CHAPTER I.
A STRANGE GIRL.
"Well, by the help of either her red gods or devils, she can swim,anyway!"
This explosive statement was made one June morning on the banks of theKootenai, and the speaker, after a steady gaze, relinquished hisfield-glass to the man beside him.
"Can she make it?" he asked.
A grunt was the only reply given him. The silent watcher was too muchinterested in the scene across the water.
Shouts came to them--the yells of frightened Indian children; and from thecone-shaped dwellings, up from the water, the Indian women were hurrying.One, reaching the shore first, sent up a shrill cry, as she perceivedthat, from the canoe where the children played, one had fallen over, andwas being swept away by that swift-rushing, chill water, far out from thereaching hands of the others.
Then a figure lolling on the shore farther down stream than the canoesprang erect at the frightened scream.
One quick glance showed the helplessness of those above, and another thestruggling little form there in the water--the little one who turned suchwild eyes toward the shore, and was the only one of them all who was notmaking some outcry.
The white men, who were watching from the opposite side, could see shoesflung aside quickly; a jacket dropped on the shore; and then down into thewater a slight figure darted with the swiftness of a kingfisher, and swamout to the little fellow who had struggled to keep his head above water,but was fast growing helpless in the chill of the mountain river.
Then it was that Mr. Maxwell Lyster commented on the physical help lent bythe gods of the red people, as the ability of any female to swim thuslustily in spite of that icy current seemed to his civilized understandinga thing superhuman. Of course, bears and other animals of the woods swamit at all seasons, when it was open; but to see a woman dash into it likethat! Well, it sent a shiver over him to think of it.
"They'll both get chilled and drop to the bottom!" he remarked, withirritated concern. "Of course there are enough of the red vagabonds inthis new El Dorado of yours, without that particular squaw. But it wouldbe a pity that so plucky a one should be translated."
Then a yell of triumph came from the other shore. A canoe had beenloosened, and was fairly flying over the water to where the child had beendragged to the surface, and the rescuer was holding herself up by the slowefforts of one arm, but could make no progress with her burden.
"That's no squaw!" commented the other man, who had been looking throughthe glass.
"Why, Dan!"
"It's no squaw, I tell you," insisted the other, with the superiorknowledge of a native. "Thought so the minute I saw her drop the shoes andjacket that way. She didn't make a single Indian move. It's a whitewoman!"
"Queer place for a white woman, isn't it?"
The man called Dan did not answer. The canoe had reached that figure inthe water and the squaw in it lifted the now senseless child and laid himin the bottom of the light craft.
A slight altercation seemed going on between the woman in the water andthe one in the boat. The former was protesting against being helped onboard--the men could see that by their gestures. She finally gained herpoint, for the squaw seized the paddle and sent the boat shoreward withall the strength of her brown arms, while the one in the water held on tothe canoe and was thus towed back, where half the Indian village had nowswarmed to receive them.
"She's got sand and sense," and Dan nodded his appreciation of the towingprocess; "for, chilled as she must be, the canoe would more than likelyhave turned over if she had tried to climb into it. Look at the pow-wowthey are kicking up! That little red devil must count for big stakes withthem."
"But the woman who swam after him. See! they try to stand her on her feet,but she can't walk. There! she's on the ground again. I'd give half mysupper to know if she has killed herself with that ice-bath."
"Maybe you can eat all your supper and find out, too," observed the other,with a shrug of his shoulders, and a quizzical glance at his companion,"unless even the glimpse of a petticoat has chased away your appetite. Youhad better take some advice from an old man, Max, and swear offapproaching females in this country, for the specimens you'll find herearen't things to make you proud they're human."
"An old man!" repeated Mr. Lyster with a smile of derision. "You must bepretty near twenty-eight years old--aren't you, Dan? and just about fiveyears older than myself. And what airs you do assume in consequence! Withall the weight of those years," he added, slowly, "I doubt, Mr. DanOverton, if you have really _lived_ as much as I have."
One glance of the dark eyes was turned on the speaker for an instant, andthen the old felt hat again shaded them as he continued watching the groupon the far shore. The swimmer had been picked up by a stalwart Indianwoman, and was carried bodily up to one of the lodges, while anothersquaw--evidently the mother--carried the little redskin who had caused allthe commotion.
"I suppose, by living, you mean the life of settlements--or, to condensethe question still more, the life of cities," continued Overton,stretching himself lazily on the bank. "You mean the life of a certain setin one certain city--New York, for instance," and he grinned at theexpression of impatience on the face of the other. "Yes, I reckon New Yorkis about the one, and a certain part of the town to live in. A certaingang of partners, who have a certain man to make their clothes and bootsand hats, and stamp his name on the inside of them, so that other folkscan see, when you take off your coat, or your hat, or your gloves, thatthey were made at just the right place. This makes you a man worthknowing--isn't that about the idea? And in the afternoon, at just aboutthe right hour, you rig yourself out in a certain cut of coat, and strollfor an hour or so on a certain street! In the evening--if a man wants tounderstand just what it is to live--he must get into other clothes anddrop into the theater, making a point of being introduced to any heavyswell within reach, so you can speak of it afterward, you know. Just asyour chums like to say they had a supper with a pretty actress, afterthe curtain went down; but they don't go into details, and own up that the'actress' maybe never did anything on a stage but walk on in armor andcarry a banner. Oh, scowl if you want to! Of course it sounds shoddy whena trapper outlines it; but it doesn't seem shoddy to the people who livelike that. Then, about the time that all good girls are asleep, it is justthe hour for a supper to be ordered, at just the right place for the wineto be good, and the dishes served in A1 shape, with a convenient waiterwho knows how dim to make the lights, and how to efface himself, and letyou wait on your 'lady' with your own hands. And she'll go home wearing aring of yours--two, if you have them; and you'll wake up at noon next day,and think what a jolly time you had, but with your head so muddled thatyou can't remember where it was you were to meet her the next night, orwhether it was the next night that her husband was to be home, and shecouldn't see you at all." Overton rolled over on his face and grunteddisdainfully, saying: "That's about the style of thing you call _living_,don't you, sonny?"
"Great Scott, Dan!" and the "sonny" addressed stared at him in perplexity,"one never knows what to expect of you. Of course there is _some_ truth inthe sketch you make; but--but I thought you had never ranged to theEast?"
"Did you? Well, I don't look as if I'd ever ranged beyond the timber, doI?" and he stretched out his long legs with their shabby coverings, andstuck his fingers through a hole in his hat. "This outfit doesn't look asif the hands of a Broadway tailor had ever touched it. But, my boy, thesketch you speak of would be just as true to life among a certain set inany large city of the States; only in the West, or even in the South,those ambitious sports would know enough to buy a horse on their ownjudgment, if they wanted to ride. Or would bet on the races withouthustling around to find some played-out jockey who would give them tips."
"Well, to say the least, your opinion is not very flattering to us,"remarked the young man, moodily. "You've got some grudge against the East,I guess."
"Grudge? Not any. And you're all right, Max. You will find thousandswilling to k
eep to your idea of life, so we won't split on that wedge. Myold stepdad would chime in with you if he were here. He prates aboutcivilization and Eastern culture till I get weary sometimes. Culture! Waittill you see him. He's all right in his way, of course; but as I cut loosefrom home when only fifteen, and never ran across the old man again untiltwo years ago--well, you see, I can make my estimates in that directionwithout being biased by family feeling. And I reckon he does the samething. I don't know what to expect when I go back this time; but, fromsigns around camp when I left, I wouldn't be surprised if he presented mewith a stepmother on my return."
"A stepmother? Whew!" whistled the other. "Well, that shows there are somewhite women in your region, anyway."
"Oh, yes, we have several. This particular one is a Pennsylvania product;talks through her nose, and eats with her knife, and will maybe try tomake eyes at you and keep you in practice. But she is a good, squarewoman; simply one of the many specimens that drift out here. Came up fromHelena with the 'boom,' and started a milliner store--a milliner store inthe bush, mind you! But after the Indians had bought all the brightfeathers and artificial flowers, she changed her sign, and keeps aneating-house now. It is the high-toned corner of the camp. She can cooksome; and I reckon that's what catches the old man."
"Any more interesting specimens like that?"
"Not like that," returned Overton; "but there are some more."
Then he arose, and stood listening to sounds back in the wild forests.
"I hear the 'cayuse' bell," he remarked; "so the others are coming. We'llgo back up to the camp, and, after 'chuck,' we'll go over and give you anearer view of the tribe on the other shore, if you want to add them tothe list of your sight-seeing."
"Certainly I do. They'll be a relief after the squads of railroad sectionhands we've been having for company lately. They knocked all the romanceout of the wildly beautiful country we've been coming through since weleft the Columbia River."
"Come back next year; then a boat will be puffing up here to the landing,and you can cross to the Columbia in a few hours, for the road will becompleted then."
"And you--will you be here then?"
"Well--yes; I reckon so. I never anchor anywhere very long; but thiscountry suits me, and the company seems to need me."
The young fellow looked at him and laughed, and dropped his hand on thebroad shoulder with a certain degree of affection.
"Seems to need you?" he repeated. "Well, Mr. Dan Overton, if the day evercomes when _I'm_ necessary to the welfare of a section as large as agood-sized State, I hope I'll know enough to appreciate my ownimportance."
"Hope you will," said Overton, with a kindly smile. "No reason why youshould not be of use. Every man with a fair share of health and strengthought to be of use somewhere."
"Yes, that sounds all right and is easy to grasp, if you have been broughtup with the idea. But suppose you had been trained by a couple of maidenaunts who only thought to give you the manners of a gentleman, and leaveyou their money to get through the world with? I guess, under suchcircumstances, you, too, might have settled into the feathery nestprepared for you, and thought you were doing your duty to the world if youwere only ornamental," and the dubious smile on his really handsome facerobbed the speech of any vanity.
"You're all right, I tell you," returned the other. "Don't growl atyourself so much. You'll find your work and buckle down to it, some ofthese days. Maybe you'll find it out here--who knows? Of course Mr. Seldonwould see to it that you got any post you would want in this district."
"Yes, he's a jolly old fellow, and has shown me a lot of favors. Seems tome relatives mean more to folks out here than they do East, because so fewhave their families or relatives along, I guess. If it had not been forSeldon, I rather think I would not have had the chance of this wild tripwith you."
"Likely not. I don't generally want a tenderfoot along when I've work todo. No offense, Max; but they are too often a hindrance. Now that you havecome, though, I'll confess I'm glad of it. The lonely trips over this wildregion tend to make a man silent--a bear among people when he does reach acamp. But we've talked most of the time, and I reckon I feel the better ofit. I know I'll miss you when I go over this route again. You'll be onyour way East by that time."
The "cayuse" bell sounded nearer and nearer, and directly from the denseforest a packhorse came stepping with care over the fallen logs, where thesign of a trail was yet dim to any eyes but those of a woodsman. A bell atits neck tinkled as it walked, and after it four others followed, all withheavy loads bound to their backs. It looked strange to see the patientanimals thus walk without guide or driver through the dense timber of themountains; but a little later voices were heard, and two horsemen came outof the shadows of the wood, and followed the horses upward along the bankof the river to where a little stream of fresh water tumbled down to theKootenai. There a little camp was located, an insignificant gathering oftents, but one that meant a promising event to the country, for it was tobe the connecting point of the boats that would one day float from theStates on the river, and the railroad that would erelong lead westwardover the trail from which the packhorses were bringing supplies.
The sun was setting and all the ripples of the river shone red in itsreflected light. Forests of pine loomed up black and shadowy above theshores; and there, higher up--up where the snow was, all tips of the riverrange were tinged a warm pink, and where the shadows lay, the lavender andfaint purples drifted into each other, and bit by bit crowded the pinkline higher and higher until it dared touch only the topmost peaks withits lingering kiss.
Lyster halted to look over the wild beauty of the wilderness, and from theharmony of river and hills and sky his eyes turned to Overton.
"You are right, Dan," he said, with an appreciative smile, a smile thatopened his lips and showed how perfect the mouth was under the brownmustache--"you are right enough to keep close to all these beauties. Youseem in some way to belong to them--not that you are so much 'a thing ofbeauty' yourself," and the smile widened a little; "but you have in youall the strength of the hills and the patience of the wilderness. You knowwhat I mean."
"Yes, I guess so," answered Overton. "You want some one to spout verses toor make love to, and there is no subject handy. I can make allowances foryou, though. Those tendencies are apt to stick to a man for about a yearafter a trip to Southern California. I don't know whether it's the girlsdown there, or the wine that is accountable for it; but whatever it is,you have been back from there only three months. You've three-quarters ofa year to run yet--maybe more; for I've a notion that you have a leaningin that direction even in your most sensible moments."
"H'm! You must have made a trip to that wine country yourself sometime,"observed Lyster. "Your theory suggests practice. Were there girls and winethere then?"
"Plenty," returned Overton, briefly. "Come on. There's the cook shoutingsupper."
"And after supper we're to go over to the Kootenai camp. Say! what is themeaning of that name, anyway? You know all their jargons up here; do youknow that, too?"
"Nobody does, I reckon; there are lots of theories flying around. Thegenerally accepted one is that they were called the '_Court Nez_' by theFrench trappers long ago, and that Kootenai is the result, aftergenerations of Indian pronunciation. They named the '_Nez Perces_,'too--the 'pierced noses,' you know; but that name has kept its meaningbetter. You'll find the trail of the French all through the Indian tribesup here."
"Think that was a Frenchwoman in the river back there? You said she waswhite."
"Yes, I did. But it's generally the Frenchmen you find among the reds, andnot the women; though I do know some square white women across the linewho have married educated Indians."
"But they are generally a lazy, shiftless set?"
The tone was half inquiring, and Overton grimaced and smiled.
"They are not behind the rest, when it comes to a fight," he answered."And as to lazy--well, there are several colors of people who are that,under some cir
cumstances. I have an Indian friend across in the States,who made eight thousand dollars in a cattle deal last year, and didn'tsell out, either. Now, when you and I can do as well on capital we'veearned ourselves, then maybe we'll have a right to criticise some of therest for indolence. But you can't do much to improve Indians, or any oneelse, by penning them up in so many square miles and bribing them to begood. The Indian cattleman I speak of kept clear of the reservation, andafter drifting around for a while, settled down to the most naturalcivilized calling possible to an Indian--stock-raising. Dig in the ground?No; they won't do much of that, just at first. But I've eaten some prettygood garden truck they've raised."
Lyster whistled and arched his handsome brows significantly.
"So your sympathies run in that direction, do they? Is there a KootenaiPocahontas somewhere in the wilderness accountable for your ideas? That isabout the only ground I could excuse you on, for I think they are beastly,except in pictures."
They had reached a gathering of men who were seated at a table in the openair--some long boards laid on trestles.
Overton and his friend were called to seats at the head of the table,where the "boss" of the construction gang sat. The rough pleasantries ofthe men, and the way they made room for him, showed that the big bronzedranger was a favorite visitor along the "works."
They looked with some curiosity at his more finely garbed companion, buthe returned their regard with a good deal of careless audacity, and wontheir liking by his independence. But in the midst of the social studieshe was making of them, he heard Overton say:
"And you have not heard of a white girl in this vicinity?"
"Never a girl. Are you looking for one? Old Akkomi, the Indian, has goneinto camp across the river, and he might have a red one to spare."
"Perhaps," agreed Overton. "He's an old acquaintance of mine--a year old.But I'm not looking for red girls just now, and I'm going to tell the oldman to keep the families clear of your gang, too." Then to Lyster heremarked:
"Whether these people know it or not, there is a white girl in the Indiancamp--a young girl, too; and before we sleep, we'll see who she is."
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