The Crow Band
Even far Montana heard the news, and, winding through the hills, there
came one day a band of Crows from their reservation on the Big Horn.
They came with only their light travelling tepees; and the intense
dislike in which they are held by the Sioux and Cheyennes was shown in
the fact that they camped far away in a group by themselves.
The Crows are noted for their beautiful lodges and their inveterate
habit of horse stealing. They also have this unique fact on their
record--that they have never been at war with the whites. They will
steal a white man's horses fast enough, but they have never tried to
take a white scalp. Their party consisted chiefly of men and a few
surplus horses. But for the lodges and a few women, it might have passed
for a war party.
The Crows are among the numerous claimants of the title "best horsemen
in the world." If reckless riding in dangerous places without being
thrown is good ground for the claim, then is the claim good; and it
becomes yet stronger in view of the fact that most of their riding is
barebacked. When they came to the Fort that day it was as though they
were riding for their lives. They were but a score and were admitted
without question. They paid their respects to Colonel Waller and then,
after smoking, announced that they had money and goods to bet on the
race. They were disappointed to find how much too late they were;
everything was already up. So they rode away.
They did not go near the Sioux and Cheyenne camp; not that there was
much danger of their suffering bodily harm, but they had been
unmistakably informed that they were not welcome, though the action went
no further than ignoring them. Next morning, when Blazing Star and Red
Rover were doing their turn, there were no keener onlookers than the
Crows. By look and grunted word they showed their appreciation of the
noble brutes.
The Chief came to the Fort to find out if the Colonel would sell Blazing
Star after the race.
"We give twenty horses," and he held up both hands twice.
"No."
"Three hands ponies," and they held up both hands spread three times.
"No, he is not for sale."
Late that day Red Cloud and Howling Bull came to Colonel Waller and,
after preliminaries, conveyed the information and warning: "All Crows
heap big thief. You watch him; he steal horse every time, heap no good."
The third of July came, and the plain looked like a city of tents. Many
traders were there to open temporary stores; and it is doubtful if any
single race in the Western world has attracted more people or created
intenser interest. The Cheyennes gave a great dance in honour of the
Sun. They invited all the Sioux to come, and the whites invited
themselves. Belle and Jim were there and saw much to please and much to
disgust them. The general impression was one of barbaric splendour,
weird chanting, noisy tom-toms, and hypnotic pulsation. It was mostly
repellent, but sometimes the rhythm stirred them, and provoked a
response which showed that the wild musicians were playing on instincts
and impulses that are as wide as humanity.
Most horsemen like to keep their training ground in some sort private;
but the garrison had given up all attempts at that, so far as Blazing
Star and Red Rover were concerned. Every one knew, every one was
interested, and each day there was an eager crowd waiting to feast their
eyes on the two splendid racers. And they were well worth it. Even Jim
had to acknowledge that Blazing Star was looking better now than ever
before.
"Look at that neck, Belle, see how it arches, see the clean limbs; isn't
he trained to perfection? If I only--if----" then he stopped himself.
As he fondly watched the horse with glowing eyes, he said: "Of course,
we don't know anything at all about where or how he was bred, but I
should say that that is a blood Kentucky, nearly pure--Kentucky gold
dust."
Among the spectators were the two Indian Chiefs in their warpaint--Red
Cloud of the Sioux, and Howling Bull of the Cheyennes. They spoke little
to each other, for neither knew the other's tongue; but they made little
gestures of the sign language, and any keen observer knowing it could
catch the ideo-signs: "Good, good; by and by; we see good race; brave,
swift," and so on. Later: "Yes, after one sleep. Rain heap, yes."
Jim watched them closely. "See that, Belle? he says: 'To-morrow it rain
heap,' I wonder how he knows. They call the Fourth of July the Big Wet
Sunday, because it usually rains then. I wonder how it will affect the
race."
"Jim, you said they had shod the buckskin cayuse in expectation of a wet
track."
"Yes; that's a mystery; how can they tell? The air is full of rumours,
anyway. Chamreau says that Red Cloud has been seeking everywhere for
fast horses. He had a man go as far as Omaha and another to Denver. Some
say he did pick up a racer, a half-blooded Kentucky--some that he had
got a wonderful pinto cayuse from Cheyenne; this latter is the more
persistent rumour, though Chamreau says he can't find any one who has
actually seen one or the other. Anyhow, no one knows what their entry
will be. We have a pretty good idea of ours"; and Hartigan smiled
proudly.
The two chiefs, with their followers, conversed earnestly, and with much
gesture. They looked and pointed at the Crow camp and the rain sign came
in many times, and emphatically. The old feud between the Sioux and the
Crows had broken out afresh in a trader's store. Two young men from the
opposing camps had quarrelled. They had drawn their knives, and each had
been wounded. These things were common talk, and Belle and Jim watched
the two chiefs ride toward the Crow camp with an eager curiosity to know
more about it. When the Red men were a mile away and within half a mile
of the Crow village, they followed at a good pace and reached the tepees
in the secluded corner in time to see the two visiting chiefs making an
address mainly by signs, as they sat on their horses. Chamreau was
there, and in answer to Jim's question translated Red Cloud's address to
the Crows thus:
"You make bad medicine so we lose race, we kill you." Then, indicating
Howling Bull, "He say, 'you make bad medicine, bring rain, I kill you.'"
Having delivered their ultimatum, the visiting chiefs turned haughtily
and rode to their own camp.
"I don't know just what they really did say," said Hartigan, "but if I'm
any judge of looks, there'll be trouble here if those Crows don't get
out."
* * * * *
It was four o'clock in the morning of the Fourth of July when the
thunderbolt struck Fort Ryan. It was not very loud; it damaged no
building; but it struck the very souls of men. A thousand thunder claps,
a year's tornadoes in an hour, could not have been more staggering; and
yet it was only four words of one poor, wheezing Irish hostler at the
Colonel's window:
"Colonel! Colonel! For the love of God--come--come--come at
once--_Blazing Star is gone!_"
"_What?_" and the Colonel sprang up.
The reveille had sounded, the men were just rising; but one group there
was already about the stable talking with an air of intense excitement.
The Colonel went without waiting to dress--the officer of the day with
him. In terrible silence they hurried to the stable; there was Rover in
his box, whinnying softly for his morning oats; but the next--the box of
Blazing Star--was empty; and the far end, the outer wall, showed a great
new doorway cut. Beyond, out in the growing light, troopers rode to
every near-by lookout; but never a sign of horse did they see, or,
indeed, expect to see. The case was very clear; the horse was stolen,
gone clean away--their hope for the race was gone.
These were terrible moments for the hapless grooms and guards. Human
nature, in dire defeat, always demands a victim; and the grooms were
glad to be locked up in the guard house, where at least they were out of
the storm of the Colonel's wrath. As the light grew brighter a careful
study laid bare the plan of robbery. The stables formed, in part, the
outer wall of the quadrangle. They were roofed with pine boards, covered
with tar-paper on cedar corner posts; the walls, however, were of sods
piled squarely on each other in a well-known Western style, making a
good warm stable. It was a simple matter to take down quickly and
silently this outer wall from the outside, beginning at the top, and so
make another exit. This had been done in the dead of night. And the
track of the racer told the tale like a printed page.
A general alarm had gone forth; all the Fort was astir; and the army
scouts were by the case forced into unusual prominence. It was Al Rennie
spoke first:
"Colonel, it's a-going to rain, sure; it's liable to rain heavy. I
suggest we take that trail right away and follow before it's all washed
out."
"The quicker the better," said the Colonel.
Riding ahead on the trail like a hound went the old trapper-hunter-scout
with a band of troopers following. They had not gone a quarter of a mile
before the rain began to spit. But the line of the trail was clear and
it was easy for the practised eye to follow. It headed east for half a
mile, then, on a hard open stretch of gravel, it turned and went direct
for the Crow camp. Rennie could follow at a gallop; they rounded the
butte, cleared the cottonwoods, crossed the little willow-edged stream,
and reached the Crow camp to find it absolutely deserted!
The rain was now falling faster; in a few minutes it set in--a true
Dakota flood. The trail of Blazing Star--clear till then--was now wholly
wiped out. There was nothing but the unmarked prairie around them; and
the guide, with the troopers, soaked to the skin, rode back with the
forlorn tidings.