CHAPTER XVII--OFF FOR PUEBLO
Frank was astonished, but his face showed not the least sign ofsurprise. Carver was a Western sport and "bad man." It was said that,when aroused, he was more dangerous than a hundred rattlesnakes.
"Well, Mr. Carver," said Frank, "I have heard that it is your custom todo your shooting first and your palavering afterward; but I trust youwill break the rule in this case. I have heard that you claim to be agentleman, and, as a gentleman, I ask you not to do any shooting here inthe presence of these ladies, who are already badly frightened, andwould be horrified at the sight of blood."
"Oh, if you put it that way," said the man, slowly, "I presume I shallhave to throw up my hand, although I feel it a duty to shoot some holesin that drunken redskin."
"As a favor to the ladies you will not shoot him?"
"As a favor to the ladies, I will not shoot him--here."
Merry instantly let go of Dan Carver's wrist, saying:
"I thank you, sir."
The Indian who had been knocked down had regained his feet by this time.He paused, swaying a bit unsteadily, and glared in a drunken way at Inzaand her rescuer, then he turned and staggered away, disappearing aroundthe station.
"The horrid beast!" exclaimed Miss Abigail, who had lifted her parasol,as if to strike him, while she stiffly stood her ground. "Indians arenot good for anything anyway. You never can make anything decent out ofthem, no matter how hard you try."
"I believe that is what all white folks think," said the young man whohad knocked the drunken savage down. "They may be right."
There was a trace of bitterness in the words and the tone in which theywere spoken.
Frank stared hard at the rescuer, and then, stepping forward, cried:
"I believe I know you! I am sure I do! Why, you are John Swiftwing, andI have played football against you!"
The youth with the swarthy face looked at Frank, and then bowed gravely.
"I am John Swiftwing," he acknowledged; "and I remember you. You are aYale man, and your name is Merriwell."
Frank held out his hand.
"Shake, Swiftwing!" he cried. "I am delighted to see you, although younearly killed me once on a tackle. Without question, you are thefiercest tackler and the best football player Carlisle has on her team.If she had ten more men like you, she'd wipe up the earth with everyEastern college."
A gleam shot from the eyes of the other, and he accepted Frank's hand.
"You speak as if you mean it," he said, "and I thank you."
"I do mean it," declared Frank. "Why, all the Eastern papers said so!You showed yourself a wonder. You play football as if your life dependedon it."
"Yes. It is the only white man's game worth playing."
"I can't agree with you there. I consider baseball superior."
Swiftwing shook his head.
"No," he said; "it is too tame. Football is like a battle, and it makesone's blood tingle."
"Well, I wish to thank you for your ready intervention in behalf of thisyoung lady, who is a friend of mine. Permit me to introduce you. MissBurrage, this is Mr. Swiftwing, a Carlisle student."
The young man bowed with a grace that was natural and pleasing, liftinghis hat as he did so.
Impulsively Inza held out her gloved hand.
"Mr. Swiftwing," she said, "I am awfully glad to know you, and, oh! Iwant to thank you so much for what you just did! That--that drunken--mannearly scared me to death."
"Why didn't you say that drunken Indian, as you started to, MissBurrage?" asked Swiftwing, with something like a bitter smile. "Whitemen never get drunk, I believe!"
"Goodness, yes they do!" exclaimed Miss Abigail; "but not all of themget drunk. All Indians get drunk."
"Not all of them, madam--I beg your pardon. I have never tasted a dropof liquor in my life."
"You--you? Why--why--you are--are not----"
"Miss Gale," said Frank, "allow me to introduce Mr. Swiftwing, who is afull-blooded Indian and a student at the school in Carlisle,Pennsylvania."
The spinster looked astonished, nearly dropping her parasol.
"Gracious me!" she fluttered. "Him an Indian? Why, he's dressed decent,and I'd never suspected it if you hadn't said so. My, my! what asurprise!"
She did not offer to shake hands, but Swiftwing bowed to her quite ascourteously as he had to Inza.
The other boys crowded around, and Frank introduced them all to theCarlisle student, to whom he explained that they were on their way tothe Pueblo of Taos.
"But how do you happen to be away out here, Swiftwing?" asked Frank. "Isyour home near here?"
"My home is at the Pueblo of Taos, and I am on my way thither."
"That is remarkable! You are not done at Carlisle?"
"No, I have another year there. I became hungry for a sight of home, andthat is how I happen to be here."
"How do you travel from here?"
"By horse. I suppose you will go by stage. Ramon Griego will carry you."
"Yes, we go that way; but we'll see you again at the Pueblo. I wish tohave a talk with you."
"And so do I," declared Inza, sincerely, regarding the Indian withadmiration. "I want to thank you again for what you did. It was splendidof you."
She held out her hand once more. John took it, bowed low, and, to hersurprise, lifted it to his lips. It was an act that astonished Frankmore than any one else, for, despite what he knew of Swiftwing, he hadfelt that the Indian was incapable of such a thing.
With a wave of his hand to Frank and the others, Swiftwing turned andwalked away.
"He is a splendid fellow!" said Inza, a flush on her cheeks. "I did notsuppose there could be such a difference between two Indians."
"Look out, Frankie, me b'y!" chuckled Barney. "It's a rid roival ye'llhave th' firrust thing ye know."
Miss Abigail gave a contemptuous sniff.
"He appeared all right," she said "but even he is an Indian, and noIndian can ever be like a white man."
It seemed that John Swiftwing's ears were remarkably keen, for he seemedto hear those words, and he paused suddenly, turning about with a proudgesture. He was at the corner of the station, and not one of that groupever forgot how he looked as he stood there, looking back at them withall the haughtiness of his nature aroused. With something like a gestureof anger and disdain, he turned again and vanished around the corner.
A moment later he was seen galloping away on the back of a tough littlepony, going like the wind and riding like a Centaur.
"How could you have said that so he could hear you, aunt!" pouted Inza,her eyes following the retreating figure of Swiftwing. "It was too bad,after all he did for--for me!"
Barney nudged Frank in the ribs, whispering:
"Didn't Oi tell yez! It's shtuck she is alriddy."
Frank laughed carelessly.
"I didn't think he could hear me," said the spinster; "but it was true,anyhow. He's got on a white man's clothes, but that don't make him likea white man."
"Yaw!" put in Hans Dunnerwust, getting nearer Miss Abigail; "dot peenso, you pet."
The old maid gave him a scornful look.
"What do you know about it!" she exclaimed.
"Oxcuse me," said the Dutch boy. "You took mein vord for dot."
"I wouldn't take your word for anything," sniffed Miss Abigail, as sheturned away.
Barney and Ephraim chuckled, and Hans looked rather crestfallen, shakinghis head and muttering:
"Vale, she vos a pird!"
The train pulled out of the station, and the party crossed thefootbridge to the adobe building.
In front of the building stood two light platform wagons, to each ofwhich were attached two of those diminutive broncho ponies whoseendurance has so many surprises.
These were the stages of Ramon Griego & Co.
Curiously enough, the firm with this imposing name was composed of twoMexican boys, who were brothers, and who carried a long star route intothe mountains, gathering and delivering mail pouches at
a number oflittle settlements on the way.
Ramon proved to be a bright, well-dressed young man, and could speakEnglish fluently, a fact worthy of note in a land where the inhabitantsof the isolated hamlets are three hundred years behind the times.
He had been expecting a large number of passengers, and was prepared forthem.
Frank's party took up one entire wagon, and it was a big load for thelittle bronchos. If Frank had not known what sort of stuff there was inthe little animals, he might have hesitated about starting out with awagon load of twelve persons, to say nothing of several mail pouches.
The driver, a Mexican lad, occupied a seat with Toots. He cracked hislong whip and uttered a yell. The little bronchos started slowly, brokeinto a run, and away they went, with the boys waving their hats andcheering, while Inza fluttered her handkerchief to the Mexicanpostmaster, who was standing in the open doorway.
The first turn of the road around a jutting rock hid the railroad fromview, and it seemed that the party immediately plunged one hundred yearsinto antiquity.
Each seat was wide enough for three ordinary persons, but Hans had beendetermined to secure a position beside Miss Abigail, and had succeeded,much to the old maid's discomfort. The Dutch boy looked supremelysatisfied with himself, and it was plain he thought he was makingprogress.
The boys sang, Frank starting it. There were some musical voices in theparty, and they formed a decidedly jolly "glee club." The songs of Yalewere popular with them, and they awoke the echoes with "Here to Good OldYale," "Bingo," "Solomon Levi," and so forth.
At two or three points the canyon widened enough to permit a few acresof river bottom, and there several Mexican families lived, managing tokeep soul and body together in some mysterious manner that defies aNorthern understanding.
About the driver's waist was a cartridge belt that bore two Coltrevolvers of .44 caliber, and the boy had a significant way of fingeringthose guns occasionally that made Miss Abigail very nervous.
"If he tries to murder the whole of us----Well, let him try it!" shesaid, with a significant hardening of the jaws. "He'll get all he'sbargained for."
"Dot vos right," nodded Hans. "He don'd done dot murderin' mitouttroubles."
Miss Abigail was silent. Encouraged by this, the Dutch boy added:
"Shust you trust myself to you und you vos all right. I vill peen yourbrotector all der times."
"You!" sniffed Miss Abigail. "Why, if you saw your own shadow you'dthink an elephant was after you and run away."
Ephraim snickered, and Hans looked disgusted.
The scenery proved very monotonous, and the party subsided into silenceafter a time.
The only event to arouse them from the lethargy into which they hadfallen was a sudden movement on the part of Miss Abigail thatunceremoniously dumped Hans off the seat to the ground, where he wasfortunate enough to bounce like a rubber ball out of the way of the rearwheel.
"There!" the spinster was heard to mutter; "perhaps he'll stop squeezingup to me now. He's the most uncomfortable person I ever sat beside."
"Shimminy Gristmas!" Hans gurgled, as he sat up beside the trail andstared at the stage, which had stopped almost immediately. "Vot dotvomans got mit her elpow in, ain'd id? Id vas a recular pattering rams!"
Ephraim Gallup laughed in his hearty manner.
"Darn my punkins! but yeou do look funny, Hans!" he cried. "Whuthappened to ye, anyhaow?"
"You toldt me."
"Begobs! it's yersilf thot's a moighty foine ground tumbler," saidBarney, with a chuckle.
"I dond't toldt you so!" returned the Dutch boy, with attempted sarcasm."Don't you pelief mineself!"
"Come, Hans," laughed Frank, who with Inza, had been watching the Dutchlad's efforts to make an impression on Miss Abigail. "Pick yourself upand get aboard. We can't wait all day for you."
Hans got up with an effort and started to return to his seat; but hestopped, regarding the spinster doubtingly. She gave him a look, and hedodged, as if she had thrown something at him.
"Oxcuse me!" he exclaimed. "Uf id don't make some difference to nobody,I vill valk der rest uf der vays."
This was said in such a doleful manner that every one of the boyslaughed.
"Here," said Frank, "I think there is more room on this seat, and I willtake your seat. Hurry up, now."
Frank took the seat beside Miss Abigail, while, with a sigh of relief,the Dutch boy climbed up beside Inza. He looked very doleful andcrestfallen during the rest of the journey to the Pueblo, where theyarrived at nine o'clock that evening.