BRINGING IN THE WOLF
"Going to follow the dogs to-day, Lewis?" said Lieutenant Shockley,
poking his head in the half-open door.
"Yes, reckon I'll give this chair a vacation; wait a minute," and he
mauled the contents of his ditty-box after the manner of men and bears
when in search of trifles. A vigorous stirring is bound to upheave what
is searched for, so in due course the Captain dug up a snaffle-bit.
"I find my horse goes against this better than the government
thing--when the idea is to get there and d---- formations."
"Well, shake yourself, Lewis; the people are pulling out."
"What, ahead of the scouts?" laughed the chief of them.
"Yes; and you know the line never retires on the scouts; so smoke up."
The orderly having changed the bits, the two mounted and walked away.
"'Spose this is for the Englishman. Great people these Englishmen--go
trotting all over the earth to chase something; anything will do from
rabbits to tigers, and niggers preferred," said Lewis.
"Must be a great deprivation to most Englishmen to have to live in
England where there is nothing to chase. I suppose they all have this
desire to kill something; a great hardship it must be," suggested
Shockley.
"Oh, I think they manage," continued Lewis; "from what I understand the
rich and the great go batting about the globe after heads; the so-so
fellows go into the army and navy to take their chance of a killing, and
the lower orders have to find contentment in staying at home, where
there is no amusement but pounding each other."
"There goes your friend Ermine on that war-pony of his; well, he can
show his tail to any horse in cantonments. By the way, some one was
telling me that he carries a medicine-bag with him; isn't he a
Christian?"
"Oh, I don't know. He reminds me of old Major Doyle of ours, who was
promoted out of us during the war, but who rejoined in Kansas and was
retired. You don't remember him? He was an Irishman and a Catholic; he
had been in the old army since the memory of man runneth not to the
contrary, and ploughed his way up and down all over the continent. And
there was Major Dunham--you know him. He and Doyle had been comrades
since youth; they had fought and marched together, spilled many a noggin
in each other's honor, and who drew the other's monthly pay depended on
the paste-boards. Old Doyle came into post, one day, and had a lot of
drinks with the fellows as he picked up the social threads. Finally he
asked: 'Un' phware is me ole friend, Dunham? Why doesn't he come down
and greet me with a glass?'
"Some one explained that old Dunham had since married, had joined the
church, and didn't greet any one over glasses any more.
"'Un' phwat church did he join?'
"Some one answered, the Universalist Church.
"'Ah, I see,' said Doyle, tossing off his drink, 'he's huntin' an aisy
ford.' So I guess that's what Ermine is doing."
They soon joined the group of mounted officers and ladies, orderlies,
and nondescripts of the camp, all alive with anticipations, and their
horses stepping high.
"Good morning, Mr. Harding; how do you find yourself?" called out
Captain Lewis.
"Fine--fine, thank you."
"How are you mounted?"
Harding patted his horse's neck, saying: "Quite well--a good beast;
seems to manage my weight, but I find this saddle odd. Bless me, I know
there is no habit in the world so strong as the saddle. I have the flat
saddle habit."
"What we call a rim-fire saddle," laughed Searles, who joined the
conversation.
"Ah--a rim-fire, do you call them? Well, do you know, Major, I should
say this saddle was better adapted to carrying a sack of corn than a
man," rejoined Harding.
"Oh, you'll get along; there isn't a fence nearer than St. Paul except
the quartermaster's corral."
"I say, Searles," spoke Lewis, "there's the Colonel out in front--happy
as a boy out of school; glad there's something to keep him quiet; we
must do this for him every day, or he'll have us out pounding
sage-brush."
"And there's the quartermaster with a new popper on his whip," sang some
voice.
"There is no champagne like the air of the high plains before the sun
burns the bubble out of it," proclaimed Shockley, who was young and
without any of the saddle or collar marks of life; "and to see these
beautiful women riding along--say, Harding, if I get off this horse I'll
set this prairie on fire," and he burst into an old song:--
"Now, ladies, good-by to each kind, gentle soul,
Though me coat it is ragged, me heart it is whole;
There's one sitting yonder I think wants a beau,
Let her come to the arms of young Billy Barlow."
And Shockley urged his horse to the side of Miss Katherine Searles.
Observing the manoeuvre, Captain Lewis poked her father in the ribs. "I
don't think your daughter wants a beau very much, Major; the youngsters
are four files deep around her now."
"'Tis youth, Bill Lewis; we've all had it once, and from what I
observe, they handle it pretty much as we used to."
"The very same. I don't see how men write novels or plays about that old
story; all they can do is to invent new fortifications for Mr. Hero to
carry before she names the day."
Lieutenant Shockley found himself unable to get nearer than two horses
to Miss Searles, so he bawled: "And I thought you fellows were hunting
wolves. I say, Miss Searles, if you ride one way and the wolf runs the
other, it is easy to see which will have the larger field. My money is
on you--two to one. Who will take the wolf?"
[Illustration: SHOCKLEY.]
"Oh, Mr. Shockley, between you and this Western sun, I shall soon need a
new powder puff."
"Shall I challenge him?" called Bowles to the young woman.
"Please not, Mr. Bowles; I do not want to lose him." And every one
greeted Shockley derisively.
"Guide right!" shouted the last, putting his horse into a lope. Miss
Searles playfully slashed about with her riding-whip, saying, "Deploy,
gentlemen," and followed him. The others broke apart; they had been
beaten by the strategy of the loud mouth. Lieutenant Butler, however,
permitted himself the pleasure of accompanying Miss Searles; his
determination could not be shaken by these diversions; he pressed
resolutely on.
"I think Butler has been hit over the heart," said one of the dispersed
cavaliers.
"You bet, and it is a disabling wound too. I wonder if Miss Searles
intends to cure him. When I see her handle her eyes, methinks, compadre,
she's a cruel little puss. I wouldn't care to be her mouse."
"But, fellows, she's pretty, a d---- pretty girl, hey!" ventured a
serious youngster. "You can bet any chap here would hang out the white
flag and come a-running, if she hailed him."
And so, one with another, they kept the sacred fire alight. As for that
matter, the aforesaid Miss Puss knew how her men valued the difficulties
of approach, which was why she scattered them. She proposed to take them
in detail. Men do not weaken readily before each other, but alone they
are helpless creatures, when the woman understands herself. She can then
sew them up, tag them, and put them away on various shelves, and rely on
them to stay there; but it requires management, of course.
"I say, Miss Searles, those fellows will set spring guns and bear traps
for me to-night; they will never forgive me."
"Oh, well, Mr. Shockley, to be serious, I don't care. Do you suppose a
wolf will be found? I am so bored." Which remark caused the eminent
Lieutenant to open his mouth very wide in imitation of a laugh,
divested of all mirth.
"Miss Katherine Searles," he said, in mock majesty, "I shall do myself
the honor to crawl into the first badger-hole we come to and stay there
until you dig me out."
"Don't be absurd; you know I always bury my dead. Mr. Butler, do you
expect we shall find a wolf? Ah, there is that King Charles cavalier,
Mr. Ermine--for all the world as though he had stepped from an old
frame. I do think he is lovely."
"Oh, bother that yellow Indian; he is such a nuisance," jerked Butler.
"Why do you say that? I find him perfectly new; he never bores me, and
he stood between me and that enraged savage."
"A regular play. I do not doubt he arranged it beforehand. However, it
was well thought out--downright dramatic, except that the Indian ought
to have killed him."
"Oh, would you have arranged it that way if you had been playwright?"
"Yes," replied the bilious lover.
Shaking her bridle rein, she cried, "Come, Mr. Shockley, let us ride to
Ermine; at least you will admire him." Shockley enjoyed the death stroke
which she had administered to Butler, but saying to himself as he
thought of Ermine, "D---- the curly boy," and followed his charming and
difficult quarry. He alone had ridden true.
The independent and close-lipped scout was riding outside the group. He
never grew accustomed to the heavy columns, and did not talk on the
march--a common habit of desert wanderers. But his eye covered
everything. Not a buckle or a horse-hair or the turn of a leg escaped
him, and you may be sure Miss Katherine Searles was detailed in his
picture.
He had beheld her surrounded by the young officers until he began to
hate the whole United States army. Then he saw her dismiss the escort
saving only two, and presently she reduced her force to one. As she came
toward him, his blood took a pop into his head, which helped mightily to
illumine his natural richness of color. She was really coming to him. He
wished it, he wanted it, as badly as a man dying of thirst wants water,
and yet a whole volley of bullets would not disturb him as her coming
did.
"Good morning, Mr. Ermine; you, too, are out after wolves, I see," sang
Katherine, cheerily.
"No, ma'am, I don't care anything about wolves; and why should I care
for them?"
"What are you out for then, pray?"
"Oh, I don't know; thought I would like to see you after wolves. I guess
that's why I am out," came the simple answer.
"Well, to judge by the past few miles I don't think you will see me
after them to-day."
"I think so myself, Miss Searles. These people ought to go back in the
breaks of the land to find wolves; they don't give a wolf credit for
having eyes."
"Why don't you tell them so, Mr. Ermine?" pleaded the young woman.
"The officers think they know where to find them; they would not thank
me, and there might not be anywhere I would go to find them. It does not
matter whether we get one or none, anyhow," came Ermine's sageness.
"Indeed, it does matter. I must have a wolf."
"Want him alive or dead?" was the low question.
"What! am I to have one?"
"You are," replied the scout, simply.
"When?"
"Well, Miss Searles, I can't order one from the quartermaster exactly,
but if you are in a great hurry, I might go now."
"Mr. Ermine, you will surely kill me with your generosity. You have
offered me your scalp, your body, and now a wolf. Oh, by the way, what
did that awful Indian say to you? I suppose you have seen him since."
"Didn't say anything."
"Well, I hope he has forgiven you; but as I understand them, that is not
the usual way among Indians."
"No, Miss Searles, he won't forgive me. I'm a-keeping him to remember
you by."
"How foolish; I might give you something for a keepsake which would
leave better memories, do you not think so?"
"You might, if you wish to."
The girl was visibly agitated at this, coming as it did from her crude
admirer. She fumbled about her dress, her hair, and finally drew off her
glove and gave it to the scout, with a smile so sweet and a glance of
the eye which penetrated Ermine like a charge of buckshot. He took the
glove and put it inside of the breast of his shirt, and said, "I'll get
the wolf."
Shockley was so impressed with the conversation that he was surprised
into silence, and to accomplish that phenomenon took a most powerful
jolt, as every one in the regiment knew. He could talk the bottom out of
a nose-bag, or put a clock to sleep. Ordinary verbal jollity did not
seem at all adequate, so he carolled a passing line:--
"One little, two little, three little Injuns,
Four little, five little, six little Injuns,
Seven little, eight little, nine little Injuns,
Ten little Injun boys."
This came as an expiring burst which unsettled his horse though it
relieved him. Shockley needed this much yeast before he could rise
again.
"Oh, Mr. Shockley, you must know Mr. Ermine."
"I have the pleasure, Miss Searles; haven't I, Ermine?"
The scout nodded assent.
"We were side by side when we rushed the point of that hill in the
Sitting Bull fight last fall; remember that, Ermine?"
"Yes, sir," said the scout; but the remembrance evidently did not cause
Ermine's E string to vibrate. Fighting was easier, freer; but altogether
it was like washing the dishes at home compared with the dangers which
now beset him.
Suddenly every one was whipping and spurring forward; the pack of
greyhounds were streaking it for the hills. "Come on," yelled Shockley,
"here's a run." And that mercurial young man's scales tipped right
readily from his heart to his spurs.
"It's only a coyote, Miss Searles," said Ermine; but the young woman
spatted her horse with her whip and rode bravely after the flying
Shockley. Ermine's fast pony kept steadily along with her under a pull;
the plainsman's long, easy sway in the saddle was unconscious, and he
never took his eyes from the girl, now quite another person under the
excitement.
Every one in the hunting-party was pumping away to the last ounce. A
pack of greyhounds make a coyote save all the time he can; they
stimulate his interest in life, and those who have seen a good healthy
specimen burn up the ground fully realize the value of passing moments.
"Oh, dear; my hat is falling off!" shrieked the girl.
"Shall I save it, Miss Searles?"
"Yes! yes! Catch it!" she screamed.
Ermine brought his flying pony nearer hers on the off side and reached
his hand toward the flapping hat, struggling at a frail anchorage of
one hat-pin, but his arm grew nerveless at the near approach to
divinity.
"Save it! save it!" she called.
"Shall I?" and he pulled himself together.
Dropping his bridle-rein over the pommel of his saddle, standing in his
stirrups as steadily as a man in church, he undid the hat with both
hands. When he had released it and handed it to its owner, she heard him
mutter hoarsely, "My God!"
"Oh, Mr. Ermine, I hope the pin did not prick you."
"No, it wasn't the pin."
"Ah," she ejaculated barely loud enough for him to hear amid the rushing
hoof-beats.
The poor man was in earnest, and the idea drove the horses, the hounds,
and the coyote out of her mind, and she ran her mount harder than ever.
She detested earnest men, having so far in her career with the exception
of Mr. Butler found them great bores; but drive as she would, the scout
pattered at her side, and she dared not look at him.
These two were by no means near the head of the drive, as the girl's
horse was a stager, which had been selected because he was highly
educated concerning badger-holes and rocky hillsides.
Orderlies clattered behind them, and Private Patrick O'Dowd and Private
Thompson drew long winks at each other.
"Oi do be thinkin' the long bie's harse cud roon fasther eff the divil
was afther him. Faith, who'd roon away from a fairy?"
"The horse is running as fast as is wanted," said Thompson, sticking his
hooks into the Indian pony which he rode.
"Did yez obsarve the bie ramove the hat from the lady, and his pony
shootin' gravel into our eyes fit to smother?" shouted O'Dowd, using the
flat of his hand as a sounding-board to Thompson.
"You bet, Pat; and keeping the gait he could take a shoe off her horse,
if she wanted it done."
"They say seein's believin', but Oi'll not be afther tellin' the story
in quarters. Oi'm eaight year in the ahrmy, and Oi can lie whin it's
convanient."
The dogs overhauled the unfortunate little wolf despite its gallant
efforts, and it came out of the snarling mass, as some wag had expressed
it, "like a hog going to war--in small pieces." The field closed up and
dismounted, soldier fashion, at the halt.
"What's the matter with the pony to-day, Ermine? Expected you'd be ahead
of the wolf at least," sang out Lewis.
"I stopped to pick up a hat," he explained; but Captain Lewis fixed his
calculating eye on his man and bit his mustache. Events had begun to
arrange themselves; that drunken night and Ermine's apathy toward the
Englishman's hunting-party--and he had stopped to pick up her hat--oho!
Without a word the scout regained his seat and loped away toward the
post, and Lewis watched him for some time, in a brown study; but a man
of his years often fails to give the ardor of youth its proper value, so
his mind soon followed more natural thoughts.
"Your horse is not a very rapid animal, I observe, Miss Searles," spoke
Butler.
"Did you observe that? I did not notice that you were watching me, Mr.
Butler."
"Oh, I must explain that in an affair of this kind I am expected to
sustain the reputation of the cavalry. I forced myself to the front."
"Quite right. I kept the only man in the rear, who was capable of
spoiling your reputation; you are under obligations to me."
"That wild man, you mean. He certainly has a wonderful pony, but you
need not trouble about him if it is to please me only."
"I find this sun becoming too insistent; I think I will go back," said
Katherine Searles. Many of the women also turned their horses homeward,
leaving only the more pronounced types of sportsmen to search for
another wolf.
"Having sustained the cavalry, I'll accompany you, Katherine."
"Miss Searles, please!" she said, turning to him, and the little gem of
a nose asserted itself.
"Oh, dear me! What have I done? You permitted me to call you Katherine
only last night."
"Yes, but I do not propose to divide my friendship with a nasty little
gray wolf which has been eaten up alive."
The officer ran his gauntlet over his eyes.
"I am such a booby. I see my mistake, Miss Searles, but the idea you
advance seems so ridiculous--to compare yourself with a wolf."
"Oh, I say, Miss Searles," said Shockley, riding up, "may I offer you
one of my gauntlets? The sun, I fear, will blister your bare hand."
"No, indeed." And Butler tore off a glove, forcing it into her hand. She
could not deny him, and pulled it on. "Thank you; I lost one of mine
this morning."
Then she turned her eyes on Mr. Shockley with a hard little expression,
which sealed him up. He was prompt to feel that the challenge meant war,
and war with this girl was the far-away swing of that gallant strategic
pendulum.
"Yes," Shockley added, "one is apt to drop things without noting them,
in a fast rush. I dropped something myself this morning."
"Pray what was it, Mr. Shockley?"
"It was an idea," he replied with a shrug of the shoulders.
"An idea?" laughed she, appreciating Shockley's discretion. "I hope you
have more of them than I have gloves."
"I have only one," he sighed.
"Are all soldiers as stupid as you are, my dear sir?"
"All under thirty, I am sorry to say," and this from Shockley too. Miss
Searles applied the whip; but go as she would, the two officers did not
lose again the idea, but kept their places beside her.
"You are not very steady under fire," laughed Shockley.
"You are such an absurd person."
"I may be a blessing in disguise."
"You may be; I am unable to identify you."
"The chaperon is waving her whip at us, Miss Searles," cautioned Butler.
"Private O'Dowd is my chaperon, and he can stand the pace," she replied.
The young woman drove on, leaving a pall of dust behind, until the
little party made the cantonment and drew rein in front of the
Searleses' quarters. Giving her hand to the orderly, she dismissed her
escort and disappeared.
"Well, Katherine," said Mrs. Searles, "did you enjoy your ride?"
"Yes, mother, but my horse is such an old poke I was nowhere in the
race."
"The Major says he is a safe horse; one which can be relied on, and that
is more important than speed. I do not want your neck broken, my dear."
"Neither do I want my neck broken, but I should like to be somewhere in
sight during a run. The young officers desert me once a wolf is sighted;
they forget their manners at the first flash of a greyhound."
"I know, daughter, but what can you expect? They go out for that
purpose."
"Mr. Ermine doesn't, or at least he is polite enough to say that he goes
out to see me run, and not the wolf. If he is not sophisticated, he
seems to have the primitive instincts of a gentleman."
"Mr. Ermine, forsooth!" And Madam Searles betrayed some asperity. "Is he
presumptuous enough to present you with compliments? You had better
maintain your distance."
"He is a perfectly delightful man, mother; so thoughtful and so
handsome."
"Tut tut, Katherine; he is only an ordinary scout--a wild man."
"I don't care; I like him."
"Katherine, what are you thinking of?"
"Oh, I don't know, mother; I am thinking what an absurd lot men are.
They insist on talking nonsense at me. They do not seem to preserve
their reserve; they are not a bit like the men back in the States."
"Well, my daughter, you must be careful not to provoke familiarity.
Young women are rather scarce out here, and you are not without your
charms. I believe you use your eyes more than you should. Have a care;
do not forget that quiet modesty is the most becoming thing in the world
for a woman."
"I am sure I do nothing; in fact, I have to be constantly menacing these
military youths to keep them from coming too near, especially Mr.
Shockley and Mr. Butler. I am in distress every minute for fear Mr.
Butler will say more than I am ready to hear."
Mrs. Searles was by no means averse to Butler's attentions to her
daughter. "A very fine young man," was her comment when she thought of
him. Both women knew that the Lieutenant was ready to draw his sabre in
Katherine's behalf.
Katherine had met Butler while visiting St. Louis the year before, had
come to know him well, and didn't pretend to dislike him. His father and
mother were dead, but his people were of consequence.
Mrs. Searles determined to ask the Major to make some inquiries about
her daughter's suitor, and meanwhile dismissed Katherine with the
caution not to tempt this midday sun overmuch; "It will soon turn your
peach-blow into russet apples," she told her, "and men, you know, like
the peach-blow. Without it you might be less troubled by the young
officers."
* * * * *
The sun was about to depart. The families of the officers were sitting
under their _ramadas_ enjoying the cool. Butler and Shockley with two or
three other men were seated with the Searleses when their attention was
attracted by a commotion down by the quarters.
"What's the circus?"
"Don't make out; seems to be coming this way. It is--why, it is the
scout Ermine!"
The group sat expectantly and witnessed the approach of John Ermine on
his horse. At some distance to one side rode Wolf-Voice, and gradually
through the dusk they made out some small animal between them--a
dog-like thing.
The riders drew up before the Searleses' hut, and every one rose. The
object was a scared and demoralized wolf with his tail between his legs.
His neck was encircled by two rawhide lariats which ran to the pommels
of the riders.
Touching his hat, Ermine said, "Miss Searles, I have brought you the
wolf."
"Goodness gracious, Mr. Ermine! I only said that in fun. What can I
possibly do with a wolf?"
"I don't know. You said you wanted one, so here he is."
"Yaes," said Wolf-Voice, with an oath, "she was bite my harm hoff; you
no want heem; I skin her alive." He had previously warned Ermine that no
one but a d---- fool would want a live wolf.
"Well, daughter, what are you going to do with it? Start a Zoo? I don't
know where we can put him," spoke Major Searles, in perplexity.
"He will have to roost high if the dogs find out about this visitation,"
observed Shockley.
"How did you get him, Ermine?"
"Dug him out of his den, and before we got him roped he pinched
Wolf-Voice, and I had a hard time to keep him from killing the beast."
"Yaes; no want him, an' we dig a hole mile deep mabeso--dig ever since
sun she so high, ten-as tol-a-pas." And in his disgust Wolf-Voice was
about to slacken his rope.
"Hold up there; don't turn that animal loose near here! Take him down to
the corral and lock him up. We'll see to-morrow what can be done with
him," spoke Searles.
Ermine and Wolf-Voice turned and drifted out into the gathering darkness
with their forlorn tow, while a few soldiers with clubs fought the dogs
off as they gradually began to gather around their natural enemy.
"Why, I only asked for a wolf in the most casual way--in a joking way;
you heard me, Mr. Shockley."
"Yes, I did hear you, but I also heard him say you should have one, and
I thought at the time he looked serious about it."
"I was so astonished that I did not properly thank him," she added; "and
the Indian was in a lovely humor over the whole episode; his disgust was
most apparent. I must be more careful what I say to Mr. Ermine."
"I have it," cried the Major; "we'll make up a purse, buy the wolf, and
run him so soon as he gets over the effects of his capture."
"No, no, papa, you must not offend Ermine with money. He would be
awfully offended; that would be the very last thing to do to him."