The Perils of Pauline Part 32

Fifth Avenue, New York:

Pauline kidnapped. Come at once.

Mary Haines.

"What--what's it mean, Mrs. Haines?" he gasped into the transmitter.

"It ain't the young lady that Hal Just took off the express, is it?"

"Yes, that's who it is, Curt. Cabot and the boys are coming into town as fast as they can ride; but you call Sheriff Hill and get as many men as you can-in case we need them. You'll hurry, won't you, Curt?"

"Yes, ma'am; and I'll get your message right on the wire. They'll put it ahead all along the line."

If Curt's speed in getting the telegram away was inspired partly by burning need of telling the news to Rockvale that did not reflect on Curt. He flashed after the New York message a terse call up and down the line to "Find the Sheriff," and then bolted out to the platform.

His shout was heard not only at the little hotel across the street from the station, but at the city limits of Rockvale a good mile away.

Rockvale answered the shout as a clan answering the beacozes flare.

When Curt Sikes shouted it meant news.

His messages along the line had little effect. He had spent the morning flaunting the news to fellow operators and rival communities that the Express had stopped at Rockvale. They had only half believed that, and now this added flourish was too much. Even Sheriff Hill, whom the message overtook at Gatesburg, fifteen miles south, laughed when he read it, and started for Rockvale only because he was going there anyway to get Case Egan.

"There ain't much doubt which is now our leadin' city--b.u.t.te or Rockvale," he remarked as he swung to his saddle and set off with two deputies.

He found something more than overdone home town pride in Rockvale, however. The narrow streets were filled with men, women and curious, wide-mouthed children. Horses, packed for long riding, with rifles bolstered to the saddles, were tied all along the rails of both the main hotel and the station. Curt Sikes was the center of a changing but ever interested group, but two of the Haines posse who had just come in without any report of capture, but with all the vivid news of the hold-up were now the main objects of attention.

Briefly they told the story of the pursuit. With Haines leading they had struck a trail that took them to the river. They had waded the river and found no trail on the other side. Knowing the bandits had taken to the middle of the stream, Haines had divided his party. He sent two men down stream, one on each side and he and the three others rode up stream, two on each side.

After long rough riding Haines had found a trail coming out of the water. All four had followed it a long way. There were three bandits making the trail, but the three stopped and each took a different direction, one straight up into the hills, one straight down into the valley, and the other off here towards town. Haines and one man had started on the trail to the hills. The other two--the two talking now--had each taken one of the other trails, but had lost them. They thought Haines would lose his, too. It had been a clean, up-to-date expert piece of work--this kidnapping. The getaway had been a work of art, just as the hold-up had been a wonder-piece of stage setting.

"You saw all the gang that held you up?" asked the Sheriff.

"We wasn't held up--tha'd a been a little too rich, I guess," said one of the cowboys. "It was Boss Haines an' the girl that was stopped."

"Well, then, I mean did Haines see the gang? Were any of them Indians?"

"Injuns? No. The Boss thinks some of 'em were cattle-crooks from the Case Egan outfit. I guess they ain't no Montana Injuns that'd start anythin' like that."

"You guess a lot more than you know," said the Sheriff quietly. "I may be calling on any of you boys for some fast work against old Red Snake any of these days."

"What's the trouble, Sheriff?"

"Oh, just one of their devils brewing bad medicine again up at s.h.i.+-wah-ki village. Red Snake always was a little bit crazy--talking about the thieving white man that stole his country and looking for a chance to get the rest of his people killed off."

"I heard that down at Hallick's last week," drawled a man in the crowd.

"The Sioux is only waitin' for the Great White Queen to come out o' the heart o' the airth an' lead 'em on the warpath. They got a surprisin'

plenty o' arms, too, for reservation Injuns. Know that, Sheriff?"

The Sheriff nodded slowly. "I wish Haines would get in," he said.

"I'd like to have a talk with him before we start. But it's getting late."

The dull thudding of tired horses hoofs from the other side of the hill below town came, to him as an answer. Presently Haines and his companion joined, silently, the eager crowd at the station.

The owner of the Double Cross seemed to have aged ten years since he had driven away with Pauline from that same station platform only a few hours before. He would have given all the acres of the Double Cross for just a word about Pauline; he would have given his life to know that she was alive.

"There's nothing for it, Sheriff, but to rake the whole country," he said wearily. "They've hidden her somewheres, if they haven't killed her. And if they've killed her, mind, it's me you're to hang for it."

The Sheriff laid a strong hand on his old friend's shoulder. "I can get the state militia out to look for that girl, Hal," he said. "By the way, is there anything--anything queer about her?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Why, only that her folks have been writing to the Governor at Helena.

Sikes just gave me this from Governor Ca.s.son himself. Who is this Raymond Owen? Who's been wiring to the Governor?"

"That's her guardian, I think. H'm," mused Haines as he read the message, "that is queer. I wish they'd have wired me that yesterday."

The Sheriff folded the telegram and putting it back in his pocket, stepped up on a box near the hotel door.

"I want to call for a hundred volunteer citizens to go hunt this girl,"

he announced.

A minute later, all that was left of Rockvale was the buildings and the women, children and old men who stood watching a cloud of dust blotting the sunset glow and listening to the retreating clatter of a flying cavalcade.

Sikes kept the office open late. At 7 o'clock he telephoned to Mrs.

Haines at the Double Cross:

"What does he say?" she cried.

"Just one word--Comin'," said Curt in an aggrieved voice. "He could've sent ten words fer the same price," he grumbled.

Red Snake was one of the younger chiefs of the Sioux. He was too young to have had a share in the b.l.o.o.d.y last stand of his race in their Montana wilderness; but he was old enough to have watched the dwindling of spirit and power among them for twenty years.

And every day of watching kindled new hate in the breast of the Indian. In him the spirit of his fathers had left the old unquenchable belief in the Day of Restoration, when, by some supernatural intervention, the Indians would return to their lands, the lands revert to their primeval state, and civilization be lost in the obliterating wilderness.

The officers of the Agency had had trouble with Red Snake on several occasions. Twice he had started out at the head of war parties and had been caught just in time to prevent bloodshed among the isolated settlers. But of late he had been docile and peaceful. The new disturbances--the occasional shooting of a cowboy and the petty stealing of cattle dated from the beginning of the sway of a new medicine man in Red Snake's princ.i.p.al village of s.h.i.+-wah-ki.

His name was of many syllables in the native language, but he was known as Big Smoke. He was a young Indian who had spent some years among the whites in the Southwest, had made a pretense at getting an education, but had reverted violently to the life and faith of his fathers. Big smoke had predicted to Red Snake the coming of the Great White Queen, who would empower the arms of the red man to overthrow the whites and would make him again master of his rightful lands.

Red Snake, squatted on a blanket beside his teepee, listened with immobile features but with a thrilled heart. He summoned a council of the chiefs, secretly, and the medicine man addressed his message to them also.

Thereafter the Indians of s.h.i.+-wah-ki were restive. Their growing spirit of rebellion manifested itself in foolish little offenses against the white men. These were punished with the white man's customary sternness and this increased the rancor of the Indians. It increased, too, their eagerness for the fulfillment of the strange prophecy of the coming of the White Queen.

On the very day when the white man's village of Rockvale was in a hubbub of excitement because of the kidnapping of Pauline, the village of s.h.i.+-wah-ki was tumultuous with a different fervor.

Into the circle of the a.s.sembled chiefs, rimmed with awed faces of squaws and papooses, had danced the weird figure of Big Smoke. He had been called upon by Red Snake to announce what further of the White Queen his medicine had revealed.

Big Smoke wore the head of a wolf with cow's horns set over the ears.

His lithe red body was covered with a long bear skin. His legs were bare to the tops of his gaily beaded moccasins.

He circled the silent group with fantastic gyrations and stopped finally in the center. Lifting his hands, he addressed the tribe.

First, in glowing rhetoric, he pictured the ancient glory of the Sioux --their wealth in lands, their prowess in the hunt, their triumph over all other red men. He told of their long and brave struggle with the white man, who by the intervention of wicked G.o.ds had been enabled to conquer them. But the time of vengeance and retribution had come after long years. The Indian was to return to his own.