"No, no, heap good," she replied. "We come. Chiefs heap talk--we catchim
coffee."
"Good, good!" he replied. "After council, feast."
One by one the other chiefs slipped in and took their places, till all
the bands were represented save that of Red Wolf, who was too far away
to be reached. Curtis then sent for the sheriff and Calvin and Elsie and
Lawson, and when all were seated began his talk by addressing the
chieftains. He spoke in English, in order that the sheriff could hear
all that was said, and Lawson interpreted it into Sioux.
"You know this young man"--he pointed at Calvin. "Some of you know this
man"--he touched the sheriff. "He is the war chief of all the country
beyond where Grayman lives. He comes to tell us that a herder has been
killed over by the Muddy Spring. He thinks it was done by an Indian. The
white people are very angry, and they say that you must find the
murderer. Do you know of any one who has threatened to do this thing?"
One by one the chiefs replied: "I do not know who did this thing. I have
heard no one speak of it as a thing good to be done. We are all sad."
Two Horns added a protest. "I think it hard that a whole tribe should
suffer because the white man thinks one redman has done a wrong thing."
Grayman spoke sadly: "My people have had much trouble because the
cattlemen want to drive their herds up the Willow, and we are like men
who guard the door. On us the trouble falls. It is our duty--the same as
you should say to a policeman, 'Do not let anybody come in my house.'
Therefore we have been accused of killing the cattle and stealing
things. But this is not true. I remembered your words, and I did nothing
to make these people angry; but some of my young men threw stones to
drive the sheep back, and then the herder fired at them with revolver.
This was not our fault."
"He lies!" said the sheriff, hotly, when this was interpreted. "No one
has fired a gun but his reckless young devils. His men were riding down
the sheep, and the herder rocked 'em away."
"You admit the sheep were on the reservation, then?" asked Curtis.
"Well--yes--temporarily. They were being watered."
"Well, we won't go into that now," said Curtis, turning to the chiefs
and speaking with great solemnity, using the sign-language at times. And
as he sat thus fronting the strongly wrought, serious faces of his head
men he was wholly admirable, and Elsie's blood thrilled with excitement,
for she felt herself to be in the presence of primeval men.
"Now, Grayman, Elk, Two Horns, Standing Elk, Lone Man, and Crow, listen
to me. Among white men it is the law that when any one has done a wrong
thing--when he steals or murders--he is punished. If he kills a man he
is slain by the chief, not by the relatives of the man who is slain. As
with you, I am here to apply the white man's rule. If a Tetong has shot
this herder he must suffer for it--he and no one else. I will not permit
the cattlemen to punish the tribe. If you know who did this, it is your
duty to give him up to the law. It is the command of the Great
Father--he asks you to go back to your people and search hard to find
who killed this white man. When you find him bring him to me. Will you
do this?"
No one answered but Two Horns, who said, "Ay, we will do as you say,"
and his solemnity of utterance attested his sincerity.
"Listen to me," said Curtis again, fixing their eyes with his dramatic
action. "If my only brother had done this thing, I would give him up to
be punished. I would not hesitate, and I expect you to do the same."
"It is always thus," Standing Elk broke out. "The cattlemen wish to
punish all redmen for what one bad young warrior does. We are weary of
it."
"I know it has been so, but it shall not be so again, not while I am
your chief," Curtis responded. "Will you go home and do as I have
commanded? Will you search hard and bring me word what you discover?"
One by one they muttered, "Ay!" and Curtis added, heartily: "That is
good--now you may go."
"I want to say a word," said the sheriff.
"Not now," replied Curtis. "These people are in my charge. Whatever is
said to them I will say," and at his gesture they rose, and Crow,
Standing Elk, and Lone Man went soberly out into the night.
Grayman approached Curtis and took his hand in both of his and pressed
it to his breast. "Little Father, I have heard your words; they are not
easy to follow, but they have entered my heart. No white man has ever
spoken to me with your tongue. You do not lie; your words are soft, but
they stand like rocks--they do not melt away. My words shall be like
yours--they will not vanish like smoke. What I have promised, that I
will fulfil." As he spoke his slight frame trembled with the intensity
of his emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears, and his deep, sweet
voice, accompanying his gestures, thrilled every soul in the room. At
the end he dropped the agent's hand and hastened from the house like one
afraid of himself.
Curtis turned to Lawson to hide his own emotion. "Mr. Lawson, I assume
the sheriff is as tired as the rest of us; will you show him the bed you
were kind enough to offer?"
"Sheriff Winters, if you will come with me I'll pilot you to a couch. It
isn't downy, but it will rest a tired man. Calvin, you are to bunk
alongside."
"All right, professor." Calvin rose reluctantly, and as he stood in the
door he said, in a low voice, to Jennie, "Now if you want me any time
just send for me."
"Hold the sheriff level--that's what you do for us."
"I'll see that he don't get gay," he replied, and his hearty confidence
did them all good.
After the sheriff and his deputy went out, Elsie said: "Oh, it was
wonderful! That old man who spoke last must be the Edwin Booth of the
tribe. He was superbly dramatic."
"He took my words very deeply to heart. That was Grayman, one of the
most intelligent of all my head men; but he has had a great deal of
trouble. He comprehends all too much of the tragedy of his situation."
Elsie sat with her elbows on the table, gazing in silence towards the
empty fireplace. She looked weary and sad.
Curtis checked himself. "I regret very deeply the worry and discomfort
all this brings upon you."
"Oh, I'm not thinking of myself this time, I am thinking of the hopeless
task you have set yourself. You can't solve this racial question--it's
too big and too complicated. Men are simply a kind of ferocious beast.
They go to work killing each other the way chickens eat grasshoppers."
"Your figure is wrong. If our Christian settlers only killed Indians to
fill their stomachs they'd stop some time; but they kill them because
they're like the boy about his mother--tired of seeing 'em 'round."
There was a time when Elsie's jests were frankly on the side of the
strong against the weak, but she was becoming oppressed with the
suffering involved in the march of civilization. "What a fine face
Grayman has; I couldn't help thinking how much more refined it was than
Winters! As for the cowboys, they were hulking school-boys; I was not a
bit afraid of them after they were dismounted."
"Unfortunately they are a kind of six-footed beast, always mounted;
there isn't a true frontiersman among them. It angered me that they had
the opportunity to even look at you."
His intensity of gaze and the bitterness of his voice took away her
breath for an instant, and before she could reply Jennie and Lawson came
in.
Lawson was smiling. "Parker is righteously incensed. He tried to enter
the council an hour ago and your dusky minions stopped him. He is
genuinely alarmed now, and only waiting for daylight to take flight."
"Jerome is a goose," said Elsie.
"He's a jackass at times. A man of talent, but a bore when his yellow
streak comes out." Turning to Curtis he said, very seriously, "Is there
anything I can do for you, Captain?"
"You might wire your version of the disturbance to the Secretary along
with mine. We can safely look for an avalanche of newspaper criticism,
and I would like to anticipate their outbreak."
"Our telegrams will be at once made public--"
"Undoubtedly, and for that reason we must use great care in their
composition. I have mine written; please look it over."
Jennie, who had dropped into a chair, checked a yawn. "Oh, dear; I wish
it were morning."
Curtis looked at her and laughed. "I think you girls would better go to
bed. Your eyes are heavy-lidded with weariness."
"Aren't you going to sleep?" asked Jennie, anxiously.
"I shall lie down here on the sofa--I must be where I can hear a tap on
the window. Good-night."
Both girls rose at his word, and Elsie said: "It seems cruel that you
cannot go properly to bed--after such a wearisome day."
"You forget that I am a soldier," he said, and saluted as they passed.
He observed that Lawson merely bowed when she said "Good-night"
politely. Surely some change had come to their relationship.
Lawson turned. "I think I will turn in, Captain; I have endorsed the
telegram."
"It must go at once." He tapped on the pane, and almost instantly a
Tetong, sleeping under the window, rose from his blanket and stood with
his face to the window, alert and keen-eyed. "Tony, I have a long ride
for you."
"All right," replied the faithful fellow, cheerfully.
"I want you to take some letters to Pinon City. Come round to the door."
As he stepped into the light the messenger appeared to be a boy of
twenty, black-eyed and yellow-skinned, with thin and sensitive lips.
"Take the letters to the post-office," said Curtis, speaking slowly.
"You understand--and these despatches to the telegraph-office."
"Pay money?"
"No pay. Can you go now?"
"Yes, go now."
"Very well, take the best pony in the corral. You better keep the trail
and avoid the ranches. Good-night."
The young fellow put the letters away in the inside pocket of his blue
coat, buttoned it tightly, and slipped out into the night, and was
swallowed up by the moonless darkness.
"Aren't you afraid they will do Tony harm if they meet him?"
"Not in his uniform."
"I wouldn't want that ride. Well, so long, old man. Call me if I can be
of any use."
After Lawson went out Curtis sank back into his big chair and closed his
eyes in deep thought. As he forecast the enormous and tragic results of
the return of that armed throng of reckless cattlemen he shuddered. A
war would almost destroy the Tetongs. It would nullify all he had been
trying to do for them, and would array the whole State, the whole
Indian-hating population of the nation, against them. Jennie re-entered
softly and stood by his side. "It's worrisome business being Indian
agent, after all, isn't it, George?" she said, with her hand in his
hair.
He forced himself to a cheerful tone of voice. "Oh, I don't know; this
is our first worry, and it will soon be over. It looks bad just now, but
it will be--"
A knock at the outer door startled them both. "That is a white
man--probably Barker," he said, and called, "Come in."
Calvin Streeter entered, a little abashed at seeing Jennie. Meeting
Curtis's look of inquiry, he said, with winning candor, "Major, I been
a-studyin' on this thing a good 'eal, and I've come to the conclusion
that you're right on all these counts, and I've concluded to ride over
the hill and see if I can't argue the boys out of their notion to kill
somebody."
Jennie clapped her hands. "Good! That is a splendid resolution. I always
knew you meant right."
Curtis held out his hand. "Shake hands, my boy. There isn't a moment to
be lost. If they are coming at all, they will start about sunrise. I
hope they have reconsidered the matter and broken camp."
Calvin looked a little uneasy. "Well, I'll tell ye, Major, I'm afraid
them lahees that we sent back home will egg the rest on; they sure were
bilun mad, but I'll go and do what I can to head 'em off. If I can't
delay 'em, I'll come along with 'em, but you can count on me to do any
little job that'll help you after we get here. Good-night."
"Good-night. Don't take any rest."
"Oh, I'm all right. Nobody ain't huntin' trouble with me."
After he went out Jennie said: "I call that the grace of God working in
the soul of man."
Curtis looked at her keenly. "I call it the love of woman sanctifying
the heart of a cowboy."
She colored a little. "Do we women go on the pay-rolls as assistant
agents?"
"Not if we men can prevent it. What kind of a report would it make if I
were forced to say, 'At this critical moment the charming Miss So-and-so
came to my aid, and, by inviting the men in to dinner with a sweet
smile, completely disarmed their hostility. Too much honor cannot be
given,' etc."
"I guess if history were written by women once in a while those reports
wouldn't be so rare as they are."