A long time Erskine sat motionless, wondering what ailed him. He had
never liked nor trusted Grey; he believed he would have trouble with him
some day, but he had other enemies and he did not feel toward them as he
did toward this dandy mincing up that beautiful broad path. With a
little grunt he turned back along the path. Firefly whinnied to him and
nipped at him with playful restlessness as though eager to be on his way
to the barn, and he stood awhile with one arm across his saddle. Once he
reached upward to untie the reins, and with another grunt strode back
and went rapidly up the path. Grey and Barbara had disappeared, but a
tall youth who sat behind one of the big pillars saw him coming and
rose, bewildered, but not for long. Each recognized the other swiftly,
and Hugh came with stiff courtesy forward. Erskine smiled:
"You don't know me?" Hugh bowed:
"Quite well." The woodsman drew himself up with quick breath--paling
without, flaming within--but before he could speak there was a quick step
and an astonished cry within the hall and Harry sprang out.
"Erskine! Erskine!" he shouted, and he leaped down the steps with both
hands outstretched. "You here! You--you old Indian--how did you get here?"
He caught Erskine by both hands and then fell to shaking him by the
shoulders. "Where's your horse?" And then he noticed the boy's pale and
embarrassed face and his eyes shifting to Hugh, who stood, still cold,
still courteous, and he checked some hot outburst at his lips.
"I'm glad you've come, and I'm glad you've come right now--where's your
horse?"
"I left him hitched at the landing," Erskine had to answer, and Harry
looked puzzled:
"The landing! Why, what----" He wheeled and shouted to a darky:
"Put Master Erskine's horse in the barn and feed him." And he led
Erskine within--to the same room where he had slept before, and poured
out some water in a bowl.
"Take your time," he said, and he went back to the porch. Erskine could
hear and see him through the latticed blinds.
"Hugh," said the lad in a low, cold voice, "I am host here, and if you
don't like this you can take that path."
"You are right," was the answer; "but you wait until Uncle Harry gets
home."
The matter was quite plain to Erskine within. The presence of Dane Grey
made it plain, and as Erskine dipped both hands into the cold water he
made up his mind to an understanding with that young gentleman that
would be complete and final. And so he was ready when he and Harry were
on the porch again and Barbara and Grey emerged from the rose-bushes and
came slowly up the path. Harry looked worried, but Erskine sat still,
with a faint smile at his mouth and in his eyes. Barbara saw him first
and she did not rush forward. Instead she stopped, with wide eyes, a
stifled cry, and a lifting of one hand toward her heart. Grey saw too,
flushed rather painfully, and calmed himself. Erskine had sprung down
the steps.
"Why, have I changed so much?" he cried. "Hugh didn't seem to know me,
either." His voice was gay, friendly, even affectionate, but his eyes
danced with strange lights that puzzled the girl.
"Of course I knew you," she faltered, paling a little but gathering
herself rather haughtily--a fact that Erskine seemed not to notice. "You
took me by surprise and you have changed--but I don't know how much." The
significance of this too seemed to pass Erskine by, for he bent over
Barbara's hand and kissed it.
"Never to you, my dear cousin," he said gallantly, and then he bowed to
Dane Grey, not offering to shake hands.
"Of course I know Mr. Grey." To say that the gentleman was dumfounded is
to put it mildly--this wild Indian playing the courtier with exquisite
impudence and doing it well! Harry seemed like to burst with restrained
merriment, and Barbara was sorely put to it to keep her poise. The great
dinner-bell from behind the house boomed its summons to the woods and
fields.
"Come on," called Harry. "I imagine you're hungry, cousin."
"I am," said Erskine. "I've had nothing to eat since--since early morn."
Barbara's eyes flashed upward and Grey was plainly startled. Was there a
slight stress on those two words? Erskine's face was as expressionless
as bronze. Harry had bolted into the hall.
Mrs. Dale was visiting down the river, so Barbara sat in her mother's
place, with Erskine at her right, Grey to her left, Hugh next to him,
and Harry at the head. Harry did not wait long.
"Now, you White Arrow, you Big Chief, tell us the story. Where have you
been, what have you been doing, and what do you mean to do? I've heard a
good deal, but I want it all."
Grey began to look uncomfortable, and so, in truth, did Barbara.
"What have you heard?" asked Erskine quietly.
"Never mind," interposed Barbara quickly; "you tell us."
"Well," began Erskine slowly, "you remember that day we met some Indians
who told me that old Kahtoo, my foster-father, was ill, and that he
wanted to see me before he died? I went exactly as I would have gone had
white men given the same message from Colonel Dale, and even for better
reasons. A bad prophet was stirring up trouble in the tribe against the
old chief. An enemy of mine, Crooked Lightning, was helping him. He
wanted his son, Black Wolf, as chief, and the old chief wanted me. I
heard the Indians were going to join the British. I didn't want to be
chief, but I did want influence in the tribe, so I stayed. There was a
white woman in the camp and an Indian girl named Early Morn. I told the
old chief that I would fight with the whites against the Indians and
with the whites against them both. Crooked Lightning overheard me, and
you can imagine what use he made of what I said. I took the wampum belt
for the old chief to the powwow between the Indians and the British, and
I found I could do nothing. I met Mr. Grey there." He bowed slightly to
Dane and then looked at him steadily. "I was told that he was there in
the interest of an English fur company. When I found I could do nothing
with the Indians, I told the council what I had told the old chief." He
paused. Barbara's face was pale and she was breathing hard. She had not
looked at Grey, but Harry had been watching him covertly and he did not
look comfortable. Erskine paused.
"What!" shouted Harry. "You told both that you would fight with the
whites against both! What'd they do to you?"
Erskine smiled.
"Well, here I am. I jumped over the heads of the outer ring and ran.
Firefly heard me calling him. I had left his halter loose. He broke
away. I jumped on him, and you know nothing can catch Firefly."
"Didn't they shoot at you?"
"Of course." Again he paused.
"Well," said Harry impatiently, "that isn't the end."
"I went back to the camp. Crooked Lightning followed me and they tied me
and were going to burn me at the stake."
"Good heavens!" breathed Barbara.
"How'd you get away?"
"The Indian girl, Early Morn, slipped under the tent and cut me loose.
The white woman got my gun, and Firefly--you know nothing can catch
Firefly." The silence was intense. Hugh looked dazed, Barbara was on the
point of tears, Harry was triumphant, and Grey was painfully flushed.
"And you want to know what I am going to do now?" Erskine went on. "I'm
going with Captain George Rogers Clark--with what command are you, Mr.
Grey?"
"That's a secret," he smiled coolly. "I'll let you know later," and
Barbara, with an inward sigh of relief, rose quickly, but would not
leave them behind.
"But the white woman?" questioned Harry. "Why doesn't she leave the
Indians?"
"Early Morn--a half-breed--is her daughter," said Erskine simply.
"Oh!" and Harry questioned no further.
"Early Morn was the best-looking Indian girl I ever saw," said Erskine,
"and the bravest." For the first time Grey glanced at Barbara. "She
saved my life," Erskine went on gravely, "and mine is hers whenever she
needs it." Harry reached over and gripped his hand.
As yet not one word had been said of Grey's misdoing, but Barbara's cool
disdain made him shamed and hot, and in her eyes was the sorrow of her
injustice to Erskine. In the hallway she excused herself with a
courtesy, Hugh went to the stables, Harry disappeared for a moment, and
the two were left alone. With smouldering fire Erskine turned to Grey.
"It seems you have been amusing yourself with my kinspeople at my
expense." Grey drew himself up in haughty silence. Erskine went on:
"I have known some liars who were not cowards."
"You forget yourself."
"No--nor you."
"You remember a promise I made you once?"
"Twice," corrected Erskine. Grey's eyes flashed upward to the crossed
rapiers on the wall.
"Precisely," answered Erskine, "and when?"
"At the first opportunity."
"From this moment I shall be waiting for nothing else."
Barbara, reappearing, heard their last words, and she came forward pale
and with piercing eyes:
"Cousin Erskine, I want to apologize to you for my little faith. I hope
you will forgive me. Mr. Grey, your horse will be at the door at once. I
wish you a safe journey--to your command." Grey bowed and turned--furious.
Erskine was on the porch when Grey came out to mount his horse.
"You will want seconds?" asked Grey.
"They might try to stop us--no!"
"I shall ride slowly," Grey said. Erskine bowed.
"I shall not."