The Preacher of Cedar Mountain Part 30

Never, perhaps, was a more grotesque race entry in all the West; and the difference between the burnished form of Red Rover in his perfect trim, and this demon-painted Pinto gave rise to an ever-growing chorus of shouting, laughter, rough jibes, and hoots of joy.

Jim took in the Indian horse with the keenest of eyes. "Well, boys, he may be only a pinto cayuse, but he's way ahead of their Buckskin. Look at that action. Bedad, they've got him shod!"

The Pinto seemed as tall as Red Rover and, so far as trappings allowed one to see, he was nearly as fine in build. Diverse feelings now surged in the crowd. Many of the whites said, "Well, it was true after all, Red Cloud, the old fox, he sent to Omaha, or maybe Illinois and bought a racer. The shoeing of the Buckskin was a blind. Or maybe, at that time, their racer had not been secured."

Old Red Cloud slowly rode by with his square jaw set, his eyes a little tight, observing all; but he gave no sign of special interest.

With two such keen and nervous racers it was no easy matter to get a fair start; but at length they were man[oe]uvred into line, side by side. The pistol cracked and away they went, while all the crowd held still, so very still for a moment that you could have heard for a hundred yards the medicine song of the Indian boy:

"Huya! Huya! Shungdeshka, Shungdeshka! (Fly! Fly! my Eagle! Fly! my Pinto Eagle!)" And that wild-eyed Indian pony sprang away as fast as the blooded horse beside him. So far as any one could tell it was an even match.

The white man had won the inside track again; and remembering how the Indian boy had got that advantage in the last race, he was on the watch.

But nothing happened; the horses led off side by side, shoulder to shoulder. At the turning post was a waiting throng that received them with a cheer, to follow again in their wake, like madmen let loose on hoofs. The horses seemed to thrill to the sound and bent to it faster.

Around the post they had swung, perforce in a large circle, and the Pinto lost a good half length. Now Little Breeches saw his chance and, leaning forward well, he smote with the quirt and p.r.i.c.ked those bronzy flanks, while Rover bounded--bounded to his limit.

But the Indian boy's magic song rang out again: "Huya Huya, Huya deshka!

Huya, Huya, Huya deshka! (Oh, Eagle, fly, fly Eagle, my Pinto fly!)" And the Pinto seemed to unchain himself, as a hawk when he sails no more, but flaps for higher speed. With thunderous hoofs the wild horse splashed through a pool, came crawling, crawling up, till once again he was neck and neck with the wonderful flying steed in the coat of gold.

Little Breeches shouted, "Hi! Hi! Hi!" and spurred and smote. Chaska glanced at him and smiled, such a soft little smile. The eagle feather in his hair was fluttering, and the smile was still on his lips as they reached the last half mile. Then, in weird and mouthing tone, Chaska sang of wind and wings:

"Ho, Huya, Huya deshka, Huya, Huya, Huya deshka, Woo hiya, Woo hiya, Woo hiya, Unkitawa, Unkitawa, Ho!"

Strong medicine it must have been, for the Pinto thrilled, and bounded double strong. The white man yelled and spared not lash nor spur. Red Rover flinched, then sprang as he had never sprung before. But the demon pony in the motley coat swung faster, faster, faster yet; his nostrils flared; his breath was rus.h.i.+ng--snorting--his mighty heart was pounding, the song of the wind and the flying wings seemed to enter into his soul.

He double-timed his hoofbeats and, slowly forging on, was half a length ahead. The white man screamed and madly spurred. Red Rover was at topmost notch. The demon pony forged--yes, now a length ahead, and in the rising, rumbling roar, pa.s.sed on, a double length, and _in_. _The race was won, lost, won lost_--the Pinto pony crowned; and the awful blow had struck!

CHAPTER XLII

The Aftertime

The crack of doom will never hit Fort Ryan harder. When the thousand painted Sioux came riding, yelling, wild with joy, shooting their rifles in the air, racing in a vast, appalling hoof tornado down the long track and then to the lodge of all the stakes, they went as men who are rus.h.i.+ng to save their own from some swift flood that threatens. But they got an unexpected shock. The red sentry and the white sentry were standing--sullen, for they were forced to miss the race. Still, the result was clear.

The Sioux were each for claiming the bundle with his name. But the soldier on guard, with fixed bayonet, ordered all the frenzied rabble back.

"I don't know anything about your darned race, and here I stand till I get orders from my officer."

It was the very impudence of his courage that saved him from what they thought righteous vengeance. The Colonel came at once. The guard saluted and withdrew and the Red men seized their spoils. And, strange to say, among themselves they had not one dispute; none tried to overreach; each knew his mark and claimed his own.

The whites were like men under a gallows doom.

"Stung, stung!" was all the Colonel had to say.

The Adjutant, an erratic officer, had lost half a year's pay. The magnitude of the disaster was almost national, he felt, and sadly, shyly, he said: "Will you have the flag at half-mast, Colonel?"

"No!" thundered the Colonel. "I'll be darned if the flag shall hang at half-mast for anything less than the death of an American."

And the Rev. James Hartigan! He stared stonily before him as the race was won.

Belle was at hand and she watched him closely. He turned deathly pale.

"What is it, Jim?" she said quietly, and laid her hand on his.

"Oh, Belle, this is awful."

"Why, Jim? Why should you care? It isn't as if it were Blazing Star.

We're sorry for all those men, of course; but maybe it's the best thing for them. I think now they'll realize the curse and folly of racetrack gambling."

"Oh, Belle, if you only knew," groaned Jim.

"Knew what, Jim dear? It seems to me those men are getting their deserts. I know you and Dr. Jebb did all you could to hold them back, and denounced all racing as it properly should be."

Jim turned his head away and pressing his forehead with his great powerful hand, he groaned.

"Jim, dear boy, why do you take it so hard? Why should you worry? I'm sorry for the women and children that will suffer for this, but I have little pity for the men; the fools, _they_ knew what they were doing."

"Let's ride away," he said; and as he turned, he saw Red Cloud, calm and dignified, on his horse watching wagon after wagon go by filled with plunder, on its way to the Indian camp.

Jim and Belle rode away from the painful scene. She was leading for the Fort; but he said, "I must see Higginbotham." She followed as he went to the tent with the sign, "John & Hannah Higginbotham--Insurance." A number of Indians were in and about, laughing merrily and talking in their own tongue. Jim waited till the tent was clear, then dismounted.

Belle was for following, but Jim said, "Would you mind holding the horses? I won't be a minute." His face was so drawn and sad that she was deeply touched. She had meant to p.r.i.c.k and lash him for a while yet, but now in pity she forbore.

He entered. The Deacon was sitting at a little desk. Beside him was a small safe; it was open, but nearly empty now.

"Well," said Jim gruffly, almost savagely, "what's to do?"

"Nothing," said the Deacon calmly. "You've lost. The Indians have been here and got most of their plunder. Your five hundred is now the property of a person named 'Two Strikes' who will, doubtless, call presently and secure the indemnity, less my reasonable 5 per cent.

commission."

Jim turned in silence. As he joined Belle, she said, "Here, Jim, help me down; I want a word with the Deacon."

Jim stammered, "I--well--ah----"

She paid no attention, but said, "Now lead the horses over there." When he was safely away, she entered. The Deacon's eyes twinkled. "Good afternoon, Two Strikes, you people have made a great killing."

"Yes," she said calmly; "I've come for my share."

He opened the safe, took out the last of the packets tied up in a particular shape, and said in businesslike tone, "Two hundred and fifty dollars premium, five hundred dollars insurance, 5 per cent, on indemnity collected is twenty-five dollars; shall I hold it out?"

"No," she said; "I'll keep that bunch untouched. Here it is." She handed him his twenty-five dollars, put the seven hundred and fifty dollars in her side bag, and went forth. Jim stared at her in a frightened way as she came.

"Belle," he said huskily, "what did he say?"

"Oh, nothing special. Judging from his looks, I don't think he's lost any money."

"Did--did he tell you anything?"