XVII
A FLUTE, A DRUM, AND A MESSAGE
Elsie dreamed she was at the theatre. The opera was "Il Trovatore," andat the moment when the prison song--that worn yet ever-mournfulcry--should have pulsed forth; but in its stead another strain camefloating from afar, a short phrase equally sad, which sank slowly, as afragment of cloud descends from sky to earth to become tears of dew onthe roses. Over and over again it was repeated, so sad, so sweet, soelemental, it seemed that the pain of all love's vain regret was in it,longing and sorrow and despair, without relief, without hope, defiant ofdeath.
Slowly the walls of the theatre faded. The gray light of morning creptinto the dreamer's eyes, and she was aware of the walls of her tent andknew she had been dreaming. But the sorrowful song went on, withoccasional slight deviations of time and tone, but always the same.Beginning on a high key, it fell by degrees, hesitating, momentarilyswooping upward, yet ever falling, till at last it melted in with thesolemn moan of the pines stirring above her head. Then she drowsedagain, and seemed to be listening to the wailing song with some onewhose hand she held. As she turned to ask whence the music came alittle shudder seized her, for the eyes looking into hers were not thoseof Lawson. Curtis faced her, grave and sweet.
With this shock she wakened, but the song had ceased. She waited insilence, hoping to hear it again. When fully aroused to hersurroundings, she was convinced that she had dreamed the music as wellas the hand-clasp, and a flush ran over her. "Why should I dream in thatway of _him_?"
She heard the soft lisp of moccasined feet outside the tent, andimmediately after the sound of an axe. Presently the fire began tocrackle, and the rising sun threw a flood of golden light against thecanvas wall. Jennie lifted her arms and yawned, and at last sat up andlistened. Catching Elsie's eye she said: "Good-morning, dear. How didyou sleep?"
"Deliciously--but did you hear some one singing just before sunrise?"
"No--did you?"
"I thought I did; but perhaps I dreamed it."
"Where did it seem to come from?"
"Oh, from away off and high up--the saddest song--a phrase constantlyrepeated."
"Oh, I know. It was some young Tetong lover playing the flute. Theyoften do that when the girls are going for water in the morning. Isn'tit beautiful?"
"I never heard anything so sad."
"All their songs are sad. George says the primitive love-songs of allraces are the same. But Two Horns has the fire going, and I must get upand superintend breakfast. You need not rise till I call."
Mrs. Parker began to stir. "Jerome! What time is it?"
The girls laughed as Jerome, in the other tent, replied, sweetly:
"Time to arise, Honey Plum."
Mrs. Parker started up and stared around, her eyes still misty withslumber. "I slept the whole night through," she finally remarked, as ifin answer to a question, and her voice expressed profound astonishment.
"Didn't hear the wolves, did you, pet?" called Parker.
"Wolves! No. Did they howl?"
"Howl is no name for it. They tied themselves into double bow-knots ofnoise."
"I don't believe it."
Elsie replied: "I didn't hear anything but the music. Did you hear thesinging?"
Lawson spoke. "You people have the most active imaginations. All I heardwas the wind in the pines, and an occasional moose walking by."
"Moose!" cried Mrs. Parker. "Why, they're enormous creatures."
Jennie began to laugh. "You people will need to hurry to be ready forbreakfast. I'm going to put the coffee on." She slipped outside. "Oh,girls! Get up at once, it's glorious out here on the lake!"
Curtis was busy about the camp-fire. "Good-morning, sis. Here are sometrout for breakfast."
"Trout!" shouted Lawson, from the tent.
"Trout!" echoed Parker. "We'll be there," and the tent bulged andflapped with his hasty efforts at dressing.
In gay spirits they gathered round their rude table, Parker and Jennieparticularly jocular. Curtis was puzzled by some subtle change inElsie. Her gaze was not quite so frank, and her color seemed a littlemore fitful; but she was as merry as a child, and enjoyed everymakeshift as though it were done for the first time and for her ownamusement.
"What's the programme for to-day?" asked Parker.
"After I inspect the saw-mill we will hook up and move over the divideto the head-waters of the Willow and camp with Red Wolf's band."
Parker coughed. "Well, now--of course, Captain, we are depending onyou."
Curtis smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to go back to the agency?"
"No, sirree, bob! I'm sticking right to your coat-tails till we're outo' the woods."
Lawson interposed. "You wouldn't infer that Parker had ever had aParisian education, would you?"
Parker was not abashed. "I know what you mean. Those are all expressionsmy father used. They stick to me like fly-paper."
"I've tried and tried to break him of his plebeian phrases, but Icannot," Mrs. Parker said, with sad emphasis.
"I wouldn't try," replied Jennie. "I like them."
"Thank you, lady, thank you," Parker fervently made answer.
Curtis hurried away to look at the saw-mill. Lawson and Parker wentfishing, and Elsie got out her paint-box and started another sketch. Themorning was glorious, the air invigorating, and she painted joyouslywith firm, plashing strokes. Never had she been so sure of her brush.Life and art were very much worth while--only now and then a disturbingwish intruded--it was only a vague and timid longing; but it grew alittle in power each time. Once she looked steadily and soberly at thering whose jewel sparkled like a drop of dew on the third finger of herleft hand.
A half-hour later Curtis came back, walking rapidly. Seeing her at workhe deflected from the straight trail and drew near.
"I think that is wonderful," he said, as he looked at her sketch. "Idon't see how you do so much with so few strokes."
"That always puzzles the layman," she replied. "But it's really verysimple."
"When you know how. I hope you're enjoying your trip with us?"
She flashed a smile that was almost coquettish upon him. "It isglorious. I am so happy I'm afraid it won't last."
"We always feel that way about any keen pleasure," he replied, soberly."Now I can't keep the thought of your going out of my mind. Every houror two I find myself saying, 'It'll be lonesome business when theseartists leave us.'"
"You mustn't speak of anything sorrowful this week. Let's be as happy aswe can."
He pondered a fitting reply, but at last gave it up and said: "If youare satisfied with your sketch, we'll start. I see the teams are ready."
"Oh yes, I'm ready to go. I just wanted to make a record of thevalues--they are changing so fast now," and she began to wipe herbrushes and put away her panel. "I don't care where we go so we keep inthe pines and have the mountains somewhere in sight."
It must have been in remorse of her neglect of Lawson the preceding daythat Elsie insisted on sitting beside him in the back seat, while Mrs.Parker took her place with the driver. The keen pang of disappointmentwhich crossed his heart warned Curtis that his loyalty to his friend wasin danger of being a burden, and the drive was robbed of all the blitheintercourse of the day before. Parker and Jennie fought clamorously on avariety of subjects in the middle distance, but Curtis was hardly morethan courteous to Mrs. Parker--so absorbed was he in some innercontroversy.
Retracing their course to the valley the two wagons crossed the streamand crawled slowly up the divide between the Elk and the Willow, and atone o'clock came down upon a sparse village of huts and tepees situatedon the bank of a clear little stream--just where it fell away from anarrow pond which was wedged among the foot-hills like an artificialreservoir. The year was still fresh and green here, and the air was likeMay.
Dogs were barking and snarling round the teams, as a couple of old menleft the doors of their tepees and came forward. One of them wasgray-haired, but tall and broad-shouldered. This was Many Coups,
afamous warrior and one of the historians of his tribe. He greeted theagent soberly, expressing neither fear nor love, asking: "Who are thesewith you? I have not seen them before."
To this Curtis replied: "They are my friends. They make pictures of thehills and the lakes and of chieftains like Many Coups."
Many Coups looked keenly at Elsie. "My eyes are old and poor," he slowlysaid. "But now I remember. This young woman was at the agency lastyear," and he put up his hand, which was small and graceful evenyet--the hand of an artist. "I make pictures also," he said.
When this was translated, Elsie said: "You shall make a picture of meand I will make one of you."
At this the old man smilingly answered: "It shall be so."
"Where is Red Wolf?" asked Curtis.
"He is away with Tailfeathers to keep the cowboys from our land. We aregrowing afraid, Little Father."
"We will talk more of that by-and-by--we must now camp. Call your peopletogether and at mid-afternoon we will council," replied Curtis.
Driving a little above the village, Curtis found a sheltered spot behindsome low-growing pines and not far from the lake, and there theyhastened to camp. The news flew from camp to camp that the Little Fatherwas come, but no one crowded unseasonably to look at him. "We willcouncil," Many Coups announced, and began to array himself for theceremony. Horsemen galloped away to call Red Wolf and others who liveddown the valley. Never before had an agent visited them in their homes,and they were disposed to make the most of it.
By the time the white people had eaten their lunch all the red womenwere in their best dresses. The pappooses were shining with thescrubbing they had suffered and each small warrior wore a cunningbuckskin coat elaborate with beads and quills. A semicircular wall ofcanvas was being erected to shield the old men from the mountain wind,and a detail of cooks had started in upon the task of preparing thefeast which would end the council.
Said Curtis: "You will find in this camp the Tetong comparativelyunchanged. Red Wolf's band is the most primitive encampment I know." Afew minutes later he added, "Here comes Many Coups and his son inofficial garb."
The two chieftains greeted their visitors as if they had not hithertobeen seen--with all the dignity of ambassadors to a foreign court.
"Please treat them with the same formality," warned Curtis. "It will payyou for the glimpse of the old-time ceremony."
The younger man was unpainted, save for some small blue figures on hisforehead. On his head he wore a wide Mexican hat which vastly becamehim. His face was one of the handsomest and most typical of his race.
"This young man is the son of Many Coups, and is called Blue Fox, or'The Southern Traveller,' because he has been down where the Mexicansare. His hat he got there, and he is very proud of it," explainedCurtis.
Jennie gave each of them a cup of coffee and a biscuit, of which theypartook without haste, discussing meanwhile the coming council.
"We did not know you were coming; some of our people will not get herein time," said Many Coups.
"To-night, after the council, we wish to dance," said Blue Fox, meaningit as a request.
"It is forbidden in Washington to dance in the old way."
"We have heard of that, but we will dance for your wives. They will beglad to see it."
"Very well, you may dance, but not too long. No war-dance--only thevisitors' dance."
"Ay, we understand," said Many Coups as he rose and drew his blanketabout him. "In one hour we will come to council. Red Wolf will be there,and Hump Shoulder and his son. It may be others will return in time."
The women were delighted at the promise of both a council and a dance,and Lawson unlimbered his camera in order to take some views of bothfunctions, though he expressed some dissatisfaction.
"The noble redman is thin and crooked in the legs," he said to Curtis."Why is this?"
"All the plains Indians, who ride the horse almost from their babyhood,are bow-legged. They never walk, and they are seldom symmetricallydeveloped."
"They are significant, but not beautiful," said Lawson.
As they walked about the camp Elsie exclaimed: "This is the way allredmen should live," and, indeed, the scene was very beautiful. Theywere far above the agency, and the long valleys could be seen descendinglike folds in a vast robe reaching to the plain. The ridges were darkwith pines for a space, but grew smooth and green at lower levels, andat last melted into haze. The camp was a summer camp, and all about, inpleasant places among the pines, stood the tepees, swarming with happychildren and puppies. Under low lodges of canvas or bowers of pinebranches the women were at work boiling meat or cooking a rude sort ofcruller. They were very shy, and mostly hung their heads as theirvisitors passed, though they soon yielded to Jennie, who could speak afew words to them.
"There's nothing in them for sculpture," said Parker, critically. "Atleast not for beauty. They might be treated as Raffaelle paints--forcharacter."
"They grow heavy early," Jennie added, "but the little girls arebeautiful--see that little one!"
The crier, a tall old man, toothless and wrinkled and gray, began to cryin a hollow, monotonous voice, "Come to the council place," and Curtisled his flock to their places in the midst of the circle.
The council began with all the old-time forms, with gravity and decorum.Red Wolf was in the centre, with Many Coups at his left. The pipe ofpeace went round, and those whose minds were not yet prepared for speechdrew deep inspirations of the fragrant smoke in the hope that theirthoughts might be clarified, and when they lifted their eyes they seemednot to perceive their visitors or those who passed to and fro among thetepees. The sun, westering, fell with untempered light on their heads,but they faced it with the calm unconcern of eagles.
To please his guests, Curtis allowed the utmost formality, and did nothasten, interrupt, or excise. The speeches were translated into Englishby Lawson, and at each telling point or period in Red Wolf's speech thewomen looked at each other in surprise.
"Did he really say that?" asked Elsie. "Didn't you make it up?"
"Rather good for a ragamuffin, don't you think?" said Lawson, as the oldman took his seat.
Many Coups spoke slowly, sadly, as though half communing with himself,with nothing of the bombast the visitors had expected, and he grew indignity and power as his thought began to make itself felt through hisinterpreter.
"He is speaking for his race," remarked Lawson to Elsie.
"By Jove! the old fellow is a good lawyer!" cried Parker. "I don't seeany answer to his indictment."
Curtis sat listening as though each point the old man made were new--andthis attitude pleased the chieftains very much.
The speech, in its general tenor, was similar to many others he hadheard from thoughtful redmen. Briefly he described the time when theredmen were happy in a land filled with deer and buffalo, before thewhite man was. "We lived as the Great Spirit made us. Then the white mancame--and now we are bewildered with his commands. Our eyes are blinded,we know not where to go. We know not whom to believe or trust. I am old,I am going to my grave troubled over the fate of my children. Agentscome and go. The good ones go too soon--the bad ones stay too long, butthey all go. There is no one in whose care to leave my children. It isbetter to die here in the hills than to live the slave of the white man,ragged and spiritless, slinking about like a dog without a friend. We donot want to make war any more--we ask only to live as our fathers lived,and die here in the hills."
As he spoke these final tragic words his voice grew deep and trembled,and Elsie felt some strong force gripping at her throat, and burningtears filled her eyes. In the city it was easy to say, "The way ofcivilization lies over the graves of the primitive races," but here,under the sun, among the trees, when one of those about to die lookedover and beyond her to the hills as though choosing his grave--theutterance of the pitiless phrase was difficult in any tone--impossiblein the boasting shout of the white promoter. She rose suddenly andwalked away--being ashamed of her tears, a painful constriction in herthroa
t.
The speakers who followed spoke in much the same way--all but Blue Fox,who sharply insisted that the government should help them. "You have putus here on barren land where we can only live by raising stock. Youshould help us fence the reservation, and get us cattle to start with.Then by-and-by we can build good houses and have plenty to eat. This isright, for you have destroyed our game--and you will not let us go tothe mountains to hunt. You must do something besides furnish us ploughsin a land where the rain does not come."
In answer to all this, Curtis replied, using the sign language. Headmitted that Red Wolf was right. "The Tetongs have been cheated, butgood days are coming. I am going to help you. I am going to stay withyou till you are safely on the white man's road. We intend to buy outthe settlers, and take the water in the streams so that you may raisepotatoes for your children, and you will then be glad because yourgardens will bear many things good to eat. Do not despair, the whitepeople are coming to understand the situation now. You have manyfriends who will help."
As Many Coups rose and shook hands with the agent he was smiling again,and he said, "Your words are good."
The old crier went forth again calling: "Come to the dance-hall. Thewhite people desire to see you dance. Come clothed in your bestgarments."
Then the drum began to utter its spasmodic signal, and the herald'svoice sounded faint and far off as he descended the path to the secondgroup of tepees.
"Shall we go now?" asked Mrs. Parker.
"Oh no, it will be two hours before they begin. The young men must goand dress. We have time to sup and smoke a pipe."
"Oh! I'm so glad we're going to see a real Indian dance. I didn'tsuppose it could be seen now--not the real thing."
Lawson smiled. "You'll think this is the real thing before you getinside the door. I've known tenderfeet to weaken at the last moment."
Parker pretended to be a little nervous. "Suppose they should get holdof some liquor."
"This band is too far away from the white man to have his vices,"replied Curtis with a slight smile. He had wondered at Elsie's going,but concluded she had grown weary of the old chief's speech.
"There is great charm in this life," said Lawson, as they all gatheredbefore their tent and sat overlooking the village and the lake. "Isometimes wonder whether we have not complicated life without adding tothe sum of human happiness."
"I'm thinking of this in winter," said Elsie. "O-o-o! It must beterrible! No furnace, no bath-tubs."
The others laughed heartily at the sincerity of her shudder, and Curtissaid:
"Well, now, you'd be surprised to know how comfortable they keep intheir tepees. In the old skin tepee they were quite warm even on thecoldest days. They always camp in sheltered places out of the wind, andwhere fuel is plenty."
"At the same time I prefer my own way of living to theirs--when wintercomes."
"I know something of your logic," replied Curtis. "But I think Iunderstand the reluctance of these people when asked to give up the oldthings. I love their life--their daily actions--this man coiling alariat--that child's outline against the tepee--the smell of their freshbread--the smoke of their little fires. I can understand a Tetong whenhe says: 'All this is as sweet to me as your own life--why should I giveit up?' Feeling as I do, I never insist on their giving up anythingwhich is not an impediment. I argue with them, and show that some oftheir ways are evil or a hinderance in the struggle for life under newconditions, and they always meet me half-way."
"Supper is ready," called Jennie, and his audience rose.
While still at meat, the drum, which had been sounding at intervals,suddenly took on a wilder energy, followed immediately by a high,shrill, yelping call, which was instantly augmented by a half-dozenothers, all as savage and startling as the sudden burst of howling froma pack of wolves. This clamor fell away into a deep, throbbing chant,only to rise again to the yelping, whimpering cries with which it began.
Every woman stiffened with terror, with wide eyes questioning Curtis."What is all that?"
"The opening chorus," he explained, much amused. "A song of the chase."
The dusk was beginning to fall, and the tepees, with their small,sparkling fires close beside, and the shadowy, blanketed formsassembling slowly, silently, gave a wonderful remoteness and wildness tothe scene. To Curtis it was quite like the old-time village. The huskyvoice of the aged crier seemed like a call from out of the yearsprimeval before the white race with its devastating energy and itskilling problems had appeared in the east. The artist in Elsie, nowfully awake, dominated the daughter of wealth. "Oh, this is beautiful! Inever expected to see anything so primitive."
Knowing that his guests were eager to view it all, Curtis led the waytowards the dance-lodge. Elsie was moved to take her place beside him,but checked herself and turned to Lawson, leaving Mrs. Parker to walk atthe Captain's elbow.
To the ears of the city dwellers the uproar was appalling--full ofmurder and sudden death. As they approached the lodge the frenziedbooming of the drum, the wild, yelping howls, the shrill whooping,brought up in their minds all the stories of dreadful deeds they hadever read, and Parker said to Jennie:
"Do you really think the Captain will be able to control them?"
Jennie laughed. "I'm used to this clamor; it's only their way ofsinging."
Elsie said: "They must be flourishing bloody scalping-knives in there;it is direful."
"Wait and see," said Lawson.
The dance-house was a large octagonal hut built of pine logs, partlyroofed with grass and soil. It was lighted by a leaping fire in thecentre, and by four lanterns on the walls, and as Curtis and his partyentered, the clamor (in their honor) redoubled. In a first swift glanceElsie apprehended only a confused, jingling, fluttering mass of color--achaos of leaping, half-naked forms and a small circle of singersfiercely assaulting a drum which sat on the floor at the right of thedoor.
Then Red Wolf, calm, stately, courtly, came before them carrying hiswand of office and conducted them to seats at the left of the fire, andthe girl's heart ceased to pound so fiercely. Looking back she sawJennie shaking hands with one of the fiercest of the painted andbeplumed dancers, and recognized him as Blue Fox. Turning, she fixed hereyes on a middle-aged man who was dancing as sedately as Washingtonmight have led the minuet, his handsome face calm of line and the clipof his lips genial and placid. Plainly the ferocity did not extend tothe dancers; the singers alone seemed to express hate and lust and war.
The music suddenly ceased, and in an instant the girl's mind cleared.She perceived that the singers were laughing as they rolled theircigarettes, and that the savage warrior dancers were gossiping togetheras they rested, while all about her sat plump young girls in gaydresses, very conscious of the eyes of the young men. In her early lifeElsie had attended a country dance, and her changed impressions of thismad, blood-thirsty revel was indicated in her tone as she said:
"Why, it's just an old-fashioned country hoe-down."
Curtis laughed. "I congratulate you on your penetration," he mockinglysaid.
The old men came up to shake hands with the agent, and on beingpresented to Elsie smiled reassuringly. Their manners were very good,indeed. Several of them gravely made a swift sign which caused Curtis tocolor and look confused, and when his answering sign caused them all tolook at Lawson, Elsie demanded to know what it was all about.
"Do you think you'd better know?" he asked.
"Certainly, I insist on knowing," she added, as he hesitated again.
He looked at her, but a little unsteadily. "They asked if you were mybride, and I replied no, that you came with Lawson."
It was her turn to look confused. "The impudent things!" was all shecould find to say at the moment.
Red Wolf called out a few imperative words, the song began with itsimitation of the wolves at war as before, then settled into a poundingchant--deep, resonant, and inspiriting. The dancers sprang forth--notall, but a part of them--as though their names had been called, while acurious little b
ent and withered old man crept in like a gnome and builtup the fire till it blazed brightly. As they danced the younger menre-enacted with abrupt, swift, violent, yet graceful gestures the dramaof wild life. They trailed game, rescued lost warriors, and defeatedenemies.
"You see it proceeds with decorum," said Curtis to Elsie and Mrs.Parker, as the dancers returned to their seats. "They enjoy it just aswhite people enjoy a cotillion, and, barring the noise of the singers,it is quite as formal and harmless."
A little boy in full dancing costume now came on with the rest, and thevisitors exclaimed in delight of his grace and dignity. He could nothave been more than six years of age. His companion, an old man ofseventy, was a good deal of a wag, and danced in comic-wise to make theon-lookers laugh.
Parker was fairly hooking his chin over Curtis's shoulder to hear everyword uttered and to see all that went on, and Curtis was in the midst ofan explanation of the significance of the drama of the dance, when ashort, sturdy, bow-legged Tetong, dressed in a policeman's uniform,pushed his way in at the door and thrust a letter at his agent's hand.
Instantly every eye was fixed on Curtis's bent head as he opened theletter. The dancers took their seats, whispering and muttering, the drumceased, and the singers, turned into bronze figures, stared solemnly. Anervous chill ran though Elsie's blood and Parker turned pale and cold.
"What's up--what's up?" he asked, hurriedly. "This is a creepy pause."
Lawson laid a hand on his arm and shut down on it like a vice.
Red Wolf brought a lantern and held it at the Captain's shoulder.
Jennie, leaning over, caught the words, "There's been a row over on theWillow--"
Curtis calmly folded the paper, nodded and smiled his thanks to RedWolf, and then lifting his hand he signed to the policeman, in full viewof all the dancers:
"Go back and tell Wilson to issue just the same amount of flour thisweek that he did last, and that Red Wolf wants a new mowing-machine forhis people. You need not return till morning." Then, turning to RedWolf, he said: "Go on with the dance; my friends are much pleased."
The tension instantly gave way, every one being deceived but Jennie, whounderstood the situation and tried to help on the deception, but herround face was plainly anxious.
Elsie, as she ceased to wonder concerning the forms and regulations ofthe dance, grew absorbed in the swirling forms, the harsh clashing ofcolors, the short, shrill cries, the gleam of round and polished limbs,the haughty fling of tall head-dresses, and the lightness of the smalland beautifully modelled feet drumming upon the ground; but most of allshe was moved by the aloofness of expression on the faces of many of thedancers. For the most part they seemed to dream--to revisit thepast--especially the old men. Their lips were sad, their eyespensive--singularly so--and mentally the girl said: "I must paint mynext portrait of this quality--an old man dreaming of the olden time. Iwonder if they really were happy in those days--happier than ourcivilization can make them?" and thoughts came to her which shook herconfidence in the city and the mart. For the first time in her life shedoubted the sanctity of the steam-engine and the ore-crusher.
As they took their seats from time to time the older men smoked theirlong pipes; only the young men rolled their cigarettes. To them the pastwas a child's recollection, not the irrevocable dream of age. They werethe links between the old and the new.
As the time came to go, Curtis rose and addressed his people in signs."We are glad to be here," he said. "All my friends are pleased. My heartis joyous when you dance. I do not forbid it. Sometimes Washington tellsme to do something, and I must obey. They say you must not dance thewar-dance any more, and so I must forbid it. This dance was pleasant--itis not bad. My heart is made warm to be with you. I am visiting all mypeople, and I must go to-morrow. Do not quarrel with the white man. Bepatient, and Washington will do you good."
Each promise was greeted by the old men with cries of: "Ay! Ay!" and thedrummers thumped the drums most furiously in applause. And so the agentsaid, "Good-night," and withdrew.
The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Page 17
