was, in fact, revolving in his mind a
plan of attack. He realized the danger of attempting to bribe such a man
even indirectly, but a poor and ambitious soldier might be removed by
gentler means, through promotion; and friendly pressure might be brought
to bear on the War Department to that effect. Having set himself to the
task of clearing the reservation of the Tetongs, a man of Brisbane's
power did not hesitate long over the morality of methods, and having
decided upon promotion as his method of approaching Curtis, the old man
distinctly softened, and made himself agreeable by extending the drive
and affably pointing out the recent improvements in the city. "Our
Capitol is as good as any now," he said. "Our new buildings are up to
the standard."
The young soldier refused to be drawn into any blood-heating
discussions, being quite content to sit facing Elsie, feeling obscurely
the soft roll of the wheels beneath him, and absorbing the light and
color of the streets. "This is my city," he said; "I spent my boyhood,
here. I went to West Point from here."
"It _is_ beautiful," replied Elsie, and at the moment a spark of some
mysterious flame sprang from each to the other. They were young, and the
air was soft and sweet. Thereafter everything gave the young soldier
pleasure. The whistling of the darkies, the gay garments of the
shoppers, the glitter of passing carriages, the spread of trees against
the bright sky--everything assumed a singular grace. His courage rose,
and he felt equal to any task.
As they entered the big house Elsie said: "You're to come right up to
the studio. I want to show you a canvas I finished yesterday. I had an
inspiration--I think you brought it to me."
As she led the way up the wide and splendidly carved stair-way the
soldier's elation sank away, for each step emphasized the girl's pride
and power, and by contrast threw the poor Indian agent into hopeless
shadow. He hardly heard what she said, till she led him before her easel
and said:
"There is yesterday's work. I've been trying for days to get a certain
effect of color, and, behold! I caught it flying this morning. What
puzzles me in your country is the enormously high value of your earth in
reference to the sky. The sky is so solid."
As he took in the significance of the canvas Curtis exclaimed:
"It is very beautiful. It is miraculous. How do you do it?"
"I'm glad you like it. My problem there was to represent the difference
in value between Chief Elk, who is riding in the vivid sunlight, and his
wife and Little Peta, who are just in the edge of that purple
cloud-shadow. The difference between white in sunlight and white in
shadow is something terrific in your dry air. Contrasts are enough to
knock you down. This gray, Eastern studio light makes all my sketches
seem false, but I know they are not."
"They are very true, it seems to me."
"When I close my eyes and hark back to the flooding light of the valley
of the Elk, then I can do these things; I can't if I don't. I have to
forget all my other pictures. This is nearer my impression than anything
else I've done."
"It has great charm," he said, after a pause, "and it also reminds me of
my duty. I must return at once to the West."
"When do you go--actually?"
"Actually, I leave to-morrow at three o'clock; unless I receive word to
the contrary, to-morrow morning."
"So soon? You are making a very short stay. Can't you remain over the
holidays? Some friends of mine are coming on from New York. I'd like
you to meet them."
"I think I must return. Jennie is preparing to give her little 'Ingines'
a Christmas-tree, and I am told that my 'Sandy Claws' would add greatly
to their joy, so I am making special effort to reach there on the 23d."
She looked at him musingly. "You really are interested in those ugly
creatures? I don't understand it."
"To be really frank, I don't understand your lack of sympathy," he
replied, smiling a little. "It isn't at all feminine."
She took a seat on the divan before she spoke again. "Oh, women are such
posers. You think I am quite heartless, don't you?"
"No, I don't think that, but I do think you are a little unjust to these
people, whose thought you have made very little effort to comprehend."
"Why should I? They are not worth while."
"Do you speak now as an artist?" he asked, gravely.
"But they are so gross and so cruel!"
"I don't deny but they are, sometimes, both gross and cruel, but so are
civilized men. The scalp-dance no more represents them than a bayonet
charge represents us. It isn't just to condemn all for the faults of a
few. You wouldn't destroy servant-girls because some of them are ugly
and untidy, would you?"
"The cases are not precisely similar."
"I'll admit that, but the point is here: as an artist you can't afford
to dispose of a race on the testimony of their hereditary enemies. You
wouldn't expect a sympathetic study of the Greek by the Saracen, would
you?"
"It isn't that so much, but they are so perfectly unimportant. They have
no use in the world. What does it matter if they die, or don't?"
"Perhaps not so much to them; but to me, if I can help them and fail to
do it, it matters a great deal. We can't afford to be unjust, for our
own sake. The bearer of the torch should not burn, he should illumine."
"I don't understand that," she said, genuinely searching for his
meaning.
"There is where you disappoint me," he retorted. "Most women quiver with
altruistic passion the moment they see helpless misery. If you saw a
kitten fall into a well what would you do?"
"I should certainly try to save it."
"Your heart would bleed to see it drown?"