ANOTHER PROMISE
The green pung was ten miles or more beyond Clark's before the
section-boss recovered appreciably from his long sulk. "What d' y'
s'pose Lounsbury reckoned could happen t' my gals?" he demanded of David
Bond.
The evangelist shook the reins at Shadrach. "A storm, cold, want," he
replied. "There are many evils that might befall two young women alone
in a shanty on the prairie."
"Wal, nothin' 's ever happened t' 'em before," declared Lancaster. But
he whistled to stay a change in good fortune, and rapped the wood of the
wagon-box with his bare knuckles.
David Bond busied himself with urging on his horse. "God will watch over
them," he said devoutly. "'Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither
slumber nor sleep.'"
The section-boss sniffed. Sure of the safe trend of his affairs, he was
in a mood to scoff at any religious allusion. Reverence, with him, was
entirely a matter of urgent physical need. He had called to his Maker
but twice in his life: once, when an ugly-tempered peon threatened him
with a spade; again, when, falling from his swiftly moving flat-car, he
felt the heavy wheels grinding him, flesh and bone.
"Storm kain't tech th' shack," he said proudly. "She 's built like a
ship, t' stan' any win'. She's warm, too, an' thet Injun, he brings us
plenty of wood. An' they's grub 'nough t' las'."
The evangelist was politely attentive.
"They's jes' one man thet might come botherin' 'em," Lancaster went on.
"But 'tain't likely he'll see these parts before spring. An' _Ah_ don'
b'lieve he'll come then."
David Bond set his brows together. The previous night an unshaped
thought had made him pause a second before leaving Dallas. Now, that
thought became a suspicion--a suspicion of the real truth. "A man?" he
said questioningly; "a man?"
Being thus prompted on the subject of the claim, Lancaster was willing
to proceed, for he had no feeling that he was obeying Dallas. "Ah'm
speakin' of a man thet filed on my section in July," he said. "His six
months is up t'-day. So Ah reckon he'll hev t' work a new piece of
track. For Ah inten' t' hang on t' thet quarter--it's goin' t' be worth
a pile."
The evangelist threw him a swift glance. "What is the name of that man?"
he asked.
"Ah dunno. Ah clean gone an' f'got it. Ah ought t' wrote it down----"
"Would you know it if you heard it?"
"W'y, yes--'twas some ornery name."
"Was it--was it Matthews?"
Complete bewilderment spoke from Lancaster's wide-open eyes and mouth.
He whirled about upon the evangelist and seized the reins. Shadrach came
to a squatting stop, his ears turning round to catch a command. "Thet's
it! Thet's it!" cried the section-boss. "An' how d' _you_ know?"
The two men looked at each other in silence. Lancaster's face was dark
with distrust; David Bond's, pale with alarm.
"How?" exclaimed the latter, when his tongue at last answered his will;
"how? Because Matthews came north with me yesterday!"
If Shadrach possessed the sense his master claimed for him, he must have
concluded then and there that the human beings in the pung had gone
stark mad. For after some excited shouting, the one to the other, they
brought him square about and sent him scurrying back toward Brannon.
They did not retrace their way, but steered due south, thus saving the
few miles that could take them again through Clark's. Shadrach approved
the change in direction, which pointed to a snug corner beside the
friendly bull-calf, and fairly skimmed the hard snow. He had already
gone forty long miles since morning. Yet, undaunted, he took up the
return with good zest, holding a smart pace unwearily. He breathed deep,
and his long Roman nose--thrust out on a line with his rocking
back--smoked like an eager charger's.
In the first half-hour that followed the evangelist's disquieting
admission, he listened to a wild, profane tirade: against himself, for
having failed to speak of Matthews; against Dallas, for being in such a
tarnal hurry; against Lounsbury on general principles. The section-boss
found only one person wholly exempt from blame--himself. So he cursed,
he threatened, he wrung his hands, he grabbed a crutch, and, leaning
forward, poked the straining flanks of the white horse.
"Gentle, gentle," admonished David Bond. "He goes fastest who goes
steadily. I have driven Shadrach ninety miles in twenty-two hours. And
if we are patient with him now, he will get us home by reveille."
But Lancaster only groaned ungratefully and continued to ply the crutch.
On they went. As the short day ended and darkness came, they steered
farther to the left, for there was a possible danger of pitching over
the river-bank. When they approached the coulee, the same peril again
met them. Shadrach, however, insured them against accident. He struck
his own trail, and knew it. At once, he quickened his speed, pulling the
reins taut. Behind him, his master, though utterly wearied, kept awake
to watch their course and commend him kindly. Not so the section-boss.
His anger finally spent, he put up his crutch and made himself
comfortable. Then, swaying as the pung swayed, he slept.
Far away at Fort Brannon the council was at an end. Lanterns were
whisking to and fro like giant lightning-bugs about the long garrison
granary and the quartermaster and commissary storehouse, where wagons
were being loaded with tents, ammunition, rations, and forage--enough
for sixty days. The library window at headquarters was bright: Colonel
Cummings and a surgeon were respectively commanding and persuading young
Jamieson to await his mother and sister at the post. Nick Matthews,
attended by a watchful sergeant, was having his hair cut by the citizen
barber. While Lounsbury, too joyfully excited to sleep, was in the
sutler's billiard-room, giving Fraser, who was about to depart with the
expedition, a sympathetic history of the Lancasters--a history in which
Marylyn was shrewdly made the dainty central figure.
At five o'clock, everything being in readiness, a livelier activity
prevailed. The out-going troop was routed from bed and fortified with a
hot breakfast. By six, "boots and saddles" had sounded. And, soon, the
detachment--protected from the cold by blanket-coats, and with black
cutties burning down the whole length of its double line--was leading
the wagon-train at a good jog toward the west.
The men went gladly, accepting the long ride as a welcome relief to the
stagnation of a garrison winter. To them, the possible dangers of the
trip were a mere matter of course, though Guy V. Henry's march of a
twelvemonth before--a terrible march from Fort Robinson into the Black
Hills--was fresh in their memory. Captain Oliver commanded, B Troop
being his own. He was a brave man, but one who let his heart influence
his better judgment, who was neither as acute as a soldier should be nor
as cautious. Yet his commanding officer selected him for the duty--the
choice insured his remaining behind when the campaign of the coming
summer opened; when there would arrive from the "States" a certain loyal
little wife and her seven babies.
An hour after the cavalry clattered out of Brannon, faithful Shadrach
limped home. The approach of the pung did not frighten Dallas. For, long
before it crossed the coulee, as she walked noiselessly to and fro
across the dirt floor, she heard her father's voice urging the white
horse on. She did not understand the quick return, but prepared for it
by building up the fire and swinging the coffee-pail into place.
The old men heard her story before they stepped from the sleigh. The
evangelist, as he listened, thanked his God for Lounsbury. The
section-boss, on the contrary, was made so angry by the recital of
Matthews' attack that he called down every manner of punishment upon the
latter, and revelled in multiple plans for a sweet revenge.
"Jes' let thet scalawag call again," he cried, shaking a crutch toward
Shanty Town. "Ah ain't much on my laigs these days, but Ah'm right good
yet with my pistol arm!"
"Without _His_ arm----" began David Bond.
A wondering cry from Dallas stopped him. He turned to see her pointing
at the northern sky.
A strange, wild light was creeping up from the horizon and tinting the
heavens. A filmy veil was mounting the zenith, and swinging gently.
Swiftly the glory grew. The veil became a curtain of rainbow colouring,
edged with royal purple and faint red, and lined, here with orange,
there with green, again with delicate pink.
Changes followed. Green, gold, and blue lightning darted from plain to
sky, trailing fainter colours that danced elfishly; and the sheet of
living flame took form. It became a huge clenched fist, resting upright
upon the lighted prairie. About it, in a sky made darker by contrast,
gleamed the scattered stars. Then, one by one, quivering fingers of
light shot forth from the fist. Until, at length, over the little shack
was outspread, palm downward, a shimmering giant hand.
To the evangelist, watching the aurora with upturned face, the hand was
deified. "It is a divine manifestation!" he whispered reverently. "It
brings a message: '_Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night;
nor for the arrow that flieth by day._'"