The next day was cloudless, with a south wind, and the little, crawling
brook which watered the agency seemed about to seethe. The lower
foot-hills were already sere as autumn, and the ponies came down to
their drinking-places unnaturally thirsty; and the cattle, wallowing in
the creek-bed, seemed at times to almost stop its flow. The timid trees
which Curtis had planted around the school-house and office were plainly
suffering for lack of moisture, and the little gardens which the Indians
had once more been induced to plant were in sore distress.
The torrid sun beat down into the valley from the unclouded sky so
fiercely that the idle young men of the reservation postponed their
horse-racing till after sunset. Curtis felt the heat and dust very
keenly on his guests' account, and was irritated over the assaults of
the cattlemen. "If they had but kept the peace we would still be in the
cool, sweet hills," he said to Lawson.
"This will not last," Lawson replied. "We'll get a mountain wind
to-night. The girls are wisely keeping within doors and are not yet
aware of the extreme heat."
"I hope you are a true prophet. But at this moment it seems as if no
cool wind could arise out of this sun-baked land."
"Any news from the Willow?"
"The trouble was in the West Fort. Some cowboys raided a camp of
Tetongs. No one was injured, and so it must pass for a joke."
"Some of those jokes will set something afire some of these hot days."
"But you know how hard it is to apprehend the ruffians; they come and go
in the night like wolves. They spoiled our outing, but I hope we may get
away again next week."
In the days which followed, Curtis saw little of Elsie, and when they
met she seemed cold and preoccupied. In conversation she seemed
listening to another voice, appeared to be pondering some abstract
subject, and Curtis was puzzled and vaguely saddened. Jennie took a far
less serious view of the estrangement. "It's just a mood. We've set her
thinking; she's 'under conviction,' as the revivalists used to say.
Don't bother her and she'll 'come through.'"
Curtis was at lunch on Wednesday when Wilson came to the door and said,
"Major, Streeter and a man named Jenks are here and want to see you."
"More stolen cattle to be charged up to the Indians, I suppose."
"I reckon some such complaint--they didn't say."
"Well, tell them to wait--or no--ask them to come over and lunch with
me."
Wilson soon returned. "They are very glum, and say they'll wait at the
office till you come."
"As they prefer. I will have finished in a few moments."
He concluded not to hasten, however, and the ranchers had plenty of time
to become impatient. They met him darkly.
"We want a word in private, Major," said Jenks, a tall, long-bearded man
of most portentous gravity.
Curtis led the way to an inner office and offered them seats, which they
took in the same oppressive silence.
The agent briskly opened the hearing. "What can I do for you,
gentlemen?"