CHAPTER XIX
FLIGHT
Ermine understood the "talking wire,"--the telegraph had been made plainto him,--and he knew the soldiers were stretching one into the west. Hesheered away from the white man's medicine, going up a creek where onlythe silent waters swirling about his horse's legs could know the storyof his ride, which secret they would carry to the eternal sea.
The gallant pony's blood was rich from the grain-sacks; he had carried arider in the strain of many war-trails, and his heart had not yetfailed. In the prime of life, he was now asked to do the long, quickdistance that should lose the white man; those mighty people who boughtthe help of mercenary men; whose inexhaustible food came in theeverlasting wagons; and who spoke to each other twenty sleeps apart. Hisrider had violated their laws, and they would have him. Only the ponycould save.
Having walked the bed of the creek as far as he deemed necessary, Erminebacked his pony out of the stream into some low bushes, where he turnedhim about and rode away. All day over the yellow plains and through thedefiles of the hills loped the fugitive. Once having seen buffalo comingin his direction, he travelled for miles along a buffalo path which hejudged they would follow. If by fortune they did, he knew it would makethe scouts who came after rub their eyes and smoke many pipes inembarrassment. Not entirely satisfied with his precautions,--for hethought the Indians would cast ahead when checked,--he continued to urgethe pony steadily forward. The long miles which lay before his pursuerswould make their hearts weak and their ponies' forelegs wobble.
He reflected that since he was indeed going to join Mr. Harding's partyat the secret place in Gap-full-of-arrow-holes,[15] why would notLewis's scouts follow the easy trail made by their ponies and trust tofinding him with them; and again, would the Englishman want his companyunder his altered status? This he answered by saying that no horse inthe cantonment could eat up the ground with his war-pony; and as for theEnglishman, he could not know of the late tragedy unless the accusedchose to tell him. What of his word? Why was he keeping it? With a quickbullet from his rifle had gone his honor, along with other things morematerial. Still, the Gap lay in his way, so he could stop withoutinconvenience, at least long enough for a cup of coffee and sometobacco. The suddenness of his departure had left him no time to gatherthe most simple necessities, and he was living by his gun. Only once didhe see Indians far away in the shimmer of the plains. He had droppedinto the dry washes and sneaked away. They might be Crows, but thearrows of doubt made sad surgery in his poor brain; the spell of thewhite man's vengeance was over him. Their arms were long, their pursesheavy; they could turn the world against him. From their stronglog-towns they would conjure his undoing by the devious methods whichhis experience with them had taught him to dread. The strain of histhoughts made his head ache as he cast up the events which had forcedhim to this wolfing through the lonely desert. He had wanted to marry apretty girl whose eyes had challenged him to come on, and when he hadventured them, like a mountain storm the whole cantonment rattled abouthis head and shot its bolts to kill. As the girl had fled his presenceat the mere extension of his hand, in swift response to her emotions thewhole combination of white humanity was hard on the heels of his flyingpony.
[15] Pryor Gap.
* * * * *
From the summit of the red cliffs Ermine looked down into the secretvalley of his quest, and sitting there beside a huge boulder he studiedthe rendezvous. There were Ramon's pack-ponies--he remembered them all.There curled the smoke from the tangle of brushwood in the bottom, andfinally Wolf-Voice and Ramon came out to gather in the horses for thenight. He rode down toward them. Their quick ears caught the sound ofthe rattle of the stones loosened by his mount, and they stopped. Hewaved his hat, and they recognized him. He came up and dismounted fromhis drooping horse, stiff-hided with lather and dust, hollow-flanked,and with his belly drawn up as tight as the head of a tom-tom.
"Are you alone in the camp? Has no one been here?"
"No; what for waas any one been here?" asked and answered thehalf-breed. "De King George Man,[16] she waas set by dose fire an' waasask me 'bout once a minit when waas Ermine come."
[16] Any person who belonged to the Queen.
The men drove the horses in while Ermine made his way through the brushto the camp-fire.
"A-ha! Glad to see you, Mr. Ermine. Gad! but you must have put yourhorse through. He is barely holding together in the middle. Picket himout, and we will soon have some coffee going."
Ermine did as directed and was soon squatting before the fire with hiscup and plate. To the hail of questions he made brief response, whichHarding attributed to fatigue and the inclination of these half-wild mennot to mix discourse with the more serious matter of eating.
"How did you leave every one at the camp?"
Ermine borrowed a pipe and interspersed his answers with puffs.
"Left them in the night--and they were all sitting up to see me off. Mypony is weak, Mr. Harding. Will you give me a fresh one in the morning?We ought to start before daylight and make a long day of it."
"My dear man, before daylight? Are we in such haste? It seems that wehave time enough before us."
"This is a bad country here. Indians of all tribes are coming and going.We are better off back in the range. In two or three sleeps we will bewhere we can lie on the robe, but not here;" saying which, Ermine rolledup in his saddle blanket, and perforce the others did likewise, in viewof the short hours in store.
The last rasping, straining pack-rope had been laid while yet theghostly light played softly with the obscurity of the morning. Theponies were forced forward, crashing through the bushes, floundering inthe creek, cheered on by hoarse oaths, all strange to the ear ofHarding. The sedate progression of other days was changed to afox-trot--riding-whips and trail-ropes slapping about the close-huggedtails of the horses.
Harding congratulated himself on the unexpected energy of his guide; itwould produce results later when wanted in the hunting. The poniesstrung out ahead to escape the persecution of the lash, but Wolf-Voicesaw something new in it all, and as he rode, his fierce little eyesgleamed steadily on Ermine. The half-breed knew the value of time whenhe was pushing the horses of the enemy away from their lodges, but thesehorses had no other masters. He turned his pony alongside of Ermine's.
"Say, John, what for you waas keep look behin'? Who you 'fraid follardese pony? Ain't dose Canada-man pay for dese pony--sacre, what you wasdo back de camp dare? De Sioux, she broke hout?" And the half-breed'smischievous eye settled well on his _confrere_.
"Well, I did that back there which will make the high hills safer for methan any other place. Don't say anything to Mr. Harding until I feelsafe. I want to think."
"You waas shoot some one, mabeso?"
"Yes--that ---- ---- Butler. He said he would force me to give up thepaper we found in the moonlight on the soldier trail down theYellowstone a year ago. He pulled his pistol, and I shot him."
"You kiell heem--hey?"
"No, caught him in the arm, but it will not kill him. I may go back anddo that--when the soldiers forget a little."
"Den you waas run away--hey?"
"Yes; I made the grass smoke from Tongue River to here. I don't thinkthey can follow me, but they may follow this party. That's why I lookbehind, Wolf-Voice, and that's why I want you to look behind."
"What for you waas come to de King George Man, anyhow?"
"I wanted coffee and tobacco and a fresh pony and more cartridges, andit will be many moons before John Ermine will dare look in a trader'sstore. If the white men come, I will soon leave you; and if I do, youmust stay and guide Mr. Harding. He is a good man and does what is rightby us."
"Ah!" hissed the half-breed, "old Broken-Shoe and White-Robe, she ain'let dose Engun follar you. You 'spose dey let dose Crow tak deack-kisr-attah[17] to Crooked-Bear's boy? Humph, dey 'fraid of heesmedecin'."
[17] Soldiers.
"Well, they will pile the blankets as high as a horse's ba
ck, and say tothe Shoshone, 'Go get the yellow-hair, and these are your blankets.'What then?"
"Ugh! ugh!--a-nah," grunted the half-breed; "de ---- ---- Shoshone, wewill leek de pony--come--come!"
The energy of the march, the whacking ropes, and scampering horsespassed from satisfaction to downright distress in Mr. Harding's mind. Hepleaded for more deliberation, but it went unheeded. The sun had gonebehind the hard blue of the main range before they camped, and the goodnature of the Englishman departed with it.
"Why is it necessary to break our cattle down by this tremendousscampering? It does not appeal to my sense of the situation."
"Wael, meester, wan more sun we waas en de hiell--den we have longsmoke; all you waas do waas sit down smoke your pipe--get up--kiell dosegrizzly bear--den sit down some more."
RAMON.]
But this observation of the half-breed's was offset by Ramon, who wascleaning a frying-pan with a piece of bread, and screwing his eyes intothose of Wolf-Voice. The matter was not clear to him. "What good cancome of running the legs off the ponies? Why can't we sit down here andsmoke?"
"You waas trader--you waas spend all de morning pack de pony--spend allthe afternoon unpack heem--a man see your night fire from stan whereyou waas cook your breakfast--bah!" returned Wolf-Voice.
This exasperated Ramon, who vociferated, "When I see men run the ponydat way, I was wander why dey run dem." Wolf-Voice betook himself tothat ominous silence which, with Indians, follows the knife.
Ermine was lame in the big white camp, but out here in the desert hewalked ahead; so, without looking up, he removed his pipe, and said inhis usual unemotional manner, "Shut up!" The command registered like agong.
Wolf-Voice sat down and smoked. When men smoke they are doing nothingworse than thinking. The cook ceased doing the work he was paid for, andalso smoked. Every one else smoked, and all watched the greatest thinkerthat the world has ever known--the Fire.
The first man to break the silence was the Englishman. Whether in afrock coat, or a more simple garment, the Englishman has for the lastfew centuries been able to think quicker, larger, and more to thepurpose in hours of bewilderment, than any other kind of man. Heunderstood that his big purpose was lost in this "battle of the kitesand crows." The oak should not wither because one bird robbed another'snest. As a world-wide sportsman he had seen many yellow fellows shinetheir lethal weapons to the discomfiture of his plans; and he knew thatin Ermine he had an unterrified adversary to deal with. He talkedkindly from behind his pipe. "Of course, Ermine, I am willing to do whatis proper under any and all circumstances, and we will continue thisvigorous travel if you can make the necessity of it plain to me.Frankly, I do not understand why we are doing it, and I ask you to tellme."
Ermine continued to smoke for a time, and having made his mind up heremoved his pipe and said slowly: "Mr. Harding, I shot Butler, and thesoldiers are after me. I have to go fast--you don't--that's all."
The gentleman addressed opened wide eyes on his guide and asked in lowamazement, "D---- me--did you? Did you kill him?"
"No," replied Ermine.
Rising from his seat, Mr. Harding took the scout to one side, out ofreach of other ears, and made him tell the story of the affair, withmost of the girl left out.
"Why did you not give him the photograph?"
"Because he said he would make me give it and drew his pistol, and whatis more, I am going back to kill the man Butler--after a while. We mustgo fast to-morrow, then I will be where I am safe, for a time at least."
All this gave Harding a sleepless night. He had neither the power northe inclination to arrest the scout. He did not see how the continuanceof his hunt would interfere with final justice; and he hoped to calmthe mood and stay the murderous hand of the enraged man. So inhalf-bewilderment, on the morrow, that staid traveller found himselfgalloping away from the arms of the law, in a company of long-hairedvagabonds; and at intervals it made him smile. This was one of thosetimes when he wished his friends at home could have a look at him.
"Say, Wolf-Voice," said he, "Ermine says he is going back to killLieutenant Butler sometime later."
"He says dat--hey?"
"Yes, he says that."
"Wiell den--she wiell do eet--var much, 'fraid--what for she wan kielldose man Butler? She already waas shoot heem en the harm."
"I think Ermine is jealous," ventured Harding.
"What you call jealous?" queried the half-breed.
"Ermine wants Butler's girl and cannot get her; that is the trouble."
"Anah-a! a bag of a squaw, ees eet?" and Wolf-Voice ran out to head apack-horse into the line of flight. Coming back he continued: "Say,Meester Harding, dese woman he ver often mak' man wan' kiell some ozerman. I have done dose ting."
"Whew!" said Harding, in amazement, but he caught himself. "But,Wolf-Voice, we do not want our friend Ermine to do it, and I want you topromise me you will help me to keep him from doing it."
"'Spose I say, 'Ermine, you no kiell Meester Butler'--he teel me to goto hell, mabeso--what den?"
"Oh, he may calm down later."
"Na--Engun she no forget," cautioned the half-breed.
"But Ermine is not an Indian."
"Na, but she all de same Engun," which was true so far as that worthycould see.
"If we do not stop him from killing Butler, he will hang or be shot forit, sooner or later, and that is certain," said Harding.
"Yees--yees; deese white man have funny way when one man kiell 'nozer.Ermine ees brave man--he eese see red, an' he wiell try eet eef he dohang. No one eese able for stop heem but deese Crooked-Bear," observedthe half-breed.
"Is Crooked-Bear an Indian chief?"
"Na; she ain' Enjun, she ain' white man; she come out of the groun'.Hees head eet waas so big an' strong eet were break hees back for tocarry eet."
"Where does this person live?" ventured Harding.
"Where she eese lieve, ah?--where Ermine an' his pony can find heem,"was the vague reply. "You no wan' Ermine for kiell deese Butler; weelden, you say, 'Ermine, you go see Crooked-Bear--you talk wid heem.' Iweel take you where you wan' go een de montaign for get de grizzlybear."
"I suppose that is the only solution, and I suppose it is my duty to doit, though the thing plays havoc with my arrangements."
Later the trail steepened and wound its tortuous way round the pine andboulders, the ponies grunting under their burdens as they slowly pushedtheir toilsome way upwards. When Ermine turned here to look back hecould see a long day's march on the trail, and he no longer worriedconcerning any pursuit which might have been in progress. They foundtheir beds early, all being exhausted by the long day's march,particularly the fugitive scout.
On the following morning, Harding suggested that he and Ermine begin thehunting, since fresh meat was needed in camp; so they started. In twohours they had an elk down and were butchering him. The antlers were inthe velvet and not to the head-hunter's purpose. Making up their packageof meat and hanging the rest out of the way of prowling animals, to waita pack-horse, they sat down to smoke.
"Are you still intending to kill Mr. Butler?" ventured Harding.
"Yes, when you are through hunting, I shall begin--begin to huntButler."
"You will find your hunting very dangerous, Ermine," ventured Harding.
"It does not matter; he has got the girl, and he may have my life or Ishall have his."
"But you cannot have the girl. Certainly after killing Butler the younglady will not come to you. Do you think she would marry you? Do youdream you are her choice?"
"No, the girl would not marry me; I have forgotten her," mused Ermine,as he patiently lied to himself.
"Does this maiden wish to marry Butler?" asked Harding, who nowrecalled garrison gossip to the effect that all things pointed that way.
"She does."
"Then why do you kill the man she loves?"
"Because I do not want to think he is alive."
The wide vacancy of the scout's blue eyes, together with
the lowdeliberation in his peaceful voice, was somewhat appalling to Harding.He never had thought of a murderer in this guise, and he labored withhimself to believe it was only a love-sickness of rather alarmingintenseness; but there was something about the young man which gave thisidea pause. His desperation in battle, his Indian bringing-up, made itall extremely possible, and he searched in vain for any restrainingforces. So for a long time they sat by the dead elk, and Harding sortedand picked out all the possible reasons he could conjure as to whyErmine should not kill Butler, until it began to dawn upon him that hewas not replying to his arguments at all, but simply reiterating his ownintentions despite them. He then recalled cases in England where fistshad been the arguments under a rude lover's code; only out here theargument was more vital, more insistent, and the final effect left thelady but one choice should she care to interest herself in the affair.
Resuming his talk, Harding suggested that his guide go to his ownfriends, who might advise him more potently than he was able, and endedby asking pointedly, "You have friends, I presume?"
"I have one friend," answered the youth, sullenly.
"Who is he?"
"Crooked-Bear," came the reply.
"Crooked-Bear is your friend; then you must listen to him; what headvises will probably be the thing to do."
"Of course I will listen to him. He is the only person in the world Icare for now. I have often heard him talking to himself, and I think hehas known a woman whom he cannot forget," spoke Ermine. "He will notwant me to seek my enemy's life. I have talked too much, Mr. Harding.Talk weakens a man's heart. I will make no more talk."
"Well, then, my man, go to your friend; I can do nothing more," andHarding arose. They tied their meat on the saddles, mounted, and soughttheir camp. On the following morning Ermine had gone.