CHAPTER XIV
IN LOVE
John Ermine lay on his back in his tent, with one leg crossed over theother. His eyes were idly attracted by the play of shadows on theducking, but his mind was visiting other places. He was profoundlydiscontented. During his life he had been at all times an easy-goingperson--taught in a rude school to endure embarrassing calamities andlong-continued personal inconveniences by flood and hunger, bullets andsnow. He had no conception of the civilized trait of acquisitivenesswhereby he had escaped that tantalization. He desired militarydistinction, but he had gotten that. No man strode the camp whose deedswere better recognized than his, not even the Colonel commanding.
His attitude toward mankind had always been patient and kindly exceptwhen urged into other channels by war. He even had schooled himself tothe irksome labor at the prophet's mine, low delving which seemeduseless; and had acquiesced while Crooked-Bear stuffed his head with thethousand details of white mentality; but now vaguely he began to feel alack of something, an effort which he had not made--a something he hadleft undone; a difference and a distinction between himself and theofficers who were so free to associate with the creature who hadborrowed his mind and given nothing in return. No one in the rudecampaigning which had been the lot of all since he joined had made anynoticeable social distinction toward him--rather otherwise; they hadsought and trusted him, and more than that, he had been singled out forspecial good will. He was free to call at any officer's quarters on theline, sure of a favorable reception; then why did he not go to MajorSearles's? At the thought he lay heavier on the blanket, and dared nottrust his legs to carry out his inclinations.
The camp was full of fine young officers who would trust their legs andrisk their hearts--he felt sure of that. True, he was subject to theorders of certain officials, but so were they. Young officers had askedhim to do favors on many occasions, and he did them, because it wasclear that they ought to be done, and he also had explained deviousplains-craft to them of which they had instantly availed themselves. Thearrangement was natural and not oppressive.
Captain Lewis could command him to ford a rushing torrent: could tellhim to stand on his head and be d---- quick about it, and of course hewould do anything for him and Major Searles; they could ask nothingwhich the thinker would not do in a lope. As for Colonel Miles, thefine-looking man who led "ten thousand" in the great white battles, itwas a distinction to do exactly what he ordered--every one did that;then why did he not go to Major Searles's quarters, he kept askinghimself. He was not afraid of Colonel Miles or Captain Lewis or MajorSearles or any officer, but--and the thought flashed, he was wary of theliving eyes of the beloved photograph. Before these he could not use hismind, hands, or feet; his nerves shivered like aspen leaves in a wind,and the blood surged into his head until he could see nothing with hiseyes; cold chills played up and down his spine; his hair crawled roundunder his sombrero, and he was most thoroughly miserable, but some wayhe no longer felt contentment except while undergoing this misery.
He lay on the blanket while his thoughts alternately fevered and chilledhis brain. So intense were his emotions that they did more than disorderhis mind: they took smart hold of his very body, gnawing andconstricting his vitals until he groaned aloud.
No wild beast which roamed the hills was less conscious, ordinarily, ofits bodily functions than Ermine. The machinery of a perfect physiquehad always responded to the vital principle and unwound to the steadypull of the spring of life, yet he found himself now stricken. It wasnot a thing for the surgeon, and he gradually gave way before its steadyprogress. His nature was a rich soil for the seeds of idealism whichwarm imagination constantly sprinkled, and the fruits became a consumingpassion.
His thoughts were burning him. Getting up from his bed, he took a kettleand small axe, saddled his pony, and took himself off toward the river.As he rode along he heard the Englishman call out to him, but he did notanswer. The pony trotted away, leaving the camp far behind, until hesuddenly came to a little prairie surrounded by cottonwoods, in themiddle of which were numbers of small wick-e-ups made by the Indians forsweat-baths. He placed his blankets and ponchos over one, made a fireand heated a number of rocks, divested himself of his clothing, andtaking his pail of water got inside, crouching while he dashed handfulsof water over the hot rocks. This simple remedy would do more thancleanse the skin and was always resorted to for common ills by theIndians. After Ermine came out he plunged into the cold waters of theYellowstone and dressed himself, but he did not feel any better. Hemounted and rode off, forgetting his axe, blankets, and pail; suchfurnishings were unconsidered now. In response to a tremendous desire todo something, he ran his pony for a mile, but that did not calm theyearning.
"I feel like a piece of fly-blown meat," he said to himself. "I think Iwill go to Saw-Bones and let him have a hack at me; I never was so sickbefore." And to the cabin of the surgeon he betook himself.
That gentleman was fussing about with affairs of his own, when Ermineentered.
"Say, doctor, give me some medicine."
"What's the matter with you?" asked the addressed, shoving his sombreroto one side and looking up incredulously.
"Oh, I'm sick."
"Well, where are you sick?"
Ermine brushed his hair from off his forehead, slapped his leggings withhis quirt, and answered, "Sick all over--kind of low fever, like a manwith a bullet in him."
"Bilious, probably." And the doctor felt his pulse and looked into hisbright, clear eyes.
"Oh, nonsense, boy--you are not sick. I guess loafing around is bad foryou. The Colonel ought to give you a hundred miles with his complimentsto some one; but here is a pill which will cure you." Saying which, thephysician brought out his box containing wheat bread rolled into smallballs, that he always administered to cases which he did not understandor to patients whom he suspected of shirking on "sick report."
Ermine swallowed it and departed.
The doctor tipped his sombrero forward and laughed aloud in long,cadenced peals as he sorted his vials.
"Sick!" he muttered; "funny--funny--funny sick! One could not kill himwith an axe. I guess he is sick of sitting round--sick to be loping overthe wild plains. Humph--sick!"
Ermine rode down the officers' row, but no one was to be seen. He pulledhis horse's head up before Major Searles's door, but instantly slappedhim with his whip and trotted on to his tent.
"If that fool Indian boy would only show himself," he thought; but theIndian was not a fool, and did not. Again Ermine found himself lying onhis back, more discontented than ever. The day waned and the shadows onthe tent walls died, but still he lay. Ramon stuck his head in at theflaps.
"Well--ah got your British man hees pony, Ermine--trade twenty-fivedollar in goods for five pony."
"Oh, d---- the Englishman," was the response to this, whereat Ramon tooka good long stare at his friend and withdrew. He failed to understandthe abruptness, and went away wondering how Ermine could know that hehad gouged Mr. Harding a little on the trade. Still this did notexplain; for he had confidence in his own method of blinding his trail.He was a business man and a moral cripple.
The sun left the world and Ermine with his gloomy thoughts.
* * * * *
Late at night Captain Lewis sat at his desk writing letters, the lampspotting on the white disk of his hat, which shaded his face, while thepale moonlight crept in through the open door. A sword clanked outside,and with a knock the officer of the guard hurriedly entered.
"Say, Bill, I have your scout Ermine down by the guard-house, and he'sdrunk. I didn't lock him up. Wanted to see you first. If I lock him up,I am afraid he'll pull out on you when he comes to. What shall I do?"
"The devil you say--Ermine drunk? Why, I never knew him to drink; it wasa matter of principle with him; often told me that his mentor, whoeverhe was, told him not to."
"Well, he's drunk now, so there you are," said the officer.
"How drunk?"
"Oh, good and drunk."
"Can he walk?" Lewis queried.
"No; all he can do is lay on his back and shoot pretty thick Injun atthe moon."
"Does every one know of this?"
"No; Corporal Riley and Private Bass of Company K brought him up fromWilmore's whiskey-shack, and they are sitting on his chest out back ofthe guard-house. Come on," spoke the responsible one.
Lewis jumped up and followed. They quickly made their way to the spot,and there Lewis beheld Ermine lying on his back. The moonlight cut hisfine face softly and made the aureole of his light hair stand away fromthe ground. He moaned feebly, but his eyes were closed. Corporal Rileyand Private Bass squatted at his head and feet with their eyes fastenedon the insensible figure. Off to one side a small pile of Ermine'slethal weapons shimmered. The post was asleep; a dog barked, and anoccasional cow-bell tinkled faintly down in the quartermaster's corral.
"Gad!" gasped Lewis, as he too stooped down. "How did this happen,Corporal?"
"Well, I suppose we might as well tell it as it is," Bass replied,indirectly conscious of the loyalty he owed his brother sinner. "We ranthe guard, sir, and went down to Wilmore's, and when we got there, wefound this feller pretty far gone with drink. He had his guns out, andwas talking Injun, and he had Wilmore hiding out in the sage-brush. Ibeefed him under the ear, and we took his guns away, sir. I didn't hurthim much; he was easy money with his load, and then we packed him uphere, and I told the officer of the guard, sir."
"Well," said Lewis, finally, "make a chair of your hands and bring himdown to my quarters."
The soldiers gathered up the limp form, while Lewis took the belt andpistols.
"No use of reporting this?"
"No," answered the officer of the guard.
The men laid him out on the Captain's bed after partially disrobing him,and started to withdraw.
"Go to your quarters, men, and keep your mouths shut; you willunderstand it is best for you."
The two saluted and passed out, leaving the Captain pacing the floor,and groping wildly for an explanation.
"Why, I have offered that boy a drink out of my own flask on campaign,when we were cold enough and tired enough to make my old Aunt Janeweaken on her blue ribbon; but he never did. That was good of the men tobring him in, and smart of Welbote not to chuck him in the guard-house.Sailor's sins! he'd never stand that; it would kill his pride, and hehas pride, this long-haired wild boy. He may tell me in the morning, butI am not so sure of that. Laying down on his luck is not the way heplays it. I don't doubt it was an accident, and maybe it will teach hima d---- good lesson; he'll have a head like a hornets' nest to-morrowmorning."
The Captain, after a struggle with the strange incident, sought hiscouch, and when he arose next morning betook himself to Ermine's room.He found him asleep amid the tangle of his wonderful hair, and he smiledas he pictured the scout's surprise when he awoke; in fact, he pulledhimself together for a little amusement. A few remarks to reenforce theheadache would do more good than a long brief without a big 'exhibit A,'such as would accompany the awakening.
The steady gaze of the Captain awoke the scout, and he opened his eyes,which wandered about the room, but displayed no interest; they setthemselves on the Captain's form, but refused to believe these dreams,and closed again. The Captain grinned and addressed the empty room:--
"How would you like to be a millionnaire and have that headache? Oh,gee--'twould bust a mule's skull."
The eyes opened again and took more account of things; they began tocredit their surroundings. When the scene had assembled itself, Erminesat up on the bed, saying, "Where am I? what hit me?" and then he laydown again. His dream had come true; he was sick.
"You are in my bed, so stay there, and you will come out all right. Youhave been making the Big Red Medicine; the devil is pulling your hair,and every time he yanks, he will say, 'John Ermine, don't do thatagain.' Keep quiet, and you will get well." After saying which Lewisleft the room.
All day long the young man lay on the bed; he was burning at the stake;he was being torn apart by wild horses; the regimental band played itsbangiest music in his head; the big brass drum would nearly blow itapart; and his poor stomach kept trying to crawl out of his body in itsdesperate strife to escape Wilmore's decoction of high-wine. This lastedall day, but by evening the volcano had blown itself out, when a naturalsleep overcame him.
Captain Lewis had the knowledge of certain magic, well enough known inthe army, to alleviate Ermine's condition somewhat, but he chose not touse it; he wanted 'exhibit A' to wind up in a storm of fireworks.
As Ermine started out the next morning Lewis called, "Hey, boy, how didyou come to do it?"
Ermine turned a half-defiant and half-questioning front to Lewis andtossed his matted hair. "I don't know, Captain; it all seems as though Imust have fallen off the earth; but I'm back now and think I can stayhere."
"Well, no one knows about it except myself, so don't say a word to anyone, and don't do it again--sabe?"
"You bet I won't. If the soldiers call that drowning their sorrows, Iwould rather get along with mine."
John Ermine of the Yellowstone Page 18
