George Benning thought himself compelled to remain with the Crows until
he could learn the intentions of Bad Eye, their chief. He was confident
that the Blackfeet warriors would return from their pursuit with Flora
Robinette, if not with Silverspur and his red companion. He must look
for Flora among them, and, as he could not expect to effect any thing
alone, he was obliged to seek the aid of the Crows.
Bad Eye expressed, and appeared to feel, a great interest in Benning’s
enterprise, but was in no haste to afford him such aid as he desired.
He frequently declared his belief that Silverspur (whose name had
become really hateful to George Benning) would not fail to accomplish
any thing that he undertook, and that the girl was probably safe,
if she had not been carried to her friends. But the scalp of the
white-haired chief, he said, should not dry in the lodges of the
Blackfeet, and sooner or later he would wrest that trophy from them.
Although this promise had been often made, the chief seemed to be in
no hurry to keep it, and Benning, discouraged and out of patience,
had resolved to leave the village, when Bad Eye at last yielded to his
importunities. A war-party was dispatched to the Blackfoot village,
with orders to attack if a fair opportunity should present itself. One
of the first of the Crow warriors headed the expedition, and Benning
accompanied it as a volunteer.
The Blackfoot village was found to be deserted, its occupants having
removed further to the north. The Crows followed the trail, and
discovered that the village had been united with another, and that the
combined force was too formidable to justify an attack. After hovering
a few days in the vicinity, during which time they captured some
Blackfeet women, and ran off some horses, the Crows returned to their
own village, to avoid reprisals from their enemies.
The chief and George Benning questioned the prisoners, and learned from
them that the former had been correct in his surmises concerning the
escape of Silverspur and the safety of Flora Robinette. Their warriors
had returned from the pursuit, the women said, after suffering great
losses. They had followed the fugitives into the mountains, and had
nearly overtaken them, when they were stopped at a narrow pass, which
was obstinately defended by Silverspur. They were at last obliged to
send a party around to turn his position, when he had decamped. They
then followed the trail a considerable distance, but at last gave up
the pursuit in despair, and returned to mourn their losses. As for the
scalp of the white-haired chief, they had danced over it; but it was
not drying in any Blackfoot lodge. It had disappeared; no one knew what
had become of it, and the heart of Good Ax was very hot.
Thoroughly convinced that Silverspur had accomplished the object upon
which his own heart had been set, and grieved that he had uselessly
spent so much time among the Crows, Benning decided to set out at once
to join Flora. Whatever his feelings toward Wilder might be, he could
not doubt that Flora had requested him to convey her to the place which
her father had appointed as a rendezvous, and that he would faithfully
obey her request. Benning had no fear that his supposed rival would
act toward Flora otherwise than as a gentleman and a true friend; but
therein lay the peril of his own hopes. Wilder was so evidently a
gentleman, and had had such a splendid opportunity to prove himself
a friend! Flora could not fail to be touched by his chivalry and
devotion, and, if he should press his suit, it was not to be supposed
that she could have the heart to refuse him, especially as Benning had
never declared his love.
In this mood the young partisan had bid farewell to Bad Eye, and was
about to leave the country of the Crows, when there was an arrival
at the village, the new-comers being Mr. Martin Laurie and a band of
trappers.
Benning was greatly surprised to see the agent at that time and place,
and Laurie was no less surprised at meeting the partisan.
“I was afraid you were dead,” said the Scotchman. “I heard nothing
of you, and all of us supposed that you had been rubbed out by the
red-skins.”
“Not yet,” coolly replied Benning, who was suspicious of the Scotchman,
and felt unwilling to give him any information until he could learn
what his intentions were.
“Have you been able to do any thing for Miss Flora?”
“Nothing at all.”
Laurie, to whom Flora had now become a secondary object to the
possession of her father’s scalp, here dropped the subject, which he
found Benning quite willing to avoid. He was shrewd enough to guess
that the young partisan would not be so cool and unexcited about the
matter, unless he knew that Flora was safe. If she was safe, and
Benning was remaining quietly among the Crows, it was reasonable to
suppose that the young lady was not far off. Laurie had as yet heard
nothing to move him from the belief that a party of Crows had made the
night-attack upon Mr Robinette’s encampment, and he was still convinced
that Flora was to be found among them. Benning doubtless knew where she
was; but he was not rich enough to buy her from them, or influential
enough to insure them immunity for the outrage. If the Crows had
Flora, it was probable that they also had the scalp of Paul Robinette.
The way seemed clear to Martin Laurie, who soon left the young man,
and hastened to the lodge of the chief, for the purpose of opening
negotiations.
George Benning had been led to quite different conclusions, which were
as groundless as those of Laurie. When we reason upon false premises,
the reasoning can not fail to deceive. Convinced that Silverspur
had taken Flora to the rendezvous, he saw, from the light and easy
manner in which Laurie mentioned her, that he knew of her safety and
had seen her. It was evident to him that the shrewd Scotchman wished
him to remain ignorant of her rescue, in order that he might be kept
away from her as long as possible. He could not help smiling at the
shortsightedness of Laurie, in expecting to conceal the truth from him,
when he could so easily learn it from the trappers whom he had brought
from the rendezvous.
He went among them to satisfy himself, but was doomed to
disappointment. None of the men who came with Laurie had been at the
rendezvous while Silverspur was there, and they knew nothing about him.
Consequently they were unable to understand the hints which Benning
(not wishing to ask openly about Flora) threw out concerning that
person.
At last he was compelled to ask them openly whether Flora had reached
the rendezvous, and the answers that he received were decidedly in the
negative. None had seen her, none knew any thing about her, and all
were sure that Laurie was as ignorant as themselves.
Benning could not help believing the statements of the trappers,
except so far as they related to Laurie’s ignorance, on which point he
reserved a doubt. Whatever he might think of Silverspur, he was sure
that he was not a man whom Martin Laurie could buy. It was possible,
however, that the Scotchman might have convinced him of the justness of
his claim upon Flora, and that Silverspur had given her up, in which
case Laurie had concealed her for purposes of his own. Filled with this
thought, the young man hastened to seek Laurie, and met him as he was
coming out of the chief’s lodge, looking crestfallen and indignant.
As both were angry, they gave utterance to their thoughts with less
coolness than had marked their first interview.
“I think we had better have an understanding, Mr. Benning,” said Laurie.
“I have come here for the purpose of having an understanding with you.
I want to know what crooked purpose has brought you to this place.”
“Don’t be angry, my young friend. It will be to your interest to keep
on the right side of me, and I am sure that you will gain nothing by
flying into a passion. I don’t know why you should impute crooked
purposes to me.”
“I supposed, from the way you spoke about Miss Robinette, that she was
safe at the rendezvous.”
“I don’t know how she should have got there. I supposed, from your
manner of speaking, that she was safe here, among the Crows; but the
old chief tells me that she has not been here. He says that none of his
people have ever attacked any party of white men, and that no white
scalps have been brought into the village.”
“Did he tell you nothing more?” asked Benning, as the Scotchman paused.
“He said that he had learned that they were Blackfeet who made the
attack upon our camp, and that he had no doubt that Miss Flora had been
carried off by them.”
“Was that all?”
“That was all. I am afraid that the old rascal has been lying to me.
Can you tell me whether he spoke the truth?”
“I suppose he did,” replied Benning, wondering at the reticence of Bad
Eye. “He ought to know whether his own people are clear.”
“He may know, but may be unwilling to speak the truth. Come, Benning; I
am convinced that you know more about this matter than you are ready to
tell. We are in the same boat, and you will lose nothing by rowing with
me. Do you know any thing about Miss Flora?”
“First answer me a question or two, and then I will tell you what I
know.”
“Shoot them out.”
“Will you promise to answer them truly?”
“I will, so help me God!”
“Do you know a man named Fred Wilder, whom the Indians call Silverspur?”
“Yes.”
“Has he been at the rendezvous lately?”
“Yes.”
“Did he not bring Miss Flora with him?”
“Miss Flora? No, indeed. Why do you ask such a question?”
“Did he say nothing about her?”
“Nothing at all. He remained with us a few days, and then went away
with a stray Indian.”
“Of what tribe was the Indian?”
“I think he was a Blackfoot.”
“It is plain enough now. I feared as much. We have both been cheated,
and Silverspur has carried off the prize.”
Benning then related his own adventures, and what he knew of those of
Flora, winding up his account by declaring that he had had no doubt
that the young lady had arrived safely at the rendezvous, until Laurie
had convinced him to the contrary. Both agreed in thinking it very
strange that Wilder had not spoken of Flora at the rendezvous, and
could only attribute his silence to the intention of foul play.
“The old chief told me the truth; then,” remarked Laurie, “and the
Blackfeet were the rascals who stampeded our camp. Do you think it
likely that that young chap, when he stole Miss Flora away from them,
would also have carried off the old man’s scalp?”
“Of course not. That is a strange question to ask.”
“To tell you the truth, Benning, I am interested in obtaining that
scalp. If you can manage to get it for me, by trading or in any other
way, I will resign my claim to Flora in your favor.”
“Of what use can the scalp be to you?” asked Benning, thinking that the
agent had suddenly become very generous.
“If you had known Paul Robinette as well as I knew him, you would have
known that he had some very queer points. One of his queer points was
the fear that he would be scalped. He could not bear to think that
his scalp should dry in an Indian lodge. He made me promise him most
solemnly that if he should be killed, I would recover his scalp, and he
gave me three thousand dollars as a fund to be applied to that purpose.
I have no need of the money, but I am a man of my word, George Benning,
and I will gladly transfer the amount to you if you will carry out the
wish of my old friend, and will deliver the scalp to me. As for Flora,
I don’t suppose that I am giving you much in that quarter. The desire
of her father would weigh with her, no doubt, and I have told you what
that was; but the young are not likely to mate with the old.”
“Nor the eagle with the buzzard,” thought Benning; but he did not put
his thought into words. It seemed to him that the Scotchman was rather
too generous, and he was silent, wondering what motive had urged this
strange proposition.
As he stood there, looking at Laurie, he felt a hand laid on his
shoulder. He turned, and was confronted by the Crow chief.
“I have heard the talk of my white friends,” he said. “They seem to
think that Silverspur is a bad man; but I know him. The sun may rise
in the west some day. When it does so, I may believe that the ways of
Silverspur are crooked; but not until then. In what direction did he go
after leaving the rendezvous?”
“I heard that he recrossed the mountains by way of the South Pass,”
replied Laurie. “He was seen traveling toward the south.”
“To the country of the Cheyennes, or the Arapahoes, or perhaps further.
Wherever he is, he can be found. Bad Eye has said that the scalp of the
white-haired chief shall not remain in a Blackfoot lodge, and the words
of Bad Eye are not wind. Let my young friend stay with me. As for you,
Red Hair, your tongue is not straight, and your talk does not please
me.”
Martin Laurie, rebuffed by the Crow chief, left the village in high
dudgeon, and George Benning remained, waiting impatiently for the
development of Bad Eye’s intentions.