CHAPTER XXI
UNREST
The second and last week of the threshing at the Hanley Ranch was wellon its way, and nothing had occurred to break the routine of hard workin the daytime and nights spent in a tent, in an atmosphere laden withtobacco smoke and the yarns of rough men.
The boys had not succeeded in confirming their suspicions against HenryDorgan, and if Dorgan felt any resentment against them, or against theold cowpuncher who had defended them, he failed to show it.
Whitey now discovered a new trait in his friend Injun--persistence.Injun was very determined in his efforts to get something on Dorgan. Hehad made up his mind that Dorgan had stolen Monty, and his mind was notlike a bed that could be unmade easier than it could be made up. Atfirst Whitey thought that this was a phase of the Indian's well-knowndesire for vengeance, but Injun didn't seem to be vindictive in thematter. He didn't even mention Dorgan's attempt to put him out of thetent. Whitey was interested in this trait of Injun's and liked him themore for it. If Injun was a stick-to-itive fellow, so was Whitey. Hewould show Bill Jordan that he couldn't make a fool of him and get awaywith it.
And finally, as a reward of perseverance, Injun did get something onDorgan, though it didn't amount to much. Injun averred, and it may havebeen true, that Monty had a deadly fascination for Dorgan; that whenMonty was around, Dorgan couldn't keep his eyes off him. And Injun saidthat he saw Dorgan approach Monty in the corral, probably to admire himmore closely, and that Monty showed great hatred for Dorgan; laid backhis ears and bit and kicked at Dorgan.
"Him no like um. Him must know um," declared Injun, being firmlyconvinced that Monty's actions indicated a close acquaintance withDorgan.
However, Monty couldn't give any spoken evidence that Dorgan had stolenhim, so there the matter rested. And there was something else to occupythe boys' minds. There seemed to be a vague feeling of unrest at theranch. There always had been bad blood between Gil Steele and theworkers. He not only was a hard taskmaster, getting the last ounce ofwork out of the men, but he was close in money matters, and had allsorts of fines and penalties he imposed when the men were late orneglected their work. There was continual wrangling and haggling.
With this sort of thing on the surface you will understand that it wouldbe easy to stir up more serious trouble from underneath, and somethingof the sort was going on. It was something Whitey couldn't put his handon, but he could read it in signs shown by some of the men. And therewere mysterious meetings and gatherings of the disaffected ones.
Of course, Injun was quick to sense all this, and had no scruples aboutbutting in and finding out all about the trouble. As bad examples are ascatching as good ones, and more so, Whitey joined Injun in hisinvestigations. So behold! A dark night on the prairie. A tent showingonly a streak of yellow light where the opening folds did not quitemeet. Two boys lying on their stomachs near the edge of the tent,industriously listening.
This was not their own tent. There seemed to be few grumblers in that.It was the tent in which Henry Dorgan was housed. And listen as theymight, and sharp as Injun's ears were, they heard nothing definite. Justmurmurs, an occasional oath or two, and what might have been threats, inlouder tones. It was very discouraging. So at last they returned totheir own tent, to the yarn-spinning threshers and the silent oldcowpuncher.
Whitey soon gave up this form of effort, but Injun did not; possiblybecause Dorgan was in the other tent. Friday night came, almost the lastof the threshing. Injun was absent on his eavesdropping quest, which sofar had yielded nothing. The men in Whitey's tent were merrier thanusual and, it must be admitted, more profane. Then along came bad luck,in the person of Mrs. Gilbert Steele.
Mrs. Steele, you must know, was one of these motherly women who didn'thave anything to mother. She was stout, round-faced, good-natured, andindustrious; quite the opposite to her rather cold-blooded husband. Andthis matter of her not having anything to mother was responsible formany things, as you shall learn. Threshing-time was rush time with her.She had few chances to think of anything except food, but this night shehappened to have a little leisure, and had devoted it to considerationof Whitey. "That poor boy out in that tent with all those rough men. Whydidn't I think of him before?"
So Mrs. Steele had waddled out to the tent, and had arrived at a momentwhen there was a particularly strong outburst of profanity on the partof one of the rough men. Though this was nipped in the bud as Mrs.Steele entered the tent, it caused her to reproach herself more bitterlythan before. She promptly took Whitey under her wing and told him that,crowded as the ranch house was, a place there should be found for him tosleep.
Whitey was greatly taken aback. Of course he didn't want to go. Hethought it made him look foolish in the eyes of the men, and it did. Hethought he might get out of it by explaining to Mrs. Steele, and hedidn't. Perhaps that lady believed that Injun's morals were swear-proof,or that he didn't have any, for she didn't mention him. And to crownWhitey's annoyance and chagrin, just as he was being led away to thedarned old house Injun appeared. And his face was lighted up--forInjun's. And his eyes were shining with an unholy light. For he hadheard something!
There would have been another story to tell if Injun had acteddifferently. But in the first place he was an Indian, and it was not inhis blood to follow any fat white woman and rescue a boy from herclutches. In the next place he was Injun; he had his own personality. WeCaucasians are apt to think that because the red and yellow people lookpretty much alike, they all are alike. Then when we come to know them,and find that they have as many differences as we have, we are rathersurprised. This may be conceited of us, but it is natural. You probablyknow by now that Injun was a very independent person. So he started offto take charge of affairs himself.
Meanwhile Whitey, feeling much like a fool, and possibly looking likeone had there been light enough to see, was being led to the ranchhouse. Arrived there and seated in the living-room, motherly Mrs. Steeleapologized for not thinking of him before, and surrounding him with allthe comforts of home, away from those vulgar men. She was inclined to beproud of herself for having done so at this late hour. Had she knownwhat Whitey was thinking about the comforts of home and about her, shewould not have been so proud.
For a while she entertained Whitey by talking about New York, which shehad visited ten years before, when on her honeymoon. She was surprisedto learn that Whitey had not even heard of any of the people she had metthere, he having been born in New York and having lived there the firstfourteen years of his life. Well, well; it was a queer world, anyway.Perhaps you will get the best idea of how unhappy Whitey was byimagining yourself in the same position.
In his misery Whitey formed vague plans for escape. Then a new horrorawaited him. He was to sleep in the Steeles' bedroom, in a cot at thefoot of their bed! In vain he protested that the living-room floor wasgood enough for him. Mrs. Steele wouldn't hear of it. So he was showninto the bedroom, and when he was undressed and clothed in one of GilSteele's long white night-shirts, Mrs. Steele returned and took hisclothes away to brush them!
Whitey's cup of bitterness was full. This was a fine position for a heroto be in. He tried the sour-grapes idea: perhaps Injun hadn't learnedanything that amounted to anything, after all. But that didn't work.There were no two ways about it, he was an abused being. By golly, thiswas worse than school! But after working hard all day in the hot sun,even an abused being will get sleepy. So at last the curtain of sleepfell on Whitey; of dreamless sleep--perhaps he was too mad to dream.