by Owen Wister
A Kinsman of Red Cloud
I
It was thirty minutes before a June sundown at the post, and the firstcall had sounded for parade. Over in the barracks the two companiesand the single troop lounged a moment longer, then laid their policeliterature down, and lifted their stocking feet from the beds to getready. In the officers' quarters the captain rose regretfully fromafter-dinner digestion, and the three lieutenants sought their helmetswith a sigh. Lieutenant Balwin had been dining an unconventional andimpressive guest at the mess, and he now interrupted the anecdote whichthe guest was achieving with frontier deliberation.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said. "I'll have to hear the rest aboutthe half-breed when I get back."
"There ain't no more--yet. He got my cash with his private poker deckthat onced, and I'm fixing for to get his'n."
Second call sounded; the lines filed out and formed, the sergeant ofthe guard and two privates took their station by the flag, and whenbattalion was formed the commanding officer, towering steeple-stiffbeneath his plumes, received the adjutant's salute, ordered him to hispost, and began drill. At all this the unconventional guest looked oncomfortably from Lieutenant Balwin's porch.
"I doubt if I could put up with that there discipline all the week," hemused. "Carry--arms! Present--Arms! I guess that's all I know of it."The winking white line of gloves stirred his approval. "Pretty goodthat. Gosh, see the sun on them bayonets!"
The last note of retreat merged in the sonorous gun, and the flagshining in the light of evening slid down and rested upon the earth.The blue ranks marched to a single bugle--the post was short of men andofficers--and the captain, with the released lieutenants, again soughtdigestion and cigars. Balwin returned to his guest, and together theywatched the day forsake the plain. Presently the guest rose to take hisleave. He looked old enough to be the father of the young officer, buthe was a civilian, and the military man proceeded to give him excellentadvice.
"Now don't get into trouble, Cutler."
The slouch-shouldered scout rolled his quid gently, and smiled at hissuperior with indulgent regard.
"See here, Cutler, you have a highly unoccupied look about you thisevening. I've been studying the customs of this population, and I'venoted a fact or two."
"Let 'em loose on me, sir."
"Fact one: When any male inhabitant of Fort Laramie has a few sparemoments, he hunts up a game of cards."
"Well, sir, you've called the turn on me."
"Fact two: At Fort Laramie a game of cards frequently ends indiscussion."
"Fact three: Mr. Calvin, in them discussions Jarvis Cutler has the lastword. You put that in your census report alongside the other two."
"Well, Cutler, if somebody's gun should happen to beat yours in anargument, I should have to hunt another wagon-master."
"I'll not forget that. When was you expecting to pull out north?"
"Whenever the other companies get here. May be three days--may be threeweeks."
"Then I will have plenty time for a game to-night."
With this slight dig of his civilian independence into the lieutenant'smilitary ribs, the scout walked away, his long, lugubrious frockcoat(worn in honor of the mess) occasionally flapping open in the breeze,and giving a view of a belt richly fluted with cartridges, and the ivoryhandle of a pistol looking out of its holster. He got on his horse,crossed the flat, and struck out for the cabin of his sociable friends,Loomis and Kelley, on the hill. The open door and a light inside showedthe company, and Cutler gave a grunt, for sitting on the table was thehalf-breed, the winner of his unavenged dollars. He rode slower, inorder to think, and arriving at the corral below the cabin, tied hishorse to the stump of a cottonwood. A few steps towards the door, and hewheeled on a sudden thought, and under cover of the night did a craftysomething which to the pony was altogether unaccountable. He unloosedboth front and rear cinch of his saddle, so they hung entirely free inwide bands beneath the pony's belly. He tested their slackness with hishand several times, stopping instantly when the more and more surprisedpony turned his head to see what new thing in his experience might begoing on, and, seeing, gave a delicate bounce with his hind-quarters.
"Never you mind, Duster," muttered the scout. "Did you ever see askunk-trap? Oughts is for mush-rats, and number ones is mostly usedfor 'coons and 'possums, and I guess they'd do for a skunk. But you andwe'll call this here trap a number two, Duster, for the skunk I'm afteris a big one. All you've to do is to act natural."
Cutler took the rope off the stump by which Duster had been tiedsecurely, wound and strapped it to the tilted saddle, and instead ofthis former tether, made a weak knot in the reins, and tossed them overthe stump. He entered the cabin with a countenance sweeter than honey.
"Good-evening, boys," he said. "Why, Toussaint, how do you do?"
The hand of Toussaint had made a slight, a very slight, movement towardshis hip, but at sight of Cutler's mellow smile resumed its clasp uponhis knee.
"Golly, but you're gay-like this evening," said Kelley.
"Blamed if I knowed he could look so frisky," added Loomis.
"Sporting his onced-a-year coat," Kelley pursued. "That ain't for ourbenefit, Joole."
"No, we're not that high in society." Both these cheerful waifs haddrifted from the Atlantic coast westward.
Cutler looked from them to his costume, and then amiably surveyed thehalf-breed.
"Well, boys, I'm in big luck, I am. How's yourn nowadays, Toussaint?"
"Pretty good sometime. Sometime heap hell." The voice of the half-breedcame as near heartiness as its singularly false quality would allow, andas he smiled he watched Cutler with the inside of his eyes.
The scout watched nobody and nothing with great care, looked about himpleasantly, inquired for the whiskey, threw aside hat and gloves, satdown, leaning the chair back against the wall, and talked with artfulcandor. "Them sprigs of lieutenants down there," said he, "they're asurprising lot for learning virtue to a man. You take Balwin. Why, heain't been out of the Academy only two years, and he's been telling mehow card-playing ain't good for you. And what do you suppose he's beenand offered Jarvis Cutler for a job? I'm to be wagon-master." Hepaused, and the half-breed's attention to his next words increased."Wagon-master, and good pay, too. Clean up to the Black Hills; and thetroops'll move soon as ever them reinforcements come. Drinks on it,boys! Set 'em up, Joole Loomis. My contract's sealed with some of UncleSam's cash, and I'm going to play it right here. Hello! Somebody comingto join us? He's in a hurry."
There was a sound of lashing straps and hoofs beating the ground, andCutler looked out of the door. As he had calculated, the saddle hadgradually turned with Duster's movements and set the pony bucking.
"Stampeded!" said the scout, and swore the proper amount called for bysuch circumstances. "Some o' you boys help me stop the durned fool."
Loomis and Kelley ran. Duster had jerked the prepared reins from thecottonwood, and was lurching down a small dry gulch, with the saddlebouncing between his belly and the stones.
Cutler cast a backward eye at the cabin where Toussaint had stayedbehind alone. "Head him off below, boys, and I'll head him off above,"the scout sang out. He left his companions, and quickly circled roundbehind the cabin, stumbling once heavily, and hurrying on, anxious lestthe noise had reached the lurking half-breed. But the ivory-handledpistol, jostled from its holster, lay unheeded among the stones where hehad stumbled. He advanced over the rough ground, came close to the logs,and craftily peered in at the small window in the back of the cabin. Itwas evident that he had not been heard. The sinister figure within stillsat on the table, but was crouched, listening like an animal to theshouts that were coming from a safe distance down in the gulch. Cutler,outside of the window, could not see the face of Toussaint, but he sawone long brown hand sliding up and down the man's leg, and its movementput him in mind of the tail of a cat. The hand stopped to pull out apistol, into which fresh cartridges were slipped. Cutler had alreadydone this same thing afte
r dismounting, and he now felt confident thathis weapon needed no further examination. He did not put his hand to hisholster. The figure rose from the table, and crossed the room to a setof shelves in front of which hung a little yellow curtain. Behind itwere cups, cans, bottles, a pistol, counters, red, white, and blue, andtwo fresh packs of cards, blue and pink, side by side. Seeing these,Toussaint drew a handkerchief from his pocket, and unwrapped two furtherpacks, both blue; and at this Cutler's intent face grew into plain shapeclose to the window, but receded again into uncertain dimness. From downin the gulch came shouts that the runaway horse was captured. Toussaintlistened, ran to the door, and quickly returning, put the blue packfrom the shelf into his pocket, leaving in exchange one of his own. Hehesitated about altering the position of the cards on the shelf, butKelley and Loomis were unobservant young men, and the half-breed placedthe pink cards on top of his blue ones. The little yellow curtain againhung innocently over the shelves, and Toussaint, pouring himself a drinkof whiskey, faced round, and for the first time saw the window that hadbeen behind his back. He was at it in an instant, wrenching its rustypin, that did not give, but stuck motionless in the wood. Cursing,he turned and hurried out of the door and round the cabin. No one wasthere. Some hundred yards away the noiseless Cutler crawled fartheramong the thickets that filled the head of the gulch. Toussaint whippedout a match, and had it against his trousers to strike and look if therewere footprints, when second thoughts warned him this might be seen, andwas not worth risking suspicion over, since so many feet came and wentby this cabin. He told himself no one could have been there to see him,and slowly returned inside, with a mind that fell a hair's breadth shortof conviction.
The boys, coming up with the horse, met Cutler, who listened to howDuster had stood still as soon as he had kicked free of his saddle,making no objection to being caught. They suggested that he would nothave broken loose had he been tied with a rope; and hearing this, Cutlerbit off a piece of tobacco, and told them they were quite right: ahorse should never be tied by his bridle. For a savory moment the scoutcuddled his secret, and turned it over like the tobacco lump under histongue. Then he explained, and received serenely the amazement of Loomisand Kelley.
"When you kids have travelled this Western country awhile you'll keepyour cards locked," said he. "He's going to let us win first. You'llsee, he'll play a poor game with the pink deck. Then, if we don't callfor fresh cards, why, he'll call for 'em himself. But, just for the funof the thing, if any of us loses steady, why, we'll call. Then, when hegets hold of his strippers, watch out. When he makes his big play, andis stretchin' for to rake the counters in, you grab 'em, Joole; for bythen I'll have my gun on him, and if he makes any trouble we'll feed himto the coyotes. I expect that must have been it, boys," he continued, ina new tone, as they came within possible ear-shot of the half-breed inthe cabin. "A coyote come around him where he was tied. The fool horsehas seen enough of 'em to git used to 'em, you'd think, but he don't.There; that'll hold him. I guess he'll have to pull the world along withhim if he starts to run again."
The lamp was placed on the window-shelf, and the four took seats, Cutlerto the left of Toussaint, with Kelley opposite. The pink cards fellharmless, and for a while the game was a dull one to see. Holding a pairof kings, Cutler won a little from Toussaint, who remarked that luckmust go with the money of Uncle Sam. After a few hands, the half-breedbegan to bet with ostentatious folly, and, losing to one man andanother, was joked upon the falling off of his game. In an hour's timehis blue chips had been twice reinforced, and twice melted from the neatoften-counted pile in which he arranged them; moreover, he had lost ahorse from his string down on Chug Water.
"Lend me ten dollar," he said to Cutler. "You rich man now."
In the next few deals Kelley became poor. "I'm sick of this luck," saidhe.
"Then change it, why don't you? Let's have a new deck." And Loomis rose.
"Joole, you always are for something new," said Cutler. "Now I'm doingpretty well with these pink cards. But I'm no hog. Fetch on your freshones."
The eyes of the half-breed swerved to the yellow curtain. He was bya French trapper from Canada out of a Sioux squaw, one of Red Cloud'ssisters, and his heart beat hot with the evil of two races, and none oftheir good. He was at this moment irrationally angry with the men whohad won from him through his own devices, and malice undisguised shonein his lean flat face. At sight of the blue cards falling in the firstdeal, silence came over the company, and from the distant parade-groundthe bugle sounded the melancholy strain of taps. Faint, far, solemn,melodious, the music travelled unhindered across the empty night.
"Them men are being checked off in their bunks now," said Cutler.
"What you bet this game?" demanded Toussaint.
"I've heard 'em play that same music over a soldier's grave," saidKelley.
"You goin' to bet?" Toussaint repeated.
Cutler pushed forward the two necessary white chips. No one's hand washigh, and Loomis made a slight winning. The deal went its round severaltimes, and once, when it was Toussaint's, Cutler suspected that specialcards had been thrown to him by the half-breed as an experiment. Hetherefore played the gull to a nicety, betting gently upon his threekings; but when he stepped out boldly and bet the limit, it was notToussaint but Kelley who held the higher hand, winning with three aces.Why the coup should be held off longer puzzled the scout, unless it wasthat Toussaint was carefully testing the edges of his marked cards tosee if he controlled them to a certainty. So Cutler played on calmly.Presently two aces came to him in Toussaint's deal, and he wondered howmany more would be in his three-card draw. Very pretty! One only, and helost to Loomis, who had drawn three, and held four kings. The handswere getting higher, they said. The game had "something to it now." ButToussaint grumbled, for his luck was bad all this year, he said. Cutlerhad now made sure that the aces and kings went where the half-breedwished, and could be slid undetected from the top or the middle or thebottom of the pack; but he had no test yet how far down the scale themarking went. At Toussaint's next deal Cutler judged the time had come,and at the second round of betting he knew it. The three white menplayed their parts, raising each other without pause, and again therewas total silence in the cabin. Every face bent to the table, watchingthe turn repeat its circle with obstinate increase, until new chips andmore new chips had been brought to keep on with, and the heap in themiddle had mounted high in the hundreds, while in front of Toussaintlay his knife and a match-box--pledges of two more horses which he hadstaked. He had drawn three cards, while the others took two, exceptCutler, who had a pair of kings again, and drawing three, picked up twomore. Kelley dropped out, remarking he had bet more than his hand wasworth, which was true, and Loomis followed him. Their persistence hadsurprised Toussaint a little. He had not given every one suspicioushands: Cutler's four kings were enough. He bet once more, was raised bythe scout, called, and threw down his four aces.
"That beats me," said Cutler, quietly, and his hand moved under hisfrock-coat, as the half-breed, eyeing the central pile of counters intriumph, closed his fingers over it. They were dashed off by Kelley, wholooked expectantly across at Cutler, and seeing the scout's face witherinto sudden old age, cried out, "For God's sake, Jarvis, where's yourgun?" Kelley sprang for the yellow curtain, and reeled backward at theshot of Toussaint. His arm thrashed along the window-sill as he fell,sweeping over the lamp, and flaring channels of oil ran over his bodyand spread on the ground. But these could no longer hurt him. Thehalf-breed had leaped outside the cabin, enraged that Cutler should havegot out during the moment he had been dealing with Kelley. The scout wasgroping for his ivory-handled pistol off in the darkness. He foundit, and hurried to the little window at a second shot he heard inside.Loomis, beating the rising flame away, had seized the pistol from theshelf, and aimlessly fired into the night at Toussaint. He fired again,running to the door from the scorching heat. Cutler got round the houseto save him if he could, and saw the half-breed's weapon flash, and thebody pitch out ac
ross the threshold. Toussaint, gaining his horse, shotthree times and missed Cutler, whom he could not clearly see; and heheard the scout's bullets sing past him as his horse bore him rushingaway.
II
Jarvis Cutler lifted the dead Loomis out of the cabin. He made a tryfor Kelley's body, but the room had become a cave of flame, and he wasdriven from the door. He wrung his hands, giving himself bitter blamealoud, as he covered Loomis with his saddle-blanket, and jumped barebackupon Duster to go to the post. He had not been riding a minute whenseveral men met him. They had seen the fire from below, and on their wayup the half-breed had passed them at a run.
"Here's our point," said Cutler. "Will he hide with the Sioux, orwill he take to the railroad? Well, that's my business more than beingwagon-master. I'll get a warrant. You tell Lieutenant Balwin--andsomebody give me a fresh horse."
A short while later, as Cutler, with the warrant in his pocket, rodeout of Fort Laramie, the call of the sentinels came across the night:"Number One. Twelve o'clock, and all's well." A moment, and the refrainsounded more distant, given by Number Two. When the fourth took it up,far away along the line, the words were lost, leaving something like thefaint echo of a song. The half-breed had crossed the Platte, as if hewere making for his kindred tribe, but the scout did not believe in thistoo plain trail.
"There's Chug Water lying right the other way from where he went, andI guess it's there Mr. Toussaint is aiming for." With this idea Cutlerswung from north to southwest along the Laramie. He went slowly overhis shortcut, not to leave the widely circling Toussaint too much in hisrear. The fugitive would keep himself carefully far on the other side ofthe Laramie, and very likely not cross it until the forks of Chug Water.Dawn had ceased to be gray, and the doves were cooing incessantly amongthe river thickets, when Cutler, reaching the forks, found a bottomwhere the sage-brush grew seven and eight feet high, and buried himselfand his horse in its cover. Here was comfort; here both rivers could besafely watched. It seemed a good leisure-time for a little fire and somebreakfast. He eased his horse of the saddle, sliced some bacon, and puta match to his pile of small sticks. As the flame caught, he stood up toenjoy the cool of a breeze that was passing through the stillness, andhe suddenly stamped his fire out. The smell of another fire had comeacross Chug Water on the wind. It was incredible that Toussaint shouldbe there already. There was no seeing from this bottom, and if Cutlerwalked up out of it the other man would see too. If it were Toussaint,he would not stay long in the vast exposed plain across Chug Water, butwould go on after his meal. In twenty minutes it would be the thingto swim or wade the stream, and crawl up the mud bank to take a look.Meanwhile, Cutler dipped in water some old bread that he had and suckedit down, while the little breeze from opposite hook the cottonwoodleaves and brought over the smell of cooking meat. The sun grew warmer,and the doves ceased. Cutler opened his big watch, and clapped it shutas the sound of mud heavily slopping into the other river reachedhim. He crawled to where he could look at the Laramie from among hissagebrush, and there was Toussaint leading his horse down to the water.The half-breed gave a shrill call, and waved his hat. His call wasanswered, and as he crossed the Laramie, three Sioux appeared, riding tothe bank. They waited till he gained their level, when all four rode upthe Chug Water, and went out of sight opposite the watching Cutler. Thescout threw off some of his clothes, for the water was still high, andwhen he had crossed, and drawn himself to a level with the plain, therewere the four squatted among the sage-brush beside a fire. They sattalking and eating for some time. One of them rose at last, pointedsouth, and mounting his horse, dwindled to a dot, blurred, andevaporated in the heated, trembling distance. Cutler at the edge of thebank still watched the other three, who sat on the ground. A faint shotcame, and they rose at once, mounted, and vanished southward. There wasno following them now in this exposed country, and Cutler, feeling surethat the signal had meant something about Toussaint's horses, made hisfire, watered his own horse, and letting him drag a rope where the feedwas green, ate his breakfast in ease. Toussaint would get a fresh mount,and proceed to the railroad. With the comfort of certainty and tobacco,the scout lolled by the river under the cottonwood, and even slept. Inthe cool of the afternoon he reached the cabin of an acquaintance twentymiles south, and changed his horse. A man had passed by, he was told.Looked as if bound for Cheyenne. "No," Cutler said, "he's known there";and he went on, watching Toussaint's tracks. Within ten miles theyveered away from Cheyenne to the southeast, and Cutler struck out on atrail of his own more freely. By midnight he was on Lodge-Pole Creek,sleeping sound among the last trees that he would pass. He slepttwelve hours, having gone to bed knowing he must not come into townby daylight. About nine o'clock he arrived, and went to the railroadstation; there the operator knew him. The lowest haunt in the town hada tent south of the Union Pacific tracks; and Cutler, getting his irons,and a man from the saloon, went there, and stepped in, covering the roomwith his pistol. The fiddle stopped, the shrieking women scattered, andToussaint, who had a glass in his hand, let it fly at Cutler's head, forhe was drunk. There were two customers besides himself.
"Nobody shall get hurt here," said Cutler, above the bedlam that wasnow set up. "Only that man's wanted. The quieter I get him, the quieterit'll be for others."
Toussaint had dived for his pistol, but the proprietor of thedance-hall, scenting law, struck the half-breed with the butt ofanother, and he rolled over, and was harmless for some minutes. Thenhe got on his legs, and was led out of the entertainment, which resumedmore gayly than ever. Feet shuffled, the fiddle whined, and truculenttreble laughter sounded through the canvas walls as Toussaint walkedbetween Cutler and the saloon-man to jail. He was duly indicted, andupon the scout's deposition committed to trial for the murder of Loomisand Kelley. Cutler, hoping still to be wagon-master, wrote to LieutenantBalwin, hearing in reply that the reinforcements would not arrive fortwo months. The session of the court came in one, and Cutler was theTerritory's only witness. He gave his name and age, and hesitated overhis occupation.
"Call it poker-dealer," sneered Toussaint's attorney.
"I would, but I'm such a fool one," observed the witness. "Put me downas wagon-master to the military outfit that's going to White River."
"What is your residence?"
"Well, I reside in the section that lies between the Missouri River andthe Pacific Ocean."
"A pleasant neighborhood," said the judge, who knew Cutler perfectly,and precisely how well he could deal poker hands.
"It's not a pleasant neighborhood for some." And Cutler looked atToussaint.
"You think you done with me?" Toussaint inquired, upon which silence wasordered in the court.
Upon Cutler's testimony the half-breed was found guilty, and sentencedto be hanged in six weeks from that day. Hearing this, he looked at thewitness. "I see you one day agin," he said.
The scout returned to Fort Laramie, and soon the expected troopsarrived, and the expedition started for White River to join CaptainBrent. The captain was stationed there to impress Red Cloud, and hadwritten to headquarters that this chief did not seem impressed verydeeply, and that the lives of the settlers were insecure. Reinforcementswere accordingly sent to him. On the evening before these soldiers leftLaramie, news came from the south. Toussaint had escaped from jail. Thecountry was full of roving, dubious Indians, and with the authentic newswent a rumor that the jailer had received various messages. These wereto the effect that the Sioux nation did not desire Toussaint to bekilled by the white man, that Toussaint's mother was the sister of RedCloud, and that many friends of Toussaint often passed the jailer'shouse. Perhaps he did get such messages. They are not a nice sort toreceive. However all this may have been, the prisoner was gone.
III
Fort Robinson, on the White River, is backed by yellow bluffs that breakout of the foot-hills in turret and toadstool shapes, with stunt pinesstarving between their torrid bastions. In front of the fort the landslants away into the flat unfeatured desert, and in summer the sk
y is ablue-steel covet that each day shuts the sun and the earth and mankindinto one box together, while it lifts at night to let in the cool of thestars. The White River, which is not wide, runs in a curve, and aroundthis curve below the fort some distance was the agency, and beyond ita stockade, inside which in those days dwelt the settlers. All this wasstrung out on one side of the White River, outside of the curve; and ata point near the agency a foot-bridge of two cottonwood trunks crossedto the concave of the river's bend--a bottom of some extent, filled withgrowing cottonwoods, and the tepees of many Sioux families. Along theriver and on the plain other tepees stood.
One morning, after Lieutenant Balwin had become established at FortRobinson, he was talking with his friend Lieutenant Powell, when Cutlerknocked at the wire door. The wagon-master was a privileged character,and he sat down and commented irrelevantly upon the lieutenant'spictures, Indian curiosities, and other well-meant attempts to concealthe walk:
"What's the trouble, Cutler?"
"Don't know as there's any trouble."
"Come to your point, man; you're not a scout now."
"Toussaint's here."
"What! in camp?"
"Hiding with the Sioux. Two Knives heard about it." (Two Knives was afriendly Indian.) "He's laying for me," Cutler added.
"You've seen him?"
"No. I want to quit my job and go after him."
"Nonsense!" said Powell.
"You can't, Cutler," said Balwin. "I can't spare you."
"You'll be having to fill my place, then, I guess."
"You mean to go without permission?" said Powell, sternly.
"Lord, no! He'll shoot me. That's all."
The two lieutenants pondered.
"And it's to-day," continued Cutler, plaintively, "that he should begettin' hanged in Cheyenne."
Still the lieutenants pondered, while the wagon-master inspected aphotograph of Marie Rose as Marguerite.
"I have it!" exclaimed Powell. "Let's kill him."
"How about the commanding officer?"
"He'd back us--but we'll tell him afterwards. Cutler, can you findToussaint?"
"If I get the time."
"Very well, you're off duty till you do. Then report to me at once."
Just after guard-mounting two days later, Cutler came in withoutknocking. Toussaint was found. He was down on the river now, beyond thestockade. In ten minutes the wagon-master and the two lieutenants wererattling down to the agency in an ambulance, behind four tall bluegovernment mules. These were handily driven by a seventeen-year-old boywhom Balwin had picked up, liking his sterling American ways. He hadcome West to be a cow-boy, but a chance of helping to impress Red Cloudhad seemed still dearer to his heart. They drew up at the agency store,and all went in, leaving the boy nearly out of his mind with curiosity,and pretending to be absorbed with the reins. Presently they came out,Balwin with field-glasses.
"Now," said he, "where?"
"You see the stockade, sir?"
"Well?" said Powell, sticking his chin on Cutler's shoulder to lookalong his arm as he pouted. But the scout proposed to be deliberate.
"Now the gate of the stockade is this way, ain't it?"
"Well, well?"
"You start there and follow the fence to the corner--the left corner,towards the river. Then you follow the side that's nearest the riverdown to the other corner. Now that corner is about a hundred yards fromthe bank. You take a bee-line to the bank and go down stream, maybethirty yards. No; it'll be forty yards, I guess. There's a lonepine-tree right agin the edge." The wagon-master stopped.
"I see all that," said Lieutenant Balwin, screwing the field-glasses."There's a buck and a squaw lying under the tree."
"Naw, sir," drawled Cutler, "that ain't no buck. That's him lying in hisInjun blanket and chinnin' a squaw."
"Why, that man's an Indian, Cutler. I tell you I can see his braids."
"Oh, he's rigged up Injun fashion, fust rate, sir. But them braids ofhis ain't his'n. False hair."
The lieutenants passed each other the fieldglasses three times, andglared at the lone pine and the two figures in blankets. The boy on theambulance was unable to pretend any longer, and leaned off his seat tillhe nearly fell.
"Well," said Balwin, "I never saw anything look more like a buck Sioux.Look at his paint. Take the glasses yourself, Cutler."
But Cutler refused. "He's like an Injun," he said. "But that's just whathe wants to be." The scout's conviction bore down their doubt.
They were persuaded. "You can't come with us, Cutler," said Powell. "Youmust wait for us here."
"I know, sir; he'd spot us, sure. But it ain't right. I started thiswhole business with my poker scheme at that cabin, and I ought to staywith it clear through."
The officers went into the agency store and took down two rifles hangingat the entrance, always ready for use. "We're going to kill a man," theyexplained, and the owner was entirely satisfied. They left the ruefulCutler inside, and proceeded to the gate of the stockade, turning thereto the right, away from the river, and following the paling round thecorner down to the farther right-hand corner. Looking from behind it,the lone pine-tree stood near, and plain against the sky. The stripedfigures lay still in their blankets, talking, with their faces to theriver. Here and there across the stream the smoke-stained peak of atepee showed among the green leaves.
"Did you ever see a more genuine Indian?" inquired Baldwin.
"We must let her rip now, anyhow," said Powell, and they stepped outinto the open. They walked towards the pine till it was a hundred yardsfrom them, and the two beneath it lay talking all the while. Balwincovered the man with his rifle and called. The man turned his head, andseeing the rifle, sat up in his blanket. The squaw sat up also. Againthe officer called, keeping his rifle steadily pointed, and the mandived like a frog over the bank. Like magic his blanket had left hislimbs and painted body naked, except for the breech-clout. Balwin'stardy bullet threw earth over the squaw, who went flapping andscreeching down the river. Balwin and Powell ran to the edge, whichdropped six abrupt feet of clay to a trail, then shelved into the swiftlittle stream. The red figure was making up the trail to the foot-bridgethat led to the Indian houses, and both officers fired. The mancontinued his limber flight, and they jumped down and followed, firing.They heard a yell on the plain above, and an answer to it, and thenconfused yells above and below, gathering all the while. The figure ranon above the river trail below the bank, and their bullets whizzed afterit.
"Indian!" asserted Balwin, panting.
"Ran away, though," said Powell.
"So'd you run. Think any Sioux'd stay when an army officer comes gunningfor him?"
"Shoot!" said Powell. "'S getting near bridge," and they went on,running and firing. The yells all over the plain were thickening. Theair seemed like a substance of solid flashing sound. The naked runnercame round the river curve into view of the people at the agency store.
"Where's a rifle?" said Cutler to the agent.
"Officers got 'em," the agent explained.
"Well, I can't stand this," said the scout, and away he went.
"That man's crazy," said the agent.
"You bet he ain't!" remarked the ambulance boy.
Cutler was much nearer to the bridge than was the man in thebreech-clout, and reaching the bank, he took half a minute's keenpleasure in watching the race come up the trail. When the figurewas within ten yards Cutler slowly drew an ivory-handled pistol. Thelieutenants below saw the man leap to the middle of the bridge, swaysuddenly with arms thrown up, and topple into White River. The currentswept the body down, and as it came it alternately lifted and turned andsank as the stream played with it. Sometimes it struck submerged stumpsor shallows, and bounded half out of water, then drew under with nothingbut the back of the head in sight, turning round and round. The din ofIndians increased, and from the tepees in the cottonwoods the red Siouxbegan to boil, swarming on the opposite bank, but uncertain what hadhappened. The man rolling in the water was close t
o the officers.
"It's not our man," said Balwin. "Did you or I hit him?"
"We're gone, anyhow," said Powell, quietly. "Look!"
A dozen rifles were pointing at their heads on the bank above. TheIndians still hesitated, for there was Two Knives telling them theseofficers were not enemies, and had hurt no Sioux. Suddenly Cutler pushedamong the rifles, dashing up the nearest two with his arm, and theirexplosion rang in the ears of the lieutenants. Powell stood grinning atthe general complication of matters that had passed beyond his control,and Balwin made a grab as the head of the man in the river washed by.The false braid came off in his hand!
"Quick!" shouted Cutler from the bank. "Shove him up here!"
Two Knives redoubled his harangue, and the Indians stood puzzled, whilethe lieutenants pulled Toussaint out, not dead, but shot through thehip. They dragged him over the clay and hoisted him, till Cutler caughthold and jerked him to the level, as a new noise of rattling descendedon the crowd, and the four blue mules wheeled up and halted. The boy haddone it himself. Massing the officers' need, he had pelted down amongthe Sioux, heedless of their yells, and keeping his gray eyes on histeam. In got the three, pushing Toussaint in front, and scoured away forthe post as the squaw arrived to shriek the truth to her tribe--what RedCloud's relation had been the victim.
Cutler sat smiling as the ambulance swung along. "I told you I belongedin this here affair," he said. And when they reached the fort he wassaying it still, occasionally.
Captain Brent considered it neatly done. "But that boy put the finishingtouches," he said. "Let's have him in."
The boy was had in, and ate a dinner with the officers in glumembarrassment, smoking a cigar after it without joy. Toussaint was giveninto the doctor's hands, and his wounds carefully dressed.
"This will probably cost an Indian outbreak," said Captain Brent,looking down at the plain. Blanketed riders galloped over it, andyelling filled the air. But Toussaint was not destined to cause thisfurther harm. An unexpected influence intervened.
All afternoon the cries and galloping went on, and next morning (worsesign) there seemed to be no Indians in the world. The horizon wasempty, the air was silent, the smoking tepees were vanished from thecottonwoods, and where those in the plain had been lay the lodge-poles,and the fires were circles of white, cold ashes. By noon an interpretercame from Red Cloud. Red Cloud would like to have Toussaint. If thewhite man was not willing, it should be war.
Captain Brent told the story of Loomis and Kelley. "Say to Red Cloud,"he ended, "that when a white man does such things among us, he iskilled. Ask Red Cloud if Toussaint should live. If he thinks yes, lethim come and take Toussaint."
The next day with ceremony and feathers of state, Red Cloud came,bringing his interpreter, and after listening until every word had beentold him again, requested to see the half-breed. He was taken to thehospital. A sentry stood on post outside the tent, and inside layToussaint, with whom Cutler and the ambulance-boy were playingwhiskey-poker. While the patient was waiting to be hanged, he might aswell enjoy himself within reason. Such was Cutler's frontier philosophy.We should always do what we can for the sick. At sight of Red Cloudlooming in the doorway, gorgeous and grim as Fate, the game wassuspended. The Indian took no notice of the white men, and walked to thebed. Toussaint clutched at his relation's fringe, but Red Cloud lookedat him. Then the mongrel strain of blood told, and the half-breed pouredout a chattering appeal, while Red Cloud by the bedside waited till ithad spent itself. Then he grunted, and left the room. He had not spoken,and his crest of long feathers as it turned the corner was the lastvision of him that the card-players had.
Red Cloud came back to the officers, and in their presence formallyspoke to his interpreter, who delivered the message: "Red Cloud saysToussaint heap no good. No Injun, anyhow. He not want him. White manhunt pretty hard for him. Can keep him."
Thus was Toussaint twice sentenced. He improved under treatment, playedmany games of whiskey-poker, and was conveyed to Cheyenne and hanged.
These things happened in the early seventies; but there are Siouxstill living who remember the two lieutenants, and how they pulled thehalf-breed out of White River by his false hair. It makes them laugh tothis day. Almost any Indian is full of talk when he chooses, and when hegets hold of a joke he never lets go.
