"Oh yes, so long as these settlers are in their present mood, I suppose
there is. Nothing but the life of an 'Injun' will satisfy them. Their
hate is racial in its bitterness."
"You think I ought to go, then?"
He looked at her with eyes that were wistful and searching.
"Yes. It is a sad ending, but perhaps Captain Maynard will be here
to-morrow with a troop of cavalry, and--I--think I must ask him to
escort you to the railway."
"But the danger will be over then."
"To your father it will seem to be intensifying."
"I will not go on that account! I feel that the safest place will be
right here with you, for your people love you. I am not afraid when I am
near you."
Curtis suddenly realized how dangerously sweet it was to sit in his own
library with Elsie in that mood seated opposite him. The sound of a
tapping on the window relieved the tension of the moment.
"Another of my faithful boys," he said, rising quickly. Then, turning to
her with a tenderness almost solemn, he added: "Miss Brisbane, I hope
you feel that if danger really threatened I would think of you first of
all. You will stay with Jennie to-night?"
"If you think best, but we want to know all that goes on. I can't bear
to be battened down like passengers in a storm at sea; there is nothing
so trying to nerves. I want to be on deck with the captain if the storm
breaks."
"Very well. I promise not to leave you in ignorance," and, raising the
curtain, he signed to the man without to enter. It was Crow, the captain
of the police, a short man with a good-humored face, now squared with
serious dignity.
"Two Dog has just come in from Willow Creek," he reported. "He says the
cattlemen are still camped by Johnson's ranch. They all held a council
this afternoon."
"Are any of the head men here?"
"Yes, they are all at my tepee. They want to see you very bad."
"Tell them to come over at once; the council will take place here. I
want you, but no more of the police. I want only the head men of each
band."
After the officer went out Curtis moved the easy-chairs to the back of
the room and set plain ones in a semicircular row at the front. Hardly
was he settled when Elk, Grayman, and Two Horns entered the room, and,
after formally shaking hands, took the seats assigned them. Their faces,
usually smiling, were grave, and Grayman's brow was knotted with lines
of anxiety. He was a small man, with long, brown hair, braided and
adorned with tufts of the fine feathers which grow under the eagle's
wings. He was handsome and neatly dressed, the direct antithesis to
Crawling Elk, who was tall and slovenly, with a homely, grandfatherly
face deeply seamed with wrinkles, a face that would be recognized as
typical of his race. He seemed far less concerned than some of the
others.
Two Horns, also quite at his ease, unrolled his pipe and began filling
it, while Curtis resumed his writing.
Jennie, looking in at the door, recognized the chiefs, and they all rose
politely to greet her.
"I'm coming to the council," she said to Two Horns.