John Ermine of the Yellowstone

by Frederic Remington

  CHAPTER XVII

  A PROPOSAL

  "Oh! I say, Captain Lewis, I am all ready to start. I have Ramon, acook, and Wolf-Voice, together with pack-animals, but I can't get yourman Ermine to say when he will go."

  "That's odd, Harding; I don't know of anything to detain him. But goslow; he's like all these wild men up here; when they will they will,and when they won't, they'll lay down on you. I'll go round and scouthim up. What is the matter so far as you can determine?"

  "I can't determine. He says he will go, but will not name any exacttime; tells me to push on and that he will catch up. That is a curiousproposition. He is willing to take my money--"

  "Oh! whoa up, Mr. Harding! That fellow doesn't care anything about yourmoney--make no mistake about that. Money means no more to him than to ablue jay. He wanted to go back to his own country and was willing,incidentally, to take you. I'll see; you wait here awhile;" sayingwhich, Captain Lewis went in search of his man, whom he found whittlinga stick pensively.

  "Hello, my boy, you don't seem to be very busy. Suppose your heart isout in the hills chasing the elk and bear."

  "No, Captain; I don't care much about the hills."

  "Or the Crow squaws?"

  "D---- the Crow squaws!" And Ermine emphasized this by cutting his stickthrough the middle.

  "Want to stay here?"

  "Yes, I am getting so I like this camp; like the soldiers--like thewagons--kind of like the whole outfit."

  "Like to chase wolves?" interrupted the officer.

  Ermine slowly turned up his head and settled his fathomless blue eyes onLewis, but he said nothing.

  "Well, Mr. Harding is all set. You said you would go with him; a soldiermust keep his word."

  "I will go with him."

  "When?"

  Again Ermine shaved some delicate slivers off the stick; suddenly hethrew it away, shut up his knife, and arose. "If Mr. Harding will pullout now, Wolf-Voice will show him the way. I shall know where the Indiantakes him, and in four days I will walk into his camp. The pack-poniestravel slowly, I do not care to punch pack-horses; that will do forRamon and the cook."

  "Does that go?"

  "I have said it. Did I ever lie, Captain Lewis?"

  "All right. Mr. Harding will go now. I will attend to that." With thisLewis left him, and in two hours the little cavalcade trotted westward,out into the hot, sunlit plains, carrying faith in Ermine's word. Thescout, leaning on a log stable, saw them go.

  Three days took their slow departure, and on the morrow Ermine wouldhave to make good his word to follow the Englishmen. He would have likedto stay even if his body suffered slow fire, but excuses would not availfor his honor. A soldier's honor was something made much of in theseparts; it pegged higher than the affairs of the flesh.

  He had not been able to see Miss Searles, and he wondered what she wouldfeel, or think, or say. He was a thief when he remembered the stolenkisses, and he dared not go to the Searleses' home to inquire after her.All this diffidence the public put down to apathy; he had done his duty,so why further concern himself?

  After supper he strolled along the officers' row, desperately forlorn,but hoping and yearning, barely nodding his head to passers-by.

  Major Searles approached him with the nervous stride habitual to asoldier, and held out his hand, saying bluffly: "Of course, I can'tthank you enough for your attention to my daughter, Ermine. But for yourfortunate presence there at the time of the accident, things might havebeen bad; how bad I fear to contemplate. Come to my quarters, my boy,and allow my daughter to thank you. She is quite recovered. She issitting out-of-doors. She hasn't been abroad much. Such a fall wouldhave killed an older woman."

  Together they made their way to the house, and Ermine passed under the_ramada_ with his hat off. Mrs. Searles shook his hand and said manymotherly things due on such occasions.

  "Please forgive me if I do not rise; it is the doctor's orders, youknow." And Miss Searles extended her hand, which the scout reverentlytook. To have seen him one would have fancied that, after all, mannersmust have been made before men; which idea is, of course, absurd.

  In response to their inquiries, he retold the story of the accident andof his ministrations and perplexities. He did not embellish, but leftout very important details, wondering the while if they were dead to allbut his memory.

  "She should not ride so poor a horse," ventured Ermine.

  "She should not have been left unattended." And this severity wasdirected at Major Searles by his wife, to which he feebly pleaded vainextenuations, without hope of their acceptance.

  "No, no, my dear; you were always a careless person; one is never safeto place dependence on you in minor matters. I declare, all men arealike --leastwise soldiers are. A blanket and a haversack, and theworld may wag at will, so far as they concern themselves." Rising, sheadjusted her hat, saying: "I must run down to Mrs. Taylor's for aminute. Her baby is very ill, and she has sent for me. You will stayhere, Major," and she swept out.

  "When do you depart for your hunting with Mr. Harding, Ermine?" askedSearles.

  "I must go soon. He left camp three days ago, and I have promised tofollow."

  "I should think you would be delighted to hunt. I know I should if Iwere a man," cheerfully remarked the young woman.

  "I have always hunted, Miss Searles. I think I should like to dosomething else."

  "What, pray?"

  "Oh, I don't know, something with a white shirt in it."

  "Isn't that foolish? There is no more fun in a white shirt than there isin a buckskin one, and there is no fun in either when it rains, I amtold."

  A passing officer appealed to the Major to come out; he was needed,together with other requests to follow, with reasons why haste wasimportant.

  "All right, I will be back in a moment, daughter." And the officer tookhimself off in complete disobedience of his wife's orders.

  "Don't be gone long, father; there is no one here but Mary and thestriker. You know I cannot depend on them."

  "You keep the wolves off, Ermine; I won't be gone a minute." And Erminefound himself alone again with Katherine.

  This time she was not pale unto death, but warm and tingling. Herlover's hands and feet took better care of themselves on a horse than ina chair, but the gloom under the porch at least stayed some of theembarrassment which her eyes occasioned him. Indeed, it is well knownthat lovers prefer night attacks, and despite the law and the prophets,they manage better without an audience.

  She gained a particularly entrancing attitude in her chair by apussy-cat wiggle which let the point of her very small foot out ofconcealing draperies. One hand hung limply toward Ermine over the arm ofthe chair, and it seemed to scream out to him to take hold of it.

  "And when do you go, Mr. Ermine?"

  This seemed safe, and along the lines of his self-interest.

  "I go to-morrow; I have given my word."

  "Very naturally there can be nothing to delay you here," she continued;"the fighting is over, I hear."

  "There is something in the world beside fighting."

  "Yes?" she evaded.

  "Yes, you detain me."

  "I!" and the little foot went back to its nest; the extended hand rosein protest. "I detain you! My dear Mr. Ermine, I do not understand how Idetain you; really, I am quite recovered from my fall."

  "You may have got well, Miss Searles, but I am not. Do you remember?"

  "Remember--remember--do I remember? What should I remember? I am toldyou were very good to me, but I was laboring under such a shock at thetime that you cannot expect much of my memory."

  "I was but little better off."

  "And were you injured also?"

  "Yes, so bad that I shall never get well unless you come to my rescue."

  "I come to your rescue! What can I do?" Her sword waved in tierce andseconde.

  "Be my wife; come, girl, be my wife."

  He had beaten down her guard; the whole mass was in the fire. The damhad broken; he led
his forlorn hope into the breach. "Come, Katherine,say you will marry me; say it and save me."

  "Oh," she almost screamed, "I can't do that; why, my mother would neverconsent to it," she appealed in bewilderment.

  He had risen and taken a step forward. "What has your mother to say? Sayyou will be my wife, Katherine."

  "Careful, careful, Mr. Ermine; restrain yourself, or I shall call aservant. No, no, I cannot marry you. Why, what should we do if I did? Weshould have to live in the mule corral."

  "No, come to the mountains with me. I will make you a good camp."

  She almost laughed aloud at this. "But I should make a poor squaw. Ifear you would have many quarrels with your dinner. Besides, my fatherwould not let me marry you. I like you, and you have been very good tome, but I had no idea we had gotten so far as this. Don't you think youWestern men cover the ground a little too fast?"

  Ermine drew back. "Why did you kiss me?"

  "I didn't," she snapped. Her manner grew cold and strange to him. He hadnever seen this mood before. It chilled him not a little, and he satdown again in the chair. His assault had been repulsed. They were nowlooking straight into each other's eyes. Fear had departed from Ermine'sand all graciousness from hers. Divested of their seductive flashes, hesaw the eyes of his photograph, and slowly reaching into the bosom ofhis shirt, drew out the buckskin bag and undid it. Turning to thestraining light, he gazed a moment, and then said, "It is you!"

  "I!--what is I?"

  "Yes! it is you!" and he handed the much-soiled photograph labelled"Bogardus" to her.

  She regarded it. "Why, how on earth did you come by this, Mr. JohnErmine?"

  "Sak-a-war-te sent it to me in the night, and he made it talk to me andhe made me swear that I would seek the woman until I found her. Then shewould be my wife. I have found you--I do not know--my head is burning--"

  She scanned the photograph, and said in an undertone: "Taken last yearin New York, and for him; yet you have it away out here in the middle ofthis enormous desert. He surely would not give it away to you. I do notunderstand." And she questioned him sharply as she returned the card.

  "Who is this Sak-a-war-te?"

  "He is God," said the scout.

  "Oh!" she started up. The little miss had never heard God connected withaffairs of this sort. An active fear of the fire which burned thisextraordinary man's head began to oppress her.

  "It is very strange. What has your god got to do with me,--with my--oh,you are joking, Mr. Ermine," she again appealed, a shadow of her oldsmile appearing.

  "No, no; I am not joking. I have found you. I must believe what thespirits say to me when they take my mind from me and give it to you,"returned the excited man.

  "But really--I did not mean to take your mind. I haven't it anywhereabout me. You have dreamed all this."

  "Yes; it may be only a dream, Miss Searles, but make it come true;please make it all come true. I should like to live such a dream."

  "Oh, my good man, I cannot make the dreams of casual people come true,not such serious dreams as yours."

  "You say you would have to live in the corral with mules. Is thatbecause I have so little money?"

  "No, it is not money. I do not know how much you have."

  "I have often taken enough gold out of the ground in a few days to lastme a year."

  "Yes, yes, but that is not the only thing necessary."

  "What is necessary, then? Tell me what you want."

  "There would have to be a great deal of love, you know. That is why anyone marries. I have been flattered by the attentions of many cavalierslike yourself, Mr. Ermine, but I could not marry any one of them unlessI loved him."

  "And then you do not love me," this in a low, far-away voice, loppingeach word off as though with an axe.

  "No, I do not. I have given you no reason to think I did. I like you,and I am sorry for you, now that I know in what way you regard me. Sitdown again and let me tell you." She crouched herself on the edge of herchair, and he sat in his, revolving his big hat in both hands betweenhis knees. He was composed, and she vaguely felt that she owed him areturn for his generous acts of the past. She had the light touch ofmature civilization and did not desire her darts to be deadly. Now thatone had laid this simple nature low, she felt a womanly impulse to nursethe wound.

  "Some terrible mistake has been made. Believe me, I am truly sorry thatour relationship has not been rightly understood." Here she paused amoment to take a long breath and observe the effect of her words on theone who had so easily lost his head. "No, I simply admired you, Mr.Ermine, as I do many of the brave men about here. I was not thinking ofmarrying any one. As for living in the mule corral, I was only jokingabout that. There might be worse places. I should dearly love a goldmine, but don't you understand there would have to be something else--Ishould have to give you something before we thought of marrying."

  "I see it; it all comes to me now," he labored. "You would have to giveme something, and you won't give me yourself. Then give me back mymind--give me the peace which I always had until I saw you. Can you dothat, Miss Searles? Can you make John Ermine what he was before thesteamboat came here, and let him mount his pony and go away?"

  It was all so strange, this quiet appeal, that she passed her handacross her forehead in despair.

  "If you will not make my dreams come true; if you will not say thethings which the photograph does; if you will not do what Godintends,--then I must take my body away from here and leave my shadow,my mind, and my heart to be kicked about among the wagons and the dogs.And I know now that you will soon forget me. Then I will be John Ermine,riding among the hills, empty as an old buffalo carcass, moving withoutlife, giving no thought to the sunshine, not feeling the wind norcaring how the birds fly or the animals run. If you will not marry me--"

  "Stop, please stop. I cannot stand this sort of thing, my dear Mr.Ermine. There are other young women besides myself. Go about the world,back in the States; you will find whole oceans of them, and withoutflattery, I feel you will soon find your mind again."

  "You have my mind. You have all the mind I ever had." And his voicedropped until she could distinguish only wild gutturals. He was talkingto himself in the Indian language.

  Springing up quickly, she flew into the house, out through it to therear steps, where she fell upon the neck of Mary, the cook, to the utterconsternation of a soldier, who, to all appearances, was there with asimilar ambition so to do. This latter worthy flung himself out into thedarkness. The cook held Katherine, expecting the entire Sioux tribe tocome pouring through the front door on the instant, and at this belatedinterval Mrs. Searles entered her own porch.

  "Why, Mr. Ermine, where is Katherine, and where is the Major? Why, youare all alone!" And she came up standing.

  "Yes, I am all alone," said the scout, quietly, rising from the chairand putting on his sombrero. Before she could comprehend, he was gone.