Ted Strong in Montana

by Taylor, Edward C

  Stella was not exactly frightened, but she felt that there might be some danger in being in the room with this Indian brute, with not a white man in hailing distance.

  When he got nearer she smelled liquor. Running Bear had been drinking, and Stella knew that a drinking Indian is a crazy Indian who will do things he never would dream of doing when he is sober.

  She unconsciously felt for her own revolver, but it was not at her side. Then she remembered that she had left it at the colonel's house when she had started out that morning.

  She eyed the Indian closely as he advanced farther into the room, and saw that in the Indian's eyes there was a strange gleam. He reminded her of a snake about to devour its prey, as he moved toward her, almost imperceptibly, seeming not to move, and yet getting closer to her all the time.

  Now he was quite close to her, and Hallie Croffut was sitting back in her chair gazing at the Indian with an expression of frozen horror on her face.

  "White squaw give Running Bear a kiss," gurgled the brute.

  Stella tried to scream, but her throat refused to give forth a sound. It was like the nightmare when one tries to scream for terror of the awful shape that is about to menace, but cannot utter a sound.

  Somewhere outside she heard her name. It was Ted calling to her, but she could not answer.

  Now the Indian was only a step away, and had reached out his arms to grasp her.

  Suddenly the door flew open, and there stood Ted Strong. But only for an instant.

  With one leap he was into the room, and as the Indian turned, with that beastly leer still on his face, Ted was upon him.

  Catching the Indian by the collar, he swung him around, while at the same time his left arm flew forward, and his fist struck the Indian's jaw with a smash that sent his head back, and wrung a groan from him. Again and again the fist encountered the Indian's face, rocking his head horribly, until it hung upon his shoulder, and then, with an exclamation of disgust, Ted flung the brute from him, and the inert body rolled into a corner, where it lay still.

  "Oh, Ted," exclaimed Stella, "that Indian is Running Bear, with whom you had trouble when putting the Whipple gang out of business."

  "I know it, but I don't think he'll bother us any more. Come, girls," said Ted, "it's time to go out and see the beef issue. They're reading the names now, and the bucks are assembling."

  Outside a strange scene was being enacted. A clerk from the Indian agent's office was sitting on top of the fence of the cattle corral reading the names of the Indians from a large book.

  "Na-to-no-mah, John Fisher!" called the clerk, and a middle-aged Indian stepped forward listlessly and stood aside.

  "The first name is his Indian or tribe name," explained Ted. "The name John Fisher is the name given him in Washington, so that the clerks will not get him mixed with an Indian whose name is similar."

  So the reading went on, and after each name the clerk said "one" or "two," meaning that the owner of the name was entitled to one or two cows, according to the number of members of his family.

  "Running Bear!" called the clerk.

  There was no answer.

  "Running Bear! Where is Running Bear?" The clerk looked around anxiously, for Running Bear was a prominent Indian, and was entitled to three cows, or as many as he could graft, and was never known to miss a beef issue. There were murmurs of wonder among the Indians at the absence of Running Bear, and the clerk was about to mark off his name, when he staggered out of the agent's house, groggy from the punishment he had received, with one eye a vivid green, and holding on to his jaw as if he was afraid of losing it.

  "Ah, there you are, Running Bear," said the clerk. "You look as if you had collided with a streak of lightning. What's the matter?"

  But the Indian only shook his head and pressed his jaw harder.

  "Reckon you've got the toothache, eh? Well, when you get your teeth fastened into a piece of fresh bull meat you'll be all right."

  Running Bear gave one look, in which all the concentrated hatred of a lifetime was to be seen. Then he turned away and went out to his tepee, where one of his squaws bound his jaw in a wet cloth.

  But the roll had been called, and the Indians stood expectant close to the gate of the corral.

  While the clerk stood up on the fence with his list he repeated the names and the number of cattle to which each Indian was entitled, and men inside the corral opened the gate and drove them out.

  As a frightened cow or angry steer was loosed from the corral it was met with shouts, wild and blood-curdling, from all the Indians, and its owner sprang upon his pony and took after the poor beast, driving it into the open beyond, and away from the house and corral.

  "Now begins the chase," said Ted. "We'll get out here where we will have a good view, but I don't think you will care to see much of it. It gets to be pretty—well, pretty raw after a while."

  "Why don't they kill their beef in a slaughterhouse and give them the meat, instead of turning the animals over to them alive?" asked Stella.

  "The Indians wouldn't stand for that," answered Ted. "This is the only sport they have in a year's time. You see, they are not permitted to leave the reservations to go far away to hunt big game, and they take it out in hunting, or playing they are hunting, these miserable cows."

  "I don't see any fun in that," said Miss Croffut.

  "You haven't the imagination of an Indian. You see, they make believe they are hunting buffalo again, and the chase is quite as exciting to them as if they were doing the real thing."

  By this time the prairie was covered with steers and cows, lumbering along in front of the Indians, who were pursuing them with shrill cries, shooting at them with bows and arrows or with rifles, striving always to wound them, but not to kill them too soon, for if they killed them right away they would miss the fun of the chase.

  This made the beef issue a carnival of brutality, and Ted soon saw that the girls were getting tired of it.

  In the center of the great circle in which there were several dozen cattle running around aimlessly, pursued by a yelling, exultant, bloodthirsty band of Indians, were several wounded steers and cows, which had gone down and were unable to rise. Several groups of Indians, squatting on the rim of the circle, were shooting at them.

  This was dangerous business, and the white spectators moved back out of range.

  The shooting was very reckless at times, and the Indian agent had to protest to the soldiers, who, under Lieutenant Barrows, had the issue in charge.

  Ted and the two girls were sitting on their ponies, watching the show from a position of safety, as they were out of line of any of the shooting parties.

  Without warning a ball sang through the air, clipped through the mane of Ted's pony, and pierced the sleeve of Ted's jacket, passing out between him and Miss Croffut, who was by his side.

  As Ted looked up hastily he caught a gleam of blue across the circle as it dodged behind the group of yelling and shooting Indians.

  Ted glanced at Stella, and saw a look in her eyes which plainly said:

  "Did you see it, too?" And Ted nodded.

  Miss Croffut had screamed as the ball went past, and Ted's pony, burned by it, reared.

  "Let's get out of this," said Ted quietly. "Those Indians are beginning to shoot wildly, and some one is going to get accidentally hit. I wonder that the soldiers don't regulate it better."

  "They are afraid of getting the Indians angry," explained Miss Croffut. "The war department allows them to do as they please at this function, to keep them quiet at other times."

  But most of the poor dumb brutes had succumbed to this slow method of butchering, and the squaws, with horrible cries, rushed into the field, every one to the steer which her lord and master had killed, and the hideous rites of skinning and cutting up the animals was begun by the women, who were even more bloodthirsty than the men.

  "Come, we don't want to see this," said Ted, and led the way from the field.

  "It is time for dinner
," said Miss Croffut. "Then we must get ready for the trail. We will get a wagon from the storekeeper—a regular camp wagon with beds and a tent. Papa will arrange it all, and he will detail an orderly to drive it for us, and care for our things."

  "That will be fine for you and aunt, but for me—the saddle and the camp fire," said Stella.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  A SLAP ON THE FACE.

  As they were riding toward the post they were joined by Ben, Bud, Kit, Clay, and Carl, who came riding up like Cossacks, and were presented to Miss Croffut, on either side of whom they fell into place, and began to talk animatedly and enthusiastically about the coming trail.

  Ben expanded mightily in the presence of a new girl, while quiet Kit contented himself by slipping in a witty remark that was pointed enough to puncture Ben's gas bag of grand talk once in a while, to the great amusement of the army girl, who had never before met such fine, free, and easy, yet gentlemanly, fellows.

  Ted and Stella were riding together behind them.

  "Did you see him?" asked Stella at last, looking up at Ted.

  "See who?" asked Ted.

  "The man who shot at you, trying to murder you, and cast the blame on the Indians," she replied directly.

  "Oh, that was an accident," said Ted. "I saw a flash of a blue coat over where the shot came from, but it was probably an Indian with a blue shirt on."

  "And you didn't see who it was?" she asked again wonderingly.

  "No."

  "Don't you even suspect?"

  "Hadn't thought of it."

  "Suppose it was not an accident, who do you think would be most likely to try to shoot you from ambush, and make it appear an accident?"

  Ted thought a moment. Could it be possible that it was not an accident? For a few minutes after the ball had plowed its way through their little party he had thought perhaps it might have been sent at them accidentally, as the Indians were doing some pretty wild shooting, and then again he almost believed it to be an intentional shot. It could not have come closer to him from such a distance, and yet so narrowly missed his heart, unless it was intended for him.

  "Let me see," he mused. "Why, of course," he said, with a smile. "I didn't think of it before. It must have been that Indian, Running Bear, who was trying to get square for the punching I gave him."

  "Ted, you're as blind as a rat," said Stella.

  "Did you see the fellow who shot at me?"

  "I did. Got a good, square, sure-enough look."

  "Who was it?"

  For a moment Stella did not reply.

  "You'll hardly believe it," she answered, at last.

  "I'll believe you. I don't know that you ever told me anything that was not the truth."

  "But it seems so incredible, that I would hardly believe it if I had not seen it with my own eyes."

  "Well, out with it."

  "It was Lieutenant Barrows."

  "Stella! You can't mean it."

  Ted stopped his pony, and stood staring at the girl.

  "It was he who fired the shot. I am positive of it. I saw him do it, and was just about to cry out a warning when the bullet struck your pony and passed through your coat sleeve, and he dodged out of sight."

  "The hideous cur!" exclaimed Ted, who was the apostle of fair play, and who always felt bitterly when he saw another practice false, and especially an officer, who was supposed to uphold all the best standards for a gentleman. In fact, "an officer and a gentleman" were synonymous to him.

  "It seems incredible," he said, at last. "I didn't think he was much of a chap, he has not had much experience, and I thought he would grow out of his bad habits."

  "He's horrible," exclaimed Stella impatiently. "But that is not the worst of it. Hallie is engaged to marry him some day. Think of it!"

  "Too bad. Of course she must know nothing of this. She must believe that it was an accident."

  "Of course. Unless she mentions it we will say nothing about it, and I'll tell her that you do not care to have anything said about it."

  "That's the thing. Pretty bad outlook for her."

  "Yes, and the worst of it is, she's crazy about him, and the colonel, her father, is very much in favor of the marriage, and is doing everything he can to bring it about. You see, Barrows is very rich."

  "Is he the son of Barrows, the railroad multi-millionaire, do you know?"

  "Yes, Hallie told me all about it. She says his father is going to have him promoted through his influence in Washington to be military attaché to one of our embassies in Europe. He has completely dazzled her with his wealth, and the prospects ahead of her."

  "Too bad."

  "And she is such a sweet and sensible girl, but she has no mother, and the other ladies at the post, especially Mrs. Calhoun, the major's wife, have put a lot of nonsense into her head."

  "Well, if she comes with us, we'll try to get some of it out."

  "It looks as if Ben was trying to do that now," said Stella, pointing to where Ben was talking to the girl, who was laughing happily.

  "Yes, or putting a lot of another brand into it."

  "Don't they make a handsome couple. Ben is such a fine-looking chap in the saddle. I wish he would do something to cut out Barrows."

  "Look out. Don't you go to meddling in this affair," laughed Ted. "Well, here we are at the colonel's. I reckon he didn't count on this addition to his table."

  As they rode up to the others, Hallie Croffut was insisting that the other boys remain for dinner, and the colonel, hearing the contention from his chair on the veranda, came down to add his invitation to that of his daughter.

  So it was that they all stayed, and just before dinner was announced Lieutenant Barrows rode up and joined the group.

  He was hot and dusty, and in a bad temper. He acknowledged the introductions to the boys superciliously, and barely nodded to Ted.

  Hallie looked at him with a puzzled frown, but said nothing, and entered the house with Stella.

  During dinner Ben sat at the left hand of Hallie, with Barrows opposite.

  Ben was in his usual good spirits, and was so easy and gentlemanly in his deportment, in spite of his rough clothes, that Stella was quite proud of him.

  While he kept Hallie in a constant gale of laughter by his witty remarks, Barrows did nothing but scowl at him, when he was not casting sinister glances at Ted, who, however, never looked at him.

  After dinner the girls rushed away to get ready for the trip, and the boys went out on the veranda to wait for them, while the colonel and Barrows went into the library, ostensibly to talk over business of the post, as Barrows was officer of the day.

  But presently Ted heard the voices of the two men rising above the normal pitch.

  "I seriously object to Hallie going with such people."

  The voice was Barrows', and it was angry.

  "But they are all right," said the colonel. "I know Strong well by reputation, and the Grahams are old friends of mine. Knew them for years when I was in New Mexico. Hallie and Stella went to school together. There can be no objection on that score."

  "But this cad Strong is nothing but a common cow-puncher, and his companions are even worse."

  "They're worth more than you are financially," said the colonel. "That is, they have made more individually than you have made. I'm not saying what your father gives, or will give you. And that counts for something."

  "Well, there is no use saying anything more about it if you are willing to give your consent to Hallie traveling in the company of, and camping with, such a low blackguard as that fellow Strong."

  "You dare not call him that to his face," came an indignant voice. Evidently Stella had entered the library in time to hear Barrows' speech.

  "I am surprised to hear you speak in that manner of one of my guests," came the voice of Hallie Croffut. "Papa, I'm going with Stella. At first I hesitated to leave you and Clarence here alone, but now I am decided. You will not be very lonely, and I shall be very safe a
nd happy with Stella and dear Mrs. Graham, who is like an own aunt to me, and with those gentlemen, the broncho boys. Good-by, daddy. We'll be back soon."

  "So his name's Clarence, eh?" said Bud Morgan, on the veranda. "Well, wouldn't that jar yer?"

  In the library Hallie was kissing her father good-by, and then offered her hand to Barrows.

  "Good-by, Clarence," she said. "I hope you'll be in a better frame of mind when I get back."

  "I want to talk to you privately before you go," said Barrows, in a sulky voice.

  "It is not necessary," answered the girl.

  "But I insist upon it. It is my right."

  "You have no rights I do not give you. This is good-by."

  "I'll make you regret this yet. I'll——"

  "Hold hard, Barrows. Remember, you are in my house, and that you are talking to my daughter. Threats to a girl do not come gracefully from a gentleman." The colonel evidently had sprung to his feet, and his voice was cold and harsh.

  "Very well, I will not threaten. I will execute."

  The young officer strode from the room and through the hall, pausing to pick up his cap.

  At the door he came face to face with Ted Strong, who was standing there quietly, waiting for the moment when he should think his presence would be necessary in the library.

  As the two came face to face, Barrows stopped and looked into Ted's eyes with a look of intense hatred. He was as white as a sheet, and his lips trembled.

  "So you have been acting the eavesdropper, eh?" Barrows said, with a sneer. "I hope you heard all I said about you, and that is not all I think, either. Would you like to hear some more."

  "I don't care what you think about me. That will do me no harm. But if you desire to retain your beauty I would advise you to keep it to yourself. You probably know what I think of you, you cowardly assassin." Ted spoke these words in a tone intended only for the ears of Barrows himself.

  "What do you mean?" stammered the young officer, pale as death.

  "You know. You missed my heart at the beef issue by an inch or two, but you were seen, you cur, and you can't lie out of it. If I were to tell it, you would be drummed out of the army, and every place else where there are square men. Keep away from me and mine in every way, and especially with your filthy tongue. If you do not, I'll break you."