The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine
Читать онлайн книгу.
arguments, and he intended to prove them by remaining on Little Black Fox's trail until he was assured that the danger to Rosebud no longer existed. It was in the nature of the man that he had sought no outside aid, except that of his faithful General.
The story the watcher read as he observed the Indians' movements was a long one. The climax of it did not come until late in the afternoon, and the conclusion not until an hour later.
The climax was reached when he saw a tall figure coming up from the direction of the bridge. A grim pursing of the lips lent a curious expression to the smile that this appearance brought to his face. The man was clad in a blanket, and his gait was the gait of an Indian. There was nothing to give any other impression to the casual observer. But Seth was very intent, and he saw the color of the man's face. It was then that his lips shut tight and his smile developed something tigerish in its appearance.
However, he remained quite still, and saw the man pass into the chief's house. He did not reappear for a full half-hour. When at last he came out he departed at once the way he had come. Half an hour later the chief's ponies, a number of squaws, and the baggage, set out accompanied by half a dozen mounted bucks. Another half-hour and Little Black Fox appeared and vaulted to the back of his waiting pony. A dozen warriors joined him almost at the same moment, gathering from different directions, and the chief rode off at their head.
Then it was that Seth rose from his hiding-place. He stood watching the going of these men until he had made sure of the direction they were taking. They were making for the river ford, and he instantly ran back to his horse and mounted. Just for a second he hesitated. Then he set off for the wagon bridge as fast as he could urge his horse.
It was late the same afternoon that Charlie Rankin rode up to the River Farm and greeted Rube, who was hard at work upon the stockade. He was a large, cheery Britisher, with a florid face and ready laugh. He drew up with a jerk, sprang to the ground, and began talking with the perfect freedom of long friendship.
"I've passed the word, Rube," he said, without any preamble. "It's gone the round by this time. I thought I'd run over and consult you about the womenfolk. I'm new to this work. You are an old bird. I thought of sending the missis into Beacon."
Rube paused in his work and surveyed the horizon, while, in his slow way, he wiped the perspiration from his weather-furrowed face.
"Howdy, Charlie," he said, without displaying the least concern. "Wal, I don't know. Y' see this thing's li'ble to fizzle some. We've had 'em before. Guess my missis an' the gal'll stay right here by us. I 'low I feel they're safer wi' us. Mebbe it's jest a notion. If things gits hummin' I'd say come right along over an' share in wi' us. Y' see if it's a case of git, we'd likely do better in a party. Seth's away jest now."
The old man's quiet assurance was pleasant to the less experienced farmer. There was soundness in his plans too. Charlie nodded.
"That's good of you. Of course, we've got the warning, but we don't know how far things are moving. Do you?"
"Wal, no. But I don't think ther's anything to worry over fer a week or two."
"I thought there couldn't be, because I saw your Rosebud riding down toward the river as I came along. And yet----"
But Rube broke in upon him vehemently.
"Goin' to the river?" he cried. Then his usual slow movements suddenly became electrical. He strode away to the barn, and left Charlie to follow.
"What's up?" the latter asked, as he paused in the doorway.
"Up? Up? What's up?" The old man was saddling a big raw-boned mare with almost feverish haste. "She's no right goin' that aways. An' I promised Seth, too. I didn't know but what she wus in the kitchen. Here, fix that bridle while I get into the house. Ha' y' got your gun?"
"Yes; but why?"
"Wal--y' never can figger to these durned Injuns when they're raisin' trouble."
The old man was off like a shot, while Charlie fixed the great mare's bridle. He returned almost immediately armed with a brace of guns.
"Say, ken y' spare an hour or so?"
As Charlie looked into the old farmer's face when he made his reply he read the answer to all he would have liked to ask him. Rube was consumed with an anxiety that no words, delivered in his slow fashion, could have conveyed to any one but Seth.
"Certainly, as long as you like."
"Good boy," said Rube, with an air of relief. "I wouldn't ask you, but it's fer her." And the two men rode off hastily, with Rube leading.
"By-the-way," said Charlie, drawing his horse up alongside the dun-colored mare, "Joe Smith, north of us, says some neighbor of his told him there were tents on the plains further north. I was wondering. The troops haven't been sent for, have they?"
"Can't say," said Rube, without much interest. Then he asked hastily, "Which way was she headin'?"
The question showed the trend of his whole thought.
"Why, straight down."
"Ah, Nevil Steyne's shack."
"He lives that way, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
The two men rode on in silence. This was the first time Charlie had ever seen Rube disturbed out of his deliberate manner. He made a mental resolve to bring his wife and children into White River Farm at the first sign of actual danger.
CHAPTER XVI
GENERAL DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
Never since her first coming to the farm had Rosebud been forced to keep her goings and comings secret. But Wanaha had made it imperative now. It went sorely against the girl's inclination, for she hated deception of any kind; and she knew that what she meditated was a deception against those she loved. Consequently she was angry; angry with Wanaha, angry with the Indians, but most of all with herself. Wanaha had asked for a secret visit to Nevil Steyne, who was cutting wood below the bridge.
But in spite of her anger, as she made the necessary detour for concealment in one of those deep troughs amid the billows of grass-land, there was a sparkle of anticipation and excitement in her violet eyes. Before she was half-way to the woods that lined the river the last shadow of her brief anger had passed from her face. After all, she told herself in weak excuse, what she was doing was only a very little matter, and, perhaps--who could tell?--she might learn something that would be useful to Seth, who cared for nothing and nobody in the world but the Indians. So she rode on quite fearless, with no graver qualms than the very slightest twinge of conscience.
As she rode she debated with herself the manner in which she was to conceal her destination from chance observers. Wilful and irresponsible as Rosebud always appeared to be, there was yet something strongly reliant in her nature. She was, as so many girls are, a child in thought and deed until some great event, perchance some bereavement, some tragedy, or some great love, should come to rouse the dormant strength for good or ill which lies hidden for years, sometimes for life, in nearly every daughter of Eve.
The result of her debate was a decision to head for the ford when once she was out of view of the farm. She argued, if Nevil Steyne were cutting wood below the bridge, as Wanaha had told her, then by entering the woods at the ford she could make her way through them until she came to him. Thus she would not show herself near his hut, or near where he might be known to be working.
So, in the waning daylight, she cantered over the scented grass without a thought of the danger which Wanaha had hinted to her. She was defenceless, unarmed, yet utterly fearless. Her spirit was of the plains, fresh, bright, strong. Life to her was as the rosy light of dawn, full of promise and hope. Her frail figure, just budding with that enchanting promise of magnificent womanhood, swaying to the light gait of her broncho, was a sight to stir the pulse of any man. It was no wonder that the patient, serious Seth watched over her, shielding her with every faculty alert, every nerve straining, all his knowledge of that living volcano over which they lived brought into service.
Some such thoughts as these may have passed through Charlie Rankin's