Told in the Hills: A Novel

  CHAPTER III.

  "THE SQUAW WHO RIDES."

  At the ranch a strange cloak of silence hung around the household inregard to the horse-stealing. The men, hearing of the night raid, hadendeavored to keep it from the women for fear of giving them uneasiness,but had not altogether succeeded. Jim had frustrated that attempt byforgetting, and blurting out at the dinner table something aboutGenesee's arrest.

  "It isn't true; it can't be true!" and Rachel turned with such an appealin her tired eyes that Andrews dropped his own.

  "It's true, Miss; he's accused of knowin' all about it, even if hedidn't help. It's supposed to be his Kootenai friends that did it, andthey say he's mighty close-mouthed over it; that tells against him. Ihope to God it ain't true, for he seemed a mighty good man; but he'sunder guard at the camp; won't allow folks to see him, Ihear--leastwise, no Injuns."

  Rachel glanced at the others, but found in their faces no strongpartisanship for Genesee. Tillie and Fred were regretful, but nothopeful.

  "It seems a shame that such a fine-looking fellow should be a squawman," said the Major's daughter; "but since he is one, there is not muchto be hoped of him, though papa did have a wonderful lot of faith inthis one."

  Rachel's eyes lightened at the words. "What day do they look for yourfather back?" she asked quickly.

  "To-day or to-morrow, though this snow may hinder them some."

  "Well, he can't get here any too soon," chipped in the loquacious Jim."I reckon they--"

  Then his discourse was cut short by the toe of Andrews' boot under thetable. Although the horse-stealing was known at the ranch, and now thesuspicion of Genesee, yet there was one thing that Andrews and Ivans hadmaneuvered to keep quiet, and that was the absence of Hardy and Stuart,and the fact that hostile Indians had descended from the hills.

  Apocryphal stories had been told Tillie of an early supper her husbandand guest had eaten at camp, and a ride they had taken after stockoverlooked the night before; and the hours dragged on, the night came,and the two conspirators were gaining themselves the serious anxietythey had endeavored to shield the women from, and Jim, once outside thedoor, was threatened with instant annihilation if he let his tongue runso far ahead of his wit again.

  The ladies had decided not to tell Rachel about Genesee--Tillie had soclear a remembrance of her stubborn friendliness for that outlaw; butJim had settled the question of silence, and all the weariness droppedfrom her at thought of what that accusation meant to him--death. Onceshe got up with the strong light of hope in her eyes, and running acrossthe snow in the dark, opened the door of the stable where Jim wasbedding the horses.

  "Jim!" she called sharply; "when was it the stock was run off fromcamp--what time?"

  "Early this mornin'," answered that youth sulkily. He had just receivedthe emphatic warning against "tattling."

  "This morning? What time this morning?"

  "Oh, early; afore daylight."

  Before daylight! She had gained a wild hope that it was during the timethey were together; but from Jim's vague suggestion they had returnedjust about the time it had occurred--in time for it. She turnedhopelessly toward the house, then hesitated and came back.

  "Jim."

  "Well?"

  "Is Mowitza here?"

  "Yes, can't you see?"

  But she could not see very clearly. Something in her eyes blinded her asshe thought of Mowitza and the glad days when they knew each otherfirst; and of Mowitza's master, and his voice as she had heard itlast--and the words! Oh, the despairing, exultant, compelling words! Andthen, after he had gone from her, could it be so?

  "Take good care of the mare, Jim, until--until he needs her."

  When the girl re-entered the house, Tillie turned with a lecture todeliver on the idiocy of going out without a wrap; it was not spoken,for a glance into Rachel's eyes told she had been crying--something sounusual as to awe the little woman into silence, and perplex hermightily. Headstrong as the girl had been in her championship ofGenesee, Tillie had always been very sure that the cause was mainlyRachel's contrariness; and to associate him with the tears never enteredher mind.

  The evening wore on, and about the fire there were conjectures about theprotracted stay of Hardy and Stuart, and wonderment from Fred that not aman had called from the camp all day and evening. Rachel sat silent,thinking--thinking, and finding a glimmer of hope in the thought thatMajor Dreyer would soon be back; there, she felt, would be no prejudicedmind come to judgment.

  At last they were startled by the sound of a step on the porch, and alllooked around, glad of the return of the two wanderers, when the dooropened, and there entered Kalitan--a very tired-looking Arrow, and withsomething in his face that was more than fatigue--anxiety.

  "Rashell Hardy?" he said, and deliberately walked into the other room,intimating that she was to follow and the interview to be private--aninterview conducted in low tones and in Chinook, after which Rachelasked Aunty Luce to give him some supper; for he was very tired, andwould not go on to camp until morning.

  The night before had been one of wakefulness, because of Rachel'sabsence, and all were sleepy enough to hunt beds early; and leaving alunch on the table for the absent ones, the hearth was soondeserted--Ivans and Andrews, however, agreeing to sleep with one eyeopen.

  Both must have closed unawares, or else the moccasined feet that stoleout in the darkness must have been very, very light, and the otherfigure beside him very stealthy; for no alarm was given, no ear tooknote. It was late, past eleven o'clock, when the sentry challenged ahorse and rider coming as briskly and nonchalantly into camp as if ithad been eleven in the morning, and occasioning as much astonishment ashad Genesee, when it was seen to be Miss Hardy.

  "Rather late to be out alone, Miss, ain't it?" asked the sentry, as shestopped to chat with him of the continued absence of the men.

  "Is it?" she laughed. "I don't know what you call late over here; but Isuppose we of the ranch would be considered night-owls. I rode over withsome mail that came late, and thought I'd hear if there was any newsbefore we went to bed. Who's in command?"

  "Lieutenant Kennedy; but he turned in an hour ago."

  "Good gracious! Do you folks go to bed with the sun? I have a magazinefor him, but he can wait for it, then, until to-morrow. Tell him I willexpect him over."

  "Yes, Miss."

  Just then from along the avenue sauntered a soldierly figure, who drewnear at the sound of voices.

  "There comes Sergeant Kelp," remarked the sentry. "He's on night duty inKennedy's place."

  Instantly the girl turned to the officer in charge.

  "Well, I'm glad to find someone up and awake," she said, leaning over toshake hands with him. "It helps to keep me from seeming altogether anight-prowler. I came over to get the returns, if there were any. Thefolks are getting anxious at the ranch."

  "Naturally," answered the young fellow. "I would have called thisevening, but am on duty. Don't let the ladies worry if you can help it.We are likely to hear from the men before morning. Every scout we hadwent with them, and without horses we can't do much but just stay hereand wait; all the boys find it mighty hard work, too."

  "You remind me of half my mission, Sergeant, when you speak of yourscouts. I brought over some mail, and everyone I wanted to see is eitheraway or asleep. How about your chief of scouts--is he asleep, too?"

  It seemed to her that her heart ceased beating, the wind ceased blowing,and the stars ceased twinkling above the snow, as she waited for hisdisgusted reply.

  "No; not by a good deal. I never saw such a crank as that fellow! Wheneverything was smooth sailing, that man would skulk around camp withouta word to speak to anyone, the surliest white man I want to see; but nowthat he's jailed for horse-stealing, tied up and watched in the shack,I'm blest if he doesn't put in the time singing. Yes, he does; been atit ever since taps. I threatened to have him gagged if he disturbed theboys; but they say he don't. Roberts is the only one who has to listento it; says he never heard so many Indian so
ngs in his life. But it's amighty queer streak of luck for a man to be musical over."

  Rachel laughed, and agreed. "I have a letter for him, too," she added."Look, here; I'd like to take it to him myself, and get to hear some ofthose songs. Can I? I know it's rather late, but if he is awake, itdoesn't matter, I suppose; or is no one allowed to see him?"

  "Indians only are tabooed, but none of them have shown up, not even hisrunner, and I guess you can speak to him if you want to; it isn't athing most ladies would like to do, though," he added.

  "I suppose not," she said good-humoredly, "but then, I've known the manfor something over a year, and am not at all afraid--in fact, I'd ratherlike to do it and have something to horrify the ladies at the ranchwith. Think of it! An interview with a horse-thief--perhaps a duet withhim all alone in the middle of the night. Oh, yes, that's too good tomiss. But I must hurry up, or they will be sending someone after me."

  At the door of the shack, however, she paused a moment in what might betrepidation, her hand laid hesitatingly on the saddle, as if in doubtwhether to remount or enter the shanty, from which she could hear thelow refrain of a song of their cultus corrie--"Tsolo, tsolo!"

  "The guard will not leave the door?" she whispered; and Sergeant Kelpconcluded that, after all, she was pretending to greater nerve than shepossessed.

  "Never fear," he returned; "I will call him out to hold your horse, andhe won't stir from the door. By the way, I'll have someone to see youhome when you're ready to go. Good-night."

  Then the guard was called out, and a moment later the visitor slippedin, the prisoner never turning his head or noticing the exchange untilshe spoke.

  "Jack!"

  He turned quickly enough.

  "God A'mighty, girl! What are you doing here?"

  She thought of the ears, possibly listening ears, on the other side ofthe door, and her tone was guarded and careless, as it had been with theSergeant, as she laughed and answered in Chinook:

  "To pay a visit; what else?"

  She noticed with exultation that it was only rope he was tied with--hishands and his feet, as he sat on the bunk--a plaited rope of rawhide;strong enough when strengthened by a guard opposite and a loaded gun;but without the guard and with a keen knife!

  She checked him in the midst of a passionate protest against her coming.

  "I am here, so that fact is settled," she said quietly. "I didn't comefor fun, and we haven't any time to lose. I brought you a letter; it isin this," she said.

  "You have seen Kalitan?"

  He took from her the rubber case and extracted the letter from it, butscarcely noticed it, his eyes were turned so anxiously to her face.

  "Yes; and you had better read it," she advised, walking back to thedoor.

  "Rachel--"

  "Read it; let them see you!" and she opened the door wide and steppedout as if to make sure of the guard's presence.

  "It's all right, Miss, I'm here," he whispered, looking past her to theprisoner opening the letter and throwing the envelope in the fire. "I'llnot stir from here with the beast. Don't be uneasy;" and then she turnedback and closed the door. She had seen he was not close enough tolisten.

  "Jack," she said, coming back to him, "you must get out of this. Mowitzais at the door; I have brought the things you will need. Can you make adash for it and get away?"

  He looked at her in utter amazement.

  "I didn't know it until to-night," she continued; "this is your chance,before the others get back--if they ever do get back! God help them!"

  "What do you mean? Where are they?" And his hand, tied as it was, caughther own quickly.

  "They are in a death-trap, in that gully back of the Tamahnous ground.You know where--right over the peak from the old mine. They've beenthere since dark, hedged in by the Kootenais, who are only waiting fordaylight to come. Heaven help our men when it does come!"

  "The Kootenais? It can't be them. They are not hostile."

  "Not yesterday," she agreed bitterly, "but they are to-day. They sent amessenger of good-will to camp this morning, the grandson of Grey Eagle.He was shot down, almost in sight of camp, by one of the soldiers, andthe braves he had brought, the best in the tribe, attempted a rescue.Our cavalry pursued them, and were led into that ravine. The Indiansknew the ground, and our men didn't. At the end of the narrow pass, thereds rolled boulders down the mountain and closed it up, and then cutoff retreat; and there they are, waiting for daylight or starvation--Godknows what!"

  "Who told you this?"

  "Kalitan; he met an Indian trapper who had passed the gulch but a littlewhile before. He came directly to me. The whites here blame you forhelping the trouble--the beginning it, the--"

  "You mean the horse stealing?" he said, looking at her curiously.

  "Yes." Her eyes were on the floor; she did not see that scrutiny. "Andyou must get out of here before word comes of those men penned up there.There would be no waiting for trial then; they would shoot you."

  "And that is what you came for?"

  "Yes;" and she drew a sharp knife--an Indian knife--from her belt underthe shawl. "With a quick stroke, the severed the knotted cords and theyfell from his wrists; then she dropped on her knees, a flash, once,twice, of the blade in the light, and he stooped and raised her.

  "You are doing this for me," he said, drawing her to him, "withoutknowing whether I deserve shooting or not?"

  "Don't speak of that part of it!" she burst out. "When I let myselfthink, I feel as if I am going crazy!"--then she stopped short. "And acrazy woman just now would handicap you some. No, Jack, we need all ofour wits for to-night--here," and unfastening the belt from under hershawl, she buckled it about him. It contained two loaded revolvers.

  "It's the first time I've armed you as I've seen sweethearts or wivesdo," she said, looking up at him. "It may be the last. I only ask onething--you will not, unless it is the last means of saving your ownlife, turn one of these against my friends?"

  Even then, the weakness of the man in him came uppermost.

  "But if it is to save my own life?"

  Her hands went quickly over her eyes, as if to shut out sight orthought.

  "Don't ask me--only go--and--take care of yourself!"

  He caught the hands from her eyes, kissing her fiercely--exultantly.

  "Then I am first to you--nearer than all the rest! My girl, you'veproved it to-night, and I'll show you! If you know how to pray, pray forme to-night--for me and the men in that death-trap. Do you hear? I amgoing now. Here is this letter; it will tell you all. If I never comeback, tell Prince Charlie he is right at last--that I believe him. Hewill understand. My girl--mine--it is not an eternal good-bye. I willcome back if I live, and I will have to live long enough for that! Here,just once, kiss me, my girl--my girl!"

  The next instant she was flung from that embrace and fell with a faintscream to the floor.

  The guard dashed in, and was dextrously tripped by an unlooked-forfigure close to the wall, his gun wrenched from him, and a staggeringblow dealt that sent him to his knees.

  Clouds had swept over the cold stars, and the sentry could see but dimlythe equestrian figure that came clattering down the avenue.

  "Hadn't you better wait for company, Miss?" he called, but no answer wasgiven; and in much wonder, he was about to call again, when pistol-shotsfrom the shack aroused the camp. He called a halt; that was heeded nomore than his question, and he sent a random shot after the flyingfigure--not for the purpose of hitting the girl, but to impress on herthe duty of a sentry and some idea of military rule. Before the lastdull thud of hoofs in the snow had ceased to be heard, Roberts hadstaggered to the door, firing wildly, and calling to stop theprisoner--to stop the horse-thief.

  There was nothing in the camp to do it with. He was gone--everyone wasblaming everybody else for it; but no one thought of blaming the girlwho lay in a dead faint on the floor, where he had flung her, that nonemight think she had let him go willingly. And Miss Rachel was cared forvery tenderly, and a man was
sent to the ranch to assure Mrs. Hardy ofher safe-keeping, waking Mrs. Hardy out of a delicious sleep, andmystifying her completely by the information. The only one about thehouse who might have helped elucidate happened to be remarkably soundasleep at the time the messenger arrived--an Arrow encased in the quiverof rest.