THE GENERAL'S BLUFF
The troops this day had gone into winter-quarters, and sat down to killthe idle time with pleasure until spring. After two hundred and fortydays it is a good thing to sit down. The season had been spent intrailing, and sometimes catching, small bands of Indians. These hadtaken the habit of relieving settlers of their cattle and the tops oftheir heads. The weather-beaten troops had scouted over some twothousand aimless, veering miles, for the savages were fleet and mostlyinvisible, and knew the desert well. So, while the year turned, and theheat came, held sway, and went, the ragged troopers on the frontier wereled an endless chase by the hostiles, who took them back and forth overflats of lime and ridges of slate, occasionally picking off a packer ora couple of privates, until now the sun was setting at 4.28 and it frozeat any time of day. Therefore the rest of the packers and privates wereglad to march into Boise Barracks this morning by eleven, and see astove.
They rolled for a moment on their bunks to get the feel of a bunk againafter two hundred and forty days; they ate their dinner at a table;those who owned any further baggage than that which partially coveredtheir nakedness unpacked it, perhaps nailed up a photograph or two, andfound it grateful to sit and do nothing under a roof and listen to thegrated snow whip the windows of the gray sandstone quarters. Suchcomfort, and the prospect of more ahead, of weeks of nothing but postduty and staying in the same place, obliterated Dry Camp, Cow CreekLake, the blizzard on Meacham's Hill, the horse-killing in the John DayValley, Saw-Tooth stampede, and all the recent evils of the past; thequarters hummed with cheerfulness. The nearest railroad was some fourhundred miles to the southeast, slowly constructing to meet the nextnearest, which was some nine hundred to the southeast; but Boise Citywas only three-quarters of a mile away, the largest town in theTerritory, the capital, not a temperance town, a winter resort; andseveral hundred people lived in it, men and women, few of whom ever diedin their beds. The coming days and nights were a luxury to think of.
"Blamed if there ain't a real tree!" exclaimed Private Jones.
"Thet eer ain't no tree, ye plum; thet's the flag-pole 'n' th' Merrickinflag," observed a civilian. His name was Jack Long, and he waspack-master.
Sergeant Keyser, listening, smiled. During the winter of '64-65 he hadbeen in command of the first battalion of his regiment, but, on a theoryof education, had enlisted after the war. This being known, held the menmore shy of him than was his desire.
Jones continued to pick his banjo, while a boyish trooper with toughblack hair sat near him and kept time with his heels. "It's acottonwood-tree I was speakin' of," observed Jones. There was one--alittle, shivering white stalk. It stood above the flat where thebarracks were, on a bench twenty or thirty feet higher, on which werebuilt the officers' quarters. The air was getting dim with the fine,hard snow that slanted through it. The thermometer was ten above outthere. At the mere sight and thought Mr. Long produced a flat bottle,warm from proximity to his flesh. Jones swallowed some drink, and lookedat the little tree. "Snakes! but it feels good," said he, "to getsomething inside y'u and be inside yerself. What's the tax at Mike'sdance-house now?"
"Dance 'n' drinks fer two fer one dollar," responded Mr. Long,accurately. He was sixty, but that made no difference.
"You and me'll take that in, Jock," said Jones to his friend, theblack-haired boy. "'Sigh no more, ladies,'" he continued, singing. "Theblamed banjo won't accompany that," he remarked, and looked out again atthe tree. "There's a chap riding into the post now. Shabby-lookin'.Mebbe he's got stuff to sell."
Jack Long looked up on the bench at a rusty figure moving slowly throughthe storm. "Th' ole man!" he said.
"He ain't specially old," Jones answered. "They're apt to be older, thempeddlers."
"Peddlers! Oh, ye-es." A seizure of very remarkable coughing took JackLong by the throat; but he really had a cough, and, on the fit's leavinghim, swallowed a drink, and offered his bottle in a manner so cold andusual that Jones forgot to note anything but the excellence of thewhiskey. Mr. Long winked at Sergeant Keyser; he thought it a good plannot to inform his young friends, not just yet at any rate, that theirpeddler was General Crook. It would be pleasant to hear what else theymight have to say.
The General had reached Boise City that morning by the stage, quietlyand unknown, as was his way. He had come to hunt Indians in the districtof the Owyhee. Jack Long had discovered this, but only a few had beentold the news, for the General wished to ask questions and receiveanswers, and to find out about all things; and he had noticed that thisis not easy when too many people know who you are. He had called upon afriend or two in Boise, walked about unnoticed, learned a number offacts, and now, true to his habit, entered the post wearing no uniform,none being necessary under the circumstances, and unattended by a singleorderly. Jones and the black-haired Cumnor hoped he was a peddler, andinnocently sat looking out of the window at him riding along the benchin front of the quarters, and occasionally slouching his wide, darkhat-brim against the stinging of the hard flakes. Jack Long, old andmuch experienced with the army, had scouted with Crook before, and knewhim and his ways well. He also looked out of the window, standing behindJones and Cumnor, with a huge hairy hand on a shoulder of each, and ahuge wink again at Keyser.
"Blamed if he 'ain't stopped in front of the commanding officer's," saidJones.
"Lor'!" said Mr. Long, "there's jest nothin' them peddlers won't do."
"They ain't likely to buy anything off him in there," said Cumnor.
"Mwell, ef he's purvided with any _kind_ o' Injun cur'os'tees, themissis she'll fly right on to 'em. Sh' 'ain't been merried out yere onlyhaff'n year, 'n' when she spies feathers 'n' bead truck 'n' buckskin fersale sh' hollers like a son of a gun. Enthoosiastic, ye know."
"He 'ain't got much of a pack," Jones commented, and at that moment"stables" sounded, and the men ran out to form and march to theirgrooming. Jack Long stood at the door and watched them file through thesnow.
Very few enlisted men of the small command that had come in this morningfrom its campaign had ever seen General Crook. Jones, though not new tothe frontier, had not been long in the army. He and Cumnor had enlistedin a happy-go-lucky manner together at Grant, in Arizona, when theGeneral was elsewhere. Discipline was galling to his vagrant spirit, andafter each pay-day he had generally slept off the effects in theguard-house, going there for other offences between-whiles; but he wasnot of the stuff that deserts; also, he was excellent tempered, and hiscaptain liked him for the way in which he could shoot Indians. Jack Longliked him too; and getting always a harmless pleasure from the mistakesof his friends, sincerely trusted there might be more about the peddler.He was startled at hearing his name spoken in his ear.
"_Nah!_ Johnny, how you get on?"
"Hello, Sarah! Kla-how-ya, six?" said Long, greeting in Chinook thesquaw interpreter who had approached him so noiselessly. "Hy-as klosheo-coke sun" (It is a beautiful day).
The interpreter laughed--she had a broad, sweet, coarse face, andlaughed easily--and said in English, "You hear about E-egante?"
Long had heard nothing recently of this Pah-Ute chieftain.
"He heap bad," continued Sarah, laughing broadly. "Come round ranch uphere--"
"Anybody killed?" Long interrupted.
"No. All run away quick. Meester Dailey, he old man, he run all sameyoung one. His old woman she run all same man. Get horse. Run awayquick. Hu-hu!" and Sarah's rich mockery sounded again. No tragedy hadhappened this time, and the squaw narrated her story greatly to therelish of Mr. Long. This veteran of trails and mines had seen too muchof life's bleakness not to cherish whatever of mirth his days mightbring.
"Didn't burn the house?" he said.
"Not burn. Just make heap mess. Cut up feather-bed hy-as ten-as (verysmall) and eat big dinner, hu-hu! Sugar, onions, meat, eat all. Thenthey find litt' cats walkin' round there."
"Lor'!" said Mr. Long, deeply interested, "they didn't eat _them_?"
"No. Not eat litt' cats. Put 'em two--man-cat and woman-c
at--inmolasses; put 'em in feather-bed; all same bird. Then they hunt forwhiskey, break everything, hunt all over, ha-lo whiskey!" Sarah shookher head. "Meester Dailey he good man. Hy-iu temperance. Drink water.They find his medicine; drink all up; make awful sick."
"I guess 'twar th' ole man's liniment," muttered Jack Long.
"Yas, milinut. They can't walk. Stay there long time, then MeesterDailey come back with friends. They think Injuns all gone; make noise,and E-egante he hear him come, and he not very sick. Run away. Some morerun. But two Injuns heap sick; can't run. Meester Dailey he come roundthe corner; see awful mess everywhere; see two litt' cats sittin' indoor all same bird, sing very loud. Then he see two Injuns on ground.They dead now."
"Mwell," said Long, "none of eer'll do. We'll hev to ketch E-egante."
"A--h!" drawled Sarah the squaw, in musical derision. "Maybe no catchhim. All same jack rabbit."
"Jest ye wait, Sarah; Gray Fox hez come."
"Gen'l Crook!" said the squaw. "He come! Ho! He heap savvy." Shestopped, and laughed again, like a pleased child. "Maybe no catchE-egante," she added, rolling her pretty brown eyes at Jack Long.
"You know E-egante?" he demanded.
"Yas, one time. Long time now. I litt' girl then." But Sarah rememberedthat long time, when she slept in a tent and had not been captured andput to school. And she remembered the tall young boys whom she used towatch shoot arrows, and the tallest, who shot most truly--at least, hecertainly did now in her imagination. He had never spoken to her orlooked at her. He was a boy of fourteen and she a girl of eight. Now shewas twenty-five. Also she was tame and domesticated, with a whitehusband who was not bad to her, and children for each year of wedlock,who would grow up to speak English better than she could, and her owntongue not at all. And E-egante was not tame, and still lived in a tent.Sarah regarded white people as her friends, but she was proud of beingan Indian, and she liked to think that her race could outwit the soldiernow and then. She laughed again when she thought of old Mrs. Daileyrunning from E-egante.
"What's up with ye, Sarah?" said Jack Long, for the squaw's laughter hadcome suddenly on a spell of silence.
"He!" said she. "All same jack-rabbit. No catch him." She stood shakingher head at Long, and showing her white, regular teeth. Then abruptlyshe went away to her tent without any word, not because she was inill-humor or had thought of something, but because she was an Indian andhad thought of nothing, and had no more to say. She met the menreturning from the stables; admired Jones and smiled at him, upon whichhe murmured "Oh fie!" as he passed her. The troop broke ranks anddispersed, to lounge and gossip until mess-call. Cumnor and Jones wereputting a little snow down each other's necks with friendly profanity,when Jones saw the peddler standing close and watching them. A highcollar of some ragged fur was turned up round his neck, disguising thecharacter of the ancient army overcoat to which it was attached, andspots and long stains extended down the legs of his corduroys to thecharred holes at the bottom, where the owner had scorched them warminghis heels and calves at many camp-fires.
"Hello, uncle," said Jones. "What y'u got in your pack?" He and Cumnorleft their gambols and eagerly approached, while Mr. Jack Long, seeingthe interview, came up also to hear it. "'Ain't y'u got something tosell?" continued Jones. "Y'u haven't gone and dumped yer whole outfit atthe commanding officer's, have y'u now?"
"I'm afraid I have." The low voice shook ever so little, and if Joneshad looked he would have seen a twinkle come and go in the gray-blueeyes.
"We've been out eight months, y'u know, fairly steady," pursued Jones,"and haven't seen nothing; and we'd buy most anything that ain't toodamn bad," he concluded, plaintively.
Mr. Long, in the background, was whining to himself with joy, and he nowurgently beckoned Keyser to come and hear this.
"If you've got some cheap poker chips," suggested Cumnor.
"And say, uncle," said Jones, raising his voice, for the peddler wasmoving away, "decks, and tobacco better than what they keep at thecommissary. Me and my friend'll take some off your hands. And if you'recomin' with new stock to-morrow, uncle" (Jones was now shouting afterhim), "why, we're single men, and y'u might fetch along a couple ofsquaws!"
"Holy smoke!" screeched Mr. Long, dancing on one leg.
"What's up with you, y'u ape?" inquired Specimen Jones. He looked at thedeparting peddler and saw Sergeant Keyser meet him and salute withstern, soldierly aspect. Then the peddler shook hands with the sergeant,seemed to speak pleasantly, and again Keyser saluted as he passed on."What's that for?" Jones asked, uneasily. "Who is that hobo?"
But Mr. Long was talking to himself in a highly moralizing strain. "Itain't every young enlisted man," he was saying, "ez hez th' privilege ofexplainin' his wants at headquarters."
"Jones," said Sergeant Keyser, arriving, "I've a compliment for you.General Crook said you were a fine-looking man."
"General?--What's that?--Where did y'u see--What? _Him?_" Thedisgusting truth flashed clear on Jones. Uttering a singledisconcerted syllable of rage, he wheeled and went by himself intothe barracks, and lay down solitary on his bunk and read a newspaperuntil mess-call without taking in a word of it. "If they go to putme in the mill fer that," he said, sulkily, to many friends who broughthim their congratulations, "I'm going to give 'em what I think aboutwearin' disguises."
"'AIN'T Y'U GOT SOMETHING TO SELL?'"]
"What do you think, Specimen?" said one.
"Give it to us now, Specimen," said another.
"Against the law, ain't it, Specimen?"
"Begosh!" said Jack Long, "ef thet's so, don't lose no time warnin' theGeneral, Specimen. Th' ole man'd hate to be arrested."
And Specimen Jones told them all to shut their heads.
But no thought was more distant from General Crook's busy mind thanputting poor Jones in the guard-house. The trooper's willingness, aftereight months hunting Indians, to buy almost anything brought a smile tohis lips, and a certain sympathy in his heart. He knew what those eightmonths had been like; how monotonous, how well endured, how oftendangerous, how invariably plucky, how scant of even the necessities oflife, how barren of glory, and unrewarded by public recognition. TheAmerican "statesman" does not care about our army until it becomesnecessary for his immediate personal protection. General Crook knew allthis well; and realizing that these soldiers, who had come intowinter-quarters this morning at eleven, had earned a holiday, he wassorry to feel obliged to start them out again to-morrow morning at two;for this was what he had decided upon.
He had received orders to drive on the reservation the various smallbands of Indians that were roving through the country of the Snake andits tributaries, a danger to the miners in the Bannock Basin, and tothe various ranches in west Idaho and east Oregon. As usual, he hadbeen given an insufficient force to accomplish this, and, as always, hehad been instructed by the "statesmen" to do it without violence--thatis to say, he must never shoot the poor Indian until after the poorIndian had shot him; he must make him do something he did not want to,pleasantly, by the fascination of argument, in the way a "statesman"would achieve it. The force at the General's disposal was the garrisonat Boise Barracks--one troop of cavalry and one company of infantry. Thelatter was not adapted to the matter in hand--rapid marching andsurprises; all it could be used for was as a reinforcement, and,moreover, somebody must be left at Boise Barracks. The cavalry had hadits full dose of scouting and skirmishing and long exposed marches, thehorses were poor, and nobody had any trousers to speak of. Also, thetroop was greatly depleted; it numbered forty men. Forty had deserted,and three--a sergeant and three privates--had cooked and eaten avegetable they had been glad to dig up one day, and had spent theensuing forty-five minutes in attempting to make their ankles beat thebacks of their heads; after that the captain had read over them asentence beginning, "Man that is born of a woman hath but a short timeto live, and is full of misery"; and after that the camp was referred toas Wild Carrot Camp, because the sergeant had said the vegetable waswild carrot, whereas it had r
eally been wild parsnip, which is quiteanother thing.
General Crook shook his head over what he saw. The men wereill-provided, the commissary and the quartermaster department wereill-provided; but it would have to do; the "statesmen" said our armywas an extravagance. The Indians must be impressed and intimidated bythe unlimited resources which the General had--not. Having come to thisconclusion, he went up to the post commander's, and at supper astonishedthat officer by casual remarks which revealed a knowledge of thesurrounding country, the small streams, the best camps for pasture,spots to avoid on account of bad water, what mules had sore backs, andmany other things that the post commander would have liked dearly to askthe General where and when he had learned, only he did not dare. He didnot even venture to ask him what he was going to do. Neither did CaptainGlynn, who had been asked to meet the General. The General soon toldthem, however. "It may be a little cold," he concluded.
"To-morrow, sir?" This from Captain Glynn. He had come in with the fortythat morning. He had been enjoying his supper very much.
"I think so," said the General. "This E-egante is likely to make troubleif he is not checked." Then, understanding the thoughts of CaptainGlynn, he added, with an invisible smile, "_You_ need no preparations.You're in marching order. It's not as if your men had been here a longtime and had to get ready for a start."
"Oh no," said Glynn, "it isn't like that." He was silent. "I think, ifyou'll excuse me, General," he said next, "I'll see my sergeant and givesome orders."
"Certainly. And, Captain Glynn, I took the liberty of giving a fewdirections myself. We'll take an A tent, you know, for you and me. I seeKeyser is sergeant in F troop. Glad we have a non-commissioned officerso competent. Haven't seen him since '64, at Winchester. Why, it'scleared off, I declare!"
It had, and the General looked out of the open door as Captain Glynn,departing, was pulling at his cigar. "How beautiful the planets are!"exclaimed Crook. "Look at Jupiter--there, just to the left of thatlittle cottonwood-tree. Haven't you often noticed how much finer thestars shine in this atmosphere than in the East? Oh, captain! I forgotto speak of extra horseshoes. I want some brought along."
"I'll attend to it, General."
"They shouldn't be too large. These California fourteen-and-a-halfhorses have smallish hoofs."
"I'll see the blacksmith myself, General."
"Thank you. Good-night. And just order fresh stuffing put into theaparejos. I noticed three that had got lumpy." And the General shut thedoor and went to wipe out the immaculate barrels of his shot-gun; forbesides Indians there were grouse among the hills where he expected togo.
Captain Glynn, arriving at his own door, stuck his glowing cigar againstthe thermometer hanging outside: twenty-three below zero. "Oh Lord!"said the captain, briefly. He went in and told his striker to getSergeant Keyser. Then he sat down and waited. "'Look at Jupiter!'" hemuttered, angrily. "What an awful old man!"
It was rather awful. The captain had not supposed generals in the firsttwo hours of their arrival at a post to be in the habit of finding outmore about your aparejos than you knew yourself. But old the General wasnot. At the present day many captains are older than Crook was then.
Down at the barracks there was the same curiosity about what the "OldMan" was going to do as existed at the post commander's during the earlypart of supper. It pleased the cavalry to tell the infantry that theOld Man proposed to take the infantry to the Columbia River next week;and the infantry replied to the cavalry that they were quite right as tothe river and the week, and it was hard luck the General needed onlymounted troops on this trip. Others had heard he had come to superintendthe building of a line of telegraph to Klamath, which would be a goodwinter's job for somebody; but nobody supposed that anything wouldhappen yet awhile.
And then a man came in and told them the General had sent his boots tothe saddler to have nails hammered in the soles.
"That eer means business," said Jack Long, "'n' I guess I'll nail up meeown cowhides."
"Jock," said Specimen Jones to Cumnor, "you and me 'ain't got any solesto ourn because they're contract boots, y'u see. I'll nail up yer feetif y'u say so. It's liable to be slippery."
Cumnor did not take in the situation at once. "What's your hurry?" heinquired of Jack Long. Therefore it was explained to him that whenGeneral Crook ordered his boots fixed you might expect to be on the roadshortly. Cumnor swore some resigned, unemphatic oaths, fondly supposingthat "shortly" meant some time or other; but hearing in the next fiveminutes the definite fact that F troop would get up at two, he made useof profound and thorough language, and compared the soldier with theslave.
"Why, y'u talk almost like a man, Jock," said Specimen Jones. "Blamed ify'u don't sound pretty near growed up."
Cumnor invited Jones to mind his business.
"Yer muss-tache has come since Arizona," continued Jones, admiringly,"and yer blue eye is bad-lookin'--worse than when we shot at yer heelsand y'u danced fer us."
"I thought they were going to give us a rest," mumbled the youth,flushing. "I thought we'd be let stay here a spell."
"I thought so too, Jock. A little monotony would be fine variety. But aman must take his medicine, y'u know, and not squeal." Jones had loweredhis voice, and now spoke without satire to the boy whom he had in acurious manner taken under his protection.
"Look at what they give us for a blanket to sleep in," said Cumnor. "Afellow can see to read the newspaper through it."
"Look at my coat, Cumnor." It was Sergeant Keyser showing the articlefurnished the soldier by the government. "You can spit through that." Hehad overheard their talk, and stepped up to show that all were in thesame box. At his presence reticence fell upon the privates, and Cumnorhauled his black felt hat down tight in embarrassment, which strainsplit it open half-way round his head. It was another sample ofregulation clothing, and they laughed at it.
"We all know the way it is," said Keyser, "and I've seen it a big sightworse. Cumnor, I've a cap I guess will keep your scalp warm till we getback."
And so at two in the morning F troop left the bunks it had expectedto sleep in for some undisturbed weeks, and by four o'clock had eatenits well-known breakfast of bacon and bad coffee, and was followingthe "awful old man" down the north bank of the Boise, leaving thesilent, dead, wooden town of shanties on the other side half a milebehind in the darkness. The mountains south stood distant, ignoble,plain-featured heights, looming a clean-cut black beneath the piercingstars and the slice of hard, sharp-edged moon, and the surroundingplains of sage and dry-cracking weed slanted up and down to nowhere andnothing with desolate perpetuity. The snowfall was light and dry assand, and the bare ground jutted through it at every sudden lump orknoll. The column moved through the dead polar silence, scarcelybreaking it. Now and then a hoof rang on a stone, here and there abridle or a sabre clinked lightly; but it was too cold and early fortalking, and the only steady sound was the flat, can-like tankle of thesquare bell that hung on the neck of the long-eared leader of thepack-train. They passed the Dailey ranch, and saw the kittens and theliniment-bottle, but could get no information as to what way E-egantehad gone. The General did not care for that, however; he had devised hisown route for the present, after a talk with the Indian guides. At thesecond dismounting during march he had word sent back to the pack-trainnot to fall behind, and the bell was to be taken off if the rest of themules would follow without the sound of its shallow music. No wind movedthe weeds or shook the stiff grass, and the rising sun glittered pink onthe patched and motley-shirted men as they blew on their red hands orbeat them against their legs. Some were lucky enough to have woollen orfur gloves, but many had only the white cotton affairs furnished by thegovernment. Sarah the squaw laughed at them: the interpreter was warm asshe rode in her bright green shawl. While the dismounted troopersstretched their limbs during the halt, she remained on her pony talkingto one and another.
"Gray Fox heap savvy," said she to Mr. Long. "He heap get up in themornin'."
"Thet's what he do
es, Sarah."
"Yas. No give soldier hy-as Sunday" (a holiday).
"No, no," assented Mr. Long. "Gray Fox go teh-teh" (trot).
"Maybe he catch E-egante, maybe put him in skookum-house (prison)?"suggested Sarah.
"Oh no! Lor'! E-egante good Injun. White Father he feed him. Give himheap clothes," said Mr. Long.
"A--h!" drawled Sarah, dubiously, and rode by herself.
"You'll need watchin'," muttered Jack Long.
The trumpet sounded, the troopers swung into their saddles, and the lineof march was taken up as before, Crook at the head of the column, hisragged fur collar turned up, his corduroys stuffed inside a wrinkledpair of boots, the shot-gun balanced across his saddle, and nothing toreveal that he was any one in particular, unless you saw his face. Asthe morning grew bright, and empty, silent Idaho glistened under theclear blue, the General talked a little to Captain Glynn.
"E-egante will have crossed Snake River, I think," said he. "I shall tryto do that to-day; but we must be easy on those horses of yours. Weought to be able to find these Indians in three days."
"If I were a lusty young chief," said Glynn, "I should think it prettytough to be put on a reservation for dipping a couple of kittens in themolasses."
"So should I, captain. But next time he might dip Mrs. Dailey. And I'mnot sure he didn't have a hand in more serious work. Didn't you runacross his tracks anywhere this summer?"
"No, sir. He was over on the Des Chutes."
"Did you hear what he was doing?"
"Having rows about fish and game with those Warm Spring Indians on thewest side of the Des Chutes."
"They're always poaching on each other. There's bad blood betweenE-egante and Uma-Pine."
"Uma-Pine's friendly, sir, isn't he?"
"Well, that's a question," said Crook. "But there's no question aboutthis E-egante and his Pah-Utes. We've got to catch him. I'm sorry forhim. He doesn't see why he shouldn't hunt anywhere as his fathers did. Ishouldn't see that either."
"How strong is this band reported, sir?"
"I've heard nothing I can set reliance upon," said Crook, instinctivelylevelling his shot-gun at a big bird that rose; then he replaced thepiece across his saddle and was silent. Now Captain Glynn had heardthere were three hundred Indians with E-egante, which was a largernumber than he had been in the habit of attacking with forty men. But hefelt discreet about volunteering any information to the General afterlast night's exhibition of what the General knew. Crook partly answeredwhat was in Glynn's mind. "This is the only available force I have,"said he. "We must do what we can with it. You've found out by this time,captain, that rapidity in following Indians up often works well. Theyhave made up their minds--that is, if I know them--that we're going toloaf inside Boise Barracks until the hard weather lets up."
Captain Glynn had thought so too, but he did not mention this, and theGeneral continued. "I find that most people entertained this notion," hesaid, "and I'm glad they did, for it will help my first operations verymaterially."
The captain agreed that there was nothing like a false impression forassisting the efficacy of military movements, and presently the Generalasked him to command a halt. It was high noon, and the sun gleamed onthe brass trumpet as the long note blew. Again the musical strainsounded on the cold, bright stillness, and the double line of twentylegs swung in a simultaneous arc over the horses' backs as the mendismounted.
"We'll noon here," said the General; and while the cook broke the ice onBoise River to fill his kettles, Crook went back to the mules to see howthe sore backs were standing the march. "How d'ye do, Jack Long?" saidhe. "Your stock is travelling pretty well, I see. They're loaded withthirty days' rations, but I trust we're not going to need it all."
"Mwell, General, I don't specially kyeer meself 'bout eatin' the hulloutfit." Mr. Long showed his respect for the General by never swearingin his presence.
"I see you haven't forgotten how to pack," Crook said to him. "Can wemake Snake River to-day, Jack?"
"That'll be forty miles, General. The days are pretty short."
"What are you feeding to the animals?" Crook inquired.
"Why, General, _you_ know jest 's well 's me," said Jack, grinning.
"I suppose I do if you say so, Jack. Ten pounds first ten days, fivepounds next ten, and you're out of grain for the next ten. Is that theway still?"
"Thet's the way, General, on these yere thirty-day affairs."
Through all this small-talk Crook had been inspecting the mules and thehorses on picket-line, and silently forming his conclusion. He nowreturned to Captain Glynn and shared his mess-box.
They made Snake River. Crook knew better than Long what the animalscould do. And next day they crossed, again by starlight, turned for alittle way up the Owyhee, decided that E-egante had not gone that road,trailed up the bluffs and ledges from the Snake Valley on to the barrenheight of land, and made for the Malheur River, finding the eight hoofsof two deer lying in a melted place where a fire had been. Mr. Daileyhad insisted that at least fifty Indians had drunk his liniment andtrifled with his cats. Indeed, at times during his talk with GeneralCrook the old gentleman had been sure there were a hundred. If this weretheir trail which the command had now struck, there may possibly havebeen eight. It was quite evident that the chief had not taken any threehundred warriors upon that visit, if he had that number anywhere. So thecolumn went up the Malheur main stream through the sage-brush and thegray weather (it was still cold, but no sun any more these last twodays), and, coming to the North Fork, turned up towards a spur of themountains and Castle Rock. The water ran smooth black between its edgingof ice, thick, white, and crusted like slabs of cocoanut candy, andthere in the hollow of a bend they came suddenly upon what they sought.
Stems of smoke, faint and blue, spindled up from a blurred acre ofwillow thicket, dense, tall as two men, a netted brown and yellow meshof twigs and stiff wintry rods. Out from the level of their close,nature-woven tops rose at distances the straight, slight bluesmoke-lines, marking each the position of some invisible lodge. Thewhole acre was a bottom ploughed at some former time by a wash-out, andthe troops looked down on it from the edge of the higher ground, silentin the quiet, gray afternoon, the empty sage-brush territory stretchinga short way to fluted hills that were white below and blackened withpines above.
The General, taking a rough chance as he often did, sent ground scoutsforward and ordered a charge instantly, to catch the savages unready;and the stiff rods snapped and tangled between the beating hoofs. Thehorses plunged at the elastic edges of this excellent fortress,sometimes half lifted as a bent willow levered up against their bellies,and the forward-tilting men fended their faces from the whipping twigs.They could not wedge a man's length into that pliant labyrinth, and theGeneral called them out. They rallied among the sage-brush above,Crook's cheeks and many others painted with purple lines of blood,hardened already and cracking like enamel. The baffled troopers glaredat the thicket. Not a sign nor a sound came from in there. The willows,with the gentle tints of winter veiling their misty twigs, looked sereneand even innocent, fitted to harbor birds--not birds of prey--and thequiet smoke threaded upwards through the air. Of course theliniment-drinkers must have heard the noise.
"What do you suppose they're doing?" inquired Glynn.
"Looking at us," said Crook.
"I wish we could return the compliment," said the captain.
Crook pointed. Had any wind been blowing, what the General saw wouldhave been less worth watching. Two willow branches shook, making avanishing ripple on the smooth surface of the tree-tops. The pack-trainwas just coming in sight over the rise, and Crook immediately sent anorderly with some message. More willow branches shivered an instant andwere still; then, while the General and the captain sat on their horsesand watched, the thicket gave up its secret to them; for, as littlelight gusts coming abreast over a lake travel and touch the water, so indifferent spots the level maze of twigs was stirred; and if the eyefastened upon any one of these i
t could have been seen to come out fromthe centre towards the edge, successive twigs moving, as the tops oflong grass tremble and mark the progress of a snake. During a shortwhile this increased greatly, the whole thicket moving with innumerabletracks. Then everything ceased, with the blue wands of smoke risingalways into the quiet afternoon.
"Can you see 'em?" said Glynn.
"Not a bit. Did you happen to hear any one give an estimate of thisband?"
Glynn mentioned his tale of the three hundred.
It was not new to the General, but he remarked now that it must bepretty nearly correct; and his eye turned a moment upon his fortytroopers waiting there, grim and humorous; for they knew that thethicket was looking at them, and it amused their American minds towonder what the Old Man was going to do about it.
"It's his bet, and he holds poor cards," murmured Specimen Jones; andthe neighbors grinned.
And here the Old Man continued the play that he had begun when he sentthe orderly to the pack-train. That part of the command had halted inconsequence, disposed itself in an easy-going way, half in, half out ofsight on the ridge, and men and mules looked entirely careless. Glynnwondered; but no one ever asked the General questions, in spite of hisamiable voice and countenance. He now sent for Sarah the squaw.
"You tell E-egante," he said, "that I am not going to fight with hispeople unless his people make me. I am not going to do them any harm,and I wish to be their friend. The White Father has sent me. AskE-egante if he has heard of Gray Fox. Tell him Gray Fox wishes E-eganteand all his people to be ready to go with him to-morrow at nineo'clock."
And Sarah, standing on the frozen bank, pulled her green shawl closer,and shouted her message faithfully to the willows. Nothing moved orshowed, and Crook, riding up to the squaw, held his hand up as a furthersign to the flag of peace that had been raised already. "Say that I amGray Fox," said he.
On that there was a moving in the bushes farther along, and, goingopposite that place with the squaw, Crook and Glynn saw a narrowentrance across which some few branches reached that were now spreadaside for three figures to stand there.
"E-egante!" said Sarah, eagerly. "See him big man!" she added to Crook,pointing. A tall and splendid buck, gleaming with colors, and rich withfringe and buckskin, watched them. He seemed to look at Sarah, too. She,being ordered, repeated what she had said; but the chief did not answer.
"He is counting our strength," said Glynn.
"He's done that some time ago," said Crook. "Tell E-egante," hecontinued to the squaw, "that I will not send for more soldiers than hesees here. I do not wish anything but peace unless he wishesotherwise."
Sarah's musical voice sounded again from the bank, and E-egante watchedher intently till she was finished. This time he replied at some length.He and his people had not done any harm. He had heard of Gray Fox often.All his people knew Gray Fox was a good man and would not make trouble.There were some flies that stung a man sitting in his house, when he hadnot hurt them. Gray Fox would not hurt any one till their hand wasraised against him first. E-egante and his people had wondered why thehorses made so much noise just now. He and his people would cometo-morrow with Gray Fox.
And then he went inside the thicket again, and the willows looked asinnocent as ever. Crook and the captain rode away.
"My speech was just a little weak coming on top of a charge of cavalry,"the General admitted. "And that fellow put his finger right on theplace. I'll give you my notion, captain. If I had said we had moresoldiers behind the hill, like as not this squaw of ours would have toldhim I lied; she's an uncertain quantity, I find. But I told him theexact truth--that I had no more--and he won't believe it, and that'swhat I want."
So Glynn understood. The pack-train had been halted in a purposelyexposed position, which would look to the Indians as if another forcewas certainly behind it, and every move was now made to give animpression that the forty were only the advance of a large command.Crook pitched his A tent close to the red men's village, and the troopswent into camp regardlessly near. The horses were turned out to grazeostentatiously unprotected, so that the people in the thicket shouldhave every chance to notice how secure the white men felt. The mulespastured comfortably over the shallow snow that crushed as they wanderedamong the sage-bush, and the square bell hung once more from the neck ofthe leader and tankled upon the hill. The shelter-tents littered theflat above the wash-out, and besides the cook-fire others were builtirregularly far down the Malheur North Fork, shedding an extendedglimmer of deceit. It might have been the camp of many hundred. A littleblaze shone comfortably on the canvas of Crook's tent, and SergeantKeyser, being in charge of camp, had adopted the troop cook-fire for hiscamp guard after the cooks had finished their work. The willow thicketbelow grew black and mysterious, and quiet fell on the white camp. Byeight the troopers had gone to bed. Night had come pretty cold, and alittle occasional breeze, that passed like a chill hand laid a moment onthe face, and went down into the willows. Now and again the waterrunning through the ice would lap and gurgle at some air-hole. SergeantKeyser sat by his fire and listened to the lonely bell sounding from thedark. He wished the men would feel more at home with him. With JackLong, satirical, old, and experienced, they were perfectly familiar,because he was a civilian; but to Keyser, because he had been in commandof a battalion, they held the attitude of school-boys to a master--theinstinctive feeling of all privates towards all officers. Jones andCumnor were members of his camp guard. Being just now off post, theystood at the fire, but away from him.
"How do you like this compared with barracks?" the sergeant asked,conversationally.
"It's all right," said Jones.
"Did you think it was all right that first morning? I didn't enjoy itmuch myself. Sit down and get warm, won't you?"
The men came and stood awkwardly. "I 'ain't never found any excitementin getting up early," said Jones, and was silent. A burning log shifted,and the bell sounded in a new place as the leader pastured along. Joneskicked the log into better position. "But this affair's gettin'inter-esting," he added.
"Don't you smoke?" Keyser inquired of Cumnor, and tossed him histobacco-pouch. Presently they were seated, and the conversation goingbetter. Arizona was compared with Idaho. Everybody had gone to bed.
"Arizona's the most outrageous outrage in the United States," declaredJones.
"Why did you stay there six years, then?" said Cumnor.
"Guess I'd been there yet but for you comin' along and us both enlistin'that crazy way. Idaho's better. Only," said Jones, thoughtfully, "comingto an ice-box from a hundred thousand in the shade, it's a wonder a mandon't just split like a glass chimbly."
The willows crackled, and all laid hands on their pistols.
"How! how!" said a strange, propitiating voice.
It was a man on a horse, and directly they recognized E-egante himself.They would have raised an alarm, but he was alone, and plainly notrunning away. Nor had he weapons. He rode into the fire-light, and "How!how!" he repeated, anxiously. He looked and nodded at the three, whoremained seated.
"Good-evening," said the sergeant.
"Christmas is coming," said Jones, amicably.
"How! how!" said E-egante. It was all the English he had. He sat on hishorse, looking at the men, the camp, the cook-fire, the A tent, andbeyond into the surrounding silence. He started when the bell suddenlyjangled near by. The wandering mule had only shifted in towards the campand shaken his head; but the Indian's nerves were evidently on thesharpest strain.
"Sit down!" said Keyser, making signs, and at these E-egante startedsuspiciously.
"Warm here!" Jones called to him, and Cumnor showed his pipe.
The chief edged a thought closer. His intent, brilliant eyes seemedalmost to listen as well as look, and though he sat his horse withheedless grace and security, there was never a figure more ready forvanishing upon the instant. He came a little nearer still, alert andpretty as an inquisitive buck antelope, watching not the three soldiersonly, but everything else at on
ce. He eyed their signs to dismount,looked at their faces, considered, and with the greatest slowness gotoff and came stalking to the fire. He was a fine tall man, and theysmiled and nodded at him, admiring his clean blankets and themagnificence of his buckskin shirt and leggings.
"He's a jim-dandy," said Cumnor.
"You bet the girls think so," said Jones. "He gets his pick. For you'rea fighter too, ain't y'u?" he added, to E-egante.
"How! how!" said that personage, looking at them with grave affabilityfrom the other side of the fire. Reassured presently, he accepted thesergeant's pipe; but even while he smoked and responded to the gestures,the alertness never left his eye, and his tall body gave no sense ofbeing relaxed. And so they all looked at each other across the waningembers, while the old pack-mule moved about at the edge of camp,crushing the crusted snow and pasturing along. After a time E-egantegave a nod, handed the pipe back, and went into his thicket as he hadcome. His visit had told him nothing; perhaps he had never supposed itwould, and came from curiosity. One person had watched this interview.Sarah the squaw sat out in the night, afraid for her ancient hero; butshe was content to look upon his beauty, and go to sleep after he hadtaken himself from her sight. The soldiers went to bed, and Keyser laywondering for a while before he took his nap between his surveillances.The little breeze still passed at times, the running water and the icemade sounds together, and he could hear the wandering bell, now distanton the hill, irregularly punctuating the flight of the dark hours.
By nine next day there was the thicket sure enough, and the fortywaiting for the three hundred to come out of it. Then it became teno'clock, but that was the only difference, unless perhaps Sarah thesquaw grew more restless. The troopers stood ready to be told what todo, joking together in low voices now and then; Crook sat watching Glynnsmoke; and through these stationary people walked Sarah, lookingwistfully at the thicket, and then at the faces of the adopted race sheserved. She hardly knew what was in her own mind. Then it became eleven,and Crook was tired of it, and made the capping move in his bluff. Hegave the orders himself.
"Sergeant."
Keyser saluted.
"You will detail eight men to go with you into the Indian camp. The menare to carry pistols under their overcoats, and no other arms. You willtell the Indians to come out. Repeat what I said to them last night.Make it short. I'll give them ten minutes. If they don't come by then ashot will be fired out here. At that signal you will remain in there andblaze away at the Indians."
So Keyser picked his men.
The thirty-one remaining troopers stopped joking, and watched the squadof nine and the interpreter file down the bank to visit the threehundred. The dingy overcoats and the bright green shawl passed into thethicket, and the General looked at his watch. Along the bend of thestream clear noises tinkled from the water and the ice.
"What are they up to?" whispered a teamster to Jack Long. Long's facewas stern, but the teamster's was chalky and tight drawn. "Say," herepeated, insistently, "what are we going to do?"
"We're to wait," Long whispered back, "till nothin' happens, and thenth' Ole Man'll fire a gun and signal them boys to shoot in there."
"Oh, it's to be waitin'?" said the teamster. He fastened his eyes on thethicket, and his lips grew bloodless. The running river sounded moreplainly. "---- ---- it!" cried the man, desperately, "let's start thefun, then." He whipped out his pistol, and Jack Long had just time toseize him and stop a false signal.
"Why, you must be skeered," said Long. "I've a mind to beat yer skullin."
"Waitin's so awful," whimpered the man. "I wisht I was along with themin there."
Jack gave him back his revolver. "There," said he; "ye're not skeered, Isee. Waitin' ain't nice."
The eight troopers with Keyser were not having anything like sodistasteful a time. "Jock," said Specimen Jones to Cumnor, as theyfollowed the sergeant into the willows and began to come among thelodges and striped savages, "you and me has saw Injuns before, Jock."
"And we'll do it again," said Cumnor.
Keyser looked at his watch: Four minutes gone. "Jones," said he, "youpatrol this path to the right so you can cover that gang there. Theremust be four or five lodges down that way. Cumnor, see that dugout withside-thatch and roofing of tule? You attend to that family. It's a bigone--all brothers." Thus the sergeant disposed his men quietly and quickthrough the labyrinth till they became invisible to each other; and allthe while flights of Indians passed, half seen, among the tangle,fleeting visions of yellow and red through the quiet-colored twigs.Others squatted stoically, doing nothing. A few had guns, but most usedarrows, and had these stacked beside them where they squatted. Keysersingled out a somewhat central figure--Fur Cap was his name--as hisstarting-point if the signal should sound. It must sound now in a secondor two. He would not look at his watch lest it should hamper him. FurCap sat by a pile of arrows, with a gun across his knees besides. Keysercalculated that by standing close to him as he was, his boot would catchthe Indian under the chin just right, and save one cartridge. Not a redman spoke, but Sarah the squaw dutifully speechified in a central placewhere paths met near Keyser and Fur Cap. Her voice was persuasive andwarning. Some of the savages moved up and felt Keyser's overcoat. Theyfingered the hard bulge of the pistol underneath, and passed on,laughing, to the next soldier's coat, while Sarah did not cease toharangue. The tall, stately man of last night appeared. His full darkeye met Sarah's, and the woman's voice faltered and her breathing grewtroubled as she gazed at him. Once more Keyser looked at his watch:Seven minutes. E-egante noticed Sarah's emotion, and his face showedthat her face pleased him. He spoke in a deep voice to Fur Cap,stretching a fringed arm out towards the hill with a royal gesture, atwhich Fur Cap rose.
"He will come, he will come!" said the squaw, running to Keyser. "Theyall come now. Do not shoot."
"Let them show outside, then," thundered Keyser, "or it's too late. Ifthat gun goes before I can tell my men--"
He broke off and rushed to the entrance. There were skirmishersdeploying from three points, and Crook was raising his hand slowly.There was a pistol in it. "General! General!" Keyser shouted, wavingboth hands, "No!" Behind him came E-egante, with Sarah, talking in lowtones, and Fur Cap came too.
"HE HESITATED TO KILL THE WOMAN"]
The General saw, and did not give the signal. The sight of theskirmishers hastened E-egante's mind. He spoke in a loud voice, and atonce his warriors began to emerge from the willows obediently. Crook'sbluff was succeeding. The Indians in waiting after nine wereattempting a little bluff of their own; but the unprecedented visit ofnine men appeared to them so dauntless that all notion of resistanceleft them. They were sure Gray Fox had a large army. And they came,and kept coming, and the place became full of them. The troopers hadall they could do to form an escort and keep up the delusion, but bydegrees order began, and the column was forming. Riding along the edgeof the willows came E-egante, gay in his blankets, and saying, "How!how!" to Keyser, the only man at all near him. The pony ambled, andsidled, paused, trotted a little, and Keyser was beginning to wonder,when all at once a woman in a green shawl sprang from the thicket,leaped behind the chief, and the pony flashed by and away, round thecurve. Keyser had lifted his carbine, but forbore; for he hesitated tokill the woman. Once more the two appeared, diminutive and scurrying,the green shawl bright against the hill-side they climbed. Sarah hadbeen willing to take her chances of death with her hero, and now shevanished with him among his mountains, returning to her kind, andleaving her wedded white man and half-breeds forever.
"I don't feel so mad as I ought," said Specimen Jones.
Crook laughed to Glynn about it. "We've got a big balance of 'em," hesaid, "if we can get 'em all to Boise. They'll probably roast me in theEast." And they did. Hearing how forty took three hundred, but let oneescape (and a few more on the march home), the superannuated cattle ofthe War Department sat sipping their drink at the club in Washington,and explained to each other how they would have done it.
And
so the General's bluff partly failed. E-egante kept his freedom,"all along o' thet yere pizen squaw," as Mr. Long judiciously remarked.It was not until many years after that the chief's destiny overtookhim; and concerning that, things both curious and sad could be told.[A]
[Footnote A: Let me no longer pervert General Crook's military tactics.It was a dismounted charge that he ordered on this occasion, as a friendwho was present has written me since the first publication of thisstory.
_Mr. Remington's illustration was made to suit the text in its originalform._--Publisher's Note.]