by Charles King
CHAPTER XVIII.
Long remembered at the agency and among the lodges of the assembledSioux was the morning of the arrival of Lieutenant Davies with a squadof half-frozen troopers at his back. The gale that swept the prairies onWednesday had died away. The mercury in the tubes at the trader's storehad sunk to the nethermost depths. The sundogs blazed in the easternsky, and even the rapids of the Running Water seemed turned to solidblue. Borne on the wings of the blast, straight from the frozen pole,the Ice King had swooped upon the sheltered valley. Cold as is the widefrontier at such times, even among the gray heads, the old medicine-men,the great-grandmothers of the tribes, huddling in the frowzy,foul-smelling tepees, were legends of no such bitter, biting cold asthis. Cattle lying here and there stark and stiffened, hardy ponies,long used to Dakota blizzards, even some among the Indian dogs hadsuccumbed to its severity, while over at the agent's, behinddouble-listed doors and frost-covered sashes, around roaring coal firesin red-hot stoves, the employes and their families herded togetheralmost as did the Indians, execrating the drop in the temperature oneminute even while thanking God for it the next. It was the main thingthat had interposed to save them from the vengeance of Red Dog's band.
All through the desperate battling of the previous summer, even in theface of fiercest triumph the Indians had known in years, one little bandof Sioux had kept faith with the white brother and refused all effort todraw its young men to the war-path. For months, from early spring-tide,against three columns of regular troops, the hostiles in the Big Hornand Powder River countries had more than held their own, and under thespell of Sitting Bull and led by such war chiefs as Crazy Horse and Galland Rain-in-the-Face, the turbulent spirits of nearly every tribe hadswelled the fighting force until at times six thousand warriors were inthe field engaged in bloody work. The whole Sioux nation seemed in arms.Ogallalla and Brule, Minneconjou, Uncapapa, Teton and Santee, Sans Arcand Black Foot, leagued with their only rivals in plainscraft andhorsemanship and strategy, the Cheyennes, thronged to that wild andbeautiful land once the home of the Crows. Three columns had striven tohem them in,--three thousand wagon-hampered soldiers to surround sixthousand free lances of the plains, and the Indians laughed them toscorn. When the columns pressed too close they swarmed upon the nearest,stung it, sent it staggering back; then watched for the next, and sweptit out of existence. They flew at Crook on the 17th of June and foughthim luringly, begging him to follow farther into their traps in thecanon, but the Gray Fox knew them and divined the numbers that lurked inhiding behind the bold green curtain of bluffs, and so slipped out ofthe toils. They turned on Custer eight days later and left no tongue totell the tale. Three columns, against such energetic measures, fell backto recruit and refit, and not until late in the season, doubled instrength, could they resume the offensive. Then, the summer's workaccomplished, the warriors scattered, spoil laden, and the troops chasedmadly hither and yon until brought up standing at the boundaries of HerBritannic Majesty on the one side or those of the Indian Bureau on theother. Across the border-land Sitting Bull snapped his fingers at hispursuers. Across the reservation lines did many a jeering chief hurltaunt and challenge at the baffled soldiery. When winter came on therewere still a few strong bands of Sioux and Cheyennes dancing to thewar-drums in the fastnesses of the Big Horn, whence Miles and Mackenzieand the Frost King soon routed them; but most of the warriors who hadspent their season in saddle in the field were once more at home underthe sheltering wing of the Department of the Interior, while theirchiefs and leaders, their hands still red with the blood of Custer'smen, their wigwams freshly upholstered with cavalry scalps, wenteastward on their customary junket to the capital of the nation, to befed and feted and lionized, to come back laden with more spoil, morearms, ammunition, clothing, blankets, tobacco, kickshaws and trumperydear to the savage heart, rejoicing, even though they marvelled, at thefatuity of a people that annually rewarded instead of punishing theirmurderous work. They, the heroes of the summer's campaign, rode intriumph through the very homes of their victims, and weeping women andchildren listened in amaze to the plaudits with which their townspeoplegreeted the very savages who, not six months before, were hacking outthe last flutter of life, drinking the heart's blood, revelling in thedying moan of beloved husband or father. Verily, we're a nation of oddcontradictions.
And, just as a sojourn in Washington seems to turn many a whitebrother's head, so did this, though with better reason, send the savagehomeward with boastful heart. He and his were welcomed back to the fold,lavishly provided for, all manner of requests and demands hithertodenied now smilingly honored. They came back lords of the soil, monarchsof all they surveyed, scornful of all who were not with them in thewarfare of the summer gone by, and of these was the household of SpottedTail. Long time chief of the Brules, he had kept faith with the whites,his kith and kin were loyal to their obligations, and in so far asexample and influence could go they had held their tribe, all but themore turbulent young men, out of the fight. There was a band that foryears had never "drawn a bead" on white man,--settler or soldier,--aband that had furnished scouts and runners and trailers and had doneyeoman's work upon the reservations. These were now, as was to beexpected, of no more consequence in council lodge or tribal dance.Snubbed by the war chiefs, sneered at by the young men, slighted by themaidens, it was bad enough that they should have lost caste among theirown people, it was worse, and what made it infinitely worse that it wasso utterly characteristic, that these faithful allies and servantsshould now find themselves neglected by the very government which theyhad so earnestly supported. Back from the war-path, day after day, camedozens of grinning, hand-shaking warriors lately in rebellion, and tothem, their squaws and children, with lavish hand the agency dealt outblankets and calicoes, bacon and beef, coffee, flour, and sugar. Suchredoubtables as Red Dog, Little Big Man, Prowling Wolf, and Kills Asleepwere swaggering about, as were their young men, in plethora of savageadornment and "store clothes." Their squaws and children were warm andfat and garbed in attractive motley. Even their dogs were in betterfettle than the social exiles of the Spotted Tail school, now in ragsand dependent for their daily bread on what the agent would give them.Three times it happened on ration days that Red Dog and Kills Asleep,swaggering about the corral, told their followers to pick out and driveaway such cattle as were passably fat and presumably tender, leaving tothe silent loyals only a miserable batch of beeves which LieutenantBoynton described as "dried on the hoof." The agent said he couldn'thelp it, "Red Dog and the likes of him are now high in favor atWashington. They and their fellows could have me removed in a minute ifI interfered, and they know it. There is no lie at my expense theirinterpreters wouldn't tell the inspectors, and against so many witnesseswhat could I do?"
"Do!" said Boynton, indignantly. "Do your duty, and I'll back you up.I'll testify to the truth."
And then the agent smiled sadly, but scornfully, and said anothertruism. "What good would that do? From Sheridan down, what armyofficer's statement has any weight whatever with the IndianBureau,--when it isn't what it wants?"
"Well," said Boynton, "it's a damned shame, and I mean to make a formalreport to department headquarters at once."
And the agent said he wished he would, and Boynton did, but before thatdocument could reach Omaha there were other and more serious troubles.Two Lance was the name given the chief of the little band that had stoodfast with Spotted Tail, and Two Lance had begged that he and his peoplemight be allowed to go back to where most of the Brules lived, at theold home on the White River. "This is no place for us," said he. "We arepoor, hungry, ragged, almost naked. We are jeered at. Even our maidensare insulted by these our own people because we were taught to remaintrue to the Great Father and take no part in the war. Now, behold, theywho killed his soldiers, murdered his settlers, and ravished his womenare fat and strong and rich. Their ponies are as the herds of buffalo inour fathers' day, and we who served the great White Chief and protectedhis children, we are a shame and a scorn. Let us go to h
im who neverbroke a promise or told a lie and he will right us. Let us go back toSintogaliska--to Spotted Tail." But the agent said he had no authority.It would be another moon before he could get it, and it might not comethen. If they pulled up stakes and went anyhow he would have to send thewhite chief Boynton with his soldiers to fetch them back; and when RedDog and Kills Asleep heard of this they rode to the village of Two Lanceand jeered him anew and called him "White Heart" and "No Lance," andsome of Red Dog's young men said worse things to some of the Brule girlswho stood shrouded in their ragged blankets, bidding them follow and bethe mothers of men and braves and warriors and not remain in the lodgesof faint hearted curs. There were Brules there, young braves who longedfor battle then and there, and who leaped to their gaunt ponies andshouted challenge and defiance, but Two Lance interposed. There must beno fratricidal warring, said he. They would lay the matter before thecouncil fire of Sintogaliska,--he who had ruled the Brules since firstthe white tents of the soldiers gleamed along the Platte--Sintogaliskawho never lied. And this too was jeered and flouted. Sintogaliska,indeed! Sintogaliska was a traitor, an old woman whom the white fatherhad bought with beads and candy. The warriors of the Sioux, the only menfit to lead, were such as Red Dog and Kills Asleep. But still Two Lancekept his temper and the public peace, and again he rode to the agent andtold his story, and Boynton fired up and said in common decency theagent must do something to put a stop to Red Dog's insolence, and theagent sent for Red Dog and bade him report himself at the agencyforthwith, and Red Dog replied that he would when he got ready, and ifthe agent wanted him sooner, why, to come and get him, and Elk-at-Bay,who brought his defiance, lunged in and laughed when he gave themessage, and helped himself to the cigars remaining in the agent's boxand swaggered out with them.
That evening in sudden brawl and in plain view of Mr. McPhail, theagent, one of Red Dog's braves stabbed to the heart the lover of aBrule girl whom he had affronted.
"Arrest him!" ordered McPhail, who then turned and ran in-doors,--afterhis pistol, as he said, possibly forgetting that it was already on hiship. Boynton and his men were at the picket-line grooming horses, threehundred yards away at the moment, and the young brave mounted his ponyand dared any one to take him, and rode singing defiantly down thesnow-covered valley. Only the previous day the mail rider had gone onhis weekly trip, and now a special messenger was needed to convey theagent's despatch to the railway, for the flimsy single wire to thereservation was down and useless. The Indian who attempted to carry theletter was pulled off his pony by frolicsome friends of the murderer andtreated to a cold bath in the Niobrara. Not until Sunday night did heget back, half frozen, and tell his story. Meantime there was moredefiance, so another attempt was made. Sergeant Lutz said he'dtake it this time, and he rode through to Braska on a singlehorse,--seventy-three miles in thirty hours. The Interior Departmentasked immediate assistance of the War Department to make arrests, andthe general commanding at Omaha was instructed by wire to place asufficient force with the agent to enable him to overpower two or threeturbulent Indians. This sent Davies and twenty troopers to reinforceBoynton, and the very day they started ushered in the coldest wave ofthe winter and further tragedy at Ogallalla.
Drunk and defiant, the exulting murderer with two or three recklessfriends had ridden up to the agency, renewed their boasts and jeers andyells, while Boynton and his men, as instructed by the agent, were overat the village of Two Lance, a long mile away, rounding up their ponyherd to prevent the warriors making an assault on Red Dog's more distanttownship. A shot rang out from somewhere among the agency buildings, andthe days of the boaster were numbered. Back, bearing the body, scurriedthe trio of friends, and in less than an hour, in fury and transport andgrief and rage, the women were tearing their hair and proddingthemselves with knives, while the warriors, singing the death-song, werepainting themselves for battle. In vain the agent despatched messengersto say he and his men were innocent of blood and would bring themurderer of the murderer, some prowling Brule, to vengeance. Swiftreturn couriers bade him beware,--Red Dog and all his band were comingto avenge the deed. Boynton was summoned in hot haste. He and his partycame sweeping in on the foremost wave of the wind, and between the two avengeful band of two hundred seasoned warriors, veterans of many aforay, were held at bay from Wednesday night. It was too cold even forfighting.
And Friday morning, after hardship and suffering there was no time totell, Lieutenant Davies with his party reached the threatened agency,and was greeted with ringing cheers. That evening the grasp of the IceKing was loosened by the soft touch of the south wind, and Red Dog rodein state to the adjoining camp to claim the alliance of his brotherchiefs in his attempt to wrest from the agent the perpetrator of themurder of his tribesman. That the dead Indian was himself a murdererhad no bearing on the matter, said Red Dog. He had simply knifed inself-defence a beggarly Brule who quarrelled with him over a girl. Theblood of Lone Wolf cried aloud for vengeance, and the agent should notbe permitted to harbor or conceal his slayer. "You've got no time tolose," said Boynton, who had kept his scouts on the alert. "You shouldarrest that old villain at once or he'll stir the whole reservation intomutiny." The agent thought he could accomplish more by seeing him andhaving a talk. "Indians are always ready for a talk," said he. "I'lltake Mr. Davies and a couple of men just for appearance's sake and rideright over to the village. He's at Kills Asleep's now."
Boynton argued, but the agent was afraid to adopt the only course anIndian respects,--prompt and forceful measures. "Talk" means to himdelay, compromise, confession of weakness. "Well, if you must palaver,"said Boynton, finally, "take me along. I've had more to do with thosebeggars than Davies, and," he added to himself, "I'll make it possibleto nab that fellow."
A most impressive scene was that which met the eyes of the little partyas they rode to the village across the frozen stream. The moon wasshining almost at full in a clear and cloudless sky. The neighboringslopes, the distant ridge, the broad level of the valley, all blanketedin glistening snow. Half a mile away down-stream in one dark cluster ofjagged-topped cones lay the village of Red Dog's people. Away up-streama long mile, black against the westward slope, the corral andstorehouses, the school and office and quarters of the agency, thewatch-lights twinkling like the stars above. Close at hand, looselyhuddled along the bank, the grimy, smoke-stained lodges of KillsAsleep's sullen band, and in their midst, surrounded at respectfuldistance by a squatted semicircle of old men and braves, all muffled intheir blankets, and by an outer rim of hags and crones and young squawsand children and snarling dogs and shaggy ponies, there with trailingwar-bonnet and decked with paint and barbaric finery, his robe castaside,--there like an orator of old stood the Indian chief in the heatof his impassioned appeal. All eyes were upon him, all ears drinking inhis words. Guttural grunts of approval rewarded each resounding period."You're too late," muttered Boynton. "He's been getting in his work togood effect. You should have arrested him an hour ago."
The agent reined in his panting horse and looked and listened. "He won'ttalk to me now, I suppose. It would be an affront to his dignity tointerrupt. Best let him finish what he's begun. What shall we domeantime?"
"What you'd best do is to give me orders to nab the old sinner in my ownway and go back to the agency as quick as you can. Your life won't beworth a pin in that crowd when he's done speaking. Go while there's yettime and tell Mr. Davies to send me Sergeant Lutz and six men mounted.Keep the rest under arms in the corral. I'll land Red Dog inside thewalls within an hour if you'll only say the word. Damn it, man! you've_got_ to, or your influence is gone."
"He's got more influence now than I ever had, and the whole Indianadelegation backed me for the place," wailed McPhail. "What in heaven Ithought to gain by coming out here and taking such a job is more than Ican guess now. Every one said there was money in it; no one thought ofthe danger. If my wife and kids were only safe at home I wouldn't careso much. It's that that I'm thinking of. Can't we do this somehowwithout bringing on a row?"
And still the agent hesitated. Barely six months had he served in hisnew and unaccustomed sphere. Old-world nations, either monarchies thattake no thought for the morrow's vote of the masses, or republics thathave outlived their illusions, suit their servants to the work in hand.Uncle Sam, having hosts of importunate sons demanding recognitionirrespective of merit, and being as yet barely a centenarian, is at themercy of his clamorous and inconsiderate millions. Each salaried officein his gift calls with each new administration for a new incumbent,whose demanded qualifications are not "what can he do to improve theservice?" but "what has he done to benefit the party?" In this way do wemanufacture consuls who know next to nothing of the manners, customs,language, and business abroad, and agents who know even less of theIndians at home.
But the problem in hand was settled for the sorely troubled official ina most unlooked-for way. Sharp-eyed squaws spied the little squad ofhorsemen at the outskirts of the village, the agent in his wolf-skinovercoat, the troopers in the army blue, with the collars of theirovercoats up about their ears, and some one ran to Red Dog with thenews. With all "the majesty of buried Denmark" he paused in his speech,faced the intruders, then came striding slowly towards them, warriors,women, squaws, and children opening out and making a lane for his royalprogress.
"Whatever you do, no words with him here," whispered Boynton to theagent, now trembling with excitement and nervous apprehension. "Stand toyour terms. He can talk with you only at your office,--the agency."
With the stately war-bonnet of eagle feathers trailing down his back anddragging along the ground, the chief came stalking on, never hastening,never slackening his stride, and after him flocked the warriors andwomen of the tribe, the men eager and defiant, the women trembling infearsome dread.
"Shall we turn and ride away?" asked the agent, his blue lips twitching.
"No. Face him now,--cool as you can. Look him straight in the eye. Makeno answer,--I'll do that. Ride slowly away when I say '_now_' and notbefore. Advance carbine there, men! Fetch 'em up slowly."
Ten feet away from them Red Dog halted and stood erect, drawn up to hisfull height. Slowly he folded his arms, and sternly he bent his gazeupon the four white men. Silently his followers ranged up in big circle,almost enveloping the stolid troopers. For a moment nothing was heardbut the shuffling of moccasined feet, the quick breathing or murmuredwords of the squaws, the feeble wail of some Indian baby left to its owndevices in the parental lodge. Sniffing the tainted air the horsesshrank a bit, rallying under the prompt touch of the spur and standingwith erect, quivering ear and starting eyeball, staring at the comingthrong and uttering low snorts of fear. And then at last in the Dakotatongue Red Dog hailed his visitors just as down the valley themonotonous throb of the Indian drum began.
"Why are these soldiers here?"
To the agent it was, of course, unintelligible: he had been among thetribe too short a time. Boynton understood, and in low tone muttered,"Pay no attention to him whatever. Look around as though you were insearch of somebody you knew and wanted to see." Then aloud he called,authoritively, "Come, step out there, some one of you who can speaksoldier English. Where's Elk? He'll do if you want to ask questions."And presently Elk-at-Bay, he who bore the chieftain's message andconfiscated the agent's cigars, edged his way to the front, but with farless truculence of mien than when the agent stood unsupported bysoldiers.
"Red Dog asks why soldiers here," said he.
"Tell him we're here to enjoy the scenery, if you know how to do it, andminding our own business," was Boynton's reply.
"Red Dog not speak to soldiers. He asks the man the Great Father sendshim."
"Well, you tell him the agent of the Great Father will talk with himthere, at his office, and nowhere else," said Boynton, "and thatto-night's his last chance to hear what the Great Father has to say tohim."
Unfolding his arms, the chief took a splendid stride forward. Heunderstood Boynton, as Boynton well knew, and now was preparing for anoutburst of oratory. The instant he opened his mouth to speak Boyntonturned to the agent and whispered, "Now," and coolly and indifferentlyas he knew how, that official reined his broncho around and headed himfor the twinkling lights of the distant buildings. Red Dog began insonorous Dakota, with magnificent sweep of his bare, silver-banded arm,and Boynton touched up his charger impatiently and rode a length closer,his two troopers sitting like statues with the butts of their carbinesresting on the thigh, the muzzles well forward.
"Red Dog wastes time and wind talking here. If he wants to be heard lethim go there," said Boynton, pointing to the distant agency. "Unless,"he added, with sarcastic emphasis,--"unless Red Dog's afraid." And thenhe, too, reined deliberately about and signalled to his men to follow.For a moment there was silence as Elk stumblingly put into Sioux thelieutenant's ultimatum. Then came an outburst of wrath and invective.Red Dog afraid, indeed! Loudly he called for his horse, and the crowdgave way as a boy came running leading the chief's pet piebald. In aninstant, Indian fashion, he had thrust his heavily-beaded moccasin farinto the off-side stirrup and thrown his leggined left leg over the highsilver-tipped cantle, and the trained war pony began to bound andcurvet. Swinging over his head his beautiful new Winchester, Red Dogrode furiously to and fro, haranguing the excited tribesmen, andspeedily more Indians were sitting hunched up in saddle, but dartingskilfully hither and yon, yelping shrill alarm. Others dashed away tothe distant village to rouse Red Dog's own people and summon thewarriors that remained. In fifteen minutes, at the head of three hundredmounted braves, Red Dog was riding straight for the agency, his escortgaining numbers with every rod. Red Dog afraid, indeed!
Over the moonlit sweep of snow the watchers at the corral saw the comingthrong, a moving mass, black and ominous as the storm-cloud. Within thebuildings all hands were hastily barricading doors and windows andbustling a few women and children, trembling and terrified, into thecellars. Out in the corral in disciplined silence the troopers werepromptly mustering and forming line. Six or eight of the party thatarrived with Davies that morning having badly frozen fingers and toeswere told off to act as horse-holders. "We've simply to fight on thedefensive," said Boynton to his silent second in command, "and we'llfight afoot. Thirty men can defend the corral and out-houses and thefront of the agency. The rest we'll put in the building. That's allwe've got."
Away from the excited group at the office door a horseman turned andspurred full speed for the hills far to the southwest. "Tell 'em we'reattacked by overpowering numbers," said McPhail, "and want instanthelp,--all they can send us." There was no time to write despatches; theshouts and taunts and shrill defiance of the coming troop already rangin their ears.
"Now then, McPhail," said Boynton, lunging up through the snow-drifts,carbine in hand, "I've got my men at every loop and knot-hole, and thosebeggars can't take this shop to-night. What I want is authority toarrest that head devil the moment he gets here."
"It will only infuriate them and make matters worse," pleaded therepresentative of the Indian bureau.
"Well, it's the only way to put an end to the row," said the soldier."The only thing in God's world those fellows respect is force and pluck.You've temporized too long. Arrest him and tell his fellows to disperseto their tepees in two minutes or we open fire."
"How can you arrest him in front of all that array?" was the tremulousquestion. "Do you suppose they'll permit it?"
"That's my business," was Boynton's answer. "I don't mean to let thatgang come within three hundred yards, and you're a worse fool than Ithought if you overrule me. I'm going to ride out there now to halt themat the creek. Then you orde
r Red Dog forward with his interpreter andbring him in here a prisoner. You've not an instant to lose," hefinished as a trooper came up at the run, Boynton's big bay trotting athis heels. The lieutenant was in saddle in a second. "Are you agreed?"he asked.
"Why, they'll say we began it, lieutenant. They'll swear they were onlycoming to talk. They've always been accustomed to come here wheneverthey wanted to. We have only a handful of men; they've got a thousandfighting braves within a day's call. My God! I can't risk my family!"
"You've done that already with your confounded temporizing. Look there,man. It's too late now. There's where I would have held them, along thecreek bank. Now they're swarming across."
Singing, shouting, brandishing lance and rifle, their barbaric ornamentsgleaming in the frosty moonlight, some of the younger men darting to andfro on their swift ponies, mad with excitement, on came the surgingcrowd, led by the majestic figure of the big chief, jogging straight onat the slow, characteristic amble of the Indian pony, his war-bonnettrailing to the ground. From far and near, up and down the valley, dim,ghostly, shadowy horsemen came darting to join the array. Close behindRed Dog some rabid warrior began a wild war chant, and others took itup. Somewhere along the throng a tom-tom began its rapid, monotonousthump, and here, there, and everywhere the rattles played their weird,stirring accompaniment.
"Well, by God, McPhail! you may let them ride over you and yours, butthey can't ride over me and mine without a fight," said Boynton, nowwild with wrath. "That whole force will be swarming through the premisesin five minutes. Quick, Davies!" he cried. "Forward as skirmishers!Cover that front! Ten men will do." And without further command,scorning prescribed order of formation, but with the quick intuition ofthe American soldier,--the finest skirmisher in the world,--a littleparty of troopers watching at the corral gate, sprang forth into themoonlight and, opening out like a fan, carbines at trail or on theshoulder, forward at full run they dashed, spreading as rapidly as theypossibly could to irregular intervals of something like ten yards fromman to man, and presently there interposed between the coming host andthe black group of buildings at their back this thin line of dismountedmen, halted in silence to await the orders of the tall, slendersubaltern officer, who, afoot like themselves, now stood some thirtypaces in rear of their centre, calmly confronting the advancing Indians.Up to Davies's side rode Boynton, bent and whispered a word, thenspurred forward to the line, and there, reining in, raised to the fulllength of his arm a gauntleted hand, palm to the front, and gave theuniversal signal known by every Indian and frontiersman from Hudson'sBay to the Gulf of California,--"Halt!"
"Red Dog comes to talk with the Great Father's agent, not with you,"shouted Elk, lashing forward for a parley.
"All right. Come on, you and Red Dog, but order your gang to stay wherethey are. The agent will talk with Red Dog, but no one else."
Without audible orders of any kind, the Indians had suddenly ceasedtheir clamor, and now, apparently, were quickly ranging up into long,irregular line in rear of their chief. Presently, as Red Dog and Elkconferred, there stretched across the snow-streaked prairie some threehundred motley braves, mounted on their war ponies, the flanks of theline receiving constant additions from the direction of the distantlodges. Then Elk again came forward, Red Dog sitting in statuesquedignity in front of his tribesmen.
"The white chief has his soldiers. The agent of the Great Father has hismen. Red Dog demands the right to bring an equal retinue," was doubtlesswhat the Indian wished to say and what in the homely metaphor of theplains he made at once understood. "You got soldiers. Agent got heap.Red Dog he say he bring heap same," was the way Elk put it, and Boyntonexpected it.
"Tell Red Dog the soldiers will fall back and the agent come half-wayout afoot. Red Dog and you dismount and come forward half-way. If yourpeople advance a step we fire. That's all."
Another low-toned parley between the chief and his henchmen. Two minutesof silent fidgeting along the line of mounted Indians. Like so many bluestatues the skirmishers stood or knelt, carbines advanced, every hammerat full cock. Back in the shadows of the agency hearts were thumpinghard and all eyes were strained upon the scene at the east. The moon,riding higher every moment, looked coldly down upon the valley. Elk cameforward again, and Red Dog's war-bonnet wagged first to right and thento left. He was saying something in low tone to the braves at his backand they were passing it along to the outer flanks of the line.
"Red Dog says soldiers go back and agent come out and talk," said he.
"All right so far, but does Red Dog agree to dismount? Does he agree tohold his people where they are? Does he understand that if they advancewe fire? Here, Red Dog," said Boynton, riding forward half a dozenyards, "you understand me well enough. If your crowd moves a pony lengthforward we fire, and, mark you, any trick or treachery and down you go,first man."
To this Red Dog deigned no other response than a scowl.
"Back up slowly, men, face to the front," said Boynton to his silentline. "Hold 'em, Davies. I'll go back to McPhail."
But when the agent was told the terms of the parley he refused. "Why,he'd knife or pistol me just as the Modocs did the Peace Commissioners,"said he. "I won't step off the agency porch. We've got seven armed menhere. Let him bring seven, and you have your soldiers ready inside thecorral. Then if he wants to talk business he can see me here."
By this time, slowly retiring and gradually closing toward the centre,Davies and his skirmishers had come back within twenty yards of thebuilding. Boynton swore a round oath. "There's no help for it, Parson,we've got to do as this chump decides. There's one chance yet. Get yourmen back to their loop-holes and join me here. No man to fire, remember,except as ordered."
Quickly the troopers scurried back to their positions along thestockade. Originally it had been intended to enclose all the buildingswithin this defensive work, but the returning tourists were prompt toexpress their disapprobation. Having just shaken hands with the GreatFather at Washington, they were suspicious of such an exhibition oflack of confidence on the part of his agent. That the store-rooms shouldhave iron-barred windows was another ground for remark and remonstrance.The red children refused to enter a stockade whose gates might be closedbehind them, or a room whose windows were barred. An inspector came outand held a powwow and shook hands with everybody, and told the agent thered children were lambs who would never harm him and he mustn't showdistrust. It hurt their sensitive natures. So the stockade only enclosedthe shed and stables, but it abutted, luckily, upon the agent's houseand office. Re-entering the house from the rear, after a few words ofinstruction to Sergeant Lutz and his men, Davies pushed throughhurriedly to the front piazza. Red Dog in grand state, with aninterpreter at his left rear and seven stalwart braves aligned like ageneral's staff six yards behind him, came riding with majestic dignity,straight to the dark portico. Red Dog afraid, indeed! Turning his horseover to an orderly and sending him within the stockade, Boynton orderedthe gate closed.
"We'll have a breeze here in a minute," he whispered to Davies. "Thatsinner means mischief. You watch him and the agent. I'll keep my eye onthe main body."
Fifteen yards away, Red Dog halted and silently studied the shadowygroup on the agency porch. There stood the bureau's "ablegate," theofficial interpreter by his side. In the door-way, dimly outlined, weretwo of his assistants, men who had known the Sioux for years, but knewnot influential relatives in the East. Boynton ranged up close alongsidein hopes of prompting the official. "He's beginning to look knee-sprungalready," whispered he to Davies, "but I'll brace him if I can." Justbehind the agent stood one of his police, and this was before the daysof an Indian police that, properly handled, proved valuable asauxiliaries. Then Red Dog in slow, sonorous speech began to declaim.
"Choke him off! Make him dismount and report at your office. He'll onlyinsult you where he is," whispered Boynton.
"Red Dog says, as the agent didn't dare come and get him, he concludedto come in and see whether the agent would dare take him," began the
interpreter, in trembling tones, the moment the Indian paused.
"Too late, by God!" hissed Boynton between his set teeth. "He means toblackguard the whole party right here and then ride off rejoicing."
And Red Dog reined closer and began anew. Throwing back hisquill-embroidered robe, he lifted a muscular arm to heaven, and withclinching fist and flashing eyes seemed to hurl invective straight inthe agent's face.
"You dare demand the arrest of Red Dog, do you?" he thundered in hisnative tongue, leaving hardly an instant for the interpreter. "Now hearRed Dog's reply. The blood of one of our young men calls aloud forvengeance. His slayer is here and you know him. Red Dog, backed by thebraves of every tribe at the reservation, comes to demand his surrender.Give him up to us and your lives are safe. Refuse, and you, your wivesand children, are at the mercy of my young men. Red Dog dares and defiesthe soldiers of the Great Father."
Consciously or unconsciously, in the magnificence of his wrath, thechief had ridden almost to the very edge of the porch and there shookhis clinched fist in the ghastly face of McPhail. The agent started backamazed, terrified, for as though to emphasize his defiance Red Dog'sgleaming revolver was whipped suddenly from its sheath and flashed aloftover his feathered head.
And then there came sudden fury of excitement. A bound from the edge ofthe porch, a fierce yell, an outburst of Indian war-cries, a surgingforward of the escort at the chieftain's back, a rush and scurry in theoffices, the slamming of doors, the flash and report of a dozenrevolvers, a distant roar and thunder of a thousand hoofs and chorus ofthrilling yells, a scream from the women and children in the cellarsbelow, a ringing cheer from the stockade, followed by the resonant bang,bang of the cavalry carbine, and all in an instant a mad, whirlingmaelstrom of struggle right at the steps, braves and ponies, soldiersand scouts, all crashing together in a rage of battle, and then, bendinglow to avoid the storm of well-aimed bullets from practised hands at thestockade, some few warriors managed to dash, bleeding, away, just as adetermined little band of blue-coats, half a dozen in number, leapedthrough the door-way and down the steps, blazing into the ruck as theycharged, and within another minute were coolly kneeling and firing atthe swarming, yelling, veering warriors, already checked in their wildclash to the rescue, and within the little semicircle two furiouslystraining forms, locked in each other's arms, were rolling over and overon the trampled snow,--Red Dog, panting, raging, biting, cursing, butfirmly, desperately held in the clasp of an athletic soldier, forwithout a word Percy Davies had leaped from the porch and borne theSioux chieftain struggling to the ground. Red Dog,--redder than everbefore, even on the bloody day of the Little Horn,--bound hand and feetwith cavalry lariats, spent that long winter's night a prisoner in thehands of Boynton's men, while the prairie without was dotted with bravesand ponies, dropped by their cool, relentless aim. Red Dog at last hadhad his day.