Injun Noah
The cold dawn was stealing across the lake when Colonel Hallibut rode
into his yard and, dismounting, turned the horse over to Dick. The
hounds leaped and fawned upon him and he sternly commanded them to keep
down. He led them through the door into the great kennel-yards and there
arose a bedlam of glad yelps and growls of rage, as some favorite was
petted or felt the fangs of jealousy of a stronger fellow. The master
played the whip among them, laughing and shouting.
“Oh, you beauties!—Black Dan, you fire-eater. Down, Gabe, you branch of
the devil. Poor old Jep; come on, pup, and let me pat your old sides;
poor old Jep, noble old Jep. Weren’t in the fight last night, were you?
Too old, boy; too old and stiff. Every dog has his day, Jep, and every
man, too. Egad, boy, I thought for a while last night that mine was
over!”
The old hound laid his wrinkled chin in his master’s hand and gazed up
at him with age-weakened eyes. Some of the younger dogs of the pack
retreated snarling, with bristles erect, and lying down a short distance
away, licked the wounds received in the night’s encounter. Hallibut
walked across to a wide, low building and unlocked the door.
“In there, all of you,” he shouted; and the dogs sprang toward the door.
Old Jep came last, limping painfully, his whole attitude one of protest.
“Not you, old fellow,” said the man; “you can stay out, and you’d best
hang close to me.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders, and with the old favorite following,
crossed the yard and entered the stables. Dick was cleaning out the
fetlocks of the horse the Colonel had just ridden in. He looked up as
his master entered, then went on with his work.
“Where’s Fury?” asked Hallibut, peering into an empty stall.
“Turned ’im hout in th’ yard, sir,” stammered Dick. “’E was kicked in
the night some’ow, sir. I’m sorry, but hit couldn’t be ’elped; ’e broke
’is ’alter, sir.”
“That flame of Hades is always breaking his halter,” cried Hallibut.
“Well, of course that wasn’t any fault of yours. Here’s ten dollars—buy
a halter he can’t break, and keep what’s over to get yourself a new
jacket. I see this one you’re wearing has been played with recently,
eh?”
“Why, sir, that’s so,” laughed Dick. “It do seem, sir, as I can’t keep
anythink whole any, more, that stud Dobo is that playful, sir.”
“Well, you best look out that Dobo don’t get your head some time. And
now when you’ve eaten and rested a bit I want you to put the saddle on
Bay Tom and ride some of the kicks out of him. Go after the mare that
turned traitor last night and fetch the wolf-pelts back with you.
They’ll make the hounds a nice warm bed for the winter, and I guess they
belong to the hounds all right. Don’t know but what I owe those dogs
something myself.”
“I don’t think, sir, as Bay Tom’ll take like t’ carryin’ raw furs. ’E do
seem t’ ’ate th’ scent of blood. ’E’ll like raise the mischief, sir, ’e
will, and maybe kill me, sir.”
“Well, if he kills you,” said Hallibut dryly, “I won’t ever ask you to
ride him again. Now, you understand. And, Dick, I want that horse put
through his paces. Use quirt and spur, and lather him till he weakens.
I’d do it myself only I’ve got to get the schooner stocked for a
cruise.”
“Very well, sir. And sir, the old Injun, ’e be waitin’ to speak with
you.”
“By George! I had forgotten. Yes, I’ll go in and see him now.”
The Colonel’s housekeeper met him at the kitchen door.
“Oh, sir,” she cried, raising her hands, “I’m so glad you’ve returned.
Hall night hi’ve been scared most to death, sir. ’E’s in there yet, sir,
sittin’ by the fireplace. ’E’s hawful to look hat, sir.”
Hallibut chuckled and laid his hand on the old lady’s shoulder.
“You mean the old Indian, Nancy? Bless your heart, woman, he’s harmless
as a baby most likely. Bet a dollar he’s been at my decanters. I’ll go
in and see him. Just lay the table for two of us. Like as not, being an
Indian, he can eat whether he’s hungry or no.”
“But, sir,” protested the old woman, “you’ll not ’ave ’im sit with you,
sir?”
“My dear Nancy, after what I’ve been through I’d welcome the company of
a snake, providing it was a real snake and was clean. You’ll please see
that two plates are laid.”
The big man stalked forward and opened the door into the wide
sitting-room. Before the log fire was bent a slight figure clad in
buckskin. The Colonel saw an old withered man, his thin face seamed with
wrinkles, his black eyes peering from deep hollows that age had sunk
there. His hair was crow-black and long, falling about his narrow
shoulders. He arose with a lithe motion as the Colonel entered.
“How?” he said in good English.
“How?” returned the master of the house, holding out his hand.
The old Indian looked at it, but made no motion toward taking it. He
raised his arm and pointed about the room.
“Good,” he said; “much good.”
“Sit down,” invited the Colonel. “Now tell me what brings you here. You
live on ‘Point Aux,’ I understand. It’s a long way to the Point.”
The Indian’s eyes were fastened upon the portrait hanging on the wall.
They did not leave it as he spoke.
“Much,” he said; “very much. Noah wish to speak of Bushwhacker. You
leave Bushwhacker there; no touch. You know Bushwhacker girl—Gloss—you
know; good.”
He pointed toward the portrait. It was that of a young girl with
glorious long-lashed eyes and smiling lips. Hallibut followed his gaze,
frowned, then going over to the sideboard glanced along the array of
bottles there. He picked up a glass and sniffed it.
“Have you been sampling of any of these bottles?” he asked sternly.
“Noah no drink until he speak. Noah know her,” pointing to the portrait.
“Noah tote her, wee papoose, many day journey. White man pay Noah money
and Noah lay papoose in Big Chief wigwam. You know Big Chief
Bushwhacker. Ugh, you know her,—Gloss!”
He stretched a claw-like finger toward the portrait.
“You know white girl; good. You no touch Bushwhacker.”
Hallibut stood frowning upon the old Indian.
“Listen,” he said, sitting down beside the old man, “you must understand
that the portrait you see on the wall is not of a Bushwhacker girl or of
anyone else you know. That’s the likeness of a sister I had and lost
years and years ago. It was painted in England, a land across the Great
Waters, Noah.”
“No, no,” cried the Indian. “Noah have good eyes. He can see and
understand. Big man need not lie—white girl Noah’ good friend.”
Hallibut arose and wiped his streaming brow. Then he sank into a chair
and ran his fingers through his gray hair.
“I’m hanged if I know what he’s driving at,” he mused. “Apparently he
thinks I want to wipe the Bushwhackers off the map.” Aloud he said: “Who
sent you here, my good man?”
Noah did not answer. He was looking into the coals.
“Bushwhacker know big man would steal bush,” he said at length. “They no
want big man there. Noah no want see big man steal good friend’ home.
Big man no come; no send other man. Gloss big man’ friend.”
Once more Colonel Hallibut looked puzzled. “I’m hanged if I understand
what he means,” he muttered.
“Big man no send vessel,” went on the Indian. “Bushwhacker no want ’um.
Scare duck plenty bad. Noah come tell big man no send.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Hallibut, “I’m beginning to see light. They sent you
over to tell me I mus’n’t send my schooner up the creek, eh?”
“No one send; Noah come himself. Noah know Bushwhacker shoot when big
man come take timber. Big man no come—no send agent again.”
The Colonel arose and paced up and down the room.
“Well, of all things!” he exclaimed. “What do you think of all this,
Phoebe, girl——” turning to the picture, “what do you think of those
impudent Bushwhackers?”
The aged Indian had risen and was wrapping his blanket about him.
“Noah,” said Hallibut, “the Bushwhackers haven’t any particular use for
me, I understand. It’s pretty near war between us. But I’m going to send
my vessel up that creek just the same. I’m willing to promise you that I
won’t do the Bushwhackers any harm until they try to do me harm. They
threaten to burn my schooner, and maybe they will—we’ll see. I’ll tell
you what I am going to do. I’m going to send that schooner around the
Point and into the bay soon. I want you to meet her at the narrows and
act as watchman aboard her. If you don’t want the Bushwhackers to come
to any harm, you must see that my vessel is not burned. I believe you
are honest, and I will pay you well. What do you say, Noah?”
Noah pointed once more to the portrait.
“You do much for her?” he asked simply.
The big man started. Then he smiled and said gently:
“Old man, God only knows how much I would do—if I could.”
“Noah will meet big man’ vessel,” said the Indian, holding out his hand.
After the strange messenger had eaten and gone, Hallibut paced to and
fro across the wide room, pondering deeply upon what he had learned. He
stopped at last before the portrait on the wall.
“I wonder why the poor old chap should think he knows you, Phoebe?” he
said, addressing the girl in the frame.
It was a custom of his to speak all his inner thoughts to the picture.
One may lose summer forever; but he can treasure a dead flower, because
its perfume clings to it and never quite dies.
“I like the old man because he thinks he knows you,” he murmured,
“—just because he _thinks_ he knows you, Phoebe.”
His head dropped and he strode toward the door.
“I don’t know why I should not teach those Bushwhackers a lesson!” he
ejaculated.
He turned and let his frowning eyes rest on the painting, and as he
gazed his face softened. The big eyes seemed to be pleading with him.
“Maybe there really is a girl who looks like you, Phoebe,” he said
gently; “a little girl of the Wild that looks like you.”
And the face smiled on him as he passed out through the doorway.