A VISIT TO OLD LASKA.
"JACK, Aunt Sallie will take us over to the Indian village this
afternoon if you wish to go," Jean said next day.
Jean and Jack thought they were entirely alone. They did not realize
that the door of the little room next theirs, which Frieda and the
Indian girl occupied, was open.
"Why should we go to the village, Jean?" Jack inquired indifferently.
She had just discovered a thrilling novel and she wanted to be left in
peace to read it.
"Because something has to be done about Olive at once," Jean insisted
valiantly. "You know perfectly well, that it isn't fair for us to keep
her in suspense about what is to become of her and then maybe turn her
off and send her back to old Laska in the end. We must find out if there
is any chance of her not being Laska's real child and if not, what right
she has to her. Aunt Sallie says she will keep Olive here as a maid for
Laura if we don't want her at the ranch and we can get her away from
the Indians."
"Maid for Laura!" Jack bit her lips indignantly. Jean kept her face
turned away, so that Jack could not see her expression. She knew that
her cousin was very undecided about what they ought to do with their
protegee and was anxious to influence Jack for Olive's sake.
"I don't think that Olilie--I mean Olive--is very well suited for such a
distinguished position as maid to Miss Laura Post," Jack replied. "I
think if I were the Indian girl I should prefer to remain with the
Indians. Of course I will go over to the village with you and Aunt
Sallie whenever you like."
Jean put her arm around her cousin. "You won't be cross about something
if I tell you, will you?" she urged coaxingly.
Jack frowned. "I don't know, Jean Bruce, what is it now?" she demanded,
for she could guess by the half mischievous, half conciliatory
expression in Jean's brown eyes, that she had something to confide which
would not be to her liking.
"Aunt Sallie has asked Frank Kent to drive over to the Indian village
with us," Jean returned. "You see he has never seen an Indian village,
and being an Englishman, Aunt Sallie naturally thought he would be
curious about one. So after all he is going to help us to find out about
Olive, although you refused to allow him. Funny, isn't it?"
This was a very unwise fashion for Jean Bruce to have explained the
situation to Jack, for if there was one thing which Miss Jacqueline
Ralston did particularly like, it was to have her own way. Having said
that she desired no assistance from their new acquaintance in their
efforts for Olilie, she was not going to be forced into accepting it
against her will.
Jack quietly removed her big Mexican hat, sat down comfortably in her
chair and reopened her book. "Oh, very well," she remarked carelessly.
"Then I won't go with you at all. My presence won't be in the least
necessary. You and Aunt Sallie and Mr. Kent can make all the
investigations and decide what is best to do without any interference
from me."
Jack arched her level brows, dilated her nostrils and half closed her
eyes. Jean knew that particular obstinate expression of her cousin's
and said nothing more for a few moments, but put on her own coat and hat
and started to leave the room. At the door she turned to her cousin.
"Jacqueline Ralston," she inquired coolly, "has it ever occurred to you,
that you are a very hard-headed and selfish person?"
Jack's grey eyes grew steely. "Oh, do go on, Jean dear," she urged
politely. "Tell me any other nice things you know about me; one always
is appreciated by one's relatives."
Jean flushed. "Don't be so hateful, Jack," she pleaded. "Can't you see
that it is selfish of you to refuse to go with us to try to find out
about Olilie? You brought her home to the ranch, and you know you will
be able to stand up for her and find out more about her than either Aunt
Sallie or I can. Aunt Sallie means well, but goodness knows she isn't
tactful. And you know you are obstinate to stay at home simply because
Frank Kent is to go with us. Aunt Sallie did not know what you had said
to him, and simply wanted to show him one of our modern Indian
settlements. It is one of the things he came West to see."
"Oh, I don't blame Aunt Sallie," Jack replied, slightly appeased by
Jean's half-hearted apology.
"Well, you needn't blame Frank Kent, either," Jean retorted quickly.
"You can put every bit of the blame on me. Frank Kent told Aunt Sallie
that he did not think he would care to go with us and behaved so queer
and stiffish that she was offended with him. I knew he was thinking
about what you had said, so I just marched up to him and told him that
if he had refused Mrs. Simpson's invitation because he thought you would
not wish him to come along with us, he was entirely mistaken. You see I
thought you would not want him to give up the pleasure of the trip, just
on your account. He is a guest here with us and I can see no sense in
your being so uppish. It is perfectly foolish, Jack." This time Jean
opened the door. "Jacqueline Ralston, c-h-u-m-p spells chump. It is
exactly what you are."
Jack's bad tempers had a way of ending abruptly. "Wait a minute, please,
Jean," she called persuasively, "I expect you are right. I will come
along."
Jean gave Jack a hug as they went out of the room together, which was
intended to convey the idea that, though what she had just said to her
cousin was perfectly true, she was sorry to have been obliged to say it.
Jack had another shock as she was about to get into the Simpson motor
car. Seated on the comfortable rear seat and engaged in airy
conversation were Dan Norton and Laura Post with Mrs. Simpson beside
them. Jean and Jean's special friend, Harry Pryor occupied the centre
chairs. So Jack and Frank Kent, as the car only held seven people, were
compelled to crowd in front with the chauffeur.
"You are sure you don't mind my going over with you," said Frank Kent in
an apologetic tone and turning a deep red. "I can just as easily stay at
the ranch, if you prefer it."
No girl could be proof against such good manners as Frank Kent's,
certainly not Jacqueline Ralston.
The Indian village was not so very far from the Simpson ranch, in the
way that Western people count distances. Pretty soon the automobile
party saw circles of smoke arising in the air. On a rounded green slope
of the prairie near a little river was a collection of wigwams and
huts.
"I am jolly glad some of the Indians still live in tepees." Frank
confided to Jack. "I was dreadfully afraid that your up-to-date,
government-cared-for 'Injun,' was going to be just like everybody else
and wear store clothes and live in a regular American house, and then
what could I have to tell my people when I go back home to England?"
Frank was staring ahead of him and for the first time since his first
meeting with Jack, he had entirely gotten over his British shyness.
"Don't you worry," Jack answered gaily. "I am awfully glad you have come
with us. Now you'll see the real thing! Of course, some of our Indians
have been educated and civilized, but I am sure many of them are just
the same in their hearts as they used to be, and would lead the same
kind of lives if they had a chance. I can tell you they try to get their
revenge, if you make them angry!"
There were a number of lean horses grazing near the village. The streets
were dreadfully dirty and overflowing with thin, brown children rolling
in the sand and playing with wolfish, half-fed dogs. In front of the
rude huts or the cone-shaped tents with sheafs of poles extending
through their tops, were big Indian men, as solemn, silent and
terrifying as though they had been Indian war chiefs meditating on some
terrible massacre. Most of them wore fringed leather trousers and had
bright blankets wrapped about them. They were calmly smoking, and only
barely turned their narrow eyes to glance at the automobile, as it
passed by them.
Near most of the dwellings were outdoor fires, with pots boiling above
them, as few of the Indians can make up their minds to use kitchen
stoves instead of their familiar campfires. Old women sat near the
fires, stringing bright beads, or weaving mats. Some of them were making
Indian blankets on rude frames of logs, set upright some feet apart, and
strung with cords, like an old-fashioned wooden loom.
The chauffeur slowed down and the girls and boys could see that the
Indians were talking about their party, making queer sounds and signs to
one another. The women rushed out with trinkets to sell, the children
sat cross-legged in the dirt, the dogs barked and young women with
babies on their backs crept out of their doors. But among the whole
number, there was no sign of Laska or Josef.
Laura bought quantities of Indian bead-work and pottery. She would not
let her Aunt inquire for the Indian girl's people until she had seen
everything there was to be seen. Frank timidly offered Jack a string of
blue beads, when he saw that Jean had accepted a small gift from Harry
Pryor, and Jack received them very graciously, wishing to show that she
no longer resented Frank's having made the trip.
"Can you tell me where to find the home of Laska?" Mrs. Simpson inquired
of an Indian girl, who looked more intelligent than the others and spoke
very good English.
The girl shook her head. "Don't know," she replied stupidly. Mrs.
Simpson asked half a dozen other people. Some of them spoke, others only
grunted dully. "Crow's Nest," Laska's hut, had apparently never been
heard of.
"Let's don't waste time asking questions, Aunt Sallie," Jack called
back. "The Indians won't tell you about each other unless they know what
you want. Let's drive straight to the school; Olilie's teacher can best
tell us what to do."
In the midst of the Indian village were three well-built houses, the
trading store, a small church and the school. Mrs. Simpson and Jack went
into the schoolhouse together and were gone for half an hour. When they
came out, Jack's face was crimson with excitement and Mrs. Simpson
looked deeply interested. She entered the car after telling her
chauffeur exactly how to find old Laska's hut, but neither she nor Jack
gave any account to the others of what the teacher at the Indian school
had told them of Olilie.
Jean could not bear it. She gave Jack a little shake. "What are you so
mysterious about?" she questioned softly. "Olilie is not Laska's child,
is she? You have found out something about her and you don't dare tell."
Jack hesitated. "It is queerer than we thought," she confessed. "Mrs.
Merton, Olilie's teacher, does not think that Olilie is Laska's child,
but she has no way of proving it. The funny thing is, she says that
Laska gets money each month for taking care of Olilie and that is why
she does not wish to give her up. No one knows who sends her the money
nor where it comes from, Mrs. Merton says. But maybe if we tell Laska
that she can keep this money if she lets us have Olilie, she will give
her up to us. Mrs. Merton has tried to get Olilie away from Laska
herself and to find out more about her, but she has never learned the
least little thing."
Laska's hut was better than many of the other Indian houses, being made
of timber plastered with mud and with a dirt roof. The door was half
open, but it was impossible to tell whether any one inside saw the
approach of the automobile.
Jack and Jean ran up the path ahead, without waiting for Mrs. Simpson
and were almost at Laska's door when a low, savage growl stopped them.
Jean stepped back a moment and clutched at Jack's skirts, but Jack went
on without thinking of danger. She only half heard Jean's cry of warning
as she lifted her hand to knock on the door. In that second a great,
grey figure sprang up in front of her and Jack saw two rows of sharp
teeth on a level with her throat. She had lived all her life among the
wild animals of the prairies and of the ranch, and knew that if, in a
second of danger, she flinched or showed cowardice, she was lost. How
she was able to stand perfectly still for that second she did not know,
for a moment later, she gasped and turned white as a sheet, but Jean and
Mrs. Simpson caught her. Frank Kent had managed in some remarkable
fashion to get in front of Jack and strike down the huge brute with his
stick. A few minutes later Laska came to the door of her hut. She had
seen Jean and Jack approaching alone and had not known what friends they
had with them.
A long and useless conversation followed. Laska would give no
satisfaction about Olilie, insisting that the girl was her child, that
she knew nothing of any money that came for her care. Josef was away,
but they both wanted the girl to return home.
Mrs. Simpson grew weary of argument and pleading. "Look here, Laska,"
she said at last, "we are not going to allow the Indian girl to come
back to you. Any one could look at you both and see that she is not your
own child, and if you try to get her away from us or to molest her in
any way, I shall make it my business to find out who sends you money for
her and you shall have neither the money nor the girl."
Laska made no further objection, but neither Jean, nor Jack, nor Frank
Kent liked the expression of her face, as she watched them leave her
cabin. She made a sign of some kind in the air and mumbled a curious
Indian incantation that had a menacing sound.