The boy was just skeptic enough to have plenty of fun listening to
ghost stories by people who believed or half way believed them; and
it became a habit of his to bring up the subject in talking with
different people, and listen to their ghost stories if any might be
provoked.
One spring he heard a ghost story that clung to him, and as he grew
older and older the ghost in the story seemed more real. It was
during the spring roundup of cattle, and he and an old Westerner had
been riding and working together for a number of days cutting out and
separating cattle, and taking some to one range and some to another,
when, after a long day's ride over the hills of Wabaunsee County,
they found that they were not able to reach home, and made a camp at
Wakarusa falls. They boiled some coffee and fried some salt meat, and
this, together with some bread and some hard-boiled eggs, made a good
supper. Afterwards they lay down with their saddles for pillows and
commenced the usual process of talking one another to sleep. Looking
up at the stars and out at their dying fire, the boy thought of the
phantom fisherman and other ghosts, and asked the old ranger what he
knew about such. The old fellow stretched out on the ground, and
reaching over took hold of the boy, as he said:
"Kid, I guess I've seen as many ghosts as anybody, but there's one
that I never forget, and it's always comin' back to me. Years ago,
when I wasn't any older than you, way back in York State, I coaxed my
father and mother ever so many times to let me come out West. We had
some folks living out this way, and from the letters they wrote, I
was crazy to come out here. They didn't want me to come, and said I
ought to go to school, and tried to make me go to school; but I
wouldn't do any good in school nor at anything else, and once or
twice I run away from home, and they caught me and brought me back.
One day my mother called me into the house, and I noticed that my
father was sitting down at the table and that there was a chair near
his where she had been sitting. She asked me to sit down, and she
pulled up another chair, and then she said: 'Jack, we've been
talking about you, and we know that you want to go out West, and that
you want to go so bad that you're not doin' any good here. Your Paw
and I have talked it over, and thought it over, and prayed over it,
and we think that maybe it would be best for you to go, and we're
goin' to give you what we can spare and let you strike out.' We
hadn't had a letter from the folks in the West for a long time, but
we hunted up the old address, and Mother tied up a big bundle of
clothes for me, and they gave me a railroad ticket and nine dollars
and fifty cents, which was all the money they had in the house. On
the day I left I started for the station on foot, and looked back
many times because Father and Mother both were hanging over the gate
watching me go. I don't know how many times I looked back, Kid, but I
do know that I looked back enough that the looks of them has been
with me all these years; and lots and lots of times it seems to me
that I can see the old man as he held up his hand and yelled
'Goodbye, boy, goodbye!' and Ma right by his side. It may be that
there ain't any real ghosts for some people, but them old faces are
real when they come back to me. It's more than thirty years, and ever
so long I thought I'd go back and see them some day, and I used to
write them that I would, but I never did; and they're both gone now.
Their ghost is all I have, and I kind o' like it, and wouldn't trade
it off for anything in the world."
As the story ended the stars gradually went out for the boy, and he
thought no more of ghosts until morning. Since then, he has
accumulated quite a number of ghosts of his own of the same kind and
character as the ones that followed the old cattleman, all born of
the grief of separation, and they are all real to him and have become
part of his life.
An Indian Christmas
(A legend of the camp by the spring.)
On Christmas night the Indian camp was a noisy place. The fires were
burning brightly in every tepee, and shouts and laughter told of the
good time that was being had by everyone as a part of the celebration
that the old French priest had taught them to have.
Outside the wind was blowing cold, with skiffs of snow. A strange boy
wandered into the camp. He stopped at the tent of the chief and asked
that he be admitted and given food and allowed to get warm. The chief
drove him away. He went to the tent of Shining Star and tried to be
admitted, but Shining Star grunted, and his boys drove him away with
whips. He then went to many of the tents, including those of Eagle
Eye and Black Feather, but none would receive him, and at one they
set a dog upon him. His feet were bare, and tears were frozen on his
cheeks. He was about to leave the camp, when he noticed a small tepee
made of bearskin off by itself. He walked slowly to it, and quietly
peeped in. Inside he saw the deformed Indian, who was known
everywhere by the name of Broken Back. His squaw sat near him,
preparing a scanty meal for them and their children. The children
were playing on the ground, but were watching their mother closely,
for they were hungry. The fire was low, and the boy started to turn
away, and broke a twig that lay on the ground.
Broken Back ran out and stopped him as he was about to turn away.
"What do you want?" he said.
The boy commenced to cry.
"I am so cold and hungry," he said, "and I have been to all the
tents, and they will not let me in."
Then Broken Back took him by the hand and led him into the tent, and
they divided the food with him, and built up the fire until he became
warm and happy. They urged him to stay all night and until the storm
was over.
So he sat on the ground near the fire and talked and played with the
children until it was time to go to sleep.
Then he stood up, and they all noticed that he was tall, and as they
looked they saw that he was a man instead of a boy. His clothes were
good, and over his shoulder hung a beautiful blanket, and over his
head was a bonnet with feathers of strange birds upon it. As they
looked, he reached out his hand and said:
"Broken Back, you have been good to a poor, cold and hungry boy. You
and all of yours shall have plenty."
And Broken Back stood up; and he was deformed no more, but was large
and strong and well, and his squaw stood by his side, and both were
dressed in the best of Indian clothes. The children jumped about with
joy, as they noticed that they were at once supplied with many things
that they had always wanted.
"Broken Back," he said, "you shall be chief of your tribe. And all of
your people shall love and respect and honor you. And your name shall
be Broken Back no longer, but shall be Holy Mountain."
And as they talked, all of the Indians of the tribe came marching
about his tent shouting in gladness, "Great is Holy Mountain, our
chief, forever."
As they shouted, he disappeared, and they saw him no more.
The next day the good priest came to the camp, and they told him what
had happened, and he said, "It was Jesus."