The Preacher of Cedar Mountain Part 29

The Chief came to the Fort to find out if the Colonel would sell Blazing Star after the race.

"We give twenty horses," and he held up both hands twice.

"No."

"Three hands ponies," and they held up both hands spread three times.

"No, he is not for sale."

Late that day Red Cloud and Howling Bull came to Colonel Waller and, after preliminaries, conveyed the information and warning: "All Crows heap big thief. You watch him; he steal horse every time, heap no good."

The third of July came, and the plain looked like a city of tents. Many traders were there to open temporary stores; and it is doubtful if any single race in the Western world has attracted more people or created intenser interest. The Cheyennes gave a great dance in honour of the Sun. They invited all the Sioux to come, and the whites invited themselves. Belle and Jim were there and saw much to please and much to disgust them. The general impression was one of barbaric splendour, weird chanting, noisy tom-toms, and hypnotic pulsation. It was mostly repellent, but sometimes the rhythm stirred them, and provoked a response which showed that the wild musicians were playing on instincts and impulses that are as wide as humanity.

Most hors.e.m.e.n like to keep their training ground in some sort private; but the garrison had given up all attempts at that, so far as Blazing Star and Red Rover were concerned. Every one knew, every one was interested, and each day there was an eager crowd waiting to feast their eyes on the two splendid racers. And they were well worth it. Even Jim had to acknowledge that Blazing Star was looking better now than ever before.

"Look at that neck, Belle, see how it arches, see the clean limbs; isn't he trained to perfection? If I only--if----" then he stopped himself.

As he fondly watched the horse with glowing eyes, he said: "Of course, we don't know anything at all about where or how he was bred, but I should say that that is a blood Kentucky, nearly pure--Kentucky gold dust."

Among the spectators were the two Indian Chiefs in their warpaint--Red Cloud of the Sioux, and Howling Bull of the Cheyennes. They spoke little to each other, for neither knew the other's tongue; but they made little gestures of the sign language, and any keen observer knowing it could catch the ideo-signs: "Good, good; by and by; we see good race; brave, swift," and so on. Later: "Yes, after one sleep. Rain heap, yes."

Jim watched them closely. "See that, Belle? he says: 'To-morrow it rain heap,' I wonder how he knows. They call the Fourth of July the Big Wet Sunday, because it usually rains then. I wonder how it will affect the race."

"Jim, you said they had shod the buckskin cayuse in expectation of a wet track."

"Yes; that's a mystery; how can they tell? The air is full of rumours, anyway. Chamreau says that Red Cloud has been seeking everywhere for fast horses. He had a man go as far as Omaha and another to Denver. Some say he did pick up a racer, a half-blooded Kentucky--some that he had got a wonderful pinto cayuse from Cheyenne; this latter is the more persistent rumour, though Chamreau says he can't find any one who has actually seen one or the other. Anyhow, no one knows what their entry will be. We have a pretty good idea of ours"; and Hartigan smiled proudly.

The two chiefs, with their followers, conversed earnestly, and with much gesture. They looked and pointed at the Crow camp and the rain sign came in many times, and emphatically. The old feud between the Sioux and the Crows had broken out afresh in a trader's store. Two young men from the opposing camps had quarrelled. They had drawn their knives, and each had been wounded. These things were common talk, and Belle and Jim watched the two chiefs ride toward the Crow camp with an eager curiosity to know more about it. When the Red men were a mile away and within half a mile of the Crow village, they followed at a good pace and reached the tepees in the secluded corner in time to see the two visiting chiefs making an address mainly by signs, as they sat on their horses. Chamreau was there, and in answer to Jim's question translated Red Cloud's address to the Crows thus:

"You make bad medicine so we lose race, we kill you." Then, indicating Howling Bull, "He say, 'you make bad medicine, bring rain, I kill you.'"

Having delivered their ultimatum, the visiting chiefs turned haughtily and rode to their own camp.

"I don't know just what they really did say," said Hartigan, "but if I'm any judge of looks, there'll be trouble here if those Crows don't get out."

It was four o'clock in the morning of the Fourth of July when the thunderbolt struck Fort Ryan. It was not very loud; it damaged no building; but it struck the very souls of men. A thousand thunder claps, a year's tornadoes in an hour, could not have been more staggering; and yet it was only four words of one poor, wheezing Irish hostler at the Colonel's window:

"Colonel! Colonel! For the love of G.o.d--come--come--come at once--_Blazing Star is gone!_"

"_What?_" and the Colonel sprang up.

The reveille had sounded, the men were just rising; but one group there was already about the stable talking with an air of intense excitement.

The Colonel went without waiting to dress--the officer of the day with him. In terrible silence they hurried to the stable; there was Rover in his box, whinnying softly for his morning oats; but the next--the box of Blazing Star--was empty; and the far end, the outer wall, showed a great new doorway cut. Beyond, out in the growing light, troopers rode to every near-by lookout; but never a sign of horse did they see, or, indeed, expect to see. The case was very clear; the horse was stolen, gone clean away--their hope for the race was gone.

These were terrible moments for the hapless grooms and guards. Human nature, in dire defeat, always demands a victim; and the grooms were glad to be locked up in the guard house, where at least they were out of the storm of the Colonel's wrath. As the light grew brighter a careful study laid bare the plan of robbery. The stables formed, in part, the outer wall of the quadrangle. They were roofed with pine boards, covered with tar-paper on cedar corner posts; the walls, however, were of sods piled squarely on each other in a well-known Western style, making a good warm stable. It was a simple matter to take down quickly and silently this outer wall from the outside, beginning at the top, and so make another exit. This had been done in the dead of night. And the track of the racer told the tale like a printed page.

A general alarm had gone forth; all the Fort was astir; and the army scouts were by the case forced into unusual prominence. It was Al Rennie spoke first:

"Colonel, it's a-going to rain, sure; it's liable to rain heavy. I suggest we take that trail right away and follow before it's all washed out."

"The quicker the better," said the Colonel.

Riding ahead on the trail like a hound went the old trapper-hunter-scout with a band of troopers following. They had not gone a quarter of a mile before the rain began to spit. But the line of the trail was clear and it was easy for the practised eye to follow. It headed east for half a mile, then, on a hard open stretch of gravel, it turned and went direct for the Crow camp. Rennie could follow at a gallop; they rounded the b.u.t.te, cleared the cottonwoods, crossed the little willow-edged stream, and reached the Crow camp to find it absolutely deserted!

The rain was now falling faster; in a few minutes it set in--a true Dakota flood. The trail of Blazing Star--clear till then--was now wholly wiped out. There was nothing but the unmarked prairie around them; and the guide, with the troopers, soaked to the skin, rode back with the forlorn tidings.

CHAPTER XLI

The Pinto

Under such a cloud of disaster men cared little what the weather was; the deluge of rain seemed rather appropriate. There was even a hope that it might rain hard enough to postpone the race. But at ten it stopped, and by eleven it had cleared off wholly. The race was to be at noon.

Word had been sent to Red Cloud, asking for two days' postponement, which was curtly refused. "White man heap scared maybe," was his scornful reply.

The Colonel held a hasty council of war with his officers. Their course was clear. In Red Rover they still had a winner and the race would come off as announced; such a horse as Blazing Star could not long be concealed; they would follow up the Crows and recover him in a few days.

So, after all, the outlook was not so very dark.

Already the plain was surging with life. Gaily-clad Indians were riding at speed for the pleasure of speeding. Thousands of gaudy blankets--put out to air in the sun--seemed to double the density, colour, and importance of the camp. New wagons came with their loads, new life developed; now came a procession of Indians singing their racing songs, for the Indian has a song for every event in life; bodies of United States troops were paraded here and there as a precautionary and impressive measure; the number of Indians a.s.sembled, and their excitability, began to cause the authorities some apprehension.

The Boyds were there in their democrat and had brought picnic food for all day; but Hartigan was a special favourite at the Fort, and he, with Belle, was invited to join its hospitable garrison mess, where social life was in gala mood. It was an experience for Belle, for she had not realized before how absolutely overwhelming a subject the horse race could be among folk whose interests lay that way, and whose lives, otherwise, were very monotonous. She was a little shocked to note that every one of the wives at the table was betting on the race--in some cases, for considerable money. The one restraining force in the case was the absence of takers, since all were backing Red Rover.

An amusing incident occurred when, during the meal, a bead-eyed young squaw entered the mess room and stood a little inside the door.

"What does she want?" asked the Colonel.

Then the interpreter: "She wants to bet on the race. She wants to bet her baby against yours."

A pretty good proof of a sure thing, for no race loves its children more than the red folk. An Indian has no compunction whatever in staking his treaty money, which comes so easily and may as lightly go; he does not hesitate to risk all his wealth, for after all wealth is a burden; he will even wager his wife, if the game possesses him; but he is very shy of staking his children. He does it on occasion, but only when he considers it a foregone result--a certainty of winning.

The Indian Agent had many close conferences with the Colonel. He strongly disapproved the whole racing excitement and plainly indicated that he held the Colonel responsible. What would happen when these excited fifteen hundred Sioux and Cheyenne warriors--not to speak of some five thousand women and children--met defeat, was a serious problem. Had the situation been sooner realized, the whites could have organized into some sort of home defense. Red Cloud and Howling Bull, so far as could be discerned, contemplated the scene, and the coming event, with absolute composure.

Huge pools of water had blue-patched the racetrack after the downpour; but these had drained off to a great extent, leaving the track a little greasy perhaps, but quite usable; and Jim recalled with interest the shoeing of the Buckskin. "This was what it was for; how did the heathens know it was coming?" By mutual agreement, at length, the race was postponed for two hours, which, under such a sun, would bring the track back nearly to normal; and since the Indians had had the Buckskin shod, it was the same for both. It was decided that the start should be made when the sun was over Inyan Kara, the tallest of the hills in sight to the west; this meant, as nearly as possible, at four o'clock.

At two o'clock all the world seemed there. There were mounted Indians--men and women--by thousands, and at least a thousand mounted whites besides the soldiers. The plain was dotted with life and colour from far beyond the Indian camp to Fort Ryan; but the centre of all was the racetrack; and camped alongside, or riding or sitting near, was the thickest group of folk of both races, bound to lose no glimpse of the stirring contest.

The delay made for new excitement; the nerve strain became greater as each hour pa.s.sed. The white soldiers did what they could to hold the crowd, and the Indians called on their own "Dog Soldiers" or camp police to do the same. Fortunately, it was a good-natured crowd; and the absconding of the Crows had removed the largest element of risk, so far as violence was concerned. Jim was ablaze with the wildest of them all.

He rode away and back at a gallop to work it off. Belle was too tired to join these boisterous runs, so he rode alone at first. But another woman rider was there; from the crowd Lou-Jane Hoomer spurred her bay, and raced beside him. She was an excellent horsewoman, had a fine mount, and challenged Jim to a ride. Handsome, her colour up, her eyes sparkling, Lou-Jane could have ridden away, for she had the better mount, but she didn't; she rode beside him, and, when a little gully called for a jump, they jumped together, and found abundant cause for laughter. Twice they went careering, then back to Belle, and when next Jim's itch for speed and life sent him circling, Belle was rested enough to follow everywhere.

At a quarter to two the bugle of the Fort was blown, and there issued forth the proud procession with Red Rover in the middle, led beside his jockey, who rode a sober pony. It was Little Breeches this time. There is one thing that cannot be explained away, that is defeat. Peaches had been defeated; his chance came no more.

Red Rover was magnificent, trained to a hair, full of life and fire. Of all the beautiful things on earth, there is nothing of n.o.bler beauty than a n.o.ble horse; and Rover, in his clean-limbed gloss and tensity, was a sight to thrill the crowds that were privileged to see him spurn the earth, and arch his graceful neck, and curvet a little for the subtle joy that comes of spending power when power is there in a very plethora. Every white man's eye grew proudly bright as he gazed and gloried in his champion and fear left all their hearts. At the starting post, they swung about, Little Breeches mounted, and a mighty cheer went up. "Ho, Red Cloud! Where's your horse? Bring on your famous Buckskin now"; and the rumbling of the crowd was rising, falling, like the sound of water in a changing wind.

Far down the valley, near the Ogallala Camp, a new commotion arose and a wilder noise was sounding. There was the shrill chant of the "Racing Ponies" with the tom-toms beating, and then Red Cloud's men came trotting in a ma.s.s. As they neared the starting point, the rabble of the painted warriors parted, and out of the opening came their horse, and from the whites went up a loud and growing burst of laughter. Such a horse as this they had never seen before; not the famous Buckskin, but _the mysterious pinto pony_, wonderful, if weird trappings could make him so. On his head he wore an eagle-feather war-bonnet; his mane was plaited with red flannel strips and fluttering plumes; his tail was even gaudier; around each eye was a great circle of white and another of black; his nose was crossbarred with black and red; his legs were painted in zebra stripes of yellow and black; the patches of white that were native to his coat were outlined with black and profusely decorated with red hands and horseshoes painted in vermilion; on his neck was a band of beadwork, carrying a little bundle of sacred medicine; and, last, he had on each ankle a string of sleigh-bells that jingled at each prancing step. A very goblin of a horse! His jockey was, as before, Chaska, the Indian boy, stripped to the breechclout, with an eagle feather in his hair and a quirt hung on his wrist.