John Ermine of the Yellowstone

by Frederic Remington

  CHAPTER XII

  KATHERINE

  The snow had gone. The plains and boxlike bluff around the cantonmentshad turned to a rich velvet of green. The troops rested after thetremendous campaigns in the snow-laden, wind-swept hills, with theconsciousness of work well done. The Indians who had been brought induring the winter were taking their first heart-breaking steps along thewhite man's road. The army teams broke the prairie, and they wereplanting the seed. The disappearance of the buffalo and the terriblewhite chief Bear-Coat,[14] who followed and fought them in the fiercestweather, had broken their spirits. The prophecies of the old beaver-men,which had always lain heavily on the Indian mind, had come true atlast--the whites had come; they had tried to stop them and had failed.

  [14] General Miles.

  The soldiers' nerves tingled as they gathered round the landing. Theycheered and laughed and joked, slapped and patted hysterically, andforgot the bilious officialism entirely.

  Far down the river could be seen the black funnel of smoke from thesteamboat--their only connection with the world of the white men. Itbore letters from home, luxuries for the mess-chest, and best of all,news of the wives and children who had been left behind when they wentto war.

  Every one was in a tremor of expectancy except the Indians, who stoodsolemnly apart in their buffalo-robes, and John Ermine. The steamboatdid not come from their part of the world, and brought nothing to them;still Ermine reflected the joyousness of those around him, and both heand the Indians knew a feast for their eyes awaited them.

  In due course the floating house--for she looked more like one than aboat--pushed her way to the landing, safe from her thousand miles ofsnags and sandbars. A cannon thudded and boomed. The soldiers cheered,and the people on the boat waved handkerchiefs when they did not usethem to wipe happy tears away; officers who saw their beloved oneswalked to and fro in caged impatience. When the gang-planks were runout, they swarmed aboard like Malay pirates. Such hugging and kissing asfollowed would have been scandalous on an ordinary occasion; lily-whitefaces were quite buried in sunburnt mustaches on mahogany-brown skins.The unmarried men all registered a vow to let no possible occasion toget married escape them, and little boys and girls were held aloft inbrawny arms paternal. A riot of good spirits reigned.

  "For Heaven's sake, Mary, did you bring me my summer underwear?"

  "Oh, don't say you forgot a box of cigars, Mattie."

  "If you have any papers or novels, they will save me from becoming anidiot," and a shower of childish requests from their big boys greetedthe women.

  In truth, it must be stated that at this period the fashion insistedupon a disfigurement of ladies which must leave a whole generation ofnoble dames forgotten by artists of all time. They loosened andtightened their forms at most inappropriate places; yet underneath thisfierce distortion of that bane of woman, Dame Fashion, the men were yetable to remember there dwelt bodies as beautiful as any Greek ever sawor any attenuated Empire dandy fancied.

  "Three cheers for the first white women on the northern buffalo range!"

  "See that tent over there?" asked an officer of his 'Missis,' as hepointed toward camp; "well, that's our happy home; how does it strikeyou?"

  A bunch of "shave-tails" were marched ashore amid a storm ofgood-natured raillery from the "vets" and mighty glad to feel once againthe grit under their brogans. Roustabouts hustled bags and boxes intothe six-mule wagons. The engine blew off its exhaust in a frail attemptto drown the awful profanity of the second mate, while humanity boiledand bubbled round the great river-box.

  The Indians stood motionless, but their keen eyes missed no details ofthe strange medley. Ermine leaned on a wagon-tail, carefully paring athin stick with a jack-knife. He was arrayed for a gala day in newsoldier trousers, a yellow buckskin shirt beautifully beaded by theIndian method, a spotted white handkerchief around his neck, buckskinleggings on the lower leg above gay moccasins, a huge skinning-knife andrevolver in his belt, and a silver watch chain. His golden hair wasfreshly combed, and his big rakish sombrero had an eagle featherfastened to the crown, dropping idly to one side, where the soft windeddied it about.

  The John Ermine of the mountain den was a June-bug beside thisbutterfly, but no assortment of color can compete with a scarlet blanketwhen the clear western sun strikes on it; so in consequence Ermine wassubdued by Wolf-Voice, who stood beside him thus arrayed.

  As the people gathered their bags and parcels, they came ashore in smallgroups, the women and children giving the wild Indians the heed whichtheir picturesque appearance called for, much of this being in the formof little shivers up and down the spine. A true old wolf-headed buffaloIndian would make a Japanese dragon look like a plate of ice-cream, andthe Old Boy himself would have to wave his tail, prick up his sharpears, and display the best of his Satanic learning to stand thecomparison.

  Major Searles passed on with the rest, beaming like a June morning, hisarms full of woman's equipment--Mrs. Searles on one side and hisdaughter on the other.

  "Hello, Ermine."

  "How do, Major?" spoke the scout as he cast his whittling from him.

  "This is John Ermine, who saved my life last winter, my dear. This isMrs. Searles, John."

  She bowed, but the scout shook hands with her. Miss Searles, uponpresentation, gave Ermine a most chilling bow, if raising the chin anddropping the upper eyelids can be so described; and the man who pushedhis pony fearlessly among the whirling savages recoiled before herbatteries and stood irresolute.

  Wolf-Voice, who had not been indicated by the Major, now approached, hisweird features lighted up with what was intended as pleasantry, butwhich instead was rather alarming.

  "How! how me heap glad to see you." And to Miss Searles, "How! how youheap look good." After which they passed on.

  "My, my, papa, did you ever see such beautiful hair as that man Erminehas?" said Katherine Searles. "It was a perfect dream."

  "Yes, good crop that--'nough to stuff a mattress with; looks betterto-day than when it's full of alkali dust," replied the Major.

  "If the young man lost his hat, it would not be a calamity," observedthe wife.

  "And, papa, who was that dreadful Indian in the red blanket?"

  KATHERINE.]

  "Oh, an old scoundrel named Wolf-Voice, but useful in his place. Youmust never feed him, Sarah, or he will descend on us like the plague oflocusts. If he ever gets his teeth into one of our biscuits, I'll haveto call out the squad to separate him from our mess-chest."

  A strange thought flashed through John Ermine's head--something morelike the stroke of an axe than a thought, and it had deprived him of thepower of speech. Standing motionless and inert, he watched the girluntil she was out of sight. Then he walked away from the turmoil, upalong the river-bank.

  Having gained a sufficient distance, he undid the front of his shirt andtook out a buckskin bag, which hung depended from his neck. It containedhis dried horse's hoof and the photograph of a girl, the one he hadpicked up in the moonlight on the trail used by the soldiers from FortEllis.

  He gazed at it for a time, and said softly, "They are the same, thatgirl and this shadow." And he stood scrutinizing it, the eyes lookingstraight into his as they had done so often before, until he wasintimate with the image by a thousand vain imaginings. He put it back inhis bag, buttoned his shirt, and stood in a brown study, with his handsbehind his back, idly stirring the dust with the point of one moccasin.

  "It must have been--it must have been Sak-a-war-te who guided me in themoonlight to that little shadow paper there in the road--to that littlespot in all this big country; in the night-time and just where we cutthat long road; it means something--it must be." And he could get nofarther with his thoughts as he walked to his quarters.

  Along the front of the officers' row he saw the bustle, andhandshaking, laughter, and quick conversation. Captain Lewis came bywith a tall young man in citizen's clothes, about whom there was ablacked, brushed, shaved appearance quite new on the Tongue.

&n
bsp; "I say, and who is that stunning chap?" said this one to Lewis, inErmine's hearing.

  "One of my men. Oh, come here, Ermine. This is Mr. Sterling Harding, anEnglishman come out to see this country and hunt. You may be able totell him some things he wants to know."

  The two young men shook hands and stood irresolutely regarding eachother. Which had the stranger thoughts concerning the other or the morecuriosity cannot be stated, but they both felt the desire for betteracquaintance. Two strangers on meeting always feel this--orindifference, and sometimes repulsion. The relations are established ina glance.

  THE ENGLISHMAN.]

  "Oh, I suppose, Mr. Ermine, you have shot in this country."

  "Yes, sir,"--Ermine had extended the "sir" beyond shoulder-straps toinclude clean shirts,--"I have shot most every kind of thing we have inthis country except a woman."

  "Oh! ha! ha ha!" And Harding produced a cigar-case.

  "A woman? I suppose there hasn't been any to shoot until this boat came.Do you intend to try your hand on one? Will you have a cigar?"

  "No, sir; I only meant to say I had shot things. I suppose you mean haveI hunted."

  "Yes, yes--exactly; hunted is what I mean."

  "Well then, Mr. Sterling Harding, I have never done anything else."

  "Mr. Harding, I will leave you with Ermine; I have some details to lookafter. You will come to our mess for luncheon at noon?" interjectedCaptain Lewis.

  "Yes, with pleasure, Captain." Whereat the chief of scouts took himselfoff.

  "I suppose, Mr. Ermine, that the war is quite over, and that one mayfeel free to go about here without being potted by the aborigines," saidHarding.

  "The what? Never heard of them. I can go where I like without beingkilled, but I have to keep my eyes skinned."

  "Would you be willing to take me out? I should expect to incur theincidental risks of the enterprise," asked the Englishman, who had takenthe incidental risks of tigers in India and sought "big heads" in manycountries irrespective of dangers.

  "Why, yes; I guess Wolf-Voice and I could take you hunting easily enoughif the Captain will let us go. We never know here what Bear-Coat isgoing to do next; it may be 'boots and saddles' any minute," repliedthe scout.

  "Oh, I imagine, since Madam has appeared, he may remain quiet and Ireally understand the Indians have quite fled the country," respondedHarding.

  "Mabeso; you don't know about Indians, Mr. Harding. Indians areuncertain; they may come back again when their ponies fill up on thegreen grass."

  "Where would you propose to go, may I ask?"

  Ermine thought for a time, and asked, "Would you mind staying out allone moon, Mr. Harding?"

  "One moon? You mean thirty days. Yes, three moons, if necessary. My timeis not precious. Where would you go?"

  "Back in the mountains--back on the Stinking Water; a long way fromhere, but a good place for the animals. It is where I come from, and Ihaven't been home in nearly a year. I should like to see my people,"continued Ermine.

  "Anywhere will do; we will go to the Stinking Water, which I hope beliesits name. You have relatives living there, I take it."

  "Not relatives; I have no relations anywhere on the earth, but I havefriends," he replied.

  "When shall we start?"

  Ermine waved his hand a few times at the sky and said "So many," but itfailed to record on the Englishman's mind. He was using the signlanguage. The scout noted this, and added, "Ten suns from now I will goif I can."

  "Very well; we will purchase ponies and other necessaries meanwhile, andwill you aid me in the preparations, Mr. Ermine? How many ponies shallwe require?"

  "Two apiece--one to ride and the other to pack," came the answer to thequestion.

  A great light dawned upon Harding's mind. To live a month with what oneIndian pony could carry for bedding, clothes, cartridges, and food. Hisnew friend failed, in his mind, to understand the requirements of anEnglish gentleman on such quests.

  "But, Mr. Ermine, how should I transport my heads back to this pointwith only one pack-animal?"

  "Heads? heads? back here?" stumbled the light-horseman. "What heads?"

  "Why, the heads of such game as I might be so fortunate as to kill."

  "What do you want of their heads? We never take the heads. We give themto our little friends, the coyotes," queried Ermine.

  "Yes, yes, but I must have the heads to take back to England with me. Iam afraid, Mr. Ermine, we shall have to be more liberal with ourpack-train. However, we will go into the matter at greater lengthlater."

  Sterling Harding wanted to refer to the Captain for furtherunderstanding of his new guide. He felt that Lewis could make the matterplain to Ermine by more direct methods than he knew how to employ. Asthe result of world-wide wanderings, he knew that the Captain wouldhave to explain to Ermine that he was a crazy Englishman who was allright, but who must be humored. To Harding this idea was not new; he hadplayed his blood-letting ardor against all the forms of outlandishignorance. The savages of many lands had eaten the bodies of which theerratic Englishman wanted only the heads.

  So to Lewis went Harding. "I say, Captain, your Ermine there is anartless fellow. He is proposing to Indianize me, to take me out for awhole moon, as he calls it, with only one pack-pony to carry mybelongings. Also he fails, I think, to comprehend that I want to bringback the heads of my game."

  "Ha! I will make that plain to him. You see, Mr. Harding, you are thefirst Englishman he ever encountered; fact is he is range bred,unbranded and wild. I have ridden him, but I use considerable discretionwhen I do it, or he would go up in the air on me," explained Lewis. "Heis simple, but he is honest, faithful, and one of the very few white menwho know this Indian country. Long ago there were a great many huntersand trappers in these parts; men who worked for the fur companies, butthey have all been driven out of the country of late years by theIndians, and you will be lucky to get Ermine. There are plenty of thehalf-breeds left, but you cannot trust them. They might steal from you,they might abandon you, or they might kill you. Ermine will probablytake you into the Crow country, for he is solid with those people. Why,half the time when I order Crow scouts to do something they must firstgo and make a talk with Ermine. He has some sort of a pull withthem--God knows what. You may find it convenient to agree with him attimes when you naturally would not; these fellows are independent andfollow their fancies pretty much. They don't talk, and when they get anidea that they want to do anything, they proceed immediately to do it.Ermine has been with me nearly a year now, but I never know what minuteI am to hear he has pulled out."

  Seeing Ermine some little distance away, the Captain sent an orderlyafter him. He came and leant with one hand on the tent-pole of the fly.

  "Ermine, I think you had better take one or two white packers and atleast eight or ten animals with you when you go with Mr. Harding."

  "All right, sir, we can take as many packers as he likes, but nowagons."

  Having relieved the scout of his apprehensions concerning wagons, thebond was sealed with a cigar, and he departed, thinking of oldCrooked-Bear's prediction that the white men would take him to theirhearts. Underneath the happy stir of his faculties on this stimulatingday there played a new emotion, indefinite, undefinable, a drifting,fluttering butterfly of a thought which never alighted anywhere. All daylong it flitted, hovered, and made errant flights across his goldenfancies--a glittering, variegated little puff of color.