CHAPTER XIII
PLAYING WITH FIRE
On the following morning Harding hunted up John Ermine, and the twowalked about together, the Englishman trying to fire the scout with hisown passion for strange lands and new heads.
To the wild plainsman the land was not new; hunting had its old everydaylook, and the stuffed heads of game had no significance. His attentionwas constantly interrupted by the little flutter of color made moredistinct by a vesper before the photograph.
"Let us go and find your friend, Wolf-Voice," said Harding, which theydid, and the newcomer was introduced. The Englishman threw kindly,wondering eyes over the fiercely suspicious face of the half-breed,whose evil orbs spitted back at him.
"Ah, yees--you was go hunt. All-right; I weel mak' you run de buffalo,shoot dose elk, trap de castor, an you shall shake de han' wid degrizzly bear. How much money I geet--hey?"
"Ah, you will get the customary wages, my friend, and if you give me anopportunity to shake hands with a grizzly, your reward will beforthcoming," replied the sportsman.
"Very weel; keep yur heye skin on me, when you see me run lakhell--weel, place where I was run way from, dare ees mousier's grizzlybear, den you was go up shake han', hey?"
Harding laughed and offered the man a cigar, which he handled with fourfingers much as he might a tomahawk, having none of the delicate artnative to the man of cigars or cigarettes. A match was proffered, andWolf-Voice tried diligently to light the wrong end. The Englishmanviolently pulled Ermine away, while he nearly strangled with suppressedlaughter. It was distinctly clear that Wolf-Voice must go with them.
"Your friend Wolf-Voice seems to be quite an individual person."
"Yes, the soldiers are always joshing him, but he doesn't mind.Sometimes they go too far. I have seen him draw that skinning-knife, andaway they go like a flock of birds. Except when he gets loaded withsoldier whiskey, he is all right. He is a good man away from camp," saidErmine.
"He does not appear to be a thoroughbred Indian," observed Harding.
"No, he's mixed; he's like that soup the company cooks make. He is notthe best man in the world, but he is a better man in more places than Iever saw," said Ermine, in vindication.
"Shall we go down to the Indian camp and try to buy some ponies,Ermine?"
"No, I don't go near the Sioux; I am a kind of Crow. I have fought withthem. They forgive the soldiers, but their hearts are bad when they lookat me. I'll get Ramon to go with you when you buy the horses. Ramon wasa small trader before the war, used to going about with a half-dozenpack-horses, but the Sioux ran him off the range. He has pack saddlesand rawhide bags, which you can hire if you want to," was explained.
"All right; take me to Ramon if you will."
"I smoke," said Ermine as he led the way.
Having seen that worthy depart on his trading mission with Harding intow, Ermine felt relieved. Impulse drew him to the officers' row, wherehe strolled about with his hands in his cartridge-belt. Many passing bynodded to him or spoke pleasantly. Some of the newly arrived ladies evenattempted conversation; but if the soldiers of a year ago were difficultfor Ermine, the ladies were impossible. He liked them; their gentlefaces, their graceful carriage, their evident interest in him, and theirfrank address called out all his appreciation. They were a revelationafter the squaws, who had never suggested any of these possibilities.But they refused to come mentally near him, and he did not know thetrail which led to them. He answered their questions, agreed withwhatever they said, and battled with his diffidence until he made out toborrow a small boy from one mother, proposing to take him down to thescout camp and quartermaster's corral to view the Indians and mules.
He had thought out the proposition that the Indians were just as strangeto the white people as the white people were to them, consequently hesaw a social opening. He would mix these people up so that they couldstare at each other in mutual perplexity and bore one another withirrelevant remarks and questions.
"Did Mr. Butcher-Knife miss Madam Butcher-Knife?" asked a somewhatelderly lady on one occasion, whereat the Indian squeezed out anabdominal grunt and sedately observed to "Hairy-Arm," in his ownlanguage, that "the fat lady could sit down comfortably," or words thatwould carry this thought.
The scout who was acting as their leader upon this occasion emitted oneloud "A-ha!" before he could check himself. The lady asked what had beensaid. Ermine did not violate a rule clearly laid down by Crooked-Bear,to the effect that lying was the sure sign of a man's worthlessness. Heanswered that they were merely speaking of something which he had notseen, thus satisfying his _protege_.
After a round or two of these visits this novelty was noised about thequarters, and Ermine found himself suddenly accosted. By his side wasthe original of his cherished photograph, accompanied by LieutenantButler of the cavalry, a tall young man whose body and movements hadbeen made to conform to the West Point standards.
"Miss Searles has been presented, I believe. She is desirous of visitingthe scout camp. Would you kindly take us down?"
John Ermine's soul drifted out through the top of his head in unseenvapors, but he managed to say that he would. He fell in beside the youngwoman, and they walked on together. To be so near the reality, theliteral flesh and blood of what had been a long series of efflorescentdreams, quite stirred him. He gathered slowly, after each quick glanceinto the eyes which were not like those in the photograph; there theywere set and did not resent his fancies; here they sparkled and talkedand looked unutterable things at the helpless errant.
Miss Searles had been to a finishing school in the East, and either theschool was a very good one or the little miss exceedingly apt, but bothmore probably true. She had the delicate pearls and peach-bloom on hercheeks to which the Western sun and winds are such persistent enemies,and a dear little nose tipped heavenward, as careless as a cat huntingits grandmother.
The rustle of her clothes mingled with little songs which the wind sangto the grass, a faint freshness of body with delicate spring-flowerodors drifted to Ermine's active nostrils. But the eyes, the eyes, whydid they not brood with him as in the picture? Why did they arch andlaugh and tantalize?
His earthly senses had fled; gone somewhere else and left a riot in hisblood. He tripped and stumbled, fell down, and crawled over answers toher questions, and he wished Lieutenant Butler was farther away than apony could run in a week.
She stopped to raise her dress above the dusty road, and the scoutoverrode the alignment.
"Mr. Ermine, will you please carry my parasol for me?"
"'WILL YOU PLEASE CARRY MY PARASOL FOR ME?'"]
The object in question was newer to him than a man-of-war would havebeen. The prophet had explained about the great ships, but he hadforgotten parasols. He did not exactly make out whether the thing was tokeep the sun off, or to hide her face from his when she wanted to. Heretraced his steps, wrapped his knuckles around the handle with adrowning clutch, and it burned his hand. If previously it had taken allhis force to manoeuvre himself, he felt now that he would bog down underthis new weight. Atlas holding the world had a flying start of Ermine.
He raised it above her head, and she looked up at him so pleasantly,that he felt she realized his predicament; so he said, "Miss Searles, ifI lug this baby tent into that scout camp, they will either shoot at us,or crawl the ponies and scatter out for miles. I think they would standif you or the Lieutenant pack it; but if I do this, there won't beanything to see but ponies' tails wavering over the prairie."
"Oh, thank you; I will come to your rescue, Mr. Ermine." And she did.
"It is rather ridiculous, a parasol, but I do not intend to let the sunhave its way with me." And glancing up, "Think if you had always carrieda parasol, what a complexion you would have."
"But men don't carry them, do they?"
"Only when it rains; they do then, back in the States," she explained.
Ermine replied, "They do--hum!" and forthwith refused to consider menwho did it.
"I thi
nk, Mr. Ermine, if I were an Indian, I should very much like toscalp you. I cannot cease to admire your hair."
"Oh, you don't have to be an Indian, to do that. Here is my knife; youcan go ahead any time you wish," came the cheerful response.
"Mr. Butler, our friend succumbs easily to any fate at my hands, itseems. I wonder if he would let me eat him," said the girl.
"I will build the fire and put the kettle on for you." And Ermine wasnot joking in the least, though no one knew this.
They were getting into the dangerous open fields, and Miss Searles urgedthe scout in a different direction.
"Have you ever been East?"
"Yes," he replied, "I have been to Fort Buford."
The parasol came between them, and presently, "Would you like to go eastof Buford--I mean away east of Buford," she explained.
"No; I don't want to go east or west, north or south of here," came theastonishing answer all in good faith, and Miss Searles mentally took toher heels. She feared seriousness.
"Oh, here are the Indians," she gasped, as they strode into thegrotesque grouping. "I am afraid, Mr. Ermine--I know it is silly."
"What are you afraid of, Miss Searles?"
"I do not know; they look at me so!" And she gave a most deliciouslittle shiver.
"You can't blame them for that; they're not made of wood." But this lostits force amid her peripatetic reflections.
"That's Broken-Shoe; that's White-Robe; that's Batailleur--oh, well, youdon't care what their names are; you probably will not see them again."
"They are more imposing when mounted and dashing over the plains, Iassure you. At a distance, one misses the details which rather obtrudehere," ventured Butler.
"Very well; I prefer them where I am quite sure they will not dash. Ivery much prefer them sitting down quietly--such fearful-looking faces.Oh my, they should be kept in cages like the animals in the Zoo. And doyou have to fight such people, Mr. Butler?"
"We do," replied the officer, lighting a cigarette. This point of viewwas new and amusing.
One of the Indians approached the party. Ermine spoke to him in a loud,guttural, carrying voice, so different from his quiet use of English,that Miss Searles fairly jumped. The change of voice was like anexplosion.
"Go back to your robe, brother; the white squaw is afraid of you--goback, I say!"
The intruder hesitated, stopped, and fastened Ermine with the vacantstare which in such times precede sudden, uncontrollable fury amongIndians.
Again Ermine spoke: "Go back, you brown son of mules; this squaw is myfriend; I tell you she is afraid of you. I am not. Go back, and beforethe sun is so high I will come to you. Make this boy go back,Broken-Shoe; he is a fool."
The old chieftain emitted a few hollow grunts, with a click between, andthe young Indian turned away.
"My! Mr. Ermine, what are you saying? Have I offended the Indian? Helooks daggers; let us retire--oh my, let us go--quick--quick!" AndErmine, by the flutter of wings, knew that his bird had flown. Hefollowed, and in the safety of distance she lightly put her hand on hisarm.
"What was it all about, Mr. Ermine? Do tell me."
Ermine's brain was not working on schedule time, but he fully realizedwhat the affront to the Indian meant in the near future. He knew hewould have to make his words good; but when the creature of his dreamswas involved, he would have measured arms with a grizzly bear.
"He would not go back," said the scout, simply.
"But for what was he coming?" she asked.
"For you," was the reply.
"Goodness gracious! I had done nothing; did he want to kill me?"
"No, he wanted to shake hands with you; he is a fool."
"Oh, only to shake hands with me? And why did you not let him? I couldhave borne that."
"Because he is a fool," the scout ventured, and then in tones whichcarried the meaning, "Shake hands with you!"
"I see; I understand; you were protecting me; but he must hate you. Ibelieve he will harm you; those dreadful Indians are so relentless, Ihave heard. Why did we ever go near the creatures? What will he do, Mr.Ermine?"
The scout cast his eye carefully up at the sky and satisfied thecuriosity of both by drawling, "A--hu!"
"Well--well, Mr. Ermine, do not ever go near them again; I certainlywould not if I were you. I shall see papa and have you removed fromthose ghastly beings. It is too dreadful. I have seen all I care to ofthem; let us go home, Mr. Butler."
The two--the young lady and the young man--bowed to Ermine, who touchedthe brim of his sombrero, after the fashion of the soldiers. Theydeparted up the road, leaving Ermine to go, he knew not where, becausehe wanted to go only up the road. The abruptness of white civilitieshashed the scout's contempt for time into fine bits; but he was leftwith something definite, at least, and that was a deep, venomous hatredfor Lieutenant Butler; that was something he could hang his hat on. Thenhe thought of the "fool," and his footsteps boded ill for that one.
"That Ermine is such a tremendous man; do you not think so, Mr. Butler?"
"He seems a rather forceful person in his simple way," coincided theofficer. "You apparently appeal to him strongly. He is downrightromantic in his address, but I cannot find fault with the poor man. I amequally unfortunate."
"Oh, don't, Mr. Butler; I cannot stand it; you are, at least,sophisticated."
"Yes, I am sorry to say I am."
"Oh, please, Mr. Butler," with a deprecating wave of her parasol, "buttell me, aren't you afraid of them?"
"I suppose you mean the Indians. Well, they certainly earned my respectduring the last campaign. They are the finest light-horse in the world,and if they were not encumbered with the women, herds, and villages; ifthey had plenty of ammunition and the buffalo would stay, I think therewould be a great many army widows, Miss Searles."
"It is dreadful; I can scarcely remember my father; he has been made tolive in this beast of a country since I was a child." Such was the loftyview the young woman took of her mundane progress.
"Shades of the vine-clad hills and citron groves of the Hudson River! Ifear we brass buttoners are cut off. I should have been a lawyer or apriest--no, not a priest; for when I look at a pretty girl I cannot feelany priesthood in my veins."
Miss Searles whistled the bars of "Halt" from under the fortification ofthe parasol.
"Oh, well, what did the Lord make pretty women for?"
"I do not know, unless to demonstrate the foolishness of the line ofUncle Sam's cavalry," speculated the arch one. "Mr. Butler, if you donot stop, I shall run."
"All right; I am under arrest, so do not run; we are nearly home. Ireserve my right to resume hostilities, however. I insist on fair playwith your sage-brush admirer. Since we met in St. Louis, I have oftenwondered if we should ever see each other again. I always ardentlywished we could."
"Mr. Butler, you are a poor imitation of our friend Ermine; he, atleast, makes one feel that he means what he says," she rejoined.
"And you were good enough to remind me that I was sophisticated."
"I may have been mistaken," she observed. She played the batteries ofher eyes on the unfortunate soldier, and all of his formations went downbefore them. He was in love, and she knew it, and he knew she knew it.
He felt like a fool, but tried not to act one, with the usual success oflovers. He was an easy victim of one of those greatest of naturalweaknesses men have. She had him staked out and could bring him into hercamp at any time the spirit moved her. Being a young person just fromschool, she found affairs easier than she had been led to suspect. Inthe usual girl way she had studied her casts, lures, and baits, but inreality they all seemed unnecessary, and she began to think some lethalweapon which would keep her admirers at a proper distance more to thepurpose.
The handsome trooper was in no great danger, she felt, only she musthave time; she did not want everything to happen in a minute, and thegreatest dream of life vanish forever. Besides, she intended never,under any circumstances, to haul down her flag and
surrender until aftera good, hard siege.
They entered the cabin of the Searles, and there told the story of themorning's adventures. Mrs. Searles had the Indians classified withrattlesnakes, green devils, and hyenas, and expected scenes of thischaracter to happen.
The Major wanted more details concerning Ermine. "Just what did he say,Butler?"
"I do not know; he spoke in some Indian language."
"Was he angry, and was the Indian who approached you mad?"
"They were like two dogs who stand ready to fight,--teeth bared, musclesrigid, eyes set and just waiting for their nerves to snap," explainedButler.
"Oh, some d---- Indian row, no one knows what, and Ermine won't tell;yet as a rule these people are peaceful among themselves. I will ask himabout it," observed the Major.
"Why can't you have Mr. Ermine removed from that awful scout camp, papa?Why can't he be brought up to some place near here? I do not see whysuch a beautiful white person as he is should have to associate withthose savages," pleaded the graceful Katherine.
"Don't worry about Ermine, daughter; you wouldn't have him rank theColonel out of quarters, would you? I will look into this matter alittle."
Meanwhile the young scout walked rapidly toward his camp. He wanted todo something with his hands, something which would let the gatheringelectricity out at his finger-ends and relieve the strain, for the trendof events had irritated him.
Going straight to his tent, he picked up his rifle, loaded it, andbuckled on the belt containing ammunition for it. He twisted hissix-shooter round in front of him, and worked his knife up and down inits sheath. Then he strode out, going slowly down to the scout fire.
The day was warm; the white-hot sun cut traceries of the cottonwoodtrees on the ground. A little curl of blue smoke rose straight upwardfrom the fire, and in a wide ring of little groups sat or lounged thescouts. They seemingly paid no attention to the approach of Ermine, butone could not determine this; the fierce Western sun closes the eyelidsin a perpetual squint, and leaves the beady eyes a chance to roveunobserved at a short distance.
Ermine came over and walked into the circle, stopping in front of thefire, thus facing the young Indian to whom he had used the harsh words.There was no sound except the rumble of a far-off government mule teamand the lazy buzz of flies. He deliberately rolled a cigarette. Havingdone this to his satisfaction, he stooped down holding it against thecoals, and it was ages before it caught fire. Then he put it to hislips, blew a cloud of smoke in the direction of his foe, and spoke inAbsaroke.
"Well, I am here."
The silence continued; the Indian looked at him with a dull steadystare, but did nothing; finally Ermine withdrew. He understood; theIndian did not consider the time or opportunity propitious, but thescout did not flatter himself that such a time or place would nevercome. That was the one characteristic of an Indian of which a man couldbe certain.