THE PRICE OF A ROBE
Thunder-maker did not move while the strangers were watching him. To all
outward appearance he was asleep.
Holden stepped forward and shook the Medicine Man roughly by the
shoulder.
"Come along! Open your eyes, you old scoundrel. You are no more sleeping
than we are," he said.
The Indian moved, slowly opened his eyes, and looked for a few moments
at the speaker, just as a person would who had been suddenly roused from
a deep slumber. Then a pleased smile broke over his face.
"My white brothers in the tent of Thunder-maker? They are very welcome,"
he said.
But Holden did not respond to the greeting, as he demanded--
"Does Thunder-maker think that we are fools? Do you think we did not
hear you piping to those vile serpents of yours?"
The Indian looked puzzled.
"My white brothers speak strange words, or it may be that the mind of
Thunder-maker still sleeps----"
"Rot!" interrupted Arnold brusquely. "The Thunder-maker's mind is wide
enough awake. What is the use of lying to us? We know that you put those
snakes into our teepee, and we heard you call them back when you found
that your purposes had failed."
For answer, the Indian raised one of the blankets and disclosed a basket
against which he had been leaning during his pretended sleep. He raised
the lid, looked in, and signed the Englishmen to do likewise.
"See? On their bed of grass my little papooses also sleep," he said,
lifting the basket so as to show the tangle of green bodies that it
contained.
"We can gain nothing by further talking," remarked Arnold to his
companion in an undertone. "The fellow has done us this time, and we
have nothing to support us if we accuse him before Mighty Hand."
"That's true enough," returned Holden. "He is best man this time."
The Indian quietly closed the lid and again covered the basket with a
blanket, after which he looked up with a cunning and triumphant leer.
"White men will eat; then--Mighty Hand take trail for Pleasant Valley!"
How he seemed to gloat over the thought of the terrible fate that
awaited his enemies! Brave men though they were, they could not but feel
a sense of shrinking at the picture that this man's attitude and tone
conjured up. There are times when anticipations of pleasure seem to be
rendered more alluring by reason of description. It is also so with
expectancy of pain. Words may paint that picture in crimson colours so
that our revulsion is intensified before we see it.
"We will gain nothing by remaining here," said Arnold abruptly, as he
turned from the tent, whence he was followed by his companion. And as
the Englishmen departed they heard the Indian saying aloud, purposely to
be overheard--
"The pale-face no' think that he see Pleasant Valley, but fiery totem
call. Fiery totem must be obeyed."
Thunder-maker grinned evilly to himself as he watched the departure of
his visitors. Then he rose up, folded around him a robe of deerskin that
was covered with many strange designs, and crept with the sly movements
of a prowling wolf among the various teepees. Reaching the farther side
of the camp, he stopped in front of one of the tents that stood a little
way apart from the others. Gently he raised the flap and looked in. An
Indian of gigantic size was sitting by himself, adjusting his leggings
and moccasins. He looked up to observe his visitor, and it was
noticeable that as he did so Thunder-maker winced as though he were in
pain.
There were few who could look upon that man's face without wincing. In
early scalping-days it had been slashed on one side with a
scalping-knife in such a way that the left eye was totally destroyed,
and a livid scar ran from the eyebrow to the neck--drawing the flesh
into creases that robbed that part of the face of any semblance to
humanity. The other side was whole, but the entire expression was so
horrible that even familiarity did little to prevent repulsion in the
senses of the beholder.
"Thunder-maker is welcome to the tent of Red Fox," the Indian remarked,
returning again to the completion of his wardrobe.
"Thunder-maker would speak wise words with his brother," said the
Medicine Man, entering, but not deigning to sit in the tent of that
"brother." He seldom paid that honour to any teepee except his own and
that of the chief.
"It is well," returned the other man. "Red Fox will gladly hear the wise
words the Thunder-maker will speak."
The Medicine Man did not waste any time in needless palaver. The hours
were precious to him, and even an Indian can cut time when his business
is pressing.
"Red Fox is great warrior; Red Fox have eyes like father of his name,"
he said. "There is good work for Red Fox to do."
The listener had broken the cord of a moccasin, and was apparently
concentrating all his attention on knotting the break. But his attention
was mainly given to Thunder-maker all the same, and the latter knew it,
so he continued--
"Thunder-maker have rich robe of ermine--better robe than Mighty Hand
wear. Many dollars as leaves in tree not buy the robe of Thunder-maker.
Yet--Red Fox may wear it."
"Huh! Red Fox poor. He not have dollars to buy new traps for hunting."
That was what the Indian said. He pretended that he thought the Medicine
Man had come to trade. But he knew differently, and waited for the
visitor to "show his hand." Whatever bargain was to be proposed, he knew
that his share would not be increased by any show of eagerness to
possess the robe that even chiefs had coveted in vain.
Thunder-maker darted a keen glance at the other man as he said
mockingly--
"The dollars of Red Fox stay in pouch, yet ermine robe lie on his
shoulders--if he do what Thunder-maker say."
Still Red Fox made no sign to show interest, and the other went on--
"At Crane Creek two white papooses live in tent. Red Fox will find
them--he will go as a friend, and he will say, gentle as the voice of a
mother pigeon: 'White boys would find friends who are far away? Then Red
Fox will lead them.' And Red Fox will take them by dark path through the
forest--by long path that twine like path of serpent. Then, when sun
sleep, Red Fox will creep away--soft--soft, that pale-faces hear not.
And when sun waken--Red Fox will be back at camp of Mighty Hand. I have
spoken."
Red Fox had fastened the moccasin by now, though he still sat with body
bent while he intently listened to the Medicine Man's proposal to cause
the two boys to be lost in the forest. And as the story was ended he
slowly raised his head to look into Thunder-maker's face. What he saw
there evidently satisfied him, for his ghastly face moved with a sort of
smile that indicated satisfaction.
"Then the--the fiery totem--foolish?" he questioned shyly, and the other
Indian rejoined solemnly--
"The totem of the Dacotahs wise--very wise. It speak to Thunder-maker by
night, and tell him this."
Red Fox nodded. But it was not the nod of agreement with the falsehood
so much as at recognition of the lie.
"Thunder-maker great medicine," he said, with a slight sneer. "But Red
Fox hear much. He hear water-spirits say to Mighty Hand that they have
papooses. Water-spirits have not young. So these are pale-faces."
Thunder-maker's face flushed angrily.
"Does the Red Fox insult the sacred totem of the Dacotahs?" he demanded,
as he drew himself up as though it had been he to whom the insult was
offered.
But the Indian also raised himself, and did so with the conscious
knowledge that his gigantic body and bare limbs, which glistened like
muscles of copper, were more than protection against any physical attack
that the Medicine Man might offer. And his upper lip curled with a sneer
as he stared straight into the eyes of the totem's champion.
"Red Fox is not fool. He live long among white men, and he know that
totem cannot speak--that totem a lie. But Red Fox will do this for his
brother Thunder-maker. Thunder-maker would have revenge against the
pale-faces in yonder teepee, for they face Medicine Man--bravely when he
would have had Dacotahs slay them. This will Red Fox do, for he would
gladly wear the ermine robe."
"The papooses will never again see their fathers?" interrupted the
Medicine Man eagerly. He forgot etiquette and totem alike in the
excitement of knowing that the success of one part of his evil plans
was practically assured. Red Fox was known to be a man of little
conscience though great determination, and it was only his enormous
strength of arm that allowed him to keep a place within the clan of the
really kindly Dacotahs.
"The Red Fox will blind the trail, that the white boys never follow? For
Mighty Hand weak--like woman. He listen to soft words, and it may be
that he will not light fire in Pleasant Valley. The robe must return to
tent of Thunder-maker if boys find their fathers."
"Let Thunder-maker take his way in peace. By another sun Red Fox will
have found the young pale-faces; by two suns he will return to the camp
of Mighty Hand--alone. I have spoken."