by Charles King
CHAPTER XXVI.
For nearly a fortnight there was sunshine at the agency,--sunshine andprosperity, and then came manifestation of that pride which goeth beforedestruction. Because there were more of the Ogallalla tribe than ofothers herded there when originally established the agency on theChasing Water had been given this name, but after the stirring events ofthe winter and the revolt of Red Dog, it happened that rather more ofthe Minneconjou and not a few of the Uncapapa backsliders were gatheredamong the grimy tepees. Two Lance and his people, having made their wayto the fold of Spotted Tail, were permitted to abide with him as aresult of the earnest plea made in their behalf by the general incommand of the department. Young-Man-Afraid-of-His-Horses and some otherchiefs of the wiser--the peace element, had also been transferred, andsuch Brules as remained under the wing of McPhail were of the class oldSpot denounced as "devil-dreamers," men who would stir up a row in anycommunity, men he wouldn't entertain among the lodges of his people. TheUncapapas were of Sitting Bull's own tribe, malcontents almost to aman, "mouth-fighters" who, like some recent exponents of Southernoratory, were far more conspicuous after than during the battle days,and between these breeders of devilment and the renegade Brules, therelay the village of Red Dog's reviving band,--three gangs of aboriginaljail-birds who looked upon Red Dog's release as virtual confession onpart of the White Father that he dare not keep him, and they were onlywaiting until the grass sprouted and their ponies could wax fat andstrong to take the war-path for another summer, and take all they couldcarry with them when they did it. April had come. The last vestiges ofice and snow were slipping away out of the broad, sun-kissed valley. Upat the cantonments a stalwart infantry major had a battalion of theFortieth out along the prairie slopes for over two hours every morning,drilling, drilling, drilling, until officers and men camedouble-quicking in at 11.30, exuding profanity and perspiration fromevery pore, but owning up to it, after a rub down and a rest and ahearty dinner, that old Alex was a boss soldier who knew how to take theconceit out of the cavalry, even if he did nearly have to run hisbandy-legs off, and the lean shanks of his men, in doing it. The cavalrymajor was far less energetic. He sent his troops out under theirrespective chiefs, and ambled around among them after a while makingaudible comment to this captain and that, but never drawing sabrehimself. Cranston had a capital troop and was a born cavalryman whoneeded neither coach nor spur and there were others nearly as good ashe, but each worked on his own system, whereas the doughboys pulledtogether. Not to be outdone, Davies laid out a riding-school back ofthe agency corral, and every day had his detachment out for a vigorousmounted gymnastic drill as well as another at platoon exercise. He waswiry, athletic, and an enthusiastic teacher, and presently it was notedthat the Indians, who for a time hovered impartially all over theprairies and slopes, watching the manoeuvres of the soldiers, begangathering in daily augmenting crowds about the agency grounds,frequently applauding the leaping and hurdling, but only too readilyjeering the awkwardness of some of the men in mounting and dismountingat the gallop, a thing they had learned and practised since earlyboyhood. Then Cranston and the other troop leaders got to working downtoward the agency and, during the rests, moving close up to the corraland watching the riding-school. It was capital work, said Cranston andhis contemporaries, though some jealous youngsters used to say to theircynical selves that Parson probably "put up a prayer-meeting as astand-off." McPhail and his people began to come out and look on, andMira to watch from the window, for she still trembled and shrank atsight of the savage painted faces and glittering eyes of the Indians,and equally shrank from meeting the Cranstons. But presently Mrs.Cranston and other women came driving over in their ambulances, thegeneric term by which army carriages were known in the days when aprovident Congress first began curtailing the transportation facilitiesof the line where, _sous entendu_, all great reformatory experimentswere tried, the staff being, of course, beyond even congressionalsuspicion, and so it resulted that about eleven o'clock every fine daythe biggest gathering of the people, red and white, in all the broadvalley of the Chasing Water, as far east as its confluence with theshadowy Niobrara and thence to the shores of the Big Muddy, was that tobe found about the rectangular space where the Parson held forth to hisfaithful squad.
Now, McPhail came back to his recaptured children with conciliation forhis watchword, willing, eager to shake hands with one and all from RedDog down, or up, according to the proper plane of that warrior on thescale of merit; but as he noted the humility of bearing exhibited by allexcept a truculent few, and the evident awe with which even these lookedupon the stern and taciturn commander of his guard, the agent began,like Mulvaney after his fifth drink, "to think scornful av elephints,"in other words, of the red wards of his bailiwick, and with McPhail to"think scornful" was to act. Just in proportion as he was meek andcringing before did he become arrogant and abusive now. There was noBoynton on hand to warn him with what he termed brutal bluntness that hewas tempting Providence again. Even the worm will turn, and thedifference between the worm and the Indian is that one can anticipatethe former and prepare for the blow. Up to the 10th of April Red Dog hadheld himself haughtily apart from the whites--agent, officers, troops,and all, but there were half-breeds and scouts who warned them that thehumiliation of his capture still rankled in his bosom, and that a madthirst for revenge possessed him. "Watch him as you would a snake," saidold Spotted Tail himself, when he came down to visit the agency. "Henever sleeps without dreaming of vengeance." The agent told Davies whatthe loyal old chief had said, and Davies looked grave, but made noreply. He was thinking, however, of Mira's danger. Indians could not beput under bonds to keep the peace, however: the Bureau's system being tolet them kill first and explain afterwards. It wasn't pleasing to therelatives of the deceased or even to the army, but what were they amongso many?--the millions of Indian sympathizers dwelling at discreetdistance.
One morning half a dozen ladies drove down from the cantonment, andtheir wagons were ranged up close alongside the rail near the highhurdle. Around them were thickly clustered a number of squaws andchildren and a few Indian boys, though most of the men, old or young,kept to their ponies around on the south and east sides. McPhail cameout later with his household, and really was not unprepared to find hisusual place, on a little raised platform, pre-empted by a score ofblanketed "reds." Mac had some odd views. He couldn't understand why thesoldiers should not be made to salute him as they did their ownofficers, who, having occasionally to report to him for instructions,might be considered as his inferiors. He liked to impress the ladies ofthe cantonment with the extent of his power and authority, and had morethan once interrupted the proceedings in the ring by loudly-shoutedorders to some of the Indians on the other side. This annoyed Davies,but he said nothing. McPhail spoke of the detachment as "My guard,"etc., and once or twice in the presence of the army ladies hadaddressed Davies in the crisp, curt tone of the superior officer, orsuch imitation of it as he was enabled to compass, and this, too, theyoung man had suffered without remark, though with a quiet smile. Seeingthe swarm of Indians on McPhail's platform, Mrs. Cranston and MissLoomis presently called to him to bring Mrs. McPhail to a seat in theirwagon, but the agent sprang up on the flimsy structure, sharply orderingoff the Indians right and left, and emphasizing his order with his boottoes. Mac's twelve-year-old son, taking the cue from his father,proceeded to deliver a vicious kick at a slowly-moving, blanketed form,and the very next instant was screaming for help, flat on his back amonga swarm of Indian boys. All in a second the little savage had flashedout of his blanket like lightning from a black cloud, and, grappling,had hurled McPhail junior to earth. The agent made a furious lunge tothe rescue of his first-born, and the squaws and young girls scatteredshrieking at his charge. Startled and excited, the horses of Cranston'swagon whirled sharply around, nearly capsizing the vehicle. Other horsesfollowed suit despite the efforts of their drivers, and in less than amoment all the young braves on the opposite side came lashing theirponies at mad gallop a
round the long rectangle just as McPhailreappeared on the platform, bringing captive a furiously strugglingIndian boy screaming with rage and yelling for help. In less than thatmoment too, it seemed, Percy Davies had leaped his horse over thebreast-high barrier and spurred to the heads of Cranston's team, seizingthe reins of the near horse. "Come right on," he shouted to the driver."Let them follow me." Out through the surging, scurrying crowd he guidedthem to the edge of the road, then, pointing to the cantonment, calledto the driver, "Home with you, quick!" And with hardly a glance at thegrateful occupants, whirling his horse about, he burst his way backagain through the excited crowd until he found himself at the edge ofthe platform. Already a dozen Indians were furiously demanding therelease of the prisoner. Little McPhail had scudded for home; Mira'swhite face had disappeared from her window. Some of the guard had dartedinto the corral for their arms, others, unarmed, had pressed to thesupport of the agent. Before Davies could reach him four warriors wereout of their blankets and high-pommelled saddles, and had hurledthemselves on McPhail. "Rescue! Help!" he screamed, with ashen face,releasing the Indian boy and vainly striving to draw his revolver. Awaysped the escaped captive, darting between the legs of struggling braves,sheltered by the robes of hurrying squaws; away, right, left, anywhere,everywhere, scattered the blanketed, jabbering groups, leaving on thescene of action only the agent, the quickly rallying guard, and upwardof fivescore of jeering, taunting screeching warriors, at least a dozenof them now dismounted, dancing and brandishing knife and tomahawk,rifle or revolver, about the still writhing group rolling upon thewooden floor,--McPhail and his assailants. Into the midst of this madmellay sprang the cavalryman, turning loose his horse, which animal,urged by shrill yells and slyly administered lashings, went tearing awayover the prairie. Right at the lieutenant's back, almost as he hadfought his way with him, nozzle in hand, into the ruck of the riotingcrowd at Bluff Siding, striking out scientifically with his clinchedfists, charged young Brannan, only three days since transferred to theagency guard. Vaulting the low rail and lunging in among thedevil-dreamers, came Sergeant Lutz and a squad of his fellow-troopers,and in a dozen seconds, breathless and dust-begrimed, half stifled, butpractically unhurt, the agent was dragged from among the whirl ofmoccasined feet and propped up, panting and swearing, against the rail,while burly forms in trooper blue were hustling the half-raging,half-jeering crowd of warriors off the platform. Even in the moment ofmad excitement they knew too much to use their weapons. Wise old headshad been cautioning them against any deed of blood so long as the grasswas barely beginning to shoot. All they demanded was the instant releaseof that boy, the chieftain's son, but incidentally, if McPhail insistedon wrestling, they could not deny the Great Father's man or spare himvigorous handling while about it. Davies had seized one brawny, muscularthroat and sent a gauntleted fist plump against the sweat-gleaming jawof a second brave. Brannan had backed him with half a dozenwell-delivered blows, but even these had evoked neither shot nor knife.The instant the savages realized that it was the young commander of theguard, they seemed to give way without further struggle, and so itresulted that in a moment more every red-skin was off that sacred squareof board, and that a thick, deep semicircle of warriors, some few afoot,but most of them astride their ponies, glowered in silence now at thetall soldier who, interposing between them and the victim of their rudehorse play, stood confronting them with grave, set, indomitable look inhis pale face, on which the sweat was already starting. Behind theofficer, leaping up on the platform, were now a little squad of his men,and McPhail, fuming and raging malevolently. "Arrest those blackguards,arrest them instantly, Davies! Every man of them, by God! They shall payfor this or there's no power in Washington." But Davies never moved handor foot. Calmly eying the surrounding crowd, he was searching for somefamiliar face among the scowling warriors. Some few were men well on inyears, others mere striplings. Some were still covertly fuming with ragefor battle, others slyly tittering at the agent's expense, but all faceswere turned in instant interest, all ears attent when Davies began tospeak. "Where is Charging Bear?" he asked. "What is the meaning of thisriot?"
Probably not ten Indians in the throng could speak a dozen words ofreputable English; probably not ten, however, failed to read hismeaning.
"Charging Bear is not here," suddenly spoke in deep guttural a grizzlyIndian, who urged his pony forward. "The son of McPhail struck andkicked the son of White Wolf,--the son of a clerk struck the first-bornof a war chief, and the Great Father's man would punish, not thestriker, but the struck."
"Nab that damned lying scoundrel, Davies. He put 'em up to this wholebusiness. He's another of your mission whelps. I know you, ThunderHawk," continued McPhail, his courage and his choler rising alike as hesaw that the Indians were slowly recoiling, and evidently meant nofurther mischief. "I know you, and I order your arrest right here andnow. As for the young dog that attacked my son, I'll demand him of WhiteWolf in half an hour with five hundred soldiers at my back."
"Then bring your own, who gave the first blow, if you want him inexchange. As for me," continued the old man, in calm dignity, "I havedone no wrong, but my people shall not be made to suffer because of me.I know the power of the Great Father, but he would not demand mysurrender to such as you. Here is the chief to whom the Indian yields,"he said, turning to the lieutenant, and then, riding a pony lengthcloser, gravely swung his handsome repeating rifle from itsgayly-fringed sheath of skins and extended it, butt foremost, to Davies.
But before that officer could receive the proffered rifle a warning crycame from the outskirts of the swarm. There was instantaneous lashing ofquirts, a sudden scurry and rush, and like one great herd of elk smittenwith sudden panic, away surged and sped the entire throng, ThunderHawk's stampeded pony bearing him irresistibly away with the rest. Onlya cloud of dust settling slowly to earth remained to greet the long lineof Cranston's troop as it came sweeping in from the foot-hills atthundering gallop. Far out across the prairie the manoeuvring cavalryhad sniffed the "sign" of trouble at the agency, and his was the firstto answer the alarm.
