XXII
A COUNCIL AT NIGHT
The sheriff came to dinner rather shamefacedly, but Calvin, beingprofoundly pleased, was on his very best behavior. "This being deputysuits me to the ground," said he to Wilson, as he rose in answer to thecall to dinner.
As they were crossing the road he said, confidentially: "Now see here,you mustn't talk politics round the ladies over there, sheriff."
"Politics?"
"You know what I mean. You keep to the weather and the crops, and letthis murder case alone for a minute or two, or I'll bat you one forluck."
Winters took this threat as a sign of their good understanding, andremarked, jocosely, "You damned young cub, I'd break you in two for aleather cent."
"That's all right, but what I say goes," replied Calvin. And rememberingold Joe Streeter's political pull, the sheriff did not reply.
Jennie kept the talk pleasantly inconsequential during dinner by acheery tale of the doings of a certain Chinaman she had once tried totrain into a cook, and Calvin, laughing heartily, matched her experiencewith that of his mother while keeping house in Pinon City one winter.This left Elsie to a little conversation with Curtis.
"You must let me see this council to-night," she said, and her requesthad the note of a command.
"I know how you feel," he said, "and I wish I could do so; but I can'tmake an exception in your favor without offending the Parkers."
"Are you not the general?" she asked, smilingly. "If you see fit toinvite me and leave them out, they can only complain. I'm going to stayhere with Jennie, anyhow."
"In that case we can manage it."
"Do you know what I think? You've instigated this whole affair toconvert me to your point of view. Really, the whole thing is like aplay. I'm not a bit frightened--at least, not yet. It's precisely likesitting in a private box and seeing the wolves tear holes in DavyCrockett's cabin. You are the manager of the show."
"Well, why not? When the princess tours the provinces it is customary topresent historical pageants in her honor. This drama is your due." Andas he spoke he observed for the first time the absence of the ring fromher significant finger. The shock threw him into a moment's swiftsurmise, and when he looked up at her she was flushed and uneasy. Sherecovered herself first, and though her hand remained on the table ithad the tremulous action of a frightened small animal--observed yetdaring not to seek cover.
"I hope this council to-night will not fail. I am eager to see what youwill do with them," she hastened to say.
"They will come!" he replied.
Calvin was relating a story of a mountain-lion he had once treed for anEastern artist to photograph.
"Just then the dern brute jumped right plum onto the feller and knockedhim down, machine and all; for a minute or two it was just a mixture o'man and lion, then that feller come up top, and the next thing I seen hebatted the lion with his box, and that kind o' stunted the brute, and hehit him again and glass began to fly; he was game all right, that fellerwas. When the lion stiffened out, he turned to where I was a-rollin' onthe pine-needles, and says, quiet-like, 'Give me your revolver, please.'I give it to him, and he put it to the lion's ear and finished him. Whenhe got up and looked at his machine he says, 'How much is amountain-lion skin worth?' ''Bout four dollars, green,' I says. Helooked at the inwards of his box, which was scattered all over theground. Says he, 'You wouldn't call that profitable, would you--aseventy-dollar instrument in exchange for a four-dollar pelt?'"
Everybody laughed at this story, and the dinner came to an end with thesheriff in excellent temper. Lawson offered cigars, and tolled himacross the road to the office, leaving Curtis alone in his library.
He resolutely set to work to present the situation of the sheriff'spresence concisely to the department in a telegram, and was still atwork upon this when Jennie entered the room, closed the curtains, andlit the lamp.
Elsie came in a little later to say, sympathetically:
"Are you tired, Captain Curtis?"
He pushed his writing away.
"Yes, a little. The worst of it is, I keep saying: _If so and sohappens, then I must do thus and thus_, and that is the hardest work inthe world. I can deal with actual, well-defined conditions--even riotsand mobs--but fighting suppositions is like grappling with ghosts."
"I know what you mean," she replied, quickly. "But I want to askyou--could father be of any help if I telegraphed him to come?"
He sat up very straight as she spoke, but did not reply till he turnedher suggestion over in his mind. "No--at least, not now. What troublesme is this: the local papers will be filled with scare-heads to-morrowmorning; your father will see them, and will be alarmed about you."
"I will wire him that I am all right."
"You must do that. I consider you are perfectly safe, but at the sametime your father will think you ought not to be here, and blame me forallowing you to come in; and, worst of all, he will wire you to comeout."
"Suppose I refuse to go, would that be the best of all?" Her face wasdistinctly arch of line.
His heart responded to her lure, but his words were measured as heanswered: "Sometimes the responsibility seems too great; perhaps youwould better go. It will be hard to convince him that you are not indanger."
She sobered. "There really is danger, then?"
"Oh yes, so long as these settlers are in their present mood, I supposethere is. Nothing but the life of an 'Injun' will satisfy them. Theirhate is racial in its bitterness."
"You think I ought to go, then?"
He looked at her with eyes that were wistful and searching.
"Yes. It is a sad ending, but perhaps Captain Maynard will be hereto-morrow with a troop of cavalry, and--I--think I must ask him toescort you to the railway."
"But the danger will be over then."
"To your father it will seem to be intensifying."
"I will not go on that account! I feel that the safest place will beright here with you, for your people love you. I am not afraid when I amnear you."
Curtis suddenly realized how dangerously sweet it was to sit in his ownlibrary with Elsie in that mood seated opposite him. The sound of atapping on the window relieved the tension of the moment.
"Another of my faithful boys," he said, rising quickly. Then, turning toher with a tenderness almost solemn, he added: "Miss Brisbane, I hopeyou feel that if danger really threatened I would think of you first ofall. You will stay with Jennie to-night?"
"If you think best, but we want to know all that goes on. I can't bearto be battened down like passengers in a storm at sea; there is nothingso trying to nerves. I want to be on deck with the captain if the stormbreaks."
"Very well. I promise not to leave you in ignorance," and, raising thecurtain, he signed to the man without to enter. It was Crow, the captainof the police, a short man with a good-humored face, now squared withserious dignity.
"Two Dog has just come in from Willow Creek," he reported. "He says thecattlemen are still camped by Johnson's ranch. They all held a councilthis afternoon."
"Are any of the head men here?"
"Yes, they are all at my tepee. They want to see you very bad."
"Tell them to come over at once; the council will take place here. Iwant you, but no more of the police. I want only the head men of eachband."
After the officer went out Curtis moved the easy-chairs to the back ofthe room and set plain ones in a semicircular row at the front. Hardlywas he settled when Elk, Grayman, and Two Horns entered the room, and,after formally shaking hands, took the seats assigned them. Their faces,usually smiling, were grave, and Grayman's brow was knotted with linesof anxiety. He was a small man, with long, brown hair, braided andadorned with tufts of the fine feathers which grow under the eagle'swings. He was handsome and neatly dressed, the direct antithesis toCrawling Elk, who was tall and slovenly, with a homely, grandfatherlyface deeply seamed with wrinkles, a face that would be recognized astypical of his race. He seemed far less concerned than some of theothers.
Two Horns, also quite at his ease, unrolled his pipe and began fillingit, while Curtis resumed his writing.
Jennie, looking in at the door, recognized the chiefs, and they all rosepolitely to greet her.
"I'm coming to the council," she said to Two Horns.
He smiled. "Squaws no come council--no good."
"No, no, heap good," she replied. "We come. Chiefs heap talk--we catchimcoffee."
"Good, good!" he replied. "After council, feast."
One by one the other chiefs slipped in and took their places, till allthe bands were represented save that of Red Wolf, who was too far awayto be reached. Curtis then sent for the sheriff and Calvin and Elsie andLawson, and when all were seated began his talk by addressing thechieftains. He spoke in English, in order that the sheriff could hearall that was said, and Lawson interpreted it into Sioux.
"You know this young man"--he pointed at Calvin. "Some of you know thisman"--he touched the sheriff. "He is the war chief of all the countrybeyond where Grayman lives. He comes to tell us that a herder has beenkilled over by the Muddy Spring. He thinks it was done by an Indian. Thewhite people are very angry, and they say that you must find themurderer. Do you know of any one who has threatened to do this thing?"
One by one the chiefs replied: "I do not know who did this thing. I haveheard no one speak of it as a thing good to be done. We are all sad."
Two Horns added a protest. "I think it hard that a whole tribe shouldsuffer because the white man thinks one redman has done a wrong thing."
Grayman spoke sadly: "My people have had much trouble because thecattlemen want to drive their herds up the Willow, and we are like menwho guard the door. On us the trouble falls. It is our duty--the same asyou should say to a policeman, 'Do not let anybody come in my house.'Therefore we have been accused of killing the cattle and stealingthings. But this is not true. I remembered your words, and I did nothingto make these people angry; but some of my young men threw stones todrive the sheep back, and then the herder fired at them with revolver.This was not our fault."
"He lies!" said the sheriff, hotly, when this was interpreted. "No onehas fired a gun but his reckless young devils. His men were riding downthe sheep, and the herder rocked 'em away."
"You admit the sheep were on the reservation, then?" asked Curtis.
"Well--yes--temporarily. They were being watered."
"Well, we won't go into that now," said Curtis, turning to the chiefsand speaking with great solemnity, using the sign-language at times. Andas he sat thus fronting the strongly wrought, serious faces of his headmen he was wholly admirable, and Elsie's blood thrilled with excitement,for she felt herself to be in the presence of primeval men.
"Now, Grayman, Elk, Two Horns, Standing Elk, Lone Man, and Crow, listento me. Among white men it is the law that when any one has done a wrongthing--when he steals or murders--he is punished. If he kills a man heis slain by the chief, not by the relatives of the man who is slain. Aswith you, I am here to apply the white man's rule. If a Tetong has shotthis herder he must suffer for it--he and no one else. I will not permitthe cattlemen to punish the tribe. If you know who did this, it is yourduty to give him up to the law. It is the command of the GreatFather--he asks you to go back to your people and search hard to findwho killed this white man. When you find him bring him to me. Will youdo this?"
No one answered but Two Horns, who said, "Ay, we will do as you say,"and his solemnity of utterance attested his sincerity.
"Listen to me," said Curtis again, fixing their eyes with his dramaticaction. "If my only brother had done this thing, I would give him up tobe punished. I would not hesitate, and I expect you to do the same."
"It is always thus," Standing Elk broke out. "The cattlemen wish topunish all redmen for what one bad young warrior does. We are weary ofit."
"I know it has been so, but it shall not be so again, not while I amyour chief," Curtis responded. "Will you go home and do as I havecommanded? Will you search hard and bring me word what you discover?"
One by one they muttered, "Ay!" and Curtis added, heartily: "That isgood--now you may go."
"I want to say a word," said the sheriff.
"Not now," replied Curtis. "These people are in my charge. Whatever issaid to them I will say," and at his gesture they rose, and Crow,Standing Elk, and Lone Man went soberly out into the night.
Grayman approached Curtis and took his hand in both of his and pressedit to his breast. "Little Father, I have heard your words; they are noteasy to follow, but they have entered my heart. No white man has everspoken to me with your tongue. You do not lie; your words are soft, butthey stand like rocks--they do not melt away. My words shall be likeyours--they will not vanish like smoke. What I have promised, that Iwill fulfil." As he spoke his slight frame trembled with the intensityof his emotion, and his eyes were dim with tears, and his deep, sweetvoice, accompanying his gestures, thrilled every soul in the room. Atthe end he dropped the agent's hand and hastened from the house like oneafraid of himself.
Curtis turned to Lawson to hide his own emotion. "Mr. Lawson, I assumethe sheriff is as tired as the rest of us; will you show him the bed youwere kind enough to offer?"
"Sheriff Winters, if you will come with me I'll pilot you to a couch. Itisn't downy, but it will rest a tired man. Calvin, you are to bunkalongside."
"All right, professor." Calvin rose reluctantly, and as he stood in thedoor he said, in a low voice, to Jennie, "Now if you want me any timejust send for me."
"Hold the sheriff level--that's what you do for us."
"I'll see that he don't get gay," he replied, and his hearty confidencedid them all good.
After the sheriff and his deputy went out, Elsie said: "Oh, it waswonderful! That old man who spoke last must be the Edwin Booth of thetribe. He was superbly dramatic."
"He took my words very deeply to heart. That was Grayman, one of themost intelligent of all my head men; but he has had a great deal oftrouble. He comprehends all too much of the tragedy of his situation."
Elsie sat with her elbows on the table, gazing in silence towards theempty fireplace. She looked weary and sad.
Curtis checked himself. "I regret very deeply the worry and discomfortall this brings upon you."
"Oh, I'm not thinking of myself this time, I am thinking of the hopelesstask you have set yourself. You can't solve this racial question--it'stoo big and too complicated. Men are simply a kind of ferocious beast.They go to work killing each other the way chickens eat grasshoppers."
"Your figure is wrong. If our Christian settlers only killed Indians tofill their stomachs they'd stop some time; but they kill them becausethey're like the boy about his mother--tired of seeing 'em 'round."
There was a time when Elsie's jests were frankly on the side of thestrong against the weak, but she was becoming oppressed with thesuffering involved in the march of civilization. "What a fine faceGrayman has; I couldn't help thinking how much more refined it was thanWinters! As for the cowboys, they were hulking school-boys; I was not abit afraid of them after they were dismounted."
"Unfortunately they are a kind of six-footed beast, always mounted;there isn't a true frontiersman among them. It angered me that they hadthe opportunity to even look at you."
His intensity of gaze and the bitterness of his voice took away herbreath for an instant, and before she could reply Jennie and Lawson camein.
Lawson was smiling. "Parker is righteously incensed. He tried to enterthe council an hour ago and your dusky minions stopped him. He isgenuinely alarmed now, and only waiting for daylight to take flight."
"Jerome is a goose," said Elsie.
"He's a jackass at times. A man of talent, but a bore when his yellowstreak comes out." Turning to Curtis he said, very seriously, "Is thereanything I can do for you, Captain?"
"You might wire your version of the disturbance to the Secretary alongwith mine. We can safely look for an avalanche of newspaper criticism,and I would like to anticipate their outbreak."
br /> "Our telegrams will be at once made public--"
"Undoubtedly, and for that reason we must use great care in theircomposition. I have mine written; please look it over."
Jennie, who had dropped into a chair, checked a yawn. "Oh, dear; I wishit were morning."
Curtis looked at her and laughed. "I think you girls would better go tobed. Your eyes are heavy-lidded with weariness."
"Aren't you going to sleep?" asked Jennie, anxiously.
"I shall lie down here on the sofa--I must be where I can hear a tap onthe window. Good-night."
Both girls rose at his word, and Elsie said: "It seems cruel that youcannot go properly to bed--after such a wearisome day."
"You forget that I am a soldier," he said, and saluted as they passed.He observed that Lawson merely bowed when she said "Good-night"politely. Surely some change had come to their relationship.
Lawson turned. "I think I will turn in, Captain; I have endorsed thetelegram."
"It must go at once." He tapped on the pane, and almost instantly aTetong, sleeping under the window, rose from his blanket and stood withhis face to the window, alert and keen-eyed. "Tony, I have a long ridefor you."
"All right," replied the faithful fellow, cheerfully.
"I want you to take some letters to Pinon City. Come round to the door."
As he stepped into the light the messenger appeared to be a boy oftwenty, black-eyed and yellow-skinned, with thin and sensitive lips."Take the letters to the post-office," said Curtis, speaking slowly."You understand--and these despatches to the telegraph-office."
"Pay money?"
"No pay. Can you go now?"
"Yes, go now."
"Very well, take the best pony in the corral. You better keep the trailand avoid the ranches. Good-night."
The young fellow put the letters away in the inside pocket of his bluecoat, buttoned it tightly, and slipped out into the night, and wasswallowed up by the moonless darkness.
"Aren't you afraid they will do Tony harm if they meet him?"
"Not in his uniform."
"I wouldn't want that ride. Well, so long, old man. Call me if I can beof any use."
After Lawson went out Curtis sank back into his big chair and closed hiseyes in deep thought. As he forecast the enormous and tragic results ofthe return of that armed throng of reckless cattlemen he shuddered. Awar would almost destroy the Tetongs. It would nullify all he had beentrying to do for them, and would array the whole State, the wholeIndian-hating population of the nation, against them. Jennie re-enteredsoftly and stood by his side. "It's worrisome business being Indianagent, after all, isn't it, George?" she said, with her hand in hishair.
He forced himself to a cheerful tone of voice. "Oh, I don't know; thisis our first worry, and it will soon be over. It looks bad just now, butit will be--"
A knock at the outer door startled them both. "That is a whiteman--probably Barker," he said, and called, "Come in."
Calvin Streeter entered, a little abashed at seeing Jennie. MeetingCurtis's look of inquiry, he said, with winning candor, "Major, I beena-studyin' on this thing a good 'eal, and I've come to the conclusionthat you're right on all these counts, and I've concluded to ride overthe hill and see if I can't argue the boys out of their notion to killsomebody."
Jennie clapped her hands. "Good! That is a splendid resolution. I alwaysknew you meant right."
Curtis held out his hand. "Shake hands, my boy. There isn't a moment tobe lost. If they are coming at all, they will start about sunrise. Ihope they have reconsidered the matter and broken camp."
Calvin looked a little uneasy. "Well, I'll tell ye, Major, I'm afraidthem lahees that we sent back home will egg the rest on; they sure werebilun mad, but I'll go and do what I can to head 'em off. If I can'tdelay 'em, I'll come along with 'em, but you can count on me to do anylittle job that'll help you after we get here. Good-night."
"Good-night. Don't take any rest."
"Oh, I'm all right. Nobody ain't huntin' trouble with me."
After he went out Jennie said: "I call that the grace of God working inthe soul of man."
Curtis looked at her keenly. "I call it the love of woman sanctifyingthe heart of a cowboy."
She colored a little. "Do we women go on the pay-rolls as assistantagents?"
"Not if we men can prevent it. What kind of a report would it make if Iwere forced to say, 'At this critical moment the charming Miss So-and-socame to my aid, and, by inviting the men in to dinner with a sweetsmile, completely disarmed their hostility. Too much honor cannot begiven,' etc."
"I guess if history were written by women once in a while those reportswouldn't be so rare as they are."