The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop

  XXVI

  THE WARRIOR PROCLAIMS HIMSELF

  The messengers from both Riddell and Pinon reported to Curtis aboutdaylight, laden with papers and telegrams. The telegrams naturallyreceived first reading. There was one filled with instructions from theSecretary of the Interior, and one from the Commissioner, bidding himstand firm. Several anxious ones from various cities, all of this tenor:"Is there any danger? my niece is one of your teachers," etc. In themidst of the others, Curtis came upon a fat one for Elsie, plainly fromher father. This he put aside till after breakfast, when he permittedhimself the pleasure of carrying it to the studio. He found her at work,painting a little brown tot of a girl in the arms of her smiling mother.

  "I have a telegram for you--from your father, no doubt."

  She rose quickly and opened the envelope. As she read she laughed. "Poorpapa; he is genuinely alarmed. Read it."

  He took it with more interest than he cared to show, and found it mostperemptory in tone.

  "Reports from Fort Smith most alarming. Come out at once. Have wired theagent to furnish escort and conveyance. Shall expect you to replyimmediately, giving news that you have left agency. You should not havegone there. I will meet you at Pinon City if possible; if I do not, taketrain for Alta. Wire me your plans. Country is much alarmed. I must hearfrom you at once or shall be worried."

  Curtis looked up with an amused light in his eyes. "He's a littleincoherent, but sufficiently mandatory. When will you start?"

  "I will send a telegram out at once that I am safe, and all danger over.He will not want me to leave now."

  "Very well. A messenger will start at once with all our letters andmessages. Anything you wish to send can go at the same time."

  "What news have you?"

  "I only had time to glance at my mail, but the papers are all thatLawson has predicted. If you would know how important a criminal I am,read these"--he pointed at a bundle on a chair. "I must go back to theoffice now, but I will wait for your letters and telegrams beforedespatching a messenger. If you think it better to go than to stay, Iwill ask Captain Maynard to escort you to the station."

  "I will stay," she replied.

  She wrote a brief telegram to her father, saying: "I am quite safe andhard at work. All quiet; don't worry," and also composed a letter givingvital details of the situation and taking strong ground against the wayin which the cattlemen had invaded the reservation. In conclusion sheadded: "I have a fine studio, plenty of models, and am in fine health; Icannot think of giving up my work because of this foolish panic. Don'tlet these settlers influence you against Captain Curtis; he's right thistime."

  As she ran through the papers and caught the full significance of theirprecipitate attack on the agent, her teeth clinched in hot indignation.At the first breath, before they were sure of a single item of news,they leaped upon an honorable man, accusing him of concealing stolencattle and of harboring murderers and thieves. "As for the Indians, itis time to exterminate these vermin! Let the State wipe out this tribeand its agency, and send this fellow Curtis back to his regiment wherehe belongs," was the burden of their song.

  As she read on, tingling with wrath at these vulgarly written andutterly un-Christian editorials, the girl caught an amazing side-glimpseof herself and the views she once held. She remembered reading just suchreports once before, and joining with her father in his desire to punishthe redmen. Was Lawson right? Had her notions of the "brave and noblepioneers fighting the wild beast and the savage" arisen from ignoranceof their true nature? Had they always been as narrow, as bigoted, asrelentless, and as greedy as these articles hinted at? Some of Lawson'sclean-cut, relentless phrases came back to her at the moment, and shebegan to believe that he was nearer right than she had been. And herfather? Would he sanction such libels as these? At last the essentialgrandeur of the position held in common by both Curtis and Lawson--ofthe right of the small people to their place on the planet--came to her,and in opposition to their grave, sweet eyes she saw again the brutal,leering faces of the mob, and comprehended the feelings of a chief likeGrayman, as he confronts the oncoming hordes of a destroying race.

  * * * * *

  Meanwhile, in the grassy hollow between two round-top hills the bands ofElk and Grayman were gathered in extraordinary council. No one was ingala-dress, no one was painted, all were serious or sad or morose. Upontheir folded blankets the head men sat in a small circle on the smoothsod, exposed to the blazing sun. Behind them stood or knelt a largercircle, the men and boys on one side, the women on the other, while inthe rear, mounted on their fleetest ponies, some two hundred of theyoung men were ranked, enthralled listeners to the impassioned speechesof the old men.

  Crawling Elk made the first address, repeating the story which the agenthad told and calling upon all those who sat before him to search for theguilty one and report to him if they found him. His words were receivedin silence.

  Then Grayman rose, and, stepping into the circle, began to speak in alow and sorrowful voice. Something in his manner as well as in his wordsenlisted the almost breathless interest of the crowd. There was a tragicpathos in his voice as he called out: "You see how it is, brothers; weare like a nest of ants in a white man's field, which he is ploughing.We are only a few and weak, while all around us our enemies press inupon us. We have only one friend--our Little Father. We must do as hesays. We must give up a man to the war chief of the cowboys. They willnever believe that any one else killed the sheep-man. The cattlemen andsheepmen are always quarrelling, but they readily join hands to do theTetongs harm."

  "It is death to us to fight the white man; I know it. Unless we all wishto be shot, we must not become angry this time; we must do as the LittleFather says, and if we cannot find the man who did this thing, I will goand give myself into the hands of the white war chief." A murmur ofprotest and anger ran round the circle. "It is better for one to sufferthan many," he said, in answer to the protest, "and I am old. My wife isdead. I have but one son, and he is estranged from me. I say, if wecannot find who did this thing, then I am willing to go and be killed ofthe white people in order to keep the peace. I have said it."

  Standing Elk leaped to his feet, tall, gaunt, excitable. "We will not dothis," he said. "We will fight first." And among the young warriorsthere was applause. "The Tetongs are not dogs to be always kicked in theribs. I have fought the white man. I have met 'Long Hair' and 'BearRobe' in battle. I am not afraid of the cattlemen. I am old, but myheart is yet big. Let us do battle and die like brave men."

  Then Crawling Elk rose, and his broad, good-humored face shone in thesun like polished bronze as he turned his cheek to the wind.

  "The words of my brother are loud and quick," he said, slowly. "In theancient time it was always so. He was always ready to fight. I wasalways opposed to fighting. We must not talk of fighting now; all thatis put away. It belongs to the suns that have gone over our heads. Wemust now talk of cattle-herding and ploughing. We must strive always tobe at peace with the cowboys. I, too, am old. I have not many years tolive; but you young men have a long time to live, and you cannot bealways quarrelling with the settlers; you must be wise and patient. OurLittle Father, Swift Eagle, is our friend; you can trust him. You canput your hand in his and find it strong and warm. His heart is good andhis words are wise. If we can find the man who did this evil deed, wemust give him up. It is not right that all of us should suffer for thewickedness of one man. No, it is not right that we who are old shoulddie for one whose hands are red."

  This speech was also received in silence, but plainly produced apowerful effect. Then one of the men who found the body rose and toldwhat he knew of the case. "I do not think a Tetong killed the man," hesaid, in conclusion.

  In this wise the talk proceeded for nearly two hours, and then thecouncil rose to meet again at sunset, and word of what had been said wascarried to Curtis by Crawling Elk and Grayman.

  To them Curtis said: "I am pleased with you. Go over the names of allyour reckle
ss young men, and when you reach one you think might do sucha deed, question him and his people closely. The shells of the riflewere the largest size--that may help you. Your old men would not do thisthing--their heads are cool; but some of your young men have hot heartsand may have quarrelled with this herder."

  The old men went away very sorrowful. Grayman was especially troubled,because he could not help thinking all the time of Cut Finger, hisnephew.

  Running Fox, or "Cut Finger," as the white people called him, he knew tobe a morose and reckless young man, and probably possessed of some evilspirit, for at times he was quite crazy. Once he had forced his ponyinto the cooking-lodge of Bear Paw for no reason at all, and Bear Paw,in a rage, had snatched up his rifle and fired, putting a bullet throughthe bridle hand of Running Fox, who lost two fingers and gained a newname. At another time the mad fool had tried to force his horse to leapa cliff; and once he had attempted to drown himself; and yet, betweenthese obsessions, he could be very winning, and there were many amongElk's band who pitied him. He was comely withal, and had married ahandsome girl, the daughter of Standing Wolf. It was easy to imaginethat Cut Finger was the guilty one, and yet to think of him was to thinkof his son's intimate friend.

  When he reached his tepee Grayman lit his pipe and sat down alone andremained in deep thought for hours. He feared to find Cut Finger guilty,for his own son was Cut Finger's friend, or fellow, and that means theclosest intimacy. There are no secrets between a Tetong and his chum."If Cut Finger is guilty, then my son knows of it. That I fear."

  When any one came to the door he motioned them away; even his daughterdared not enter, for she saw him in meditation. As he smoked he madeoffering to the Great Spirit, and prayed that he might be shown theright way, and his heart was greatly troubled.

  Crawling Elk, with a half-dozen of his head men, was seated in histepee, calmly discussing the same question. The canvas of his lodge wasraised, as much to insure privacy as to let the wind sweep through. Itwas not easy to accuse any man of this crime, or even to suggest thename of any one as capable of such a foolish deed of blood. Forrelationships were close; therefore it was that he, too, narrowed theinvestigation down to Cut Finger. It is easier to accuse the son of aneighbor than your own son, especially if that other is already a markedman among reckless youths.

  At five o'clock Grayman called his daughter and said, "Send my sister,Standing Cloud, to me."

  Standing Cloud came and took a seat on the outside of the tepee--on theside where the canvas was fastened up--and there sat with bent head, herfingers busy with blades of grass, while her brother questioned her. Shewas a large and comely woman of middle age. Her expression was stillyouthful, and her voice had girlish lightness. She was at once deeplymoved by her brother's questions. She did not know where her son was; hehad not been to see her for several days. She understood whereto thequestioning tended, and stoutly denied that her son would do so evil adeed. Nevertheless, Grayman was compelled to say:

  "You know he has a bad head," and he made the confused, wavering sign ofthe hand which signifies crazy or foolish, and the mother rose and wentaway sobbing.

  Then Grayman recalled the words of the Little Father. "If my own brothershould do wrong, I would give him up to the war chief," he thereforesaid. "If my son and my sister's son are guilty, I will give them up,"and he rose and sought out Crawling Elk and told him of his fears, andrepeated his resolution as they sat together while the sun was goingdown and the crier was calling the second council.

  "It is right," said Elk. "Those who are guilty must be punished; but wedo not know who fired the shot."

  The people were slow in coming together this second time, and darknesswas falling as the head men again took their seats. A small fire wasbeing built in the centre of the circle, and towards this at last, likenocturnal insects, the larger number of the people in the two campsslowly concentrated.

  The wind had gone down and the night was dark and still and warm. Thepeople gathered in comparative silence, though the laugh of a girloccasionally broke from the clustering masses of the women, to befollowed by a mutter of jests from the young men who stood close packedbehind the older members of the bands. Excitement had deepened since themorning, for in some way the news had passed from lip to lip thatGrayman had discovered the evil-doer.

  On their part the chieftains were slow to begin their painful task. Theysmoked in silence till the fire was twice replenished, then begantalking in low tones among themselves. At last Crawling Elk arose andmade a speech similar to that of the morning. He recounted the tale ofthe murdered white man, and the details of finding the body, and endedby saying: "We are commanded by the agent to find the ones who have donethis evil deed. If any one knows anything about this, let him comeforward and speak. It is not right that we should all suffer for thewrong-doing of some reckless young warriors."

  "Come forth and speak, any one who knows," called the head men, lookinground the circle. "He who remains silent does wrong."

  Two Horns rose. "We mean you, young men--you too," he said, turning tothe women. "If any of you have heard anything of this matter, speak!"

  Then the silence fell again on the circle of old men, and they benttheir heads in meditation. Crawling Elk was just handing the pipe toGrayman, in order to rise, when a low mutter and a jostling caused everyglance to centre upon one side of the circle, and then, decked inwar-paint, gay with beads and feathers, and carrying a rifle, Cut Fingerstepped silently and haughtily into the circle and stood motionless as astatue, his tall figure erect and rigid as an oak.

  A moaning sound swept over the assembly, and every eye was fixed on theyoung man. "Ahee! Ahee!" the women wailed, in astonishment and fear; twoor three began a low, sad chant, and death seemed to stretch a blackwing over the council. By his weapons, by his war-paint, by his baredhead decked with eagle-plumes, and by the haughty lift of his face, CutFinger proclaimed louder than words:

  "I am the man who killed the herder."

  Standing so, he began to sing a stern song:

  "I alone killed him--the white man. He was a thief and I killed him. No one helped me; I alone fired the shot. He will drive his sheep no more on Tetong lands. This dog of a herder. He lies there in the short grass. It was I, Cut Finger, who did it."

  As his chant died away he turned: "I go to the hills to fight and dielike a man." And before the old men could stay him he had vanished amongthe young horsemen of the outer circle, and a moment later the louddrumming of his pony's hoofs could be heard as he rode away.

  * * * * *

  Curtis was sitting alone in the library when a tap at his windowannounced the presence of Grayman.

  Following a gesture, the chieftain came in, and, with a look on his facewhich expressed high resolution and keen sorrow, he said:

  "The man who killed the herder is found. He has proclaimed himself atour council, and he has ridden away into the hills."

  "Who was he?"

  "Cut Finger."

  "Ah! So? Well, you have done your duty. I will not ask you to arresthim. Crow will do that. I hope"--he hesitated--"I hope your son was notwith him?"

  "'I alone did it,' he says. My son is innocent."

  "I am very glad," replied Curtis, looking into the old man's tremulousface. "Go home and sleep in peace."

  With a clasp of the hand Grayman said good-night and vanished.

  There was nothing to be done till morning, and Curtis knew the habits ofthe Indians too well to be anxious about the criminal. Calling hisfaithful Crane's Voice, he said:

  "Crane, will you go to Pinon City?"

  Crane's Voice straightened. "To-night?"

  "Yes, to-night."

  "If you will let me wear a blue coat I will go."

  Curtis smiled. "You are a brave boy. I will give you a coat. That willprotect you if you are caught by the white men. Saddle your pony."

  With a smile he turned on his heel and went out as cheerfully as thoughhe were going on an e
rrand to the issue-house.

  In his letter to the sheriff Curtis said: "I have found the murderer. Heis a half-crazy boy called Cut Finger. Make out a warrant for him and Iwill deliver him to you. You will need no deputies. No one but yourselfwill be permitted to cross the line for the present."

  After Crane had galloped off, Curtis laid down his pen and sat for along time recalling the events of the evening. He remembered that Lawsonand Elsie went away together, and a pang of jealous pain took hold uponhim. "I never had the privilege of taking her arm," he thought,unreasonably.