XXVII
BRISBANE COMES FOR ELSIE
Among other perplexities which now assailed the agent was the questionof how to secure Cut Finger without inciting further violence. Heconfidently expected the police to locate the fugitive during the day,probably in the camp of Red Wolf, on the head-waters of the Elk.
"He cannot escape. There is no place for him to go."
"He may have committed suicide," said Wilson, discussing the matter withhis chief the following morning.
"He may, but his death will not satisfy the ranchers unless they aremade the instrument of vengeance. They would feel cheated and bittererthan ever," replied Curtis, sombrely. "He must be taken and delivered upto the law."
On his return to the office after breakfast Curtis stopped at the doorof Elsie's studio, his brain yet tingling with the consciousness that noother man's claim stood between them now.
She greeted him joyously. "I am starting a big canvas this morning," shesaid. "Come in and see it."
He stepped inside to see, but the canvas only had a few rude, reddishlines upon it, and Elsie laughed at his blank look as he faced theeasel.
"This thing here," she pointed with her brush, "is a beautiful purplebutte; this yellow circle is the sun; these little crumbly looking boxesare trees; this streak is a river. This jack-in-the-box here is CrowWing on his horse."
Her joking helped to clear his brain, though his blood was throbbing inhis ears.
"Ah! I'm glad to know all that. Will you tag each anomalous hump?"
"Certainly. You will recognize everything by number or otherwise." Sheturned a suddenly serious face upon him. "I am determined to get back towork. These last few days have been so exciting. Is there any news?"
"Yes. The murderer proclaimed himself at a big council last night."
"He did! Oh, tell me about it! When?"
"I don't know exactly the hour, but the chieftains came to me about nineo'clock. I know him well; he is a reckless, handsome, half-crazy youngman--" He broke off suddenly as Heavybreast, one of the policemen,profoundly excited, darkened the door-way. "Cut Finger is on the hill,"he signed, and pointed away with trembling finger to a height which roselike a monstrous bee-hive just behind the school-house. On the roundedtop, looking like a small monument on a colossal pedestal, sat a mountedwarrior.
"What is he there for?" asked Curtis.
"He wants to die like Raven Face. He wants to fight the cowboys, hesays. He don't want to hurt any one else, he says; only the cowboys andtheir war chief, so he says."
"Where is Crow? I want this man arrested and brought to me."
"Now he will shoot any one who goes up the hill; he has said so. All thepeople are watching."
Curtis mused a moment. "Can you send word to him?"
"Yes; his wife is here."
"Then tell him I will not let him fight. Tell him that shooting will dono good, and that I want him to come down and see me."
The officer trotted away.
"What did he say?" asked Elsie. "What is that man on the hill for?"
"That is Cut Finger, the guilty man. He proclaimed himself the murdererlast night and now he is willing to die, but wants to die on his horse."
The whole agency was again tremulous with excitement. The teachers, thescholars, the native employes were all gathered into chattering groupswith eyes fixed on the motionless figure of the desperate horseman, andin the camps above the agency an almost frenzied excitement wasspreading. The stark bravery of the boy's attitude had kindled anew theflame of war, and behind Cut Finger on the hills two groups of mountedwarriors had gathered suddenly. Several of the more excitable old womenbroke into a war-song, whose wail came faintly to the ears of the agent.
"Two Horns, silence those singers," said Curtis, sternly.
Elsie and Jennie and the Parkers joined the group around the agent, andMiss Colson, the missionary, came flying for refuge at the side of herhero.
"What are you going to do?" asked Parker. "If the fellow really means toshoot, of course no man can go up to him. You might send some soldiers."
"Silence in the ranks!" commanded Maynard, and, though he smiled as hesaid it, Parker realized his mistake. He turned to Elsie and his wife."I tell you, we'd better get out of here. I feel just like a man sittingon a powder-mine. There's no telling what's going to happen next."
Lawson turned towards him with a sarcastic grin. "I wish I'd realizedthe state of your nerves, Parker; I should have invited you to AsburyBeach instead of the Indian country."
Maynard brought his field-glasses to bear on the desperado. "He hasdismounted," he said. "He is squatted beside his horse, the bridle-reinon his arm, a rifle across his knees, and is faced this way. Hisattitude is resolute and 'sassy.'"
Curtis quietly said: "Now, friends, I wish you would all go in and payno further attention to this man. Miss Colson, go back to your work. Solong as he sees us looking at him he will maintain his defiant attitude.He will grow weary of his bravado if ignored."
"Quite right, Captain," replied Lawson, and the little knot of visitorsbroke up and dispersed to sheltered points of observation.
Under the same gentle pressure the employes went back to work, and theself-convicted warrior was left to defy the wind and the sky. Even theTetongs themselves grew tired of looking when nothing seemed likely tohappen, and the forenoon wore away as usual, well filled with duties.Maynard's men got out for drill an hour later, and their bugle's voicepulsed upward to the silent and motionless watcher on the hill likemocking laughter. The clink of the anvil also rose to him on the hot,dry air, and just beneath him the children came forth at recess to play.He became tired of sitting on the ground at last, and again mounted hishorse, but no one at the agency seemed to know or to care. The sun beatremorselessly upon his head, and his throat became parched with thirst.Slowly but surely the exaltation of the morning ebbed away and atremulous weakness seized upon him, so that, when his wife came bringingmeat and water, he who had never expected to eat or drink again seizedupon the food and ate greedily.
Then, while she sat on the ground and repeated the agent's message, hestood beside his horse, sullen and wordless. The bell rang for noon, andas the children came rushing out they pointed up at him again, and theteachers also stood in a group for a moment, with faces turned upward,but only for a moment, then went carelessly away to their meals.
An hour passed, the work-bell rang, the clerks returned to their duties,and the agent walked slowly across the road towards the office. CutFinger lifted his rifle and pointed it. "I could shoot him now," hemuttered. "But he is a good man; I do not want to kill him." Then theheat and silence settled over hill and valley, and no sound but thebuzzing of flies and the clatter of grasshoppers broke the hot, broodinghush of the mid-day. The wind was from the plain and brought no coolnesson its wings.
But he was not entirely forgotten. Elsie, from her studio door, keptclose watch upon him. "There's something fine about him after all," shesaid to Curtis.
"It's like the old Mosaic times--an eye for an eye. He knows he must diefor this, but he prefers to die gloriously, as a warrior dies."
A dust down the road caught Curtis's attention. "The mail will soon bein and then we will see how all this affects the press of the State; theChicago dailies will not reach us for a couple of days yet."
"Send the papers over here, please!" cried Elsie, "I'm wild to seethem."
"Why not all assemble at 'the parsonage' and I'll bring them there?"
"Very well; that will do as well," she replied. "It will be such a joyto read our obituaries."
As he entered the library with his armful of papers a half-hour laterCurtis exclaimed: "Well, now, here is a feast! The commotion on theoutside is prodigious. Here are the Copper City and Alta papers, and adozen lesser 'lights and signals of progress' in the State. Helpyourselves." He took out a handful of letters and telegrams. "And hereare the prayers of anxious relatives. A telegram for you, Miss Brisbane;and two for you, Lawson."
Elsi
e's message from her father was brief. "Have no word from you; am enroute for Pinon City. Not finding you there will cross to agency atonce. Why do you not come out?"
Looking at the date she said: "Papa is coming; he is probably on hisway to the agency at this moment."
Curtis looked a little troubled. "I hope not; the roads are dusty andthe sun is hot."
"By George! this is fierce stuff," said Parker, looking up from hispaper.
"Cut Finger has left the hill," announced Jennie from the door-way; "heis nowhere to be seen."
"Now he will submit to arrest," exclaimed Curtis. "His fine frenzy isgone."
"I'm sorry," Elsie soberly exclaimed. "Must you give him up to thatstupid sheriff?"
"Yes, it must be done," replied Curtis. "My only claim to considerationlies in executing the law. I fought lawlessness with the promise thatwhen the sheriff came with proper warrant I would act."
As the young officer went back to his duties the head-lines of thepapers he had but glanced at began to burn into his brain. Hitherto hisname had been most inconspicuous; only once or twice had it achieved along-primer setting; mainly it had kept to the security and dignity ofbrevier notices in the _Army and Navy Journal_. Now here it stood,blazoned in ill-smelling ink on wood-pulp paper, in letters half an inchin height:
CURTIS CULPABLE
THE AGENT SHIELDS HIS PETS
while in the editorial columns of the Copper City papers similaraccusations, though adroitly veiled, were none the less apparent. He hadsmiled at all this in the presence of his friends, but inwardly heshrank from it just as he would have done had some tramp in the streetflung a handful of gutter slime across the breast of his uniform. A gustof rage made his teeth clinch and his face burn hot, and he entered hisoffice with lowering brows.
Wilson looked up with a grin. "Well, Major, the politicians are gettingin their work on us."
"This is only the beginning. We may expect an army of reporters tocomplete the work of misrepresentation."
"The wonder is they haven't got here before. They must be reallynervous. Crane says the people in town have very bad hearts. As near asI can make out they faced him up and threatened his life. He says themob is hanging round the edge of the reservation crazy for blood. He gotshy and took to the hills."
"Did he see the sheriff?"
"Yes, the sheriff is on the way."
"Is Crane still asleep?"
"Yes. He didn't wait for grub; he dropped like a log and is dead to theworld."
"Poor chap! I shouldn't have sent him on this last trip. Where is Tony?"
"Tony's out in the hills to keep an eye on Cut Finger. Will you go afterhim to-night?"
"No, not till morning. The police will locate him and stay with himto-night, and to-morrow morning I will go out and get him myself. Idon't want any shooting, if it can be avoided. What is it, Heavybreast?"he asked of a large Tetong who entered at the moment, his eyes brightwith information.
"White man coming," signed the redman.
Curtis rose and went to the door and looked down the road.
Three carriages were passing the issue-house--one a rather pretentiousfamily surrey, the others ordinary mountain wagons. In the hinder seatof the surrey, and beside the sheriff, sat a gray-haired man.
"It is Senator Brisbane!" said Curtis to Wilson, and a keen pang ofanticipated loss came to him, for he knew that Brisbane had come to takehis daughter away. But his face was calm as he went down to the gate tomeet his distinguished and powerful enemy.
The ex-Senator was hot, weary, and angry. He had arrived in Pinon Cityon the early train, just as the county attorney and the sheriff wereabout to set forth. A few words with these officials assuaged hisanxiety for his daughter but increased his irritation towards Curtis.Leaving orders for another team to follow, he had taken passage with thesheriff, an action he regretted at once. The seats were too low and toonarrow for his vast bulk, and his knees grew weary. The wind came fromthe plain hot and insolent, bringing no relief to the lungs; on thecontrary, it filled his eyes and ears with dust and parched the skinlike a furnace blast. Altogether the conditions of his ride had beentorturing to the great man, and he had ridden the latter part of it ingrim silence, mentally execrating both Lawson and Curtis for luring hisdaughter so far from civilization.
No one spoke till the agent, pacing calmly down to the gate, steppedinto the road and said:
"Good-evening, gentlemen, will you get out and come in?"
Even then Brisbane made no reply, but the sheriff spoke up: "I supposewe'll have to. This is Senator Brisbane, Major. He was very anxiousabout his daughter and so came in with me. This is Mr. Grismore, ourcounty attorney."
Curtis bowed slightly. "Mr. Grismore I have seen. Senator Brisbane Ihave met. Send your horses down to the corral, sheriff, and come in; youcan't return to-night."
As the sheriff got out he said: "This second team is the Senator's, andthe reporter for the Associated Press is in there with Streeter."
Brisbane got out slowly and painfully, and a yellow-gray pallor cameinto his face as he stood beside the carriage steadying himself byresting his hand on the wheel. The young county attorney, eager to servethe great politician, sprang out and offered a hand, and Curtis, withsudden pity in his heart, made a step forward, but Brisbane put themboth aside harshly.
"No, no! I'm all right now. My legs were cramped--that's all. They'lllimber up in a minute. The seats were too low for a man of my height. Ishould have stayed in the other carriage."
After all he was Elsie's father, and Curtis relented: "Senator, ifyou'll take a seat in my office, I'll go fetch your daughter."
"I prefer to go to her myself," Brisbane replied, menacingly formal."Where is she?"
"I will show you if you will permit," Curtis coldly replied, and set outto cross the road.
The old man hobbled painfully at first, but soon recovered enough of hishabitual power to follow Curtis, who did not wait, for he wished tohave a private word with Elsie before her father came. She was lyingdown as he knocked, resting, waiting for the dinner call.
"Your father is here," he said, as she opened the door.
Her face expressed surprise, not pleasure.
"Here! Here at the agency?"
"Yes, and on his way to the studio. Moreover, he is very dirty, verydisgusted, very crusty, and not at all well."
"Poor old father! Now he'll make it uncomfortable for us all. He hascome for me, of course. Who is with him?"
"The sheriff, the county attorney, and some reporters."
She smiled. "Then he is 'after you,' too."
"It looks that way. But you must not go away without giving me anotherchance to talk with you. Will you promise that?" he demanded, abruptly,passionately. "I have something to say to you."
"I dare not promise," she responded, and her words chilled him even morethan her action as she turned away to the door. "How slowly he walks!Poor old papa! You shouldn't have done this, popsey," she cried, as shemet him with a kiss on his cheek.
Curtis walked away, leaving them alone, a hand of ice at his heart.
Brisbane took her kiss without changing to lighter mood.
"Why didn't you follow out my orders?" he demanded, harshly. "You seewhat I've had to go through just because you are so foolishlyobstinate. That ride is enough to kill a man."
Her throat swelled with anger, but she choked it down and replied verygently. "Come into the studio and let me clean off the dust. I'm sorry."
He followed her in and sank heavily upon a chair. "I wouldn't take thatjourney again for ten thousand dollars. Why didn't you come to therailway as I ordered?"
"Because I saw no good reason for it. I knew what I was doing. CaptainCurtis assured me--"
"Captain Curtis!" he sneered. "You'd take his word against mine, wouldyou?"
"Yes, I would, for he is on the ground and knows all the conditions. Hehas the outbreak well in hand. You have seen only the outsideexaggeration of it. He has acted with honor and good
judgment--"
"Oh, he has, has he? Well, we'll see about that!" His mind had taken anew turn. "He won't have anything in his hand six months from now. NoWest Point dude like him can set himself up against the power of thisState and live."
"Now, papa, don't start in to abuse Captain Curtis; he is our host, andit isn't seemly."
"Oh, it isn't! Well, I don't care whether it is or is not; I shall speakmy mind. His whole attitude has been hostile to the best interests ofthe State, and he must get off his high horse."
As he growled and sneered his way through a long diatribe, she broughtwater and bathed his face and hands and brushed his hair, her angermelting into pity as she comprehended how weak and broken he was. Shehad observed it before in times of great fatigue, but the heat and dustand discomfort of the drive had reduced the big body, debilitated bylack of exercise, to a nerveless lump, his brain to a mass of incoherentand savage impulses. No matter what he said thereafter, she realized hispitiable weakness and felt no anger.
As he rested he grew calmer, and at last consented to lie down while shemade a little tea on an alcohol lamp. After sipping the tea he fellasleep, and she sat by his side, her mind filled with the fundamentalconception of a daughter's obligation to her sire. To her he was nolonger a great politician, no longer a powerful, aggressive businessman--he was only her poor, old, dying father, to whom she owed her everycomfort, her education, her jewels, her art. He had never been acompanion to her--his had been the rule absolute--and yet a hundredindulgences, a hundred really kind and considerate acts came throngingto her mind as she fanned his flushed face.
"I must go with him," she said; "it is my duty."
Curtis came to the door again and tapped. She put her finger to herlips, and so he stood silent, looking in at her. His eyes called her andshe rose and tiptoed to the door.
"I came to ask you both to dinner," he whispered.
Her eyes filled with quick tears. "That's good of you," she returned, ina low voice. "But he would not come. He's only a poor, old, broken man,after all." Her voice was apologetic in tone. "I hope you will not beangry." They both stood looking down at him. "He has failed terribly inthe last few weeks. His campaigning will kill him. I wish he would giveit up. He needs rest and quiet. What can I do?"
Curtis, looking upon the livid old man, inert and lumpish, yet venerablebecause of his white hairs--and because he was the sire of hislove--experienced a sudden melting of his own resolution. His throatchoked, but he said:
"Go with him. He needs you."
At the moment words were unnecessary. She understood his deeper meaning,and lifted her hand to him. He took it in both his. "It may be a longtime before I shall see you again. I--I ought not--" he struggled withhimself and ceased to speak.
Her eyes wavered and she withdrew her hand. "My duty is with him now;perhaps I can carry him through his campaign, or dissuade himaltogether. Don't you see that I am right?"
He drew himself up as though his general-in-chief were passing. "Duty isa word I can understand," he said, and turned away.
The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Page 27
