CHAPTER XXXVII
THE PRIMITIVE LAW
Bostwick and McCoppet had made ample provision against attack at theclaim. Their miners, who set to work at once to enlarge the facilitiesfor extracting the gold from the ground, were gun-fighters first andtoilers afterward. The place was guarded night and day, visitors beingordered off with a strictness exceptionally rigid.
Van and his partners were down and out. They had saved almost nothingof the gold extracted from the sand, since the bulk of their treasurehad fallen, by "right of law" into the hands of the jumpers.
Bostwick avoided Van as he would a plague. There was never a day ornight that fear did not possess him, when he thought of a possibleencounter; yet Van had planned no deed of violence and could not havetold what the results would be should he and Bostwick meet.
In his customary way of vigor, the horseman had begun a semi-legalinquiry the first day succeeding the rush. He interviewed Lawrence,the Government representative, since Culver's removal from the scene.Lawrence was prepared for the visit. He expressed his regrets at theflight Van's fortunes had taken. Bostwick had come, he said, withauthority from Washington, ordering the new survey. No expectation hadbeen entertained, he was sure, that the old, "somewhat imaginary" and"decidedly vague" reservation line would be disturbed, or that anynotable properties would be involved. Naturally, after the line wasrun, establishing the inclusion of the "Laughing Water" claim, and muchother ground, in the reservation tract, Mr. Bostwick had been justifiedin summary action. It was the law of human kind to reach for allcoveted things.
Van listened in patience to the exposition of the case. He studied themaps and data as he might have studied the laws of Confucius written intheir native tongue. The thing looked convincing. It was not at allincredible or unique. It bore Government sanction, if not itstrademark. And granting that the reservation tract did actually extendso far as to lap across the "Laughing Water" claim, the right of anentrant to locate the ground and oust all previous trespassers afterthe legal opening was undeniable.
Much of the natural fighting spirit, welded by nature into Van's being,had been sickened into inactivity by the blow succeeding blow receivedat the hands of Beth Kent. The case against her was complete.
Her letter to her brother was sufficient in itself. The need for itsdelivery in person to her brother he thought undoubtedly a ruse to gethimself out of the way. If she had not planned with the others to warnthe convict, Barger, of his trip, she had certainly loaned her money toBostwick for his needs--and her letter contained the threat, "I willrepay!"
At the end of three days of dulling disgust and helplessness, Van andhis "family" were camping in a tent above the town of Goldite, on ahill. They were all but penniless: they had no occupation, no hope.They were down once more at the ladder's bottom rung, depleted inspirit, less young than formerly, and with no idea of which way to turn.
Van meant to fight, if the slightest excuse could be discovered. Hispartners would back him, with their lives. But he and they, as theylooked their prospects fairly in the face, found themselves utterlydisarmed. Except for the credit, extended by friends of Van,starvation might have lurked about their tent. All delayed seeking foroutside work while the prospect of putting up a fight to regain theirproperty held forth a dim glimmer of hope.
The last of Van's money went to meet a debt--such a debt as he wouldnot disregard. The account was rendered by a cutter of stone, who hadcarved upon a marble post the single legend:
QUEENIE.
This post was planted where a small earth mound was raised upon thehill--and word of the tribute went the rounds of the camp, whereeveryone else had forgotten.
The town's excitement concerning the rush had subsided with greateralacrity as reports came back, in rapid procession--no gold on thereservation. The normal excitements of the mining field resumed wherethe men had left them off. News that Matt Barger was not only still atlarge, but preying on wayside travelers, aroused new demands for thesheriff's demonstrations of his fitness to survive. The fact wasrecalled that Cayuse, the half-breed murderer of Culver, was as yetunreported from the hills.
The sheriff, who had ridden day and night, in quest of either of the"wanted" men, came back to Goldite from a week's excursion, packed fullof hardships, vigilance, and work, to renew his force and make anotherattempt. He offered a job to Van.
"There's ten thousand dollars in Barger," he said. "And I guess youcould use the money. There's nothing but glory in gittin' Cayuse, butI'll give you your pick of the pair."
That some half-formed notion of procuring a secret survey of thereservation line, in his own behalf, had occupied Van's thoughtssomewhat insistently, was quite to be expected. That the work wouldprove expensive was a matter of course. Money was the one particularthing of which he stood in need. Nevertheless, at the sheriff'ssuggestion he calmly shook his head.
"Thanks, old man. Blood-money wouldn't circulate worth a whoop in mysystem. But I think I could land Cayuse." He held no grudge againstCulver now. Perhaps he regretted the fuss he had made on the day ofCulver's death. "I'll take ten dollars a day," he added, "and see whatI can do about the Indian."
"I knew it! I knew you'd do more than all the gang--myself in thecount," the sheriff exclaimed in profound relief. "I'm beat! I ownit! I ain't seen a trace of that black-headed devil since I started.If you'll fetch him in----"
"Don't promise more than ten dollars a day," Van interrupted. "If youdo you can get him yourself. I haven't said I'll fetch him in. Imerely said perhaps I could get him."
"All right," said the sheriff, bewildered. "All right. I don't carewhat happens, if you git him."
Glad, perhaps, to escape the town--to flee from the air that Beth wasbreathing, Van rode off that afternoon.
He did not seek the Indian murderer, nor for traces of his place ofconcealment. He went due west, to the nearest Indian camp, on the nowdiminished reservation. He called upon a wise and grave Piute, as oldas some of the hills.
"Captain Sides," he said, when the due formalities of greeting had beengratified, "I want you to get Cayuse. He stabbed a white man, Culver,Government man--and you Piutes know all about it. Indians know wherean Indian hides. This man has broken the law. He's got to pay. Iwant your men to get him."
Old Captain Sides was standing before his house. He was tall anddignified.
"Yesh--he's broke the law," he agreed. "Mebbe my boys, they's get him."
"Yesh--he's broke the law."]
That was all, but a strange thing happened. On the following nightfour grim Piutes brought Cayuse from his mountain retreat. They wereall his kinsmen, uncles, brothers, and cousins. He was taken to acouncil in the brush, a family council with Captain Sides as Chieftain,Magistrate, and father of the tribe. And a solemn procedure followed.Cayuse was formally charged with infraction of the law and asked forhis defense. He had no defense--nothing but justification. Headmitted the killing, and told of why it had been done. He had takenan eye for an eye.
"I have broken the white man's law," he said. "The white man firstbroke mine. I'm ready to pay. The Indian stands no show to get away.I broke the law, and I am glad. They want my life. That's all right.That's the law. But I don't want the white man to hang me. That ain'tgood Indian way. My people can satisfy this law. They can shoot melike a man. No white is going to hang Cayuse, and that's all I've gotto say."
To an Anglo Saxon mind this attitude is not to be readily comprehended.To the Indian members of Cayuse's clan it addressed itself as wisdom,logic, and right. The council agreed to his demands. The case,historical, but perhaps not unique, has never been widely known.
As solemnly as doom itself, the council proceeded with its task. Somemanner of balloting was adopted, and immediate members of the Cayusetotem drew lots as to which must perform the lawful deed. It fell to abrother of the prisoner--a half-brother only, to be accurate, since thedoomed man's father had been white.
To
gether Cayuse and this kinsman departed from the camp, walking forththrough the darkness in the brush. They chatted in all pleasantness,upon the way. Cayuse could have broken and run. He never for a momentso much as entertained the thought.
They came to a place appropriate, and, still in all friendliness,backed by a sense of justice and of doom, the guiltless brother shotthe half-breed dead--and the chapter, with the Indians, was concluded.
Van was gone three days from Goldite camp. He returned and reportedall that had been done. He had seen the executed man. An even thirtydollars he accepted for his time, and with it bought food for hispartners.
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