The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop

by Hamlin Garland

  XV

  ELSIE ENTERS HER STUDIO

  Elsie, being young and of flamelike vitality, was up and ready for awalk while Two Horns was building the fire, and was trying to make himunderstand her wish to paint him, when Curtis emerged from his tent.

  "Good-morning, Captain," she called. "I'm glad you've come. Please tellTwo Horns I want to have him sit for me."

  Curtis, with a few swift gestures, conveyed her wishes to Two Horns, whoreplied in a way which made Curtis smile.

  Elsie asked, "What does he say?"

  "He says, 'Yes, how much?'"

  "Oh, the mercenary thing!"

  "Not at all," replied Curtis. "His time is worth something. You artiststhink the redmen ought to sit for nothing."

  Two Horns ran through a swift and very graceful series of signs, whichCurtis translated rapidly.

  "He says: 'I have heard of you. You painted Elk's daughter. I hear yousell these pictures and catch a great pile of money. I think it is rightyou pay us something when we stand before you for long hours, while youmake pictures to sell to rich men in Washington. Now, I drive a team; Iearn some days two dollars driving team. If I stop driving team, andcome and sit for you, then I lose my two dollars.'"

  As he finished, Two Horns smiled at Elsie with a sly twinkle in his eyeswhich disconcerted her. "You sabbe?" he ended, speaking directly to her.

  "I sabbe," she said, in reply.

  "Good!" He held out his hand and she took it, and the bargain wassealed. He then returned to his work about the camp.

  "Isn't it glorious!" the girl cried, as she looked about her. "It'senough to do an artist all over new." The grass and the willows sparkledwith dew-drops. The sky, cloudless save for one long, low,orange-and-purple cape of glory just above the sunrise, canopied alimitless spread of plain to the north and east, while the high butte tothe back was like the wall of a temple.

  "Oh, let's take a run up that hill," Elsie said, with sudden change oftone. "Come!" and, giving Curtis no time to protest, she scuttled away,swift as a partridge. He followed her, calling:

  "Wait a moment, please!"

  When he overtook her at the foot of the first incline she wasbreathless, but her eyes were joyous as a child's and her cheeks wereglowing.

  "Let me help you," he said; "and if you slip, don't put your hand on theground; that is the way men get snake-bitten."

  "Snakes!" She stopped short. "I forgot--are there rattlesnakes here?"

  "There is always danger on the sunny side of these buttes at this timeof the year, especially where the rocks crop out."

  "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You didn't give me time."

  "Do you really think there is danger?"

  "Not if you walk slowly and follow me; I'll draw their poison. Afterthey bite me they'll have no virus left for you."

  She began to smile roguishly. "You are tired--you want an excuse torest."

  "If I thought you meant that, I'd run up to the summit and back again toshow you that I'm younger than my years."

  She clapped her hands. "Do it! It will be like the knight in thestory--the glove-and-lion story."

  "No. On reflection, I will not run; it would compromise my dignity. Wewill climb soberly, side by side, like Darby and Joan on the hill oflife."

  With a demure countenance she took his hand, and they scrambled brisklyup the slope. When they reached the brow of the hill she was fairly doneup, while he, breathing easily, showed little fatigue, although she hadfelt his powerful arm sustaining her many times on the steeper slopes.She could not speak, and he smilingly said, "I hope I haven't hurriedyou?"

  "You--are--strong," she admitted, brokenly. "I'm not tired, but I can'tget breath."

  At length they reached the summit and looked about. "What is the meaningof those little towers of stone?" she asked, after a moment's rest.

  "Oh, they have different meanings. Sometimes they locate the springs ofwater, sometimes they indicate the course of a trail. This one was puthere by a young fellow to mark the spot from whence he saw a famous herdof buffalo--what time he made a wonderful killing."

  "I suppose all this land has been the hunting-ground of these people forages. Do you suppose they had names for hills like this, and were fondof them like white people?"

  "Certainly. They had a geography of their own as complete in its way asours, and they are wonderfully sure of direction even now. They seldommake a mistake in the correlative positions of streams or mountains,even when confused by a white man's map."

  "It _is_ wonderful, isn't it--that they should have lived here all thoseyears without knowing or caring for the white man's world?"

  "They don't care for it now--but I see Two Horns signalling thatbreakfast is ready, so we had better go."

  "Let's run down!"

  "Wait!" He caught her. "It will lame you frightfully, I warn you."

  "Oh no, it won't."

  "Very well, experience is a fine school. If you must run down, we'll godown the shadowed side. Now I'll let you get half-way down and beat youin, after all. One, two, three--go!"

  With her skirt caught up in her hand, she started down the hill inreckless flight. She heard his shout and the thud of his prodigiousleaps, and just as she reached the level he overtook her andrelentlessly left her far behind. Discouraged and panting, she fellinto a walk and waited for him to return, as she knew he would.

  "Oh, these skirts!" she said, resentfully. "What chance has a woman withyards of cloth binding her? I nearly tumbled headlong."

  He did not make her suffer for her defeat, and they returned to camp gayas a couple of children. Lawson smiled benevolently, like an aged uncle,while Elsie told him of their climb. Said he: "When you're as old as Iam you will wait for wonders to come your way; you will not seek them."

  The breakfast was made merry by Jennie, who waged gentle warfare onParker, whose preconceived ideas of the people resident on an Indianreservation had been shaken.

  "Why, you're very decent," he admitted at last.

  "They are all like us--nit," replied Jennie. "We're marked 'special.'"

  "Couldn't be any more like you, sis," said Curtis.

  "_You_ shouldn't say that."

  "Well, it needed saying, and no one else seemed ready to do it. IfCalvin had been here!"

  "Who is Calvin?" asked Mrs. Parker.

  "I know!" cried Elsie. "He's one of the handsomest young cowboys youever saw. If you want to do a cow-puncher, Parker, he's your model."

  "I certainly must see him. If I don't do a cowboy or a bucking broncoI'm a failure."

  As they were ready to start, Elsie again took her place beside Curtis,but Lawson insisted on sitting behind with Jennie. "It's hard luck,Parker, to have to sit with your wife," he said, compassionately.

  "Oh, well! I'm used to disappointments," Parker replied, in resignedcalm.

  Elsie felt the need of justifying herself. "Are you complaining? Am Ithe assistant driver, or am I not? If I am, here is where I belong."

  "When I was coaching in Scotland once--" began Lawson.

  "Oh, never mind Scotland!" interrupted Elsie. "See that chain of peaks?Aren't they gorgeous! Do we camp there?"

  "Yes," replied Curtis. "Just where that fan-shaped belt of timberbegins, I hope to set our tent. The agency is just between those darkridges."

  "It is strange," Elsie said, after a pause. "Last year I was _wondering_at everything; now I am looking for familiar things."

  "That is the second stage," he answered. "The third will be sympathy."

  "What will the fourth be?"

  "Affection."

  "And the fifth?"

  "Devotion."

  She laughed. "You place too high a value on your Western land."

  "I admit there is to me great charm in these barren foot-hills and thegreat divide they lead up to," he soberly answered.

  As they talked, the swift little horses drummed along the hard road, andby the time the agency flag-pole came in view they had passed over theirmain points
of difference, and were chatting gayly on topics notcontroversial. Elsie was taking her turn with the reins, her faceflushed with the joy and excitement of it, while Jennie and Mrs.Parker, shrieking with pretended fear, clung to their seats withfrenzied clasp.

  Curtis was as merry as a boy, and his people, seeing him come in smilingand alert, looked at each other in amazement, and Crow Wing said:

  "Our Little Father has found a squaw at last."

  Whereas, as her lover, Curtis had been careful to consider the effect ofevery word, he now went to Elsie's service as frankly as Lawson himself,and his thoughtfulness touched her deeply. Her old studio had been putin order, and contained all needful furniture, and her sleepingapartment looked very clean and very comfortable indeed.

  Jennie apologized. "Of course, it's like camping compared to your ownsplendid home, but George said you wouldn't mind that, being an artist.He has an idea an artist can sleep in a palace one night and a pigstythe next, and rejoice."

  "He isn't so very far wrong," Elsie valiantly replied. "Of course, thepigsty is a little bit extreme. This is good enough for any one. You arevery kind," she added, softly. "It was good of him to take so muchtrouble."

  "George is the best man I ever knew," replied Jennie. "That's why I'venever been able to leave him for any other man." She smiled shrewdly."I'll admit that eligible men have been scarce, and my chances have beenfew. Well, I must run across and look after dinner. You're to eat withus till you get settled. _We_ insist on being hosts this time."

  * * * * *

  "Surely," said Curtis, as they rose from the table, "being Indian agentis not the grim, vexatious experience I once considered it. If the charmof such company should get reckoned in as one of the perquisites of theoffice, the crush of applicants would thicken into a riot. I find ithard to return to my work in the office."

  "Don't be hasty; we may turn out to be nuisances," responded Elsie.