DIPLOMACY.
Oscar Gleeson, the Texan, was correct in his suspicion of the purpose of
the Comanches in making Captain Shirril their prisoner; having secured
possession of him, they intended to force a liberal ransom on the part
of his friends, as a condition of his restoration to liberty.
The act was not only an audacious one on their part, but it will be
perceived that the fulfilment of the terms was certain to be attended
with the gravest difficulty. The cowboys were not to be trifled with,
and, since it was inevitable that a point would be reached where one
party must of necessity trust the pledges of the other, a violent
collision with serious consequences appeared unavoidable.
It has been shown that it was not until he arrived close to the hills,
among which the red men had fled with their captive, that there was any
response to the signal he displayed almost from the first.
The moment he caught sight of the two warriors, he stopped his mustang
and awaited their approach. It was not singular that a man who had
crossed the Indian Nation so frequently as this veteran, recognized the
couple as Wygwind, the chieftain, and Richita, whom he had met more than
once and knew to be two of the worst miscreants belonging to the
American race.
With no evidence, however, of his identification, he deliberately
lowered his flag of truce, and returning it to its place around his
brawny neck, secured it by tying the usual knot. Then with a half
military salute he asked:
"Is the white man with you hurt bad?"
"Hurt not much," replied Wygwind, who spoke English far better than his
comrade.
"Why did you take him away?"
The American Indian, as a rule, is of melancholy temperament, but at
this question the Comanche displayed an unmistakable grin which revealed
his even white teeth.
"We sell him--he worth good much."
"What price do you ask for him?" demanded Gleeson, coming to the point
with undiplomatic abruptness.
The expectation of the Texan was that these ambassadors would demand a
large number of cattle, probably five hundred, in exchange for their
valuable captive. He ardently hoped that such would prove the case, for
he had already formed a scheme for paying off the rogues in their own
coin.
His intention was to transfer the cattle, managing the payment, however,
with such care that all breach of faith on the part of the captain's
enemies would be frustrated. Then, after he was safe with his friends,
and the property was placed in the hands of the Comanches, it would be
necessary for the red men to _hold_ them. The field would become an open
one, and before they could turn their newly acquired property to
account, they were likely to hear from the original proprietors.
But Wygwind was too shrewd to be ensnared in this style. He and his
partners, in elaborating the scheme that had worked so well up to this
point, had foreseen the very contingency in the mind of the white man,
who sat on his horse before the delegates.
"We take horses--so many."
In making this answer, Wygwind raised the fingers and thumbs of his
hands twice in succession. Unable to count a score in the English
language, he proved nevertheless that he had a clear idea of the number,
which was indicated so plainly that the Texan could make no mistake as
to his meaning.
Gleeson was disappointed as well as surprised. Since each cowboy was
provided with at least three horses, there were about thirty with the
company. To turn two-thirds of these over to the red men would seriously
cripple the whites, who had still a long journey before them.
Furthermore, it must effect a material change in the programme the Texan
had formed. Horseflesh is as dear to the red as to the white man, and,
well mounted as the former would be after the exchange, the chances of
recovering the property by the Texans must be reduced to the minimum.
But the new phase of affairs had to be met. Suppressing all evidence of
his feelings, Gleeson said:
"We have not enough horses to give what you ask; we will let you have
_that_ many."
And he held up the thumb and fingers of his right hand. Wygwind with
another grin shook his head.
"Take _so_ many"--and he repeated the gestures by which he first
indicated twenty.
Gleeson now doubled his offer, which, it will be understood, was half
the price demanded; but the wily Comanche felt that he was in a position
to dictate terms, and remained inexorable.
The Texan knew it was useless to haggle, but he kept it up with a view
of gaining time. Naturally keen-witted and trained in the subtlety of
the dusky men of the plains, he sought to do more than dispute over the
conditions of a proposed bargain. While thus employed, he used his
senses to their fullest extent. Without seeming to do so, he was
scrutinizing the hills just beyond the couple, on the ground in front of
him. He sought to learn whether any of their warriors were at hand.
They might have been, without his knowledge, but the fact that he saw no
sign of them led him to believe they were not within immediate call.
Had he been confronted by a single warrior instead of a couple, the
Texan would have attempted an exploit in which there was hardly one
chance in a hundred of succeeding. It was to seize the warrior, make off
with him, and then hold him as a hostage for the safety of Captain
Shirril.
True, this was a violation of the flag of truce, but under the
circumstances it would not have been one-tenth as flagrant as that by
which our government captured the famous Seminole chieftain Osceola, and
held him prisoner until his death; but with two doughty warriors to
combat, it would seem that nothing could be more foolhardy than any such
effort on the part of the Texan.
And yet Gleeson seriously asked himself whether it was not possible to
shoot one, and leaping upon the other, overcome and carry him off before
his friends could interfere. In referring to it afterward he admitted
its absurdity, and yet he would have made the attempt but for a trifling
discovery when almost in the act of taking the decisive step.