CHAPTER XX
GORDON ORME, MAGICIAN
We lay in our hot camp on the sandy valley for some days, and buried twomore of our men who finally succumbed to their wounds. Gloom sat on usall, for fever now raged among our wounded. Pests of flies by day andmosquitoes by night became almost unbearable. The sun blistered us, thenight froze us. Still not a sign of any white-topped wagon from theeast, nor any dust-cloud of troopers from the west served to break themonotony of the shimmering waste that lay about us on every hand. Wewere growing gaunt now and haggard; but still we lay, waiting for ourmen to grow strong enough to travel, or to lose all strength and so belaid away.
We had no touch with the civilization of the outer world. At that timethe first threads of the white man's occupancy were just beginning tocross the midway deserts. Near by our camp ran the recently erected lineof telegraph, its shining cedar poles, stripped of their bark, offeringwonder for savage and civilized man alike, for hundreds of miles acrossan uninhabited country. We could see the poles rubbed smooth at theirbase by the shoulders of the buffalo. Here and there a little tuft ofhair clung to some untrimmed knot. High up in some of the naked poles wecould see still sticking, the iron shod arrows of contemptuoustribesmen, who had thus sought to assail the "great medicine" of thewhite man. We heard the wires above us humming mysteriously in the wind,but if they bore messages east or west, we might not read them, normight we send any message of our own.
At times old Auberry growled at this new feature of the landscape. "Thatwas not here when I first came West," he said, "and I don't like itslooks. The old ways were good enough. Now they are even talkin' ofrunnin' a railroad up the valley--as though horses couldn't carry ineverything the West needs or bring out everything the East may want. No,the old ways were good enough for me."
Orme smiled at the old man.
"None the less," said he, "you will see the day before long, when notone railroad, but many, will cross these plains. As for the telegraph,if only we had a way of tapping these wires, we might find it extremelyuseful to us all right now."
"The old ways were good enough," insisted Auberry. "As fur telegraphin',it ain't new on these plains. The Injuns could always telegraph, andthey didn't need no poles nor wires. The Sioux may be at both ends ofthis bend, for all we know. They may have cleaned up all the wagonscoming west. They have planned for a general wipin' out of the whites,and you can be plumb certain that what has happened here is knowed allacrost this country to-day, clean to the big bend of the Missouri, andon the Yellowstone, and west to the Rockies."
"How could that be?" asked Orme, suddenly, with interest. "You talk asif there were something in this country like the old 'secret mail' ofEast India, where I once lived."
"I don't know what you mean by that," said Auberry, "but I do know thatthe Injuns in this country have ways of talkin' at long range. Why,onct a bunch of us had five men killed up on the Powder River by theCrows. That was ten o'clock in the morning. By two in the afternooneveryone in the Crow village, two hundred miles away, knowed all aboutthe fight--how many whites was killed, how many Injuns--the wholeshootin'-match. How they done it, I don't know, but they shore done it.Any Western man knows that much about Injun ways."
"That is rather extraordinary," commented Orme.
"Nothin' extraordinary about it," said Auberry, "it's just common. Maybethey done it by lookin'-glasses and smokes--fact is, I know that's oneway they use a heap. But they've got other ways of talkin'. Looks like aInjun could set right down on a hill, and think good and hard, and someother Injun a hundred miles away'd know what he was thinkin' about. Youtalk about a prairie fire runnin' fast--it ain't nothin' to the way newstravels amongst the tribes."
Belknap expressed his contempt for all this sort of thing, but the oldman assured him he would know more of this sort of thing when he hadbeen longer in the West. "I know they do telegraph," reiterated theplainsman.
"I can well believe that," remarked Orme, quietly.
"Whether you do or not," said Auberry, "Injuns is strange critters. Afew of us has married among Injuns and lived among them, and we haveseen things you wouldn't believe if I told you."
"Tell some of them," said Orme. "I, for one, might believe them."
"Well, now," said the plainsman, "I will tell you some things I haveseen their medicine men do, and ye can believe me or not, the way yefeel about it."
"I have seen 'em hold a pow-wow for two or three days at a time, some of'em settin' 'round, dreamin', as they call it all of 'em starvin', wholecamp howlin', everybody eatin' medicine herbs. Then after while, theyall come and set down just like it was right out here in the open.Somebody pulls a naked Injun boy right out in the middle of them. OldMr. Medicine Man, he stands up in the plain daylight, and he draws hisbow and shoots a arrer plum through that boy. Boy squirms a heap and Mr.Medicine Man socks another arrer through him, cool as you please--I haveseen that done. Then the medicine man steps up, cuts off the boy's headwith his knife--holds it up plain, so everybody can see it. That lookedpretty hard to me first time I ever seen it. But now the old medicineman takes a blanket and throws it over this dead boy. He lifts up acorner of the blanket, chucks the boy's head under it, and pulls downthe edges of the blanket and puts rocks on them. Then he begins to sing,and the whole bunch gets up and dances 'round the blanket. After while,say a few minutes, medicine man pulls off the blanket--and thar gets upthe boy, good as new, his head growed on good and tight as ever, and nota sign of an arrer on him 'cept the scars where the wounds has plumbhealed up!"
Belknap laughed long and hard at this old trapper's yarn, and weak as Iwas myself, I was disposed to join him. Orme was the only one who didnot ridicule the story. Auberry himself was disgusted at the merriment."I knowed you wouldn't believe it," he said. "There is no use tellin' apassel of tenderfeet anything they hain't seed for theirselves. But Icould tell you a heap more things. Why, I have seen their buffalocallers call a thousand buffalo right in from the plains, and over theedge of a cut bank, where they'd pitch down and bust theirselves topieces. I can show you bones Of a hundred such places. Buffalo don't dothat when they are alone--thay have got to be _called_, I tell you.
"Injuns can talk with other animals--they can call them others, too. Ihave seed an old medicine man, right out on the plain ground in themiddle of the village, go to dancin', and I have seed him call threefull-sized beavers right up out'n the ground--seed them with my own_eyes_, I tell you! Yes, and I have seed them three old beavers standin'right there, turn into full-growed old men, gray haired. I have seed 'emsit down at a fire and smoke, too, and finally get up when they gotthrough, and clean out--just disappear back into the ground. Now, howyou all explain them there things, I don't pretend to say; but therecan't no man call me a liar, fur I seed 'em and seed 'em unmistakable."
Belknap and the others only smiled, but Orme turned soberly towardAuberry. "I don't call you a liar, my man," said he. "On the contrary,what you say is very interesting. I quite believe it, although I neverknew before that your natives in this country were possessed of thesepowers."
"It ain't all of 'em can do it," said Auberry, "only a few men of a fewtribes can do them things; but them that can shore can, and that's all Iknow about it."
"Quite so," said Orme. "Now, as it chances, I have traveled a bit in mytime in the old countries of the East. I have seen some wonderful thingsdone there."
"I have read about the East Indian jugglers," said Belknap, interested."Tell me, have you seen those feats? are they feats, or simply lies?"
"They are actual occurrences," said Orme. "I have seen them with my owneyes, just as Auberry has seen the things he describes; and it is nomore right to accuse the one than the other of us of untruthfulness.
"For instance, I have seen an Indian juggler take a plain bowl, such asthey use for rice, and hold it out in his hand in the open sunlight; andthen I have seen a little bamboo tree start in it and grow two feethigh, right in the middle of the bowl, within the space of a minute orso.
"You talk about the old story of 'Jack and the Bean Stalk'; I have seenan old fakir take a bamboo stick, no thicker than his finger, and thrustit down in the ground and start and climb up it, as if it were a tree,and keep on climbing till he was out of sight; and then there would comefalling down out of the sky, legs and arms, his head, pieces of hisbody. When these struck the ground, they would reassemble and make theman all over again--just like Auberry's dead boy, you know.
"These tricks are so common in Asia that they do not excite any wonder.As to tribal telegraph, they have got it there. Time and again, when ourforces were marching against the hill tribes of northwestern India, wefound they knew all of our plans a hundred miles ahead of us--how, noneof us could tell--only the fact was there, plain and unmistakable."
"They never do tell," broke in Auberry. "You couldn't get a red toexplain any of this to you--not even a squaw you have lived with foryears. They certainly do stand pat for keeps."
"Yet once in a while," smiled Orme, in his easy way, "a white man doespick up some of these tricks. I believe I could do a few of them myself,if I liked--in fact, I have sometimes learned some of the simpler onesfor my own amusement."
General exclamations of surprise and doubt greeted him from our littlecircle, and this seemed to nettle him somewhat. "By Jove!" he went on,"if you doubt it, I don't mind trying a hand at it right now. Perhaps Ihave forgotten something of my old skill, but we'll see. Come, hen."
All arose now and gathered about him on the ground there in the fullsunlight. He evinced no uneasiness or surprise, and he employed nomechanism or deception which we could detect.
"My good man," said he to Auberry, "let me take your knife." Auberryloosed the long hunting-knife at his belt and handed it to him. Takingit, Orme seated himself cross-legged on a white blanket, which he spreadout on the sandy soil.
All at once Orme looked up with an expression of surprise on his face."This was not the knife I wanted," he said. "I asked for a plainAmerican hunting-knife, not this one. See, you have given me a Malaykris! I have not the slightest idea where you got it."
We all looked intently at him. There, held up in his hand, was fullproof of what he had said--a long blade of wavy steel, with a littlecrooked, carved handle. From what I had read, I saw this to be a kris, awavy bladed knife of the Malays. It did not shine or gleam in the sun,but threw back a dull reflection from its gray steel, as though lead andsilver mingled in its make. The blade was about thirty inches long,whereas that of Auberry's knife could not have exceeded eight inches atthe most.
"We did not know you had that thing around you!" exclaimed Belknap."That is only sleight of hand."
"Is it, indeed?" said Orme, smiling. "I tell you, I did not have it withme. After all, you see it is the same knife."
We all gaped curiously, and there, as I am a living man, we saw thatwavy kris, extended in his hand, turn back into the form of theplainsman's hunting-knife! A gasp of wonder and half terror came fromthe circle. Some of the men drew back. I heard an Irish private swearand saw him cross himself. I do not explain these things, I only say Isaw them.
"I was mistaken," said Orme, politely, "in offering so simple a test asthis; but now, if you still think I had the kris in my clothing--howthat could be, I don't know, I'm sure--and if you still wish to call mylittle performance sleight of hand, then I'll do something to prove whatI have said, and make it quite plain that all my friend here has said istrue and more than true. Watch now, and you will see blood drip from thepoint of this blade--every drop of blood it ever drew, of man or animal.Look, now--watch it closely."
We looked, and again, as I am a living man, and an honest one, I hope, Isaw, as the others did, running from the point of the steel blade, alittle trickling stream of red blood! It dropped in a stream, I say, andfell on the white blanket upon which Orme was sitting. It stained theblanket entirely red. At this sight the entire group broke apart, only afew remaining to witness the rest of the scene.
I do not attempt to explain this illusion, or whatever it was. I do notknow how long it lasted; but presently, as I may testify, I saw Ormerise and kick at the wetted, bloodstained blanket. He lifted it, heavywith dripping blood. I saw the blood fall from its corners upon theground.
"Ah," he remarked, calmly, "it's getting dry now. Here is your knife, mygood fellow."
I looked about me, almost disposed to rub my eyes, as were, perhaps, theothers of our party. The same great plains were there, the same wideshimmering stream, rippling in the sunlight, the same groups of animalsgrazing on the bluff, the same sentinels outlined against the sky. Overall shone the blinding light of the Western mid-day sun. Yet, as Ormestraightened out this blanket, it was white as it had been before!Auberry looked at his knife blade as though he would have preferred tothrow it away, but he sheathed it and it fitted the sheath as before.
Orme smiled at us all pleasantly. "Do you believe in the Indiantelegraph now?" he inquired.
I have told you many things of this strange man, Gordon Orme, and Ishall need to tell yet others. Sometimes my friends smile at me even yetover these things. But since that day, I have not doubted the tales oldAuberry told me of our own Indians. Since then, too, I have betterunderstood Gordon Orme and his strange personality, the like of which Inever knew in any land.