CHAPTER VI.
NEIGHBORS OF THE NORTH PARK.
Reveille! Boots and saddles! Taps!
About the Hardy ranch the changes were rung on all those notes of camp,from early morn till dewy eve, by the melodious imitations of Jim.
Stories of grizzlies and black bear had grown passe; even the morerare accounts of wild horses spotted in some secluded valley failed tostir his old-time interest. All else had drifted into nothingness tohim, for the "yaller" had come.
It had been stationed in the North Park for ten days--days of wildcommotion at the ranch, for North Park was only two miles away,following the little branch of Missoula Creek that flowed north to theKootenai River. The necessary errands to and fro between the two pointsof residence were multitudinous, for Jim could never remember but onething at a time of late; and the retraced steps he took would have tiredout anyone less curious. He was disappointed, at first, to find thatonly one company had been sent up to guard the gate into the Kootenaicountry. It did not look as if they feared any outbreak or activeservice, and if it had not been in the most miserable of seasons, theywould have had much the appearance of a pleasure party; but the rainswere in the valleys and the snows were on the hills, and camp life underthose circumstances is a breeder of rayless monotony.
"And your ranch up here has proved the oasis in our desert," declaredFred Dreyer in a burst of gratitude to Rachel, just as if the locatingof the sheep farm in that particular part of the world was due to thesagacity and far-sightedness of Miss Hardy; "and when Mr. Stuart told usat the Fort that we should have so charming a neighbor, I wanted tothrow up my plate and give three cheers. We were at mess--at dinner, Imean. But I restrained my enthusiasm, because my leave to come along wasonly provisional at that time, and depended on my good behavior; butonce here, my first impulse was to give you a big hug instead of theconventional hand-shake, for there are no girls at the Fort, and I washungry for the sight of one."
It was not, as one may suppose, one of the uniformed warriors of thecamp who expressed himself with this enthusiasm, though several lookedas if they would like to, but it was the most petite little creature inpetticoats--to her own disgust; and to mitigate the femininity of themas much as possible, they were of regular army blue, their only trimmingbelt and bands of the "yaller," an adornment Jim openly envied her, andconsidered senseless when wasted on a girl. She was Miss FrederickDreyer, the daughter of Major Dreyer, of the Fort, and the sweetheart ofmost of the men in it, from the veterans down.
"They all think they own me," she confided plaintively to Rachel, "justbecause I'm little. It's only a year and a half since they quit callingme 'Baby Fred'--think of that! When you're owned by a whole regiment,it's so hard to gather up any dignity, or keep it if you do get hold ofit; don't you think so?"
"I have had no experience in that line," answered Rachel. "You see Ihave never been owned by a regiment, nor by anybody else."
"How delightfully independent you are!" and Miss Fred, encircled bycomrades, seemed really to envy the other her loneness in the world. "Noorderly forever on duty at your heels, and--"
"And no lieutenant," put in Rachel; and then they both laughed, and theyounger told the elder she was ridiculous, for the lieutenants were nota bit worse than the rest.
"Worse? Not at all. I could even imagine circumstances under which theymight be preferable, and I'm not gifted with much imagination, either."
"I know someone who thinks you are, and an enviable imagination atthat," laughed Miss Fred.
Rachel opened her eyes a little in questioning, but did not speak.
"Why, it was Mr. Stuart. He talked about you a good deal at the Fort.You know there are several officers who have their wives with them, andhe was asking them lots of questions about typical Western girls, butthey didn't seem to know any, for at a military fort girls don't remaingirls long--unless they're half boys, like me. Someone always snaps themup and tacks 'Mrs.' to their name, and that settles them."
"Poor girls!"
"Oh, bless you! they would say that same thing of anyone who visited afort and did not become married, or engaged--well, I should think so!"
"Do you come in for your share of commiseration?" asked Tillie, who waslistening with interest to this gossip of military life that seemedstrange for a woman to share.
"Me? Not a bit of it. I am not worth their notice in that respect. Theyhaven't begun to treat me as if I was grown up, yet; that's thedisadvantage of being little--you never can impress people with a beliefin your own importance. Yesterday, Lieutenant Murray had the impudenceto tell me that, when all was said and done, I was only a 'campfollower' hanging onto the coat-tails of the army, and likely to bemustered out of the regiment at the discretion of the superiorofficers--my lords and masters! What do you think of that?"
"That you must have made things rather warm for the poor Lieutenant toprovoke a speech so unnatural to his usual courtesy," answered Rachel."Whatever Mr. Stuart may credit me with, I have not imagination enoughto conceive that speech being unprovoked."
"Well, if you're going to champion his High-Mightiness, I'll tell younothing more. Mr. Stuart said you were so sympathetic, too."
"I should say it was the Stuart who was imaginative," laughed Rachel;"ask Tillie."
"But, he did say that--seriously," insisted Miss Fred, turning toTillie. "When Mrs. Captain Sneath was curious about you, he said you hada delicate imagination that would find beauty in things that to manynatures would be commonplace, and topped off a long list of virtues bysaying you were the most loyal of friends."
Tillie sat looking at Rachel in astonishment.
"What have you been doing with the man?" she asked; "giving him somepotion brewed by an Indian witch? A sure 'hoodoo' it must be, to warp aman's judgment like that! And you were not so very nice to him, either."
"Wasn't she?" asked Fred in amazement. "Well I think it would be hard tobe anything else to so charming and so clever a man. Do you know he isvery rich?"
"No," answered Tillie. "We only knew that he was a physician out herefor a change of air. He is splendid company."
"Well, I should think so! We were all in love with him at the Fort. Mrs.Sneath says he has given up medicine, and--I believe it's something of asecret, but it doesn't matter in this far-out corner of the world--he issomething of a writer--a writer of fiction. The way I heard it wasthrough the Captain, who used to know him at college. He says that theStuart, as you call him, is most likely out here studying up materialfor some work--a novel, may be. Wouldn't you love to read it?"
"I can't say unless I have some idea of the class of work. What has hedone?"
It was Rachel who was the questioner, and who, in the light of areasonable cause for his presence in the Kootenai, felt herself all in amoment a bit of a fool for some of her old fancies.
"I don't know--wish I did," said Miss Fred promptly. "He writes under anassumed name. Mrs. Sneath wouldn't tell me, for fear I'd bother himabout it, I suppose; but if he comes up here to camp, I'll find outbefore he leaves--see if I don't."
"He is not likely to pay a visit up here in this season of the year,"remarked Rachel. "I thought he was going East from Owens."
"He did talk like that when he first went down there, and that's whatmade Captain Sneath decide he was studying up the country; for all atonce he said he might stay out West all winter, and seemed to take quitean interest in the Indian question--made friends with all the scoutsdown there, and talked probabilities with even the few 'good' Indiansabout the place. He told me he might see me again, if I was coming upwith the company. So he is studying up something out here--sure."
Nobody answering this speculation, she was silent a bit, looking atRachel, who had picked up a book off the table; and then she began tolaugh.
"Well--" and Rachel glanced over at her, noting that she looked bothamused and hesitating--"well, what is it?"
"I was only thinking how--how funny it would be if you happened to bethat 'something.'"
But Rachel'
s answering laugh, as she pushed the book away, signifiedthat it was the least probable of all fancies.
"It is you who should write romances, instead of the Stuart," shereplied--"you and Tillie here. She has a good deal of the same materialin her--that of a match-maker. She has spied out life-partners for me inall sorts of characters out here, from Davy MacDougall down to Jim. Theyare wonderfully anxious to get rid of me."
Just outside the gate, the blue of military garb showed the coming ofthe usual afternoon callers from Camp Kootenai, among them the Major,commander of the company, the only occasional rebel being his petitenon-commissioned officer in petticoats. A tall young fellow inlieutenant's uniform halted on his way out to exchange greeting; and ifthe daughter complained of the young soldier's lack of deference, thefather had no reason to, for in his eyes, as he saluted, shone somethingnearer affection than mere duty--a feeling that he shared with every manin the command, for Major Dreyer was a universal favorite.
"No later news of that scout, Genesee?" asked the younger as theyseparated.
"No; but we can expect him soon now for that red shadow of his, Kalitan,just loped into camp. And, by the way," added the older officer, "hementioned that he passed our friend Stuart back at the settlement. He iscoming up this way again."
"Tell Miss Fred that, Major. When I saw her, an hour ago, she neededsomething to put her in a good humor."
"Ah! Good-evening, Lieutenant."
"Good-evening, Major."
The minute the subordinate's back was turned, Miss Fred, with a runningjump that would have done Jim credit, landed almost on the Major'sshoulder. He gave her a ferocious hug, and dropped her plump on her feetwith a stern--
"Attention!"
Quick as light the little hand was raised in salute, and the littlefigure gathered together its scattered dignity to make a soldierlyappearance.
"Private Dreyer, I have been met on the outposts with a message tellingme of a disorganized temper that should belong to your command. Whathave you to say for yourself?"
Instantly the role of the soldier was dropped, and that of the girl witha temper took its place.
"Oh, he told you, did he?" she asked, with a wrathful glance at thefigure retreating toward camp. "Well, just wait until I go riding withhim again! He's called me a camp follower, and--and everything else thatwas uncivil."
"Ah! And what did you do?"
"I? Why nothing, of course."
"Nothing?"
"Well, I did threaten to go over and turn them out of the cabin that wasbuilt for me, but--"
"But that was a mere trifle in this tropical climate. I've no doubt itwould do them good to sleep under the stars instead of a roof; and thenit would give you an opportunity to do some wholesale nursing, if theycaught colds all around."
"Just as if I would!"
"Just as if you would not! And Lieutenant Murray would come in for theworse medicine and the biggest doses."
"If his constitution is equal to his impudence, it would take stupendousdoses to have any effect. I wish he could be sent back to the Fort."
"Won't sending him up among the Indians do just as well?"
"Y-yes. Are you going to, papa?"
"Ah! now you grow inquisitive."
"I do think," said Tillie, "you all plague her a great deal."
"They just treat me as if I was a joke instead of a girl," complainedFred. "They began it before I was born by giving me a boy's name, andit's been kept up ever-since."
"Never mind, Baby," he said soothingly; "if I had not made a boy of youI could not have had you with me, so the cause was vital."
They both laughed, but it was easy to see that the cause was vital tothem, and their companionship very much of a necessity. Itsinterruptions since her babyhood had been few and short, and hereducation, picked up on the frontier, had taught her that in the worldthere was just one place for her--in the saddle, and beside her father,just as her mother had ridden beside him before Fred was born.