IX
CALLED TO WASHINGTON
One day Curtis announced, with joyful face:
"Sis, we are called to Washington. Get on your bonnet!"
She did not light up as he had expected her to do. "I can't go, George,"she replied, decisively and without marked disappointment.
He seemed surprised. "Why not?"
"Because I have my plans all laid for giving my little 'ingines' such aChristmas as they never had, and you must manage to get back in time tobe 'Sandy Claws.'"
"I don't see how I can do it. I am to appear before the Committee onIndian Affairs relative to this removal plan, and there may be otherbusiness requiring me to remain over the holidays."
"I don't like to have you away. I suppose you'll see Mr. Lawson and MissBrisbane," she remarked, quietly, after a pause.
"Oh yes," he replied, with an assumption of carelessness. "I imagineLawson will appear before the committee, and I hope to call on MissBrisbane--I want to see her paintings." He did not meet his sister'seyes as squarely as was his wont, and her keen glance detected a bitmore color in his face than was usual to him. "You must certainlycall," she finally said. "I want to know all about how they live."
Many things combined to make this trip to Washington most pleasurable tothe soldier. He was weary with six weeks of most intense application toa confused and vexatious situation, and besides he had not been East forseveral years, and his pocket was filled with urgent invitations todinner from fellow-officers and co-workers in science, courtesies whichhe now had opportunity to accept; but back of all and above all was thehope of meeting Elsie Brisbane again. He immediately wrote her a note,telling her of his order to report at the department, and askingpermission to call upon her at her convenience.
It was a long ride, but he enjoyed every moment of it. He gave himselfup to rest. He went regularly to his meals in the dining-car; he smokedand dreamed and looked out with impersonal, shadowy interest upon theflying fields and the whizzing cities. He slept long hours and rose atwill. Such freedom he had known only on the trail; here luxury wascombined with leisure. In Chicago a friend met him and they lunched at aluxurious club, and afterwards went for a drive. That night he left theWestern metropolis behind and Washington seemed very near.
As the train drew down out of the snows of the hill country into thesunshine and shelter of the Potomac Valley his heart leaped. This washome! Here were the little, whitewashed cabins, the red soil, theangular stone houses--verandaed and shuttered--of his native town. Itwas pleasant to meet the darkies swarming, chirping like crickets,around the train. They shadowed forth a warmer clime, a less insistentcivilization than that of the West, and he was glad of them. Theybrought up in his mind a thousand memories of his boy-life in an oldMaryland village not far from the great city, which still retained itssupremacy in his mind. He loved Washington; to him it was the centre ofnational life.
The great generals, the great political leaders were there, and thegreatest ethnologic bureau in all the world was there, and when thegleaming monument came into view over the wooded hills he had only oneregret--he was sorrowful when he thought of Jennie far away in the bleakvalley of the Elk.
It was characteristic of him that he took a cab to the SmithsonianSociety rather than to the Army and Navy Club, and was made at home atonce in the plain but comfortable "rooms of the Bug Sharps." He had justtime to report by telephone to the Department of the Interior before theclose of the official day. Several letters awaited him. One was fromElsie, and this he read at once, finding it unexpectedly cordial:
"My father is writing you an invitation to come to us immediately. You said you would arrive in Washington on the 17th, either on the 11 A.M. train or the one at 3 P.M. In either case we will look for you at 6.30 to dine with us before you get your calendar filled with engagements. I shall wait impatiently to hear how you are getting on out there. It is all coming to have a strange fascination for me. It is almost like a dream."
This letter quickened his pulse in a way which should have brought shameto him, but did not. The Senator's letter was ponderously polite. "Ihope, my dear Captain Curtis, you will be free to call at once. Mydaughter and Lawson--"
At that word a chill wind blew upon the agent's hope. Lawson! "I hadforgotten the man!" he said, almost aloud. "Ah! that explains her frankkindliness. She writes as one whose affections are engaged, andtherefore feels secure from criticism or misapprehension." Thatexplained also her feeling for the valley--it was the scene of hersurrender to Lawson. The tremor went out of his nerves, his heartresumed its customary beating, steady and calm, and, setting his lipsinto a straight line, he resumed the Senator's letter, which ended withthese significant words: "There are some important matters I want totalk over in private."
A note from Lawson urged him to take his first breakfast in the citywith him. "I want to post you on the inside meaning of certainlegislation now pending. I expect to see you at the Brisbanes'."
Curtis made his toilet slowly and with great care, remitting nothing theabsence of which would indicate a letting down of military neatness anddiscipline. He wore the handsome undress uniform of a captain, and hispowerful figure, still youthful in its erectness, although the lineswere less slender than he wished, was dignified and handsome--fit to betaken as a type of mature soldier. He set forth, self-contained buteager.
The Brisbane portico of rose granite was immensely imposing to a dwellerin tents and cantonments, such as Curtis had been for ten years, but heallowed no sign of his nervousness to appear as he handed his overcoatand cap to the old colored man in the vestibule.
As he started down the polished floor of the wide hall, stepping over amonstrous tiger-skin, he saw Elsie in the door of the drawing-room, herback against the folded portiere. Her slender figure was exquisitelygowned in pale-green, and her color was iridescent in youthful sparkle.He thought once again--"Evening dress transforms a woman." She met himwith a smile of welcome.
"Ah, Captain, this is very good of you, to come to us so soon."
"Not at all," he gallantly replied. "I would have come sooner hadopportunity served."
"Father, this is Captain Curtis," she said, turning her head towards atall man who stood within.
Brisbane came forward, greeting Curtis most cordially. He was grayerthan Curtis remembered him, and a little stooping from age. His massivehead was covered with a close-clipped bristle of white hair, and hisbeard, also neatly trimmed, was shaped to a point, from the habit he hadof stroking it with his closed left hand in moments of deep thought. Hisskin was flushed pink with blood, and his urbane manner denoted prideand self-sufficiency. He was old, but he was still a powerfulpersonality, and though he shook hands warmly, Curtis felt his keen andpenetrating glance as palpably as an electric shock.
Lawson's voice arose. "Well, Captain, I hardly expected to see you sosoon."
As the two men clasped hands Elsie again closely compared them. Curtiswas the handsomer man, though Lawson was by no means ill-looking, evenby contrast. The soldier more nearly approached the admirable male type,but there was charm in the characteristic attitudes and gestures of thestudent, who had the assured and humorous manner of the onlooker.
A young woman of indeterminate type who was seated in conversation withMrs. Wilcox received Curtis with impassive countenance, eying himclosely through pinch-nose glasses. Mrs. Wilcox beamed with pleasure,and inquired minutely concerning the people at the agency, andespecially she wished to know how little Johnny and Jessie Eagle were."I quite fell in love with the tots, they were so cunning. I hope theygot the toys I sent."
Brisbane gave Curtis the most studious attention, lounging deep in hisbig chair. Occasionally he ponderously leaned forward to listen to someremark, with his head cocked in keen scrutiny--actions which did notescape the Captain's notice. "He's sizing me up," he thought. "Well, lethim."
Elsie also listened, curiously like her father in certain inclinationsof the head--intent, absorbed; only Lawson seem
ed indifferent to thenews the agent guardedly recited.
Brisbane broke his silence by saying: "I infer you're on the side of theredskin?"
"Decidedly, in this connection."
"Quite aside from your duty?"
"Entirely so. My duty in this case happened to be my inclination. Icould have declined the detail, but being a believer in the army'sarrangement of Indian affairs, I couldn't decently refuse."
Brisbane settled back into his chair and looked straight at his visitor.
"You think the white man the aggressor in this land question?"
Curtis definitely pulled himself up. "I am not at liberty to speakfurther on that matter."
Mrs. Wilcox interrupted smilingly. "Andrew, don't start an argument now.Dinner is served, and I know Captain Curtis is hungry."
Elsie rose. "Yes, papa, leave your discussion till some other time, whenyou can bang the furniture."
Curtis expected to take Miss Cooke in to dinner, but Elsie delighted himby saying, "You're to go in with me, Captain."
"I am very glad of the privilege," he said, with deliberate intent toplease her; his sincerity was unquestionable.
Curtis would have been more profoundly impressed with the spaciousnessof the hall and the dining-room had they been less like the interior ofa hotel. The whole house, so far as its mural decoration went, had theover-stuffed quality of a Pullman car (with the exception of thepictures on the walls, which were exceedingly good), for Brisbane hadsuccessfully opposed all of Elsie's new-fangled notions with regard tointerior decoration; he was of those who insist on being masters intheir houses as well as in their business offices, and Elsie's mannerwas that of an obedient daughter deferring to a sire who had not ceasedto consider her a child.
Seated at Elsie's right hand, with Mrs. Wilcox between himself and thehead of the table, Curtis was fairly out of reach of Brisbane, who wasdangerously eager to open a discussion concerning the bill for theremoval of the Tetongs.
Elsie turned to him at once to say: "Do you know, Captain Curtis, Ibegin to long to return to the West. All my friends are enthusiasticover the studies I made last year, and I've decided to go back nextspring. How early could one come out?"
"Any time after the first of May--in fact, that is the most beautifulmonth in the year; the grass is deliciously green then. I'm glad to knowyou think of returning. Jennie will also rejoice. It seems too good tobe true. Will Mr. Lawson also return?"
"Oh yes. In fact, I go to complete his work--to do penance forneglecting him last summer." And in her tone, he fancied, lay a covertwarning, as though she had said: "Do not mistake me; I am not coming outof interest in you."
He needed the word, for under the spell of her near presence and thecharm of her smile, new to him, the soldier was beginning to glow againand to soften, in spite of his resolution to be very calm.
She went on: "I am genuinely remorseful, because Mr. Lawson has not beenable to bring his paper out as he had planned."
"I will see that you have every possible aid," he replied,matter-of-factly. "The work must be done soon."
"How handsome he is!" the girl thought, as she studied his quiet face."His profile is especially fine, and the line of his neck andshoulders--" an impulse seized her, and she said:
"Captain, I'd like to make a sketch of you. Could you find time to sitfor me?"
"That's very flattering of you, but I'm afraid my stay in Washington istoo short and too preoccupied."
Her face darkened. "I'm sorry. I know I could make a good thing ofyou."
"Thank you for the compliment, but it is out of the question at present.Next summer, if you come out, I will be very glad to give the time forit. And that reminds me, you promised to show me your pictures when Icame, and your studio."
"Did I? Well, you shall see them, although they are not as good as Ishall do next year. One has to learn to handle new material. YourWestern atmosphere is so different from that of Giverney, in which weall paint in Paris; then, the feeling of the landscape is so different;everything is so firm and crisp in line--but I am going to get it!'There is the mystery of light as well as of the dark,' Meunnot used tosay to us, and if I can get that clear shimmer, and the vibration of thevivid color of the savage in the midst of it--"
She broke off as if in contemplation of the problem, rapt with questionhow to solve it.
"There speaks the artist in you, and it is fine. But I'd like you to seethe humanitarian side of life, too," he replied.
"There is none," she instantly replied, with a curious blending ofdefiance and amusement. "I belong to the world of Light and Might--"
"And I to the world of Right--what about that?"
"Light and Might make right."
"Your team is wrongly harnessed--Light and Right are co-workers. Mightfears both Light and Right."
Mrs. Wilcox, who had been listening, fairly clapped her hands. "I'm gladto have you refute her arguments, Captain. She is absolutely heartlessin her theories--in practice she's a nice girl."
Elsie laughed. "What amuses me is that a soldier, the embodiment ofMight, should dare to talk of Right."
Curtis grew grave. "If I did not think that my profession at bottomguarded the rights of both white men and red, I'd resign instantly. Ourarmy is only an impartial instrument for preserving justice."
"That isn't the old-world notion," put in Lawson from across the table.
"It is _our_ notion," stoutly replied Curtis. "Our little army to-daystands towards the whole nation as a police force relates itself to acity--a power that interferes only to prevent aggression of one intereston the rights of another."
Brisbane's big, flat voice took up the theme.
"That's a very pretty theory, but you'll find plenty to claim that thearmy is an instrument of oppression."
"I'll admit it is sometimes wrongly used," Curtis replied. "We who arein the field can't help that, however. We are under orders. Of course,"he added, modestly, "I am only a young soldier. I have seen but tenyears of service, and I have taken part in but one campaign--a war Iconsidered unavoidable at that time."
"You would hold, then, that an officer of the army has a right toconvictions?" queried Brisbane, in the tone of the lawyer.
"Most certainly. A man does not cease to think upon entering the army."
"That's dangerous doctrine."
"It's the American idea. What people would suffer by having its armyintelligent?"
Lawson coughed significantly. "Bring forth the black-swathedaxe--treason has upreared her head."
It was plain that Brisbane was lying in wait for him. Curtis whisperedto Elsie:
"Rescue me! Your father is planning to quiz me, and I must not talkbefore I report to the department."
"I understand. We will go to my studio after dinner." And with Lawson'said she turned the conversation into safe channels.
It was a very great pleasure to the young soldier to sit once more atsuch a board and in pleasant relation to Elsie. It was more than he hadever hoped for, and he surprised her by his ability to take on herinterests. He grew younger in the glow of her own youth and beauty, andthey finished their ices in such good-fellowship that Mrs. Wilcox wasamazed.
"We will slip away now," Elsie said, in a low tone to Curtis, and theyboth rose. As they were about to leave the room Brisbane looked up insurprise. "Where are you going? Don't you smoke, Captain? Stay and havea cigar."
Elsie answered for him. "Captain Curtis can come back, but I want him tosee my studio now, for I know if you get to talking politics he willmiss the pictures altogether."
"She has a notion I'm growing garrulous," Brisbane retorted, "but I denythe charge. Well, let me see you later, Captain; there are some things Iwant to discuss with you."
"Grace, you are to come, too," Elsie said to her girl friend, and ledthe way out into the hall.
Miss Cooke stepped to Curtis's side. "You've been in Washingtonbefore?" she asked, with an inflection which he hated.
"Oh yes, many times. In fact, I lived her
e till I was sixteen. I wasborn in Maryland, not far from here."
"Indeed! Then you know the city thoroughly?"
"Certain sides of it. Exteriorly and officially I know it; socially, Iam a stranger to it. My people were proud and poor. A good old family ina fine old house, and very little besides."
Elsie led the way slowly up the big staircase, secretly hoping MissCooke would find it too cool for her thin blood. She wished to be alonewith Curtis, and this wish, obscure as it was, grew stronger as she seta chair for him and placed a frame on an easel.
"You really need daylight to see them properly."
"Am I to make remarks?"
"Certainly; tell me just what you think."
"Then let me preface my helpful criticisms by saying that I don't knowan earthly thing about painting. We had drawing, of a certain kind, atthe academy, and I used to visit the galleries in New York when occasionserved. Now you know the top and the bottom of my art education."
"It's cold in here, Elsie," broke in Miss Cooke, whom they had quiteforgotten. "Is the steam turned on?"
"Wrap my slumber-robe around you," Elsie carelessly replied. "Now hereis my completed study of Little Peta. What do you think of that? Is itlike her?"
"Very like her, indeed. I think it excellent," he said, with unaffectedenthusiasm. "She was a quaint little thing. She is about to be marriedto young Two Horns--a white man's wedding."
Elsie's eyes glowed. "Oh, I wish I could see that! But don't let herwear white man's clothing. She'd be so cunning in her own way of dress.I wish she had not learned to chew gum."
"None of us quite live up to our best intentions," he replied, laughing."Peta thinks she's gaining in grace. Most of the white ladies she knowschew gum."
The pictures were an old story to Miss Cooke, who shivered for a time insilence and at last withdrew. Elsie and Curtis were deep in discussionof the effect of white man's clothing on the Tetongs, but each was awareof a subtle change in the other as the third person was withdrawn. Adelicious sense of danger, of inward impulse warring with outwardrestraint, added zest to their intercourse. He instantly recalled thelast time he stood in her studio feeling her frank contempt of him. "Iam on a different footing now," he thought, with a certain exultation.It was worth years of hardship and hunger and cold to stand side by sidewith a woman who had not merely beauty and wealth but talent, and amysterious quality that was more alluring than beauty or intellect. Whatthis was he could not tell, but it had already made life a new game tohim.
She, on her part, exulted with a sudden sense of having him to herselffor experiment, and every motion of his body, every tone of his voiceshe noted and admired.
He resumed: "Naturally, I can say nothing of the technique of thesepictures. My praise of them must be on the score of their likeness tothe people. They are all admirable portraits, exact and spirited, andyet--" He hesitated, with wrinkled brows.
"Don't spare me!" she cried out. "Cut me up if you can!"
"Well, then, they seem to me unsympathetic. For example, the best ofthem all is Peta, because you liked her, you comprehended her, partly,for she was a child, gentle and sweet. But you have painted old CrawlingElk as if he were a felonious mendicant. You've delineated his rags, hiswrinkled skin, his knotted hands, but you've left the light out of hiseyes. Let me tell you something about that old man. When I saw him firsthe was sitting on the high bank of the river, motionless as bronze, andas silent. He was mourning the loss of his little grandchild, and hadbeen there two days and two nights wailing till his voice had sunk to awhisper. His rags were a sign of his utter despair. You didn't know thatwhen you painted him, did you?"
"No, I did not," she replied, softly.
"Moreover, Crawling Elk is the annalist and story-teller of his tribe.He carries the 'winter count' and the sacred pipe, and can tell you ofevery movement of the Tetongs for more than a century and a half. Hismind is full of poetry, and his conceptions of the earth and sky arebeautiful. He knows little that white men know, and cares for verylittle that the white man fights for, but his mind teems with lore ofthe mysterious universe into which he has been thrust, and which he hasstudied for seventy-two years. In the eyes of God, I am persuaded thereis no very wide difference between old Crawling Elk and HerbertSpencer. The circle of Spencer's knowledge is wider, but it is as farfrom including the infinite as the redman's story of creation. Could youunderstand the old man as I do, you would forget his rags. He would loomlarge in the mysterious gloom of life. Your painting is as prejudiced inits way as the description which a cowboy would give you of this oldman. You have given the color, the picturesque qualities of yoursubjects, but you have forgotten that they are human souls, groping forhappiness and light."
As he went on, Elsie stared at the picture fixedly, and it changed underher glance till his deeply passionate words seemed written on thecanvas. The painting ceased to be a human face and became a mechanicalsetting together of features, a clever delineation of the exterior of aragged old man holding a beaded tobacco-pouch and a long red pipe.
"This old 'beggar,'" Curtis continued, "never lights that pipe you haveput in his hands without blowing a whiff to the great spirits seated atthe cardinal points of the compass. He makes offerings for the health ofhis children--he hears voices in the noon-day haze. He sits on thehill-top at dawn to commune with the spirits over his head. As a beggarhe is picturesque; as a man, he is bewildered by the changes in hisworld, and sad with the shadow of his children's future. All thesethings, and many more, you must learn before you can represent the soulof the redman. You can't afford to be unjust."
She was deeply affected by his words. They held conceptions new to her.But his voice pierced her, strangely subdued her. It quivered with anemotion which she could not understand. Why should he care so muchwhether she painted her subjects well or ill? She was seized withsudden, bitter distrust.
"I wish I had not shown you my studies," she said, resentfully.
His face became anxious, his voice gentle. "I beg your pardon; I havepresumed too far. I hope, Miss Brisbane, you will not take what I saytoo much to heart. Indeed, you must not mind me at all. I am, first ofall, a sort of crank; and then, as I say, I don't know a word aboutpainting; please forget my criticisms."
She understood his mood now. His anxiety to regain her good-will waswithin her grasp, and she seized the opportunity to make him plead forhimself and exonerate her.
"You have torn my summer's work to flinders," she said, sullenly,looking down at a bit of charcoal she was grinding into the rug beneathher feet.
He was aghast. "Don't say that, I beg of you! Good Heavens! don't let mypreachment discourage you. You see, I have two or three hobbies, andwhen I am once mounted I'm sure to ride right over somebody's gardenwall." He rose and approached her. "I shall never forgive myself if Ihave taken away the smallest degree of your enthusiasm. My aim--if I hadan aim--was to help you to understand my people, so that when you comeout next summer--"
"All that is ended now," she said, sombrely. "I shall attempt no moreIndian work!"
This silenced him. He took time to consider what this sudden depressionon her part meant. As he studied her he saw her lip quiver, and anxietysuddenly left him. His tone was laughter-filled as he called: "Come,now, Miss Brisbane, you're making game of me by taking my criticisms sosolemnly. I can see a smile twitching your lips this moment. Look atme!"
She looked up and broke into a laugh. He joined in with her, but a flushrose to his face.
"You fooled me completely. I reckon you should have been an actressinstead of a painter."
She sobered a little. "Really, I _was_ depressed for a moment. Your tonewas so terribly destructive. Shall we go down?"
"Not till you say you'll forgive me and forget my harangue."
She gave him her hand. "I'll forgive you, but I'm going to remember theharangue. I--rather liked it. It made me think. Strange to say, I likepeople who make me think."
Again his heart leaped with the blood of exultant youth. "She is
comingto understand me better!" he thought.
"You must see my other pictures by daylight," she was saying. "Mr.Lawson likes this one particularly." They had moved out into the littlereception-room. "I did it in Giverney--we all go down sooner or later topaint one of Monet's pollard willows. These are my 'stunts.'"
Lawson! Yes, there was the secret of her increasing friendliness. As thefiancee of Lawson she could afford to lessen her reserve towards hisfriend.
And so it happened that, notwithstanding her cordial welcome and herrespectful consideration of his criticism, he went away with a feelingof disappointment. That her beauty was more deeply enthralling than hehad hitherto realized made his disquiet all the greater. As he steppedout upon the street, she seemed as insubstantial as a dream of hisimaginative youth, far separated from any reality with which he had anydurable association.
The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Page 9