VII
ELSIE RELENTS A LITTLE
The feeling against the redmen, intensified throughout the State by theremoval of Sennett, beat against Curtis like a flood. Delegations ofcitizens, headed by Streeter and Johnson, proceeded at once toWashington, laden with briefs, affidavits, and petitions, and there laidsiege to Congress as soon as the members began to assemble. The twentyoriginal homesteaders were taken as the text for most impassionedappeals by local orators, and their melancholy situation was skilfullyenlarged upon. They were described as hardy and industrious patriots,hemmed in by sullen savages, with no outlet for trade and scantpasturage for their flocks--in nightly fear of the torch and thescalping-knife.
To Curtis, these settlers were by no interpretation martyrs in the causeof civilization--they were quite other. His birth, his militarytraining, and his natural refinement tended to make him critical ofthem. They were to him, for the most part, "poor whites," too pitilessto be civilized, and too degenerate to have the interest of theirprimitive red neighbors. "The best of them," he said to Jennie, "arefoolhardy pioneers who have exiled their wives and children for no goodreason. The others are cattlemen who followed the cavalry in order tofatten their stock under the protection of our guidon."
The citizens of Pinon City wondered why their delegates made so littleimpression on the department, but Streeter was not left long in doubt.
The Secretary interrupted him in the midst of his first presentation ofthe matter.
"Mr. Streeter, you are a cattleman, I believe?"
Streeter looked a little set back. "I am--yes, sir, Mr. Secretary."
The Secretary took up a slip of paper. "Are you the Streeter located onthe reservation itself?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you are an interested witness. How can you expect me to take yourword against that of Captain Curtis? He tells me the Tetongs arepeaceful, and quick to respond to fair treatment. The department hasabsolute confidence in Captain Curtis, and you are wasting time in theeffort to discredit him. The tribe will _not_ be removed. Is there anyother question you would like to raise?"
Streeter took his dismissal hard. He hurried at once to Brisbane, hisface scarlet with rage. "He turned me down," he snarled, "and he's gotto suffer for it. There's a way to get at him, and you must find it."
Brisbane was too crafty to promise any definite thing. "Now wait amoment, neighbor; never try to yank a badger out of his den--wait andcatch him on the open plain. We must sound the Committee on IndianAffairs, and then move on the House. If we can't put through our removalbill we'll substitute the plan for buying out the settlers. If thatdon't work I've a little scheme for cutting down the reservation. Wemust keep cool--and don't mention my name in the matter. What we want todo is to pave the way for my return to the Senate next fall; then I canbe of some real service to you. I am now entirely out of it, as you cansee, but I'll do what I can."
Streeter went away with a feeling that Brisbane was losing his vigor,and a few days later returned to the West, very bitter and veryinflammatory of speech. "The bill is lost. It will be smothered incommittee," he said to Calvin.
Brisbane, after leaving Streeter that day, went home to dinner with anawakened curiosity to know more about this young man in whom thedepartment had such confidence. Lawson was dining at his table thatnight, and it occurred to him to ask a little more fully about Curtis.
"See here, Lawson, you were out there on the Fort Smith reservation,weren't you? Wasn't that where you and Elsie camped this summer?"
Elsie replied, "Yes, papa. We were there when Uncle Sennett wasdismissed."
Brisbane started a little. "Why, of course you were; my memory isfailing me. Well, what about this man Curtis--he's a crank on the Indianquestion, like yourself, isn't he?"
Lawson smiled. "We believe in fair play, Governor. Yes, he's friendly tothe Indians."
"And a man of some ability, I take it?"
"A man of unusual ability. He is an able forester, a well-readethnologist, and has made many valuable surveys for the WarDepartment."
"His word seems to have great weight with the department."
"Justly, too, for he is as able a man as ever held an agent's position.A few men like Curtis would solve the Indian problem."
Elsie, who had been listening in meditative silence, now spoke."Nevertheless, his treatment of Uncle Sennett was brutal. He arrestedhim and searched all his private papers--don't you remember?"
Brisbane looked at Lawson solemnly and winked the eye farthest from hisdaughter. Lawson's lips quivered with his efforts to restrain a smile.Turning then to Elsie, Brisbane said: "I recall your story now--yes, hewas pretty rigorous, but I'm holding up the department for that; theagent wasn't to blame. He was sent there to do that kind of a job, andfrom all accounts he did it well."
Elsie lifted her eyebrows. "Does that excuse him? He kept repeating tome that he was under orders, but I took his saying so to be just asubterfuge."
"Mighty little you know about war, my girl. To be a soldier means toobey orders from general down to corporal. Moreover, your uncle hasgiven me a whole lot of trouble, and I wouldn't insist on a relationshipwhich does us no credit. I've held his chin above water about as long asI'm going to."
Elsie was getting deeper into the motives and private opinions of herfather than ever before, and, as he spoke, her mind reverted to thehandsome figure of the young soldier as he stood before her in thestudio, asking for a kindlier good-bye. His head was really beautiful,and his eyes were deep and sincere. She looked up at her father withfrowning brows. "I thought you liked Mr. Sennett? He told me you gothim his place."
Brisbane laughed. "My dear chicken, he was a political choice. He wasdoing work for our side, and had to be paid."
"Do you mean you knew the kind of a man he was when you put him there?"
Brisbane pulled himself up short. "Now see here, my daughter, you'regetting out of your bailiwick."
"But I want to understand--if you knew he was stealing--"
"I didn't know it. How should I know it? I put him there to keep himbusy. I didn't suppose he was a sot and a petty plunderer. Now let'shave no more of this." Brisbane was getting old and a trifle irritable,but he was still master of himself. "I don't know why I should be takento task by my own daughter."
Elsie said no more, but her lips straightened and her eyes grewreflective. As the coffee and cigars came in, she left the two men atthe table and went out into the music-room. It seemed very lonely in thebig house that night, and she sat down at the piano to play, thinking tocure herself of an uneasy conscience. She was almost as good a pianistas a painter, and the common criticism of her was on this score. "Beedoes everything _too_ well," Penrose said.
She played softly, musingly, and, for some reason, sadly. "I wonder if Ihave done him an injustice?" she thought. And then that brutal leer onher father's face came to disturb her. "I wish he hadn't spoken to melike that," she said. "I don't like his political world. I wish hewould get out of it. It isn't nice."
In the end, she left off playing and went slowly up to her studio, halfdetermined to write a letter of apology. Her "work-shop," which had beenadded to the house since her return from Paris, was on a level with hersitting-room, which served as a reception hall to the studio itself. Herartist friends declared it to be too beautiful to work in, and so itseemed, for it was full of cosey corners and soft divans--a gloriouslounging-place. Nevertheless, its walls were covered with pictures ofher own making. Costly rugs and a polished floor seemed not to deter herfrom effort. She remained a miracle of industry in spite of the scoffingof her fellows, who were stowed about the city in dusty lofts likepigeons.
Proud and wilful as she seemed, Elsie had always prided herself on beingjust, and to be placed in the position of doing an honorable man a wrongwas intolerable. The longer she dwelt upon her action the more uneasyshe became. Her vision clarified. All that had been hidden by her absurdprejudice and reasonless dislike--the soldier's frank and manlyfirmness, Lawson's reproache
s, her aunt's open reproof--all these grewin power and significance as she mused.
Taking a seat at her desk, she began a letter, "Captain Curtis, DearSir--" But this seemed so palpably a continuance of her repellent moodthat she tore it up, and started another in the spirit of friendlinessand contrition which had seized upon her:
"DEAR CAPTAIN CURTIS,--I have just heard something which convinces me that I have done you an injustice, and I hasten to beg your pardon. I knew my uncle Sennett only as a child knows a man of middle age--he was always kind and good and amusing to me. I had no conception of his real self. My present understanding of him has changed my feeling towards your action. I still think you were harsh and unsympathetic, but I now see that you were simply doing the will of the department. So far I apologize. If you come to Washington I hope you will let us know."
As she re-read this it seemed to be a very great concession indeed; butas she recalled the handsome, troubled face of the soldier, she decidedto send it, no matter what he might think of her. As she sealed theletter her heart grew lighter, and she smiled.
When she re-entered the library her father was saying: "No, I don'texpect to get him removed. The present administration and its wholepolicy must be overthrown. Curtis is only a fly on the rim of the wheel.He don't count."
"Any man counts who is a moral force," Lawson replied, with calmsincerity. "Curtis will bother you yet."
The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Page 7