CHAPTER XLIII
Finding the Lost One
Colonel Waller had been telegraphing from Cedar Mountain to allreachable parts of the North where the Crows were likely to be, withoutgetting one word of comfort. Then up to the door of his house themorning after the devastating race came Red Cloud of the calm, squareface, and behind him riding, a dozen braves.
At precisely the right moment prescribed by etiquette, he opened: "Mesavvy now why you no run heap good horse."
"Humph!" said Waller.
"Didn't I tole you watch when Crow come?"
"Humph!" was the answer.
"You no got him back yet--no?"
"No," said the Colonel, with some asperity.
"Why? White scout no follow trail?"
"The rain wiped out all trail," was the answer.
"Your scout heap no good," said Red Cloud. Then, after a dozen slowpuffs at his pipe, during which he gazed blankly and far away, theIndian said: "Ogallala very good scouts. Maybe so they find trail. Whatyou give for follow Crow? Maybe find, bring back your pony."
Without a doubt, this was the easiest way. The Ogallala scouts wouldgladly pursue their ancient enemies and force them to give up the stolenhorse. These men knew which line the Crows would most likely take, andcould probably pick up the trail in a day. Prompt action was necessary.The Indian bands were breaking up and going home laden with plunder,their fresh trails would render it impossible to follow the trail of thehorse thieves. The Colonel's mind was quickly made up.
"Red Cloud," he said emphatically, "I'll give you two hundred and fiftydollars cash if you find Blazing Star and bring him back here in goodcondition within one week."
The Indian Chief smoked for a few puffs and said: "Seven suns, no good.Crow country far away; one moon maybe."
Reckless riders like the Crows might easily ruin a horse in one month;so, at length, a compromise was reached, whereby Red Cloud was toreceive two hundred and fifty dollars if within two-weeks; and onehundred if a month passed before the return. Then the Sioux Chief rose"to find his young men," and his party rode away.
It was nine the next morning when the sentry discovered a considerablebody of mounted Indians in the northeast, riding rapidly toward theFort. Had it been from the south, he would scarcely have made a report.Before ten o'clock they had arrived. They numbered about fifty warriorsin full war paint. They were singing their war songs, and fastened totheir coup sticks were one or two terribly fresh-looking scalps. Attheir head was Red Cloud. A hundred troopers were under arms, so theydid not hesitate to admit the Indians. The warriors passed through thegate; then spreading out before the Colonel's house, their opening ranksrevealed the noble form of Blazing Star. Bestriding him was the boyChaska, his bright eyes and clear white teeth gleaming in a smile.
A mighty shout went up among the white men as the blooded racer was ledto the Colonel's office. One or two formalities, and the two hundred andfifty dollars was paid over to Red Cloud. Blazing Star was hastilyexamined, found in perfect trim, then handed over to the Irish hostler.
"You take him to the stable," was all the Colonel said, but he said itin large capital letters and it was full of grim threats and reminder,hostler Mike led the lost darling back to the stable where a crowd ofmen were waiting.
Red Cloud crammed the new wealth into his tobacco pouch and rode away atthe head of his men.
Al Rennie felt sick with disgust that he should fail when the trail wasfresh, while the Sioux, on a washed-out trail, made such a showing in soshort a time. He was puzzled, too, by the scalps. The two he managed toexamine were not fresh. But he had to swallow his disgust.
All that day the Indian bands had been going off. Their camps werebreaking up; they were dispersing to their homes. The Plain was nearlydeserted that afternoon when hostler Mike took Blazing Star out into theheat of the sun to give him the thorough washing and cleaning that hesurely needed. A minute later, Mike came rushing across the square tothe Colonel's office.
"Colonel, Colonel," he gasped, "come here, sir."
"What's the matter with you?" said the Colonel in a voice of wrath whichboded ill for a new blunder.
"Colonel, come at once. Come, it's Blazing Star."
There was a total lack of soldier decorum in the hostler's address. Hewas so intensely excited that the Colonel overlooked the informality andwent quickly to where Blazing Star was standing tied to the washingpost.
"There, sir; look there--and there!" ejaculated Mike with growingexcitement, as he pointed to Blazing Star's legs. "And look at that!"and he swept his bony finger round the big liquid eye of the racer. TheColonel looked, looked closer, parted the hair, looked down to the rootsand saw _paint--red paint, white paint, black paint_--traces ofhorseshoes, red hands, white patches and stripes; not much, but enoughto tell the tale.
Without a question, _Blazing Star was the Pinto that had won the race_!
The simple Red men knew that the Buckskin was overmatched, so theysecured the only horse on the plains that _could_ win. They drove theCrows away at the right moment to leave a red herring trail. Then,having captured the stakes, they calmly collected two hundred and fiftydollars for restoring him to his owner. The simple Red men!
And when Jim Hartigan heard of it he yelled with joy. He laughed; healmost cried. After all, his horse had won; his Blazing Star was thesteed of all the plains. He was tossed with different moods--regret andjoy, grim humour, sadness and madness; he was stirred to the depths; allhis primitive nature was set free. He did not sleep for hours, and whenthe dawn was near, his boyhood memories filled his brain and he was backin the livery stable garret once again, and repossessed of all hisboyhood's ways and words he softly swore himself to sleep.