CHAPTER XXV.
The closing week of March was marked by a furious snow-storm that sweptthe big prairie like a besom, but plugged up every _coulee_ and ravine.For four days no communication had been held with the Ogallalla Agency.The wires were down, the road impassable, and Mrs. Davies had reachedher new harbor of refuge none too soon. The quartermaster's ambulancebore the couple half-way to the new station, and Cranston's Concord cameto meet and carry them the rest of the way. Mira's parting with herdevoted lady friends at Scott was cut short by a start at early dawn,against which she rebelled faintly, but to no purpose. It had taken onlytwo days to pack their few belongings. They spent the last night oftheir stay in Scott under Leonard's roof, and Mrs. Leonard did her bestto cheer and gladden the mournful bride. It was of little avail,however. Almira was dimly beginning to see that her conduct had cost herthe respect of those women most worth knowing, and that although thedreaded interrogatories which Percy was to put to her as soon as she wasstronger were still in the future, his faith in and love for her,whatsover they might have been, were seriously shattered. In manner hewas still grave, kind, and gentle almost as before, but everything liketenderness had vanished. One question he said he must ask her beforethey left Scott. Had she ever accepted any gifts or letters or anythingfrom Mr. Willett? And Almira answered that once he had sent her just afew violets with a note inviting Mrs. Darling and her to drive with himthe next day, but she had tossed them into the fire long ago. Nothingmore, nothing else at any time? asked Davies, gravely, and Almiraanswered no. How could he torment her with such unjust suspicions? Farbetter would it be to let her return to the father and sisters wholonged for and missed her, to her peaceful home where down in the bottomof her heart Mira knew she was not wanted by either father or sisters orstep-mother. Davies looked graver, but questioned no longer. The daybefore their start Mr. Langston came out from Braska and inquired forDavies, and told him how glad he was to renew his acquaintance, andDavies greeted him with much reserve. This was the man who wastravelling with Willett the June gone by, and just as it had at firstaffected Miss Loomis, so did the recollection now prejudice the officeragainst him. Langston saw it, but went quietly on with the business inhand.
"I am the bearer of a note to you from Mr. Willett, whose people, atleast, are old friends of mine. He has gone home, at my advice, and itwill be against my advice if he return here within a year. If he shoulddo so, I wash my hands of him. It is not to make excuses for him orBurtis that I have come, but to ask you about one matter. On his wayback to the agency your comrade Mr. Sanders came to town and heapedreproaches on Willett and on the proprietor of the restaurant, allegingthat certain disreputable people were allowed to occupy the adjoiningdining-room while the party from the fort was dancing. Cresswell wasvery indignant at the charge. He says that the party in the adjoiningroom was the family of old Pierre Robideau, from Kearney,--just himself,his wife and daughter, with a friend whom they called Mr. Powell, and itwas Mr. Powell who paid the bill.
"Robideau is an old trader and trapper, but he and his people are honestand respectable as any in Braska, and the young man with them wassupposed to be paying attention to the daughter. Robideau and his familywent back to Kearney that night after a week's visit to friends up herein Braska. The daughter, Angie, had been here some time visiting aschool friend. We feel sure you have made no such statement to Mr.Sanders without some strong ground of suspicion. May I ask how you heardit so soon after your arrival?"
"I heard it before I got here," said Davies, quietly, "though when itwas told me I had no idea my wife was one of the party. My orderly wascold and tired and we stopped at the Scott station at the point wherethe road crosses the railway to give him a cup of coffee and water thehorses. There were some trappers and plainsmen in there, and one of themwas telling with much gusto of the performances of a soldier of ourtroop who deserted that night,--how he had chartered the adjoining roomto that in which the officers and ladies were dancing and had a whirl tothe officers' music with some ladies of his own choosing, and the girlslassoed a waiter and hauled him into their room and got a bottle of theofficers' champagne----"
"Pardon me, Mr. Davies, but do not these plainsmen rather like to tellbig stories at the expense of the officers,--the bigger the better?"
"I believe so, and paid little attention to it at first, but among thelisteners was a scout who went through last summer's campaign with usand did good service. He rode over to the post with me, and on the waywe met a sergeant and two men of 'A' Troop, returning from anunsuccessful pursuit of deserters. They told the same story with someadditions, and said the fellow openly boasted in Braska that afternoonthat he was going to the dance. Then the scout admitted reluctantly thathe had heard the story from several sources, and gave the names of thewomen who were said to have been introduced there, and they were notRobideau's family. The sergeant had heard just what the scout had as tothe identity of the intruders. Then on my arrival at home I learned thatMrs. Davies was one of the fort party, and Mrs. Stone and other ladieswho were present referred to some rude creatures in a neighboring roomwho peeped and stared at the dancing. There was also awaiting me with mymail an anonymous letter, which I burned without reading through. NextI learned that the man who frightened them on the homeward way and thendeserted after a fracas with Mr. Willett was Howard, of 'A' Troop, andthat man's associations in town are matters of notoriety. That was thechain that led to my belief in the story."
Langston looked grave. "And Howard was probably Robideau's friend,though Cresswell didn't know it! He had been paying court to Robideau'sdaughter during her visit to Braska, always in civilian dress and alwaysclaiming to be a civilian clerk in the quartermaster's department with asalary of twelve hundred a year. I have seen her friends in town whereshe visited, and they are very plain, honest, and well-to-do people,whose daughter was sent to Illinois to school and met Angeline Robideauthere. They had another friend living in Cheyenne, and when they were upthere visiting her for a few days they said Mr. Powell was coming up tospend one evening,--Powell is the name they all knew him by, and thebelief is that Angie was much fascinated by him, and had met him Eastbefore meeting him here. Mr. Davies, I am glad to relieve your mind ofone uncomfortable theory in connection with this affair. I wish I couldextenuate or explain Willett's conduct as easily, but that young man isa fool of the first magnitude."
Davies had taken the note handed him by Langston and was mechanicallyturning it and twisting it in his fingers. His impulse was to toss it,as he had the anonymous billet, into the fire. There was something aboutthe handwriting of the former that was vaguely familiar to him eventhrough its disguise, but Willett's scrawling superscription he hadnever seen. Something told him, however, that anything of which a man ofLangston's calibre chose to be the bearer was entitled to consideration.He made no reply to Langston's closing words. He had fully made up hismind as to what his course should be, and what was the extent of Mira'smisdoing. Just as he said to her, he blamed those who should have beenher advisers and protectors far more than he blamed her, and as to thispopinjay who had become infatuated with her beauty, though thelieutenant's blood boiled in wrath and indignation, his calmer judgmentand his disciplined spirit tempered any and every expression. He hadspent long, wakeful, prayerful hours in the silence and solemnity of thenight, and no man knew the story of the struggle. He had trained himselfto meet this man who had so openly and persistently shown himself aworshipper at the feet of his wife, and to meet him with cool contempt,yet the same hot blood that rioted in his veins when, long years before,he had downed the village scoffer who had ventured to ridicule his agedmother, now prompted him to horsewhip Willett should he venture again tovisit the fort.
It was relief, therefore, to hear that he had gone.
At last he opened and read the note, a clumsy, cubbish attempt toexplain his language in Sanders's room, and to say the package wasabsolutely nothing but some violets, to apologize for any and everyannoyance he might have caused Mr. and Mrs. Davies, for
whom heentertained nothing but sentiments of the most profound respect andesteem, and begging if ever they met again to be regarded as mostsincerely their friend, etc.
"There is no answer," said Davies, as he finished it, a smile ofcontempt on his lips. "You must have known there couldn't be, did younot?"
"Well, I fancied as much. He had no friend to carry it for him unless Iwould, and the young idiot has gone off feeling profoundly wretchedabout the whole business, as he deserves to. Had I been here, as an oldfriend of his family, it would have been my right to warn him weeks ago,and to put a stop to his foolishness if he was not to be advised. Morethan that, Mr. Davies, I wish to say that ever since I met you on thetrain last June I felt an interest in you that would have prompted me tostand your friend in your absence whether I felt any interest in him ornot. I should like to know you better and to convince you that I meantwhat I said when we parted there."
And Davies at last held out a cordial hand.
This was the afternoon before his early start, and though he left thepost feeling that he had gained a friend worth having, Davies did notfully realize how dangerous a thing it was to leave a community ofwomen, none of whom he had sought to placate and some of whom he hadoffended. Mrs. Darling had declared war against him, and Mrs. Stone, ifnot Mrs. Flight, was in full sympathy with her. How dare he say theywere responsible for Mrs. Davies's flirtation? How dare he insinuatethat they had led her to the forbidden shades of Cresswell's? There wasa tempest in a teapot among Mrs. Stone's friends and associates overMrs. Darling's account of his rebuke to her, for Mrs. Darling haddeftly managed to include Mrs. Stone and Mrs. Flight in the scope of hiscondemnation, and very possibly old Peleg might have been wrought up topitch of sympathetic resentment but for the fact that he wasconcentrating all of his shattered faculties on the mysterious robberyof the adjutant's desk.
Captain Devers, relieved at last from command of the post andovershadowed by vague sense of official condemnation, was now, inhopeful imitation of the Homeric Achilles, sulking in his tent. Invitedby Colonel Stone to appear at the office and give his counsel as to thematter, Captain Devers had replied that in view of the discourtesies towhich he had been subjected at the hands of the adjutant he could hardlybe expected to care to visit the building except when compelled to doso, and having been relieved from command under circumstances indicativeof disapproval of his methods, he should consider it indelicate on hispart to say what he thought of the matter in question.
But the orderly trumpeter had told the sergeant-major that CaptainDevers was on the piazza looking in the adjutant's window when thegentlemen were there examining the map, and that he entered thehall-way. The sergeant-major told Mr. Leonard, and Leonard was actuallystartled. He conveyed the information to Pegleg, and Pegleg sent hiscompliments to Captain Devers with the information that his immediatepresence was desired, so Devers came, and shrewdly guessed what was thecause. Certainly, he said, he went to the office to get certain papersthat he had left in the commanding officer's desk. He did look in forone instant through the adjutant's window, attracted by the unusualsight of the adjutant, the chaplain, and his own subaltern, of whoseservices he had been deprived, in apparent consultation. They were soabsorbed in talk that they did not hear him as he entered his own officeor when he left. Certainly he lit no candle; he needed none. He knewjust where his papers were, got them, and came away. Did he leave beforeor after the others? Really, that was a matter he couldn't answer. Hewas absorbed in his own reflections when he came out and couldn't saywhether the other gentlemen were there or not.
Pegleg asked whether he had any theory as to the disappearance of thebatch of papers from Leonard's desk, and Devers said he had nonewhatever, he didn't know how the matter could be supposed to interesthim. He did not inquire the means resorted to, but perhaps that wasunnecessary, as the drawer had evidently been forced by a heavy chiseland the woodwork about the lock was crushed. Leonard glowered at himwith stormy eyes during the brief interview but, true to his notions ofsubordination, asked no questions whatever. It was the colonel whopresently gave it up as a hopeless job and dismissed the cavalryman witha brief, "Well, that will do, captain; I see you can't help us," andDevers left with livid, twitching face. He had no fear of Stone,weakened as he evidently was both physically and mentally by his recentshock. It was that silent, gloomy thunder-cloud of an adjutant hedreaded, and with good reason. There was an unsettled account betweenthese men and one that Devers would have been glad indeed to drop, butLeonard was a man who never let go. "I hate to have you leave just now,"he said to Davies, "for I know we shall need you presently."
But once more there was a week of no communication with the Ogallallaagency. Three days of blizzard and three of repairs before the flimsytelegraph line could be used again. Mrs. Davies, busily occupied inputting her new house in order, was aided by Mrs. McPhail and one of theladies from the cantonment, who, happening to be visiting the agent'swife when the storm broke, found it pleasanter to remain there than goback to the log huts across that mile of blast-swept prairie. TheIndians, with the stoicism of their race, huddled in their foul, smokytepees instead of swarming about the agency, and except Davies'sdetachment none of the command appeared. It was therefore a rather busytime for Mira, as there was abundant opportunity for conversation, andboth Mrs. McPhail and Mrs. Plodder rejoiced in so interested a listener.The three seemed to be getting along together famously, a fact whichDavies noted with the same half-dreamy, half-amused smile. It was arelief in seeing her really interested in setting her little house torights, but it was as evidently a relief to her that the otherwiseinevitable visitors were blockaded by the storm. Davies really did notknow which she dreaded most, the Cranstons or the Indians.
It was the latter who were the first to call. The gale went down withthe sun one night, and the morning dawned clear and fine. Up with thesun, true to his cavalry teaching, Davies had been out superintendingthe grooming and feeding of his horses. He and Mira were at breakfastand Mrs. Plodder had come to help. Trooper Gaffney was the householdcook for the time being, and a good one. The coffee was excellent,despite the fact that Gaffney could get no cream, and condensed milk wasthe only substitute obtainable. The steak was juicy and tender, as thefinest of the contractor's beef was sure to go to the agency itself, andGaffney's soda biscuits were enticing, whatsoever might be theafter-effect. The two ladies were chatting in very good spirits when oneconsiders the depths of woe from which Mira had so recently emerged, andthe lieutenant was beginning to take some comfort in the outlook, whenall on a sudden Mira turned a chalky white, screamed violently, andcowered almost under the table, her face hidden in her hands. Davies'sinstant thought was of the repeated whisper of warning that came to himregarding Red Dog, but Mrs. Plodder's merry peal of laughter reassuredhim, as he whirled to confront what proved to be the foe. There on theporch without, crouching low, shading their eyes with their broad brownpaws, their painted faces almost flattened against the window, threeIndians, a brave and two squaws,--all innocent of any violation ofetiquette or decorum, but just as their kith and kin and instinctstaught them,--were staring hungrily into the room. To Eastern readers itwould have seemed bare, homely, plain in the last degree; to theuntutored minds of these children of the prairie it spoke of wealth,luxury, and plenty. Peering over the shoulders of one of the squaws,from its perch on her toil-bowed back, was a wee pappoose, its beadylittle black eyes gleaming, its tiny face expressive of emotions thatin later years it would speedily learn to suppress,--wonderment andinterest. A thinly-clad girl of five or six clung to the mother with onehand and clutched her little blanket with the other. They all lookedcold and hungry, and the big eyes wore that dumb, professionallypathetic look which these born beggars are adepts in assuming.
"Go 'way! Scat!" called Mrs. Plodder, with appropriate gesticulation asshe waved them aside. "You're darkening the room." But for answer thevisitors only huddled the closer and mournfully patted and rubbed theregion of their stomachs. Davies, laughing, went to the door and
calledthem in, which signal they promptly obeyed, and came trooping smilinglyafter the stalking warrior, who took the lead as he would have takenanything else. Mira by this time had backed into a corner, where shecowered in terror, but Mrs. Plodder laughingly shook hands with the manas Davies passed them in, and then blockaded him in an opposite cornerwhere he could not lay hands on anything they might give the squaws andchildren. He wanted to shake hands with Mira, too, but she implored themto keep him away. Davies took the little girl by the arm and led her tohis wife. "Do look at her, dear, and see what a pretty, intelligent faceshe has. I want you to know how really friendly they mean to be." Andstill Mira shrank and trembled. The younger woman was a Minneconjougirl, with frank, attractive, almost pretty face. She dropped herblanket from her head and let it fall about her calico-coveredshoulders, smiling affably about her, but eying the breakfast thingsappreciatively. Davies held out a lump of sugar to the baby, which thatembryo warrior grasped eagerly and thrust into his ready maw, and thenbuttering one of Gaffney's biscuits and calling for a fresh supply, thelieutenant, with Mrs. Plodder lending active aid, began feeding theirunbidden guests. Gaffney came in with a heaping platter of hisproductions and a pitcher of maple syrup. "This is what they like, mum,"said he to the lady of the house. "Give that little kid a molassessandwhich and she'll be your friend for life. Heap walk? heap hungry?"he continued, addressing the head of the family, in sympathetic tone.
"Heap walk--plenty heap hungry," was the warrior's prompt response, withappropriate pantomime and immediate lapse of dignity. Mrs. Plodder hadcut off a big slice of the steak and handed it to the mother withreassuring gesture, but that well-disciplined wife passed it immediatelyon to her lord, and in eloquent silence pleaded with open hand and eyesfor more. "The heathens!" exclaimed Mrs. Plodder. "We'd cure them ofthat notion in no time, wouldn't we, Mrs. Davies?" But Mira was watchingthe Minneconjou maiden, forgetful even of the adulation in the eyes ofthe little five-year-old girl now licking the syrup off her slab ofsoldier bread and gazing adoringly up into the shrinking donor's face.Miss Minneconjou had caught sight of her own winsome face in a mirrorthat hung in a stained-wood frame opposite Mira's seat, and with nolittle shy giggling was revelling in the study of her charms even whilebusily munching the big biscuit in her slender brown hand. Here was atrait that formed a bond of sympathy, and Mira took courage. It is notthe contemplation of their nobler qualities, but their weaknesses, thatputs us on easy terms with our fellow-men. Breakfast promised to last along time. Gaffney, with the adaptability of the trooper of years ofservice on the frontier, had been worming something of their visitors'story out of them. The average Indian never wants to tell his name, butgets a friend to give it for him. It proved, however, to beBear-Rides-Double who, with his wife, sister, and little ones, hadhonored them with this early visit, and after riding double long yearsamong his people, this young chief had come afoot long miles to see theGreat Father's man and lodge a complaint. He had actually walked fromthe Minneconjou village, five thousand yards away down-stream. But forthe chance of making a theatrical _coup_ Bear-Rides-Double could easilyhave borrowed a pony, even though his own were gone to pay a poker debtincurred within thirty-six hours, and when he waked up the morning afterthe protracted play he found that Pulls Hard and the half-breed "squawman" with whom he had been gambling had not only played him with coggeddice, but plied him with drugged liquor, and then gone off with his warponies as well as the rest. He wanted the Great Father to redress hiswrongs, recover his stock, and give him another show with straightcards, and then he'd show Pulls Hard and Sioux Pete a trick or two ofhis own. Davies had proffered chairs during this recital, which Gaffneymanaged between the sign language and a species of "pidgin English,"called "soldier Sioux," to interpret for him, but the family preferredto squat on the floor. Mrs. Plodder, tiring of the diplomatic features,took Miss Minneconjou into Mira's room to show her the pretty gifts thepale-face bride had brought with her, and Mira, with her five-year-oldfriend toddling alongside, speedily followed. Davies strove to make thedouble equestrian understand that he had no authority in the premises,and that McPhail was the proper person to apply to, but the warriorwished to deal only with his kind,--a heap brave chief,--the conquerorof the redoubtable Red Dog. He could get more to eat through him in anyevent, and in the midst of it all Gaffney came in from a brief visit tohis kitchen to say that Sioux Pete, the malefactor in question, wasactually in the corral at that moment trying to sell two ponies to thesergeant of the guard. Leaving Gaffney to the duty of entertaining hisguests, Davies went out to investigate. Pete had come over from RedDog's camp with some of his plunder, and had no idea the complainant hadforestalled him. Pete spoke English,--that is, plains English,--but heshrank a little at sight of the tall, grave-faced young officer of whomRed Dog's people spoke with bated breath.
"You want how much for these ponies?" asked the lieutenant, as though hehad heard the talk.
"Tirty dollar."
"Where are the others?"
"No got."
"You rode off with four ponies from the lodge of Bear-Rides-Double twonights ago. Where are the other two?"
Pete turned sickly gray. Could this white-faced soldier read visionsand dreams and thoughts? Was he a medicine-man?
"No got," he sullenly answered once more.
"You will leave these two with me for safe-keeping," said Davies, "andgo and fetch the others at once, even if you have to take them fromPulls Hard, and get back here with them at noon without fail. No, youneed not appeal to the agent, or I'll tell him that you loaded Bear withdrugged liquor and marked cards and cogged dice. Off with you, Pete," hecontinued, and the half-breed rode away on his Cayuse pony with scaredface, and told in the camp of Red Dog that the young chief Davies was aseer, a mind-reader as well as a brave who feared not to grapple theirwar chief; and when he was gone, Bear-Rides-Double was summoned andbidden to ride double if he could, but to go and sin no more with coggeddice, and the Minneconjou looked with evident awe and wonderment uponthe grave, reticent cavalryman, and went away homeward on one of therecovered ponies, his women-folk, laden with Mira's discarded finery andleading the other, trudging contentedly along behind him afoot.
"You'll be a heap bigger man among the Indians than the agent can everhope to be, lieutenant," said Gaffney, with an Irish grin.
But Davies said nothing. Had he overstepped his authority? Would McPhailapprove? The point was soon settled. Through the hangers-on about thestore McPhail heard rumors flitting like lightning among the villages.The young officer was a medicine-man, a mind-reader, and far and widethe Indians spoke of him in fear and reverence. It might be a goodthing, said the canny Scot, to back him up and reap the benefit. "Justso long as I can keep him here in charge of the guard we can run thingsto suit ourselves, for no red-skin will dare buck against him."