The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine
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you had been born and bred out here in the West," he remarked, "while you are really only an importation. But what is that racket about?"
For screeches were sounding from the cabin--cries, feminine and frightened.
Overton and Seldon started for it, as did several of the workmen, but their haste slackened as they saw 'Tana leaning against a doorway and laughing, while the squaw stood near her, chuckling a little as a substitute for merriment.
But there were two others within the cabin who were by no means merry--the two cousins, who were standing huddled together on the couch, uttering spasmodic screeches at every movement made by a little gray snake on the floor.
It had crept in at a crevice, and did not know how to make its escape from the noisy shelter it had found. Its fright was equal to that of the women, for it appeared decidedly restless, and each uneasy movement of it was a signal for fresh screams.
"Oh, Mr. Overton! I beg of you, kill the horrible reptile!" moaned Miss Slocum, who at that moment was as indifferent to the proprieties as Mrs. Huzzard, and was displaying considerable white hosiery and black gaiter tops.
"Oh, lawsy! It is coming this way again. Ooh--ooh--h!" and Mrs. Huzzard did a little dance from one foot to the other, in a very ecstasy of fear. "Oh, Lavina, I'll never forgive myself for advising you to come out to this Idaho country! Oh, Lord! won't somebody kill it?"
"Why, there is no need to fear that little thing," said Overton. "Really, it is not a snake to bite--no more harm in it than in a mouse."
"A _mouse_!" they both shrieked. "Oh, please take it away."
Just then Akkomi came in through the other cabin, and, hearing the shrieks, simply stooped and picked up the little stranger in his hand, holding it that they might see how harmless it was.
But, instead of pacifying them, as he had kindly intended, they only cowered against the wall, too horrified even to scream, while they gazed at the old Indian, as at something just from the infernal regions.
"Lord, have mercy on our souls," muttered Lavina, in a sepulchral tone, and with pallid, almost moveless, lips.
"Forever and ever, amen," added Lorena Jane, clutching her drapery a little closer, and a little higher.
And not until Overton persuaded Akkomi to throw the frightened little thing away did they consent to move from their pedestal. Even then it was with fear and trembling, and many an awful glance toward the placid old Indian, who smoked his pipe and never glanced toward them.
"Never again will I sleep in that room--not if I die for it!" announced Mrs. Huzzard, and Miss Slocum was of the same mind.
"But the cabin is as safe as a tent," said 'Tana, persuasively, "and, really, it was not a dangerous snake."
"Ooh--h! I beg that you will not mention it," shivered Miss Slocum. "For my part, I don't expect to sleep anywhere after this terrible experience. But I'll go wherever Lorena Jane goes, and do what I can to comfort and protect her, while she rests."
Akkomi sat on Harris' doorstep, and smoked, while they argued on the dangers around them, and were satisfied only when Overton put a tent at their disposal. They proceeded to have hammocks swung in it on poles set for the purpose, as they could feel safe on no bed resting on the ground.
"But, really, my conscience troubles me about leaving you here alone, 'Tana," said Mrs. Huzzard, and Overton also looked at her as if interested in her comfort.
"Well, your conscience had better give itself a rest, if that is all it has to disturb it," she answered. "I don't care the least bit about staying alone--I rather like it; though, if I need any one, I'll have Flap-Jacks stay."
So Overton left them to their arrangements, and said nothing to 'Tana; but as Seldon and Haydon were about to embark, he spoke to the former.
"I may not be able to get up there after all, as I may feel it necessary to be here at night, so don't wait for me."
"All right, Overton; but we'd like to have you."
After the others had left the cabin, Akkomi still remained, and the girl watched him uneasily but did not speak. She talked to Harris, telling him of the funny actions of the two frightened women, but all the time she talked and tried to entertain the helpless man, it was with an evident effort, for the dark old Indian's face at the door was constantly drawing her attention.
When she finally entered her own room, he appeared at the entrance, and, after a careful glance, to see that no one was near, he entered and spoke:
"'Tana, it is now two suns since we talked. Will you go to-day in my boat for a little ways?"
"No," she said, angrily. "Go home to your tepee, Akkomi, and tell the man there I am sorry he is not dead. I never will see him again. I go away from this place now--very soon--maybe this week. What becomes of him I do not care, and it will be long before I come back."
He muttered some words of regret, and she turned to him more kindly.
"Yes, I know, Akkomi, you are my good friend. You think it is right to do what you are doing now. Maybe it is; maybe I am wrong. But I will not be different in this matter--never--never!"
"If he should come here--"
"He would not dare. There are people here he had better fear. Give him the names of Seldon and of Haydon."
"He knows; but it is the new miners he fears most; they come from all parts. He wants money."
"Let him work for it, like an honest man," she said, curtly. "Don't talk of it again. I will not go outside the camp alone, and I will not listen to any more words about it. Now mind that!"
In the other cabin, Harris listened intently to each word uttered. His eyes fairly blazed in his eagerness to hear 'Tana's final decision. But when Akkomi slouched past his door, and peered in, with his sharp, quick eyes, he had relapsed again into the apathetic state habitual to him. To all appearances he had not heard their words, and the old Indian walked thoughtfully past the tents and out into the timber.
Lyster called some light greeting to him, but he barely looked up and made no reply whatever. His thoughts were evidently on other things than camp sociabilities.
It was dark when he returned, and his fit of thoughtfulness was yet upon him, for he spoke to no one. Overton, who had been talking to Harris, noticed him smoking beside the door as he came out.
"You had better bring your camp down here," he remarked, ironically. "Well, for to-night you will have to spread your blanket in this room if Harris doesn't object. That is what I am to do, for I've given up my quarters to the ladies, who are afraid of snakes."
Akkomi nodded, and then Overton moved nearer the door again.
"Jim, I may not be back for an hour or so. I am going either on the water or up on the mountain for a little while. Don't lie awake for me, and I'll send a fellow in to look after you."
Harris nodded, and 'Tana, in her own room, heard Overton's steps die away in the night. He was going on the water or on the mountains--the places she loved to go, and dared not.
She felt like calling after him to wait to take her with him once more, and did rise and go to the door, but no farther.
Lights were gleaming all along the little stream; laughter and men's voices came to her across the level. Her own corner of the camp looked very dark and shadowy in comparison. But she turned back to it with a sigh.
"You may go, Flap-Jacks," she said to the squaw. "I don't mind being alone, but first fix the bed of Harris."
She noticed Akkomi outside the door, but did not speak to him. She heard the miner enter the other cabin and assist Harris to his couch and then depart. She wondered a little that the old Indian still sat there smoking, instead of spreading his blanket, as Overton had invited him to do.
A book of poems, presented to her by Lyster, was so engrossing, however, that she forgot the old fellow, until a movement at the door aroused her, and she turned to find the silent smoker inside her