A PRESENT THAT WOULD PLEASE ANY BOY.
Through the open window, by which the sunlight was streaming in, Glen
caught a glimpse of a line of cottonwood-trees, which, as he had long
ago learned, denoted the presence of a stream in that country. To a boy
who dearly loved to bathe, and had not washed for two whole days,
nothing could be more tempting. Nor was Glen long in jumping from the
window, running down to the cottonwoods, throwing off his clothes, and
plunging headforemost into the cool waters.
With that delicious bath disappeared every trace of his weariness, his
aches, and everything else that remained to remind him of his recent
trials, except his hunger. When he was at length ready to go in search
of something with which to appease that, he walked slowly back towards
the house in which he had slept. He now noticed that it was built of
logs, and was the last one in a row of half a dozen just like it. He
also heard bugle calls, saw soldiers in blue uniforms hurrying in every
direction, and wisely concluded that, in some way, he must have been
brought to Fort Hayes.
As he stood irresolute near the house, not knowing which way to go or
what to do, a door opened and a little girl, followed by a lady, came
out. The child stopped and looked at the boy for a moment. Then running
back to her mother, she exclaimed,
"Look mamma! look! It's the very same one we knew on the cars!"
Glen had recognized her at once as his little acquaintance of the
railroad between St. Louis and Kansas City, and now the lady recognized
him as the boy who had run the locomotive so splendidly that terrible
night, and had then so mysteriously disappeared.
It was truly a very happy party that gathered about Captain Winn's
hospitable breakfast-table that morning. They had so much to talk about,
and so many questions to ask, and so many experiences to relate, and
Nettie so bubbled over with delight at again finding her play-fellow,
that the meal was prolonged for more than an hour beyond its usual
limits.
After breakfast Glen asked if he might go and see the prisoner, to which
the captain replied, "Certainly you may." As they walked across the
parade-ground in the direction of the guard-house, Glen was introduced
to several officers, who seemed to take a great interest in him, and
shook hands so cordially, and congratulated him so heartily on his
escape from the Cheyennes, that the boy began to think his rough
experience was not without its compensations after all.
In the guard-house they found the young Indian peering disconsolately
out between the gratings of his cell window, and looking very forlorn
indeed. He gazed sullenly at the visitors, and wondered why they should
come there to stare at him; but when Glen stepped up to him with
outstretched hand, and said "How?" the boy's face brightened at once. He
took the proffered hand, and answered "How" with an evident air of
pleasure, for he could comprehend the other's sympathetic expression, if
he could not understand his language. Pointing to himself, the white boy
said, "Glen," which the other repeated as though he thoroughly
understood what was meant. Then Glen pointed to him, with an inquiring
look, as much as to ask, "What is your name?"
The boy understood; but hesitated a moment before drawing himself up
proudly and answering in his own tongue; but the name was so long and
hard to say that Glen could not repeat it.
"I wish I could understand what he says, for I should so like to have a
talk with him," said Glen.
"There is an interpreter who speaks Cheyenne somewhere about the place,"
answered Captain Winn, "and, if you like, I will send for him."
When the interpreter came, Glen found out that what the boy had said in
Cheyenne was that his name was "Lame Wolf;" but when the young Indian
tried to repeat it in English, after Glen, he pronounced it "Lem Wolf,"
which is what he was called from that day.
After they had held quite a conversation, that greatly increased Glen's
interest in the boy, he and the captain took their departure, the former
promising to come again very soon.
Then Captain Winn led Glen down to the corral, in which were a number of
horses, ponies, and mules, and, pointing to one of them, asked the boy
if he recognized it.
"Of course I do," answered Glen. "It's the one I rode yesterday."
"And the one I hope you will ride for many days to come," said the
captain with a smile; "for I want you to accept that pony as a present
from my little girl."
"Really?" cried the delighted boy; "do you really mean that I am to have
it for my very own?"
"I really do," laughed the captain, "and," he continued more soberly, "I
wish I could offer you something ten times more valuable, as a slight
memento of the service you rendered those so dear to me not long ago."
"You couldn't give me anything I should value more," exclaimed Glen,
"unless--" Here he hesitated, and his face flushed slightly.
"Unless what?" asked Captain Winn.
"Unless you could give me that Indian boy."
"What on earth would you do with him?" cried the captain, his eyes
opening wide with surprise at such an unheard-of request.
Then Glen unfolded a plan that had formed itself in his mind within a
few minutes; and, when he had finished, the captain's look of surprise
still remained on his face, but he said, reflectively:
"Well, I don't know but what it might be done, and if you succeed in
carrying out your part of the scheme, I will see what I can do with the
rest of it."
This matter being disposed of, Glen asked if he might try his pony.
"But you tried her yesterday," laughed the captain, who enjoyed the
boyishness of this boy as much as he admired his manliness.
"Yes, sir; but she wasn't mine then, and you know everything, even a
horse, is very different when it is your own."
"So it is, and you may try her to your heart's content, only don't ride
far from the post unless you wish for a repetition of your recent
experience."
With this the captain beckoned to a soldier, who stood near by, and
ordered him to saddle the bay mare, and to tell the stable-sergeant that
she belonged to this young gentleman, who was to take her whenever he
pleased. He also told Glen that the whole outfit of saddle, bridle, and
picket rope, then being placed on the mare, were included in his
present.
The mare was so well fed, and so thoroughly rested, that she was in high
spirits; and, the moment she found Glen on her back, tried her very best
to throw him off. She reared, and bucked, and plunged, and sprang
sideways, and kicked up her heels, to the great delight of a number of
soldiers who were witnesses of the performance; but all to no purpose.
Her rider clung to the saddle like a burr, and all her efforts to throw
him were quite as unsuccessful as those of Binney Gibbs's mule had been
some days before.
When Glen, with the breath nearly shaken out of his body, but thoroughly
master of the situation, reined the mare up beside the captain, and
asked his permission to name her "Nettle," the latter readily granted
it, saying, "I think it will be a most appropriate name; for it is
evident that she can only be mastered by a firm and steady hand."
Then the happy boy rode over to Captain Winn's quarters, anxious to
display his new acquisition to the child after whom she had just been
named. As he did so he passed the guard-house, and was moved to pity by
the sight of a sad-looking young face pressed against the grating of one
of its windows, and gazing wistfully at him. That pony had belonged to
Lame Wolf but the day before.
After an hour's riding in the immediate vicinity of the fort, Glen was
fully satisfied that no horse in the world had ever combined so many
admirable qualities as this bay mare, or given an owner such complete
cause to be satisfied with his possession.
As he was about to return her to the corral, his eye caught the gleam of
sunlight on a moving white object, a mile or so distant, along the
wagon-trail leading to the east. Watching intently, he saw that it was
followed by another, and another, until the wagons of a long train were
in plain sight, winding slowly along the road towards the fort. When he
was certain that he could not be mistaken, the boy uttered a joyous
shout, clapped spurs to Nettle, and dashed away to meet them.
A group of mounted men rode ahead of the train, and they gazed
wonderingly at the reckless rider who approached them with such headlong
impetuosity. Their surprise became incredulous amazement as he reined
sharply up within a few paces of them, and, politely lifting his hat,
disclosed the shaven head and flushed face of the boy whose mysterious
disappearance had caused them such sincere grief and distress. They had
devoted half a day to scouring the country near the camp from which he
had been lost; and, finding plentiful traces of Indians in the creek
bottom, had come to the conclusion that, in some way, he had fallen into
their hands, and would never again be heard from. Now, to meet him here,
safe, and evidently in high spirits, was past comprehension.
Mr. Hobart was the first to ride forward and grasp his hand. "Is it
really you, Glen?" he exclaimed, his voice choked with feeling; "and
where, in the name of all that is mysterious, have you been?"
"It is really I," answered the boy, "and I've been a prisoner in the
hands of the Cheyennes, and had a glorious time."
It really did seem as though he had had a good time, now that it was all
over with, and he was the owner of that beautiful mare. Besides, he
could not fully realize the nature of the fate he had escaped.
Then the others crowded about him, and General Lyle himself shook hands
with him, and wanted to hear his story at once. While he was telling it
as briefly as possible, the joyful news of his appearance flew back
through the train, and the boys came running up to see him, and shake
hands with him, and nearly pulled him off his horse in their eagerness
to touch him and assure themselves that he was really alive.
"Hurrah for the Baldheads!" shouted the irrepressible Brackett; "they
don't get left! not much!"
Even Binney Gibbs came and shook hands with him.
That evening, after the camp was somewhat quieted from its excitement,
and after Glen had told his story for about the twentieth time, he
disappeared for a short while. When he returned he brought with him an
Indian boy, who limped painfully, and seemed very ill at ease in the
presence of so many strange pale-faces.
"Who's your friend, Glen?"
"Where are the rest of the ten little Injuns?" shouted the fellows as
they crowded about this new object of interest.
When at length a partial quiet was restored, Glen begged them to listen
to him for a few minutes, as he had something to propose that he was
sure would interest them, and they shouted,
"Fire away, old man, we are all listening!"