V
CAGED EAGLES
The word had gone out among all the red people that the old agent wasentirely "cut off," and that a soldier and a sign-talker had come totake his place, and so each little camp loaded its tepees on wagons orlashed them to the ponies and came flocking in to sit down before theLittle Father and be inspired of him.
The young men came first, whirling in on swift ponies, looking at adistance like bands of cowboys--for, though they hated the cattlemen,they formed themselves on Calvin Streeter as a model. Each wore a wide,white hat and dark trousers, and carried a gay kerchief slung round hisneck. All still wore moccasins of buckskin, beautifully beaded andfringed, and their braided hair hung low on their breasts.
The old men, who jogged in later in the day, still carried blankets,though they, too, had adopted the trousers and calico shirts of thewhite man. Several of the chieftains preserved their preciouspeace-pipes, and their fans and tobacco pouches, as of old, and a few ofthose who had been in Washington came in wrinkled suits of army-blue.The women dressed in calico robes cut in their own distinctive style,with wide sleeves, the loose flow of the garment being confined at thewaist with a girdle. As this was a time of great formality, several ofthe young girls returned to their buckskin dresses trimmed with elkteeth, which they highly prized.
As a race they were tall and strong, but the men, from much riding, werethin in the shanks and bowed out at the knee. They had lost the fineproportions for which they were famed in the days when they weretrailers a-foot. "Straight as an Indian" no longer applied to them, butthey were all skilled and picturesque horsemen. Lacking in beauty andstrength, they possessed other compensating qualities which still madethem most interesting to an artist. Their gestures were unstudiedlygraceful, and their roughhewn faces were pleasant in expression. Illwords or dark looks were rare among them.
In all external things they were quite obviously half-way from the tepeeto the cabin. Their homes consisted of small hovels of cottonwood logs,set round with tall tepees and low lodges of canvas, used fordormitories and kitchens in summer. A rack for drying meat rations was apart of each family's possessions. They owned many minute ponies, andtheir camps abounded in dogs of wolfish breed which they handled not atall, for they were, as of old, merely the camp-guard.
Such were the salient characteristics of the Tetongs, westernmostrepresentatives of a once powerful race of hunters, whose home had beenfar to the east, in a land of lakes, rivers, and forests. They were notstrangers to the young soldier; he knew their history and their habitsof thought. He now studied them to detect change and founddeterioration. "I am your friend," he said to them each and all. "Icome to do you good, to lead you in the new road. It is a strange roadto me also, for I, too, am a soldier and a hunter; but together we willlearn to make the earth produce meat for our eating. Put your hand inmine."
He was plunged at once into a wilderness of work, but in his moments ofleisure the face of Elsie Brisbane came into his thought and herresentment troubled him more than he cared to acknowledge. He well knewthat her birth and her training put her in hopeless opposition to all hewas planning to do for the Tetongs, and yet he determined to demonstrateto her both the justice and the humanity of his position.
He knew her father's career very well. He had once travelled for twodays on the same railway train with him, and remembered him as aboastful but powerful man, whose antagonism no one held in light esteem.Andrew Brisbane had entered the State at a time when its mineral wealthlay undeveloped and free to the taker, and having leagued himself withmen less masterly than himself but quite as unscrupulous, had set towork to grasp and hold the natural resources of the great Territory--helaid strong fists upon the mines and forests and grass of the wild land.Once grasped, nothing was ever surrendered.
It mattered nothing to him and his kind that a race of men already livedupon this land and were prepared to die in defence of it. By adroitjuggling, he and his corporation put the unsuspecting settler forward toreceive the first shock of the battle, and, when trouble came, loudlycalled upon the government to send its troops "in support of thepioneers." In this way, without danger to himself, the shrewd old Yankeehad acquired mineral belts, cattle-ranges, railway rights, and manyother good things, and at last, when the Territory was made a State, hebecame one of its senators.
Naturally, he hated the red people. They were pestilential because,first of all, they paid no railway charges, and also for the reason thatthey held the land away from those who would add to his unearnedincrement and increase the sum total of his tariff receipts. Hisoriginal plan was broadly simple. "Sweep them from the earth," hesnarled, when asked "What will we do with the Indians?" But his policy,modified by men with hearts and a sense of justice, had settled into aprocess of remorseless removal from point to point, from tillable landto grazing land, from grazing land to barren waste, and from barrenwaste to arid desert. He had no doubts in these matters. It was goodbusiness, and to say a thing was not good business was conclusive. TheTetong did not pay--remove him!
Elsie in her home-life, therefore, had been well schooled in racehatred. Tender-hearted where suffering in a dog or even a wolf wasconcerned, she remained indifferent when a tribe was reported to bestarving. Nothing modified her view till, as an art student in Paris,she came into contact with men who placed high value on the redman as"material." She found herself envied because she had casually lookedupon a few of these "wonderful chaps," as Newt Penrose called them, andwas often asked to give her impressions of them. When she returned toNew York she was deeply impressed by Maurice Stewart's enormous successin sculpturing certain types of this despised race. A little laterWilfred J. Buttes, who had been struggling along as a painter of badportraits, suddenly purchased a house in a choice suburb on the strengthof two summers' work among the mountain Utes.
Thereupon Elsie opened her eyes. Not that money was a lure to her, forit was not, but she was eager for notice--for the fame that comesquickly, and with loud trumpets and gay banners. In conversation withLawson one day she learned that he was about to do some pen-portraits ofnoted Tetong chieftains, and at once sprang to her opportunity. Sheadmired and trusted Lawson. His keen judgment, his definiteness ofspeech awed her a little, and with him she was noticeably less assertivethan with the others of her artist acquaintances. So here now she sat,painting with rigor and immense satisfaction the picturesque rags andtinsel ornaments of the Tetongs. To her they were beggars and tramps, ona scale with the lazzaroni of Rome or Naples. That they were anythingmore than troublesome models had not been borne in on her mind.
She had never professed special regard for her uncle the agent--in fact,she covertly despised him for his lack of power--but, now that the issuewas drawn, she naturally flew to the side of those who would destroy thesmall peoples of the earth. She wrote to her father a passionate letter.
"Can't you stop this?" she asked. "No doubt Uncle Henry will go directto Washington and make complaint. This Captain Curtis is insufferable.I would leave here instantly only I am bound to do some work for Mr.Lawson. We must all go soon, for winter is coming on, but I would liketo see this upstart humbled. He treats me as if I were aschool-girl--'declines to argue the matter.' Oh! he is provoking. Hissister is a nice little thing, but she sides with him, of course--and sodoes Lawson, in a sense; so you see I am all alone. The settlers areinfuriated at Uncle Sennett's dismissal, and will support you and UncleHenry."
In the days that followed she met Curtis's attempts at modifying herresentment with scornful silence, and took great credit to herself thatshe did not literally fly at his head when he spoke of his work or hiswards. Her avoidance of him became so painful that at the end of thethird day he said to his sister: "Jennie, I think I will go to theschool mess after this. Miss Brisbane's hostility shows no signs ofrelenting, and the situation is becoming decidedly unpleasant."
"George!" said Jennie, sternly. "Don't you let that snip drive you away.Why, the thing is ridiculous! She is here on sufferance--yoursufferance. You cou
ld order them all off the reservation at once."
"I know I could, but I won't. You know what I mean--I can't even letMiss Brisbane know that she has made me uncomfortable. She's a veryinstructive example of the power of environment. She has all theprejudices and a good part of the will of her father, and represents herclass just as a little wild-cat represents its species. She's abeautiful girl, and yet she is to me one of the most unattractive womenI ever knew."
Jennie looked puzzled. "You are a little hard on her, George. She _is_unsympathetic, but I think she says a lot of those shocking things justto hurt you."
"That isn't very nice, either," he said, quietly. "Well, our goods areon the way, and by Thursday we'll be independent of any one. But maybeyou are right--it would excite comment if I left the mess. I will joinyou all at meals until we are ready to light our own kitchen fire."
Thereafter he saw very little of the artists. By borrowing a fewnecessaries of his head farmer he was able to camp down in the housewhich Sennett had so precipitately vacated. He was busy, very busy,during the day; but when his work was over and he sat beside his fire,pipe in hand, Elsie's haughty face troubled him. His life had not takenhim much among women, and his love fancies had been few. His duties asan officer and his researches as a forester and map-builder had alsoaided to keep him a bachelor. Once or twice he had been disturbed by afair face at the post, only to have it whisked away again into themysterious world of happy girlhood whence it came.
And now, at thirty-four, he was obliged to confess that he was as farfrom marriage as ever--farther, in fact, for an Indian reservationoffers but slender opportunity in way of courtship for a man of hisexacting tastes.
He was not quite honest with himself, or he would have acknowledged thepleasure he took in watching Elsie's erect and graceful figure as sherode past his office window of a morning. It was pleasant to pause atthe open door of her studio for a moment and say "Good-morning," thoughhe received but a cold and formal bow in return. She was more alluringat her easel than in any other place, for she had several curious andvery pretty tricks in working, and seemed like a very intent child, withher brown hair loosening over her temples, her eyes glowing withexcitement, while she dabbed at the canvas with a piece of cheese-clothor a crumb of bread. She dragged her stool into position with a quick,amusing jerk, holding her brush in her teeth meanwhile. Her blouses weremarvels of odd grace and rich color.
The soldier once or twice lingered in silence at the door after she hadforgotten his presence, and each time the glow of her disturbing beautyburned deeper into his heart, and he went away with drooping head.
Mrs. Wilcox took occasion one day to remonstrate with her niece. "Elsie,you were very rude to Captain Curtis again to-day. He was deeply hurt."
"Now, aunt, don't _you_ try to convert me to a belief in that tinsoldier. He gets on my nerves."
"It would serve you right if he ordered us off the reservation. Yourremarks to-day before that young Mr. Streeter were very wrong and veryinjudicious, and will be used in a bad cause. Captain Curtis is tryingto keep the peace here, and you are doing a great deal of harm by yourhints of his removal."
"I don't care. I intend to have him removed. I have taken a frightfuldislike to him. He is a prig and a hypocrite, and has no business tocome in here in this way, setting his low-down Indians up against thesettlers."
"That's just what he is trying _not_ to do, and if you weren't soobstinate you'd see it and honor him for his good sense."
"Aunt, don't _you_ lecture me," cried the imperious girl. "I will notallow it!"
In truth, Mrs. Wilcox's well-meant efforts at peace-making worked outwrongly. Elsie became insufferably rude to Curtis, and her letters werefilled with the bitterest references to him and his work.
Lawson continued most friendly, and Curtis gladly availed himself of thewide knowledge of primitive psychology which the ethnologist hadacquired. The subject of Indian education came up very naturally at alittle dinner which Jennie gave to the teachers and missionaries soonafter she opened house, and Lawson's remarks were very valuable toCurtis. Lawson was talking to the principal of the central school. "Weshould apply to the Indian problem the law of inherited aptitudes," hesaid, slowly. "We should follow lines of least resistance. Fiftythousand years of life proceeding in a certain way results in a certainarrangement of brain-cells which can't be changed in a day, or even in ageneration. The red hunter, for example, was trained to endure hunger,cold, and prolonged exertion. When he struck a game-trail he never leftit. His pertinacity was like that of a wolf. These qualities do not makea market-gardener; they might not be out of place as a herder. We mustbe patient while the redman makes the change from the hunter to theherdsman. It is like mulching a young crab-apple and expecting it tobear pippins."
"Patience is an unknown virtue in an Indian agent," remarked theprincipal of the central school--"present company excepted."
"Do you believe in the allotment?" asked Miss Colson, one of themissionaries for kindergarten work, an eager little woman, aflame withreligious zeal.
"Not in its present form," replied Lawson, shortly. "Any attempt to makethe Tetong conform to the isolated, dreary, lonesome life of the Westernfarmer will fail. The redman is a social being--he is patheticallydependent on his tribe. He has always lived a communal life, with thevoices of his fellows always in his ears. He loves to sit at evening andhear the chatter of his neighbors. His games, his hunting, his toil, allwent on with what our early settlers called a 'bee.' He seldom worked orplayed alone. His worst punishment was to be banished from the campingcircle. Now the Dawes theorists think they can take this man, who has nonewspaper, no books, no letters, and set him apart from his fellows in awretched hovel on the bare plain, miles from a neighbor, there toimprove his farm and become a citizen. This mechanical theory has failedin every case; nominally, the Sioux, the Piegans, are living thisabhorrent life; actually, they are always visiting. The loneliness isunendurable, and so they will not cultivate gardens or keep live-stock,which would force them to keep at home. If they were allowed to settlein groups of four or five they would do better."
Miss Colson's deep seriousness of purpose was evident in the tremulousintensity of her voice. "If they had the transforming love of Christ intheir hearts they would feel no loneliness."
A silence followed this speech; both men mentally shrugged theirshoulders, but Jennie came to the rescue.
"Miss Colson, did you ever live on a ranch, miles from any otherstove-pipe?"
"No, but I am sure that with God as my helper I could live in adungeon."
"You should have been a nun," said Lawson. "I don't mind your livingalone with Christ, but I think it cruel and unchristian to force yoursolitary way of life on a sociable redman. Would Christ do that? WouldHe insist on shutting the door on their mythology, their nature lore,their dances and ceremonies? Would He not go freely among them, glad oftheir joy, and condemning only what was hurtful? Is there any recordthat He ever condemned an innocent pleasure? How do you know but theyare as near the Creator's design as the people of Ohio?"
The teacher's pretty face was strained and white, and her wide-set eyeswere painful to see. She set her slim hands together. "Oh, I can'tanswer you now, but I know you are wrong--wickedly wrong!"
Jennie again broke the intensity of the silence by saying: "Two big menagainst one little woman isn't fair. I object to having the Indianproblem settled over cold coffee. Mr. Lawson, stop preaching!"
"Miss Colson is abundantly able to take care of herself," said Slicer,and the other teachers, who had handed over their cause to their ablestadvocate, chorused approval.
Curtis, who sat with deeply meditative eyes fixed on Miss Colson, nowsaid: "It all depends on what we are trying to do for these people.Personally, I am not concerned about the future life of my wards. I wantto make them healthy and happy, here and now."
"Time's up!" cried Jennie, and led the woman out into the safe harbor ofthe sitting-room.
After they had lighted their cig
ars, Lawson said privately to Curtis:"Now there's a girl with too much moral purpose--just as Elsie isspoiled by too little. However, I prefer a wholesome pagan to a morbidChristian."
"It's rather curious," Curtis replied. "Miss Colson is a pretty girl--avery pretty girl; but I can't quite imagine a man being in love withher. What could you do with such inexorable moral purpose? You couldn'tput your arm round it, could you?"
"You'd have to hang her up by a string, like one of these toy angels theDutch put atop their Christmas-trees. The Tetongs fairly dread to seeher coming--they think she's deranged."
"I know it--the children go to her with reluctance; she doesn't seemwholesome to them, as Miss Diehl does. And yet I can't discharge her."
"Naturally not! You'd hear from the missionary world. Think of it! 'Ifind Miss Colson too pious, please take her away.'" Both men laughed atthe absurdity of this, and Lawson went on: "I wished a dozen timesduring dinner that Elsie Bee Bee had been present. It would have givenher a jolt to come in contact with such inartistic, unshakableconvictions."
"She would have been here, only her resentment towards me is still verystrong."
"She has it in for you, sure thing. I can't budge her," said Lawson,smiling. "She's going to have you removed the moment she reachesWashington."
"I have moments when I think I'd like to be removed," said Curtis, as heturned towards Mr. Slicer and his other guests. "Suppose we go into thelibrary, gentlemen."
The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Page 5
