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CArruNtOr ADVENTVRB.ETC, Good people, «ince God alone can make you wise and kind, the jester's province is merely to amuse you INDIANAPOUS THE BOBBS-MERRnx COMPANY PUBUSHERS (734- CorruGHT 1915 Tmi Bobbs-Mekrill CourAur •AMmWOffTH 4 CO. •oonmom MD nnTm MraOKLVN. N, V. 880476 CONTENTS I The Glamour of Yooth ^1 II The Aoe of Knighthood jg in The Swing of Events _ jgj IV The Pawohs OF War j4j V TheWuMPS jjj ^' »"' .'.".' 201 VII A Ship Withoitt a Rudder 22J VIII Mr. Raus 2W IX The Sacrifice 2jj X The Ordeal BY Torture 291 XI The Soul of La Mancha - jji XII Inipector Buckie's Narrativi 343 \1 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD cock: (^ I THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD CHAPTER I THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH T JOSE DE LA MANCHA Y O'BRIEN, was 1) bom on the ninth day of November, 1865, in Spain, of an Irish mother and a Spanish sire. Ten years later my parents entered the service of God, my father from a battle-field, my mother living in a convent. With my brother. Don Pedro, the Brat, then eight years old, I was sent away from Spain to Tito, a fat Irish aunt, whose highly poisonous husband. Uncle Tito, was English, and lived in London. From their house, when he was old enough, I took the Brat to my school where I attended to his mor- als with a small strap. I had been busy for sev- eral terms explaining to the other chaps at school a THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD that they were heretics and doomed to hell, and as my 8km was not large enough to hold the lickings they supplied me, they paid the balance to my little brother. He spoke as yet but very broken English and could not understand why he should share with me the glories of an early martyrdom. He shunned me. Yet, when in 1883 I went to iollege, the Brat was not content to be left alone. Indeed he ran from school, and when I next heard from him. was in America, where he had gone to work for a man called Lane. When the summer vacation left me free. Aunt Tita supplied me with money and sent me off to collect my Brat. I was to bring him home and place him at a private school in Oxford where I could always keep him out of nuschief. Thus I set out, determined to tear the Brat's hide off over his ears when I caught him. Perhaps he expected as much and was ungrateful, for when in due course I arrived in Winnipeg—from whence his letter ap- peared to have been posted—I could find no trace of my brother or of any n»n caUed Lane in Manitoba. There the search (Aided in bitter disappointment. ■' When I had lost my brother, with nothing left in aU the world to love, a dog adopted me. Rich M-^ed was named after a Wscuit box containing THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH twenty-seven distinct species of biscuits. You will realize that a dog must be of the noblest pedigree who had twenty-seven quaiterings on his coat of arms and showed unmistakable descent from every possible kind of thoroughbred from daschund to great Dane. I loved him dearly and was consoled for my brother's loss. Since I could not take Brat home, and would not return without him, I had no use for the remaining funds. Most of the cash was disposed of at a race- meeting where the wrong horses won. ITie rest of it merely dispersed. At that time, a laundress pursued me with a bun- dle of my washing and a bill I could not pay. To dispose of this poor widow, I despatched her with a note to the Presbyterian minister. My letter ac- cused him of deserting one whom he had sworn always to love and cherish. Mrs. Minister appears to have been morbid, for she put the police after me for attempting to levy blackmail. I could not safely remain in Winnipeg. And yet I had not then the means for flight until I thought of Tito's dressing-case, a gift from His late Catholic Majesty to my fat uncle. It proved good enough to pay for a farewell dinner, at which I consulted my friends on the idea of flight from 4 THE r 2ERFUL BLACKGUARD •dvce, the pol.ce became obnoxious. I fled with my A:t;::t::?.n:bb""'""'^-'"--- uoor we ieft cabby crowned with a chanl,» hti"'"i:r""''T'"'*^"'''''^-^-oh:'s «r if ? '""' '"°'' *'■- ♦»»» - could forth to^nT '" K """"^ ^''"^ ^'-'^ -d I set forth to find my brother. We had no place to go to jnd no money, so we did not get ve^ far M^^ I fell asleep out on the starlit prairie wailmg dose bes.de us. a wolf-howl. but for its hu -n throb a thing beyond all anguish of he C' heartrend.ng de«,lation keening star-high, Ch^fS ■nt ecoe3 throbbed on the hori^oaThehusLt a the m.ss.on gave tongue in answer, the tame dogs bayed m distant Winnioep F^, ^ Mixed a«H T . , ""'P*8^- ^o"^ some time Rich M.xed a^d I lay l.stening, while above us the star- blaze drowned in depths of the vast sky ot .^oses. The green dawn widened, edged at thi %-l.ne with clear topaz light. There, ifthe el^^ nc a.r of the Great Plains, life was aU de«gl " '- the perfumed ground to those immnSes? THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 5 aerial splendor heralding the sun. I had never felt 80 well, or half so happy. And I had been drunk. Is the reader shocked? Why? If we poor moths were horrified by candles, our wings would not get burned. Through sleep itself, and from the very moment of awaking, I was disturbed by the noise of the middle night, those agonized and desolating howls. Who howled? And what the deuce was it howl- ing about? To see about that I got up, stretching mysdf and feeling rather dizzy, as though from running in circles. Then I lurched forward, tripped and sat down with a bang on a grave mound. The place was full of graves I And as I fell the mournful wailing in the twilight changed at mid-howl into a funny chuckle. Then a soft voice said to me. "So. You comel" I looked up, and saw Rain. You may remember Tennyson's words about the Woman you, and I, and all true men have loved: "w* ^ '^''«'d her, ere she knew my heart. My first, last love, the idol of my youth The darlmg of my manhood, and alas Now the most blessed memory of mine age." the wilderness has always been to me a visible C THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD expression of that great Holy Trinity, of Power, Love and Truth, which we call God. In Rain, the glamour of God's wilderness had taken human form as a red Indian girl « 'th youth's delicious gr^ /ity of bearing, the childlike purity of the unUinted savage, hale strength, athletic grace and eyes derisive. Sorrow had made her at that time aloof, remote from the world I lived in as a Madonna set above an altar, and yet her smile seemed to make fun of me. I looked up at her with reverence, with wonder, and if I loved, the love I offered to her was sacred, not profane. Yet if I seemed to worship, she would ridicule, so I had to pretend as a boy does to a girl. "Oh, don't mind me," I stuttered. "Please go on with that howl I" "Boy-drunk-in-tbe-moming," she answered. "My dream, he say you come." "So I have come," said I. Years afterward, when I had learned her lan- guage. Rain told me in Blackfoot the whole story of the adventure, which led her to that meeting with me there on the plains at dawn. She was a Blackfoot, of the Piegan or southern tribe, which settled in Montana, and her father was Brings-down-the-Sun, a war chief and a priest. In the winter before we met, the Piegan chiefs came I THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH y to her father'i lodge. "At their request, he opened the sacred bundle of the Buffalo Mystery, whose an- cient and solemn ritual engaged them for a day and a night in prayer. Afterward, they held a meeting of the council, to discuss the manifest wasting away of the bison herds on which the people depended for their food. For years, the Stone-hearts (white men) had been slaughtering bison by millions for their hides, leav- ing the meat to rot Now the last herds were sur- rounded b hungry tribes, and the end was in sight when the people must die of famine. So the chiefs sat in council Flat Tail had been told by his dream that all the buffaloes were hidden in a cave. Iron Shirt believed that the Stone-hearts were hiding the main herd in the country beyond the World-Spine (the Rocky Mountains) . But Brings-down-the-Sun spoke of an Ojibway from the far East, who told him about the Min-it-o-ba or Land of the Great Spirit near to the lodge ./here the Sun God lived, from whence he rose each morning to cross the sky. "I am going," he told the council, "to this Land of God, and there I will open again my sacred bundle. I will speak td the Sun Spirit about our herds of bison, and how they are being wasted by the Stone-hearts. I will 8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD pray that hearts of stone may be changed to flesh and blood lest all the people die." So taking his daughter, Rain, to serve him in the ritual. Brings-down-the-Sun set out from their home beside the World-Spine, and traveled eastward for a thousand miles, crossing the plains to Manitoba, which was the Land of God. There at the sunrise making his prayer, he died, passing the threshold of God's house into the presence. Rain showed me the hole where the Stone-hearts had buried her father. The ground spirits would catch him there, so she had torn up the earth and taken out the body. She had built a scaffold, where now her dead lay robed and armed in majesty, fac- ing the sunrise. She had shot her father's horse so that its ghost might carry his shadow to the Sand Hills. And afterward she had prayed. "Oh, great Above-Medicine Person, Spirit in the Sun. I pray to you! "All you Above Spirits and Under Spirits carry my prayer to the Sun! "And all you holy Animals, -wiser and stronger than I, have pity! Pray for me. "I have made srorifice of my jewels, and my long i THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 9 braids of hair. Great Sun God, take my father's shadow to the Sand Hills, that he may be with our dead." The Seven Persons, our stars of the Great Bear, were pointing to the earth; the Lost Children, our Pleiades were sleepy on their way to bed, when Rain felt the spirit leaving her father's body to ride the Wolf Trail, the milky way which leads to the here- after. And there was Morning Star. "Dear Morning Star," she pleaded, "don't give long life to me, for I am all alone." She threw herself upon the upturned soil. "Oh, mother," she sobbed, "I'm all alone, an^ oh, so frightened. And you, dear Beaver Woman, my Dream Helper, can't you send me help? Oh, send a man to take me to my people." The Piegan camp was a thousand miles away. What chance had she of escaping death among the hostile tribes between, or outrage at the hands of the Stone-hearts ? It was then she lifted up her voice in the Indian death-wail, and so continued mourning until I came in the gray of dawn, sent by her secret helper in an- swer to her prayer. lo THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I saw the rifled grave, the scaffold and her dead. "The people," said I, "who run this graveyard will be so pleased I" "You think so ? My old man, he seeks the M4n-it- ou, but the Black Robe," she pointed to the Mission of St. Boniface, "the sacred man, he say 'The King- of God is within you.' So my old man," this with a great gesture sweeping toward the skies, "he eo seekl" Rain's talk wftS a compound of charm, French half-breed patois, two or three English words, and the sign language. But, as we Spaniards have it, she was sympdtka. her eyes, her smile, expressing all she felt, and I have found love a great interpreter. Her blanket, fallen wide apart, disclosed a beauti- ful tunic of white antelope skin, set with the teeth of elk. which tinkled softly. "You little duck!" I whispered. That was pro- fane love, but it really couldn't be helped. "K'yal" She drew back, folding the blanket across her breast. "Boy-drunk-in-the-moming, you m6tis. es?" "Half-breed!" said I, not at all pleased. "No. Espanol." "Whyyouipome?" THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH n "Well, you see, my little brother. Brat, was at school." "All same mission ?" "Yes, a place called Eton, mission school for half- breeds. He ran away to be a pirate, and I ran after him to keep him out of mischief." "Meescheef ? In. understand. You catchum V "No, he's with a man called Shifty Lane." "Bad Mouth, I know him. He dog-faced man." She darted forked fingers from her mouth, the sign of snake tongue, meaning that Lane was a liar. "You come," she pleaded, "I take you to Dog- Face Lane. My dream, he say I take you." "That's awfully decent of you." Day filled the sky, but as yet there was neither sunlight nor shadow, only a .clear fine radiance full of hushed fussiness of birds, a growing blaze pf color from goldenrod and prairie sunflower, and fresh wild perfume. Some little devil possessed me at that moment, for I flung my arms about the girl, only to find I held an empty blanket, while at arms' length the jolly little beggar stood flushed and panting, while she mocked me. Had I plenty scalps? Was my lodge red with meat? Howmany horses had I to buy Rain? "Oh, 12 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Little-boy-drunk-in-the-moming. the quick fox catchum trap!" Ah, me! I never could withhold the tribute due to women, which every citizen must pay to her sover- eign power. So long I pleaded mercy that the sun burned the sky-line, and the whole east was one vast glory before she would consent to be my mother. A girl who chaflfs is irresistible. "Swear!" she said. "You touch me, you go hell plenty quick." "I swear I love you." "You love as the wind, eh ? Too many." "I'm frightfully nice when I'm kissed." "Maybe so. Now you catchum horse." My horse? I had no horse. "You poor?" she asked. "I'm all I've got," I told her. "S'pose," said Rain gaily, "I make 'um I-dian man?" "What! You'll make me an Indian? Oh, what a lark! Come on!" She led me through an aspen grove, all tremulous green and silver, and in her little teepee, Rich Mixed and I had breakfast. Then she left us to watch a copper pot of herbs which simmered on the fire, and slid away to her father's burial scaffold. There, THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 13 with some quaint apology to the Sun God, she took back her braids of hair and sacrificed instead the tip of her left little finger. When she returned to the teepee, she showed me her bandaged hand, and said she had cut her finger, but at the time I felt more interested in my cigarette, the last. Then, while I sat with a shaving mirror before me, she wove hfr braids of hair into my black thatch, so that the long plaits came down in front of my shoul- ders almost to the waist. I was delighted, especially when she set at the back of my head one straight-up eagle plume. My dress suit, which last night had astonished Winnipeg, seemed no longer congruous. Rain bade me take it off, showing me the juice from her pot of herbs, also a breech clout, at which I shied a little. Still it was not long before I stripped, to play at red Indians with the brown juice and the clout, until Rain came back to see. She opened a trunk of parfleche (arrow-proof hide) to show me her father's clothes, then squatting by the fire she burned sweet grass for incense to cleanse us both. To me, the dressing-up was a joke; to 'ler, a sacred rite, the putting on of manliness and non'or. With each new garment, she recited prayers: as I put on the buckskin leggings and war-shirt, with 14 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD their delicious perfume of wood smoke, the par- fleche-soled mocpasins, from which the Blackfoot nation takes its name, and the broad belt studded with brass carpet tacks. Then she gave me a painted robe of buffalo cow-skin, and showed me how to carry myself with the medicine-iron, a .45-70 Win- chester. Perhaps I should mention that Rich Mixed flew ■at and bit this Indian, before he realized that the person inside was me. But I had never been so pleased. Let me confess most humbly to an unusual strength and grace of body, the carriage of a gentle- man, and a most lamentable face: the pinched forehead and strong features of an Indian, the pointed ears, the devilish eyes and brows, and wide flexible mouth of a faun. In civilized clothing, I had been grotesque; but there was mystery in the Indian dress, which made me for the first time real and natural. I had always a passionate sick crav- ing for all things beautiful, a fierce delight in color, line, proportion, harmony, and now with the change of dress was no longer hideous. I had come to my own, and while Rain struck camp, ran yelling with delight to round up her herd of ponies. At this point, I should pause to be sententious THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH IS with sentimental comment on all the blessings I had left behind me : Item. My worthy aunt, damp with many tears, but much relieved. She had hopefully predicted my un- timely end. Item. My pernicious uncle, who in due time ap- peared before a judge in Chambers asking leave to presume my brother's death and mine, so that his wife might have our heritage. Item. My prospects. Mine was the only kind of education which can be guaranteed to turn out drunken wasters. Item. Winnipeg. This tity was supported a' the time by the single industry of cheating in real estate. I had been offered employment as a cheat. Item. The House of the Red Lamp, where my guests of the night before awaited me. Any reader who hates geography had better skip this passage. It is a dull subject, only intro- duced when the writer wants to show off. That should be enough to choke off the skipping reader, and so I may safely divulge to the gentle reader that I allude to the geography of love. i6 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Rain led be along the boundary trail, which fol- lows the main divide between the land of boyhood and the domain of manhood. It is a narrow trail, no wider than a tight rope, so we fell off on both sides. Rain's adopted son was too old, you see, for motherly caresses, too young for the other kind. And Rain herself set me a bad example. She never could hit the motherly attitude without exaggerat- ing, but was usually about a hundred years old before breakfast, and lapsed to five at the first cup of coffee. Then I would waste time being her affec- tionate infant son when it was my manly duty to' murder a rabbit for supper. I was never traceable of a frosty morning, when mother sent me off to my bath in an ice-filled slough. That daily bathing in all weathers is a most gruesome habit of the Blackfeet, whereas I like being warm. An adopted Child, too, ought not to cuddle mother while she is cooking, yet when she clouted me, I would take offense. And how could Rain howl of an evening for her poor father, while I sang ribald songs, such as "Obediah I Obediah I Oh, be damned I" I fancied myself as an Indian warrior, and ex- pected Rain to admire me in the part. Play up? Of course I did. Had I been rigid English, forcing the world to fit me, too proud to make a fool of my- THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 17 self, too austere to see the fun, but I am not. I am human, Spaniard with a touch of Irish, fluid to fit my surroundings. I riotously overplayed so wild a burlesque redskin that Rain would laugh, ache, sob and have hysterics. We played at the hand talk, until we could con- verse. We played at the Blackfoot language, until I understood when she didn't gabble. I learned my roping, packing, tracking and sign quicker than she could teach me. Yet what was the use of Rain playing the teacher, when her pupil would chase her round the camp-fire, then rumple her with infant hugs and kisses as a reward for having been too good. In vain, she reminded me of my oath that I would go to hell if ever again I touched her. "Me Iiijvn now," said I. "White man's hell too full: !io room for Injun." She could not teach mc the craft of warriors, and my ideas of finding water led always to dry camps. I liked a nice big Are in the evening, and by day delighted in riding along the sky-line firing off my gun— in that land the Crees, Dakotas, Grosventres and Absarokas collected scalps as you do postage stamps. My notion of hunting was to ride down wind and miss the game on the wing, which suited the antelope t 1 i8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD •nd the j»dc rabbit. As to the prairie chickeos and dudes, they sat out my rifle shooting in perfect confidence at no risk whatever. Even before I fired my last cartridge, Rain was obliged to add my work to her own, and had she not snared ground game, we should have starved to death. Her reli- gion forbade the eating of fish and ground game, so in her most pious moods I ate for both. And since I was neither of use nor ornament, Rain mothered me. Mothering is the play of girls, the life of women. Rain enjoyed me, too, as a comic relief to life. ! I would have ycu understand that we were boy and girl together, not man and woman. We played at love as one of many games, but lived apart. We played at mother and son, teacher and pupil, but not at husband and wife. I thought my honor must be a thing heroic, sacred, absolute, like a great fortress, while Rain trusted me. A gentleman, I suppose, is one who expects much of himself, little of others. He is liable to be dis- appointed with himself if ever he betrays a woman's trust, fails to live by his own resources and oppor- tunities, or marries for money, or finds himself kept by a woman. Yet he may engage to be a woman's servant, be she queen or peasani, and fight for her THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 19 defense without loss of honor. I was content for the time to be Rain's servant while she was in danger. And afterward? Boys do not worry about after- ward. From the Red River to the Rocky Mountains, the Canadian Plains form three steps, the lower or Man- itoban, the middle or Saskatchewan, and the upper or Albertan, in all about one thousand miles across. At the time of our journey, these lay in almost un- broken solitude. In many districts, the bison skulls lay like the white tombstones of a graveyard, reach- ing in all directions beyond the sky-line. The herds were gone, the hunters had followed, and the land lay void, a desolation such as our world has never known and never may again. Rain steered us clear of the few and scattered homes of frontiersmen, wide of the .tamp grounds used by possibly hostile savages, and at the end of the tenth week, led me to the high western scarp of the Cypress Hills. Beneath us the grass, with many i. tawny ridge and faint blue vale, reached away into golden haze, and like a cloud belt far above soared the gray World-Spine, streaked and flecked with snow. Yon- der, beside the Rockies, lived her people. Here at our feet was the Writing- i-Stone by Milk TO THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD River, where my young brother worked for Shitty Lane. For that day's rations we chewed rabbit skins, and at sundown came to Lane's trading post, ex- pecting after we made camp to barter for provi- sions. But while Rain unloaded the ponies, and I composed myself upon a robe to watch her. Miss Lane rode over from the house. The trader's half- breed daughter was eager to show oflf in her dress of cotton print, a sunbonnet, real shoes of leather and jewelry of rolled gold set with gems of glass, insignii- of her grandeur and importance. "K'ya!" she cried, when Rich Mixed had finished barking, then reining her roan cayuse, surveying our beggarly camp. "Kyai-yo." She patted her lips with one hand, so that the exclamation came 'put in broken gusts. "Ky-ai-i-yo-o ! You poor, hungry' ones I" "I have a horse," said I, "to trade for food." But she ignored me, pattering in Blackfoot. ,"Don't," she chattered, "don't think of trading horses to my father. All people try to trade them off for food, but we haven't enough grub for win- ter, and he gets mad. So then they go away and eat a pony." "My rifle," said I, "won't he take that in trade?" I THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH at "No buffalo left," said Mitt Lane, "and the people can't find any deer. Why, Flat Tail't band are reduced to fiih, and you know that the Sun God forbids them to eat fish." "Don't you hear?" asked Raia "Oh, Got- Wet, we'll sell the rifle." But Got-Wet stared at me, then turned to Rain with a grin as she declared in English, "He sham Injun I" Rain bribed the girl to silence with a gift from St. Boniface Mission, a pincushion cover made of Berlin wool, which represented a blue cat on a green sky, seated, head at right turn, eyes of pink beads. In excruciating raptures, Got-Wet promised a supper after dark. Meanwhile, she stayed for a gossip, advising Rain in the art of pitching camp, with now and again a peep at the sham Indian, foUowed by great pantomime of fright. As for me, I wa; too proud to be routed out of camp by a girl's impudence, too hungry to search for my brother, too shy to interview the trader and buy food. How could I, with Rain's last streak of yellow face- paint across my lordly nose, confront a white man? I sat in high gloom, disdaining to notice Got-Wet. ' And in excited whispers, Got-Wet divulged to Rain how Pedro, a white boy of marvelous in- 22 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD competence, had run away with her cow. Yes, only last night he had stolen her cow and run for the Medicine Line (United States-Canada boundary). Oh, so handsome, tool And how he admired her. Why, once, the rest was told in whispers, and must have been a secret I was too young to hear. Pedro, of course, was my Brat, but I could hardly imagine a La Manjcha stealing a mere cow. Still, this could be none other than my brother. Yet, according to C!ot-Wet, my brother had skipped the .country, and a rider nad been sent in haste to fetch the pony soldiers. I had not heard of any mounted troops. Who were these pony soldiers ? I could see that, whoever the soldiers were, Got- Wet was thoroughly frightened lest they should catch my brother. She began to plead with Rain to ride at once, to ride hard all night, to catch my Brat, and bring home the stolen cow. Yes, she would pay us a sack of flour and a side of bacon, if we would fetch the cow. And while we were about it, we might just as well warn the foolish boy to hide himself in the rocks, until the soldiers passed. Rain gave me a glance, to show that she under- stood my brother's danger. Yes, she would ride THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 23 with me, as soon as we finished sup;ier and had 1.1 e flour and bacon for our journey. Bat who /as the messenger who had gone to fetch the soidijrs? "Why, Tail-Feathers-round-his-neck. Who else could go?" I saw Rain flush. "But," she said, "Tail-Feathers went to the buffalo hunting." "There were no buffaloes," said Got-Wet. "So Tail-Feathers came back. You know, he's the greatest rifle-shot that ever— Well, that's how he got a job, with rations and big pay. He's scout- interpreter now to the pony soldiers." With nods and winks, Got-Wet would have us understand that Tail-Feathers also adored her. Not that she would stoop to marry a mere Indian. "Oh, no," she simpered. "Die first. Still, he adores me, and rode off at once when I told him to fetch the soldiers." "How far had he to go to fetch the soldiers?" "Only to Slide-out They'll be here by daybreak. Oh, Rain, you'll ride and warn that boy to-night? Promise rac, dear." "Shall I tell Pedro you love him?" asked Rain demurely. But Got-Wet shouted, "No," then swung her 24 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD pony and galloped homeward, calling over her shoulder, "Tell him I'm going to marry your sham Indian. There!" However hungry, I always liked to see Rain pitching camp. She took the four key-poles of her teepee and lashed them together near their small- er ends; then set their butts four square upon the ground, so that they made a pyramid. Next, she laid the spare poles against the crotch of the key- poles, so that their butts made of the square a circle. Taking the skin cover of the tent, she draped it round the cone of poles, mounting its ears on the ear-poles to hoist it up into position, so that the ears, or wind-vanes, and the door opened down wind. She had cut the lodge down small as a sign of mourning, with barely room for our two back rests and sets of robes beside the middle fire. It was none the less snug for being small, so when I saw its lighted smoke in the dusk, I crept in to sulk at home. I found Rain laughing softly, while she laid down the beds, and bubbling over at intervals, she explained to me all the news of how my brother had stolen a cow, and how his enemy, the Blackfoot warrior, Tail-Feathers, had gone to fetcK poi^ soldiers. Ram blushed to the roots THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 25 of her hair, and told me then about Tail-Feathers. She was to be Mrs. Tail-Feathers as soon as she got home to the Piegan camp. "Then," said I, "why does Tail-Feathers flirt with that fool?" Got-Wet, Rain told me, was artful, and a liar. I sulked. The time was in sight when I must part with Rain or marry her. It did not seem right in those days that my father's son should marry a mere squaw, and yet the thought of parting hurt me very sorely. I hated Tail-Feathers the worse because I saw Rain loved him. And I was so hungry. At dark came Got-Wet, her pony loaded with flour and bacon, which she made us hide at once because it was stolen out of her father's store. She had also a dish of scrapings, cold fried potatoes and bacon, with soggy slapjacks and a can of tepid coffee, good enough for Indians. She squatted in the teepee to watch our ravenous eating, while she gave trail directions in a gale of talk. So Jame a gray and long-haired frontiersman, old Shifty Lane, shaggy and roaring, who cursed his daughter for feeding Indian beggars, and drove her homeward storming through the darkness. Rain wanted to 26 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD talk, but I who had been empty was now full, and snored with intentioa Presently the fire fluttered out. When Rain awoke, a slender ray of moonlight was creeping across the darkness near where I lay, and seated in the chief's place, she saw her father's npirit. He was always there to guard her through t le night, perhaps to hear her sigh of deep content when she changed dreams. lit At midnight. Rain bustled me out to round the ponies up while she struck camp. Why should she be so eager to warn my Brat? She would not spare me time to water the ponies, but drove the outfit hard, wasting whole hours in bad ground by starlight which in the morning we could have cross- ed at ease. Day broke at last, and we took up the tracks of the stolen cow. Beside them went the marks of a white man's boots, just large enough for Brat and too small for any one else. Rain trailed her travois of lodge poles and our loose ponies, to blot out those telltale signs, while I rode well ahead down the Milk River Valley, under long diflfs of castellated rock. There were orchards THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 27 of wild ripe fruit, but Rain insisted on a racking pace, while the sun climbed up the eastern and down the western sky. So when the sun was waning down the west, we came upon our quarry. El Senor Don Pedro de la Mancha, with his arms round the cow's neck, sobbing bitterly. Sudi was the heat, that I rode in breech clout and moccasins, the Indian war-dress. Add to that the devilish Indian war screech, and the charg- ing horse, and you will realize that poor Brat had scarcely time to jump out of his skin with fright, before a wild and naked roaring savage galloped over him. He sat up, quite prepared for death, and yet, his nose being crushed, and his heart full of indigna- tion, he resolved to sell his life dearly. Heroes, he remembered, in redskin fiction, always sell their lives dearly, but are never seriously killed because that would spoil the plot. The proper thing was to lug out his .44 Colt revolver with its eight and a half inch barrel and thus be prepared for great deeds of war. It was a pity that all his cartridges should be .45. Had they only fitted the gun, what a scene of blood I "What d'ye mean by stealing cows?" I asked him. "Eh, you dirty rotter ? Stand up and have yer head 28 THE CHEERFUL' BLACKGUARD punched! I'll teach you to get into mischief 1 Now. Brat, I'm going to give you the dumedest hiding." Yet, though I addressed the Brat in my very best Eton manner, the tone of 'he public schools, as pro- ceeding from a naked savage, entirely failed to con- vince. It was not until I dismounted, and diligently performed my promise, and having given him a jolly good hiding, proceeded to give him some more, that Brat began dimly to realize that I was indeed his brother. So far, dear Rain, very impatient with us, had from her saddle watched the ceremonial observances of white men, when brothers meet after long separa- tion. Now seeing that I had dropped a tail of my false hair, she made me squat down while she hurriedly braided it on again, cooing with sympathy when she tugged too hard. Brat sat down opposite, to pant and make friends with my dog, and while his nose bled, announced that he also would turn red Indian. I asked him, gravely, "How?" "Then," said he, "I'll be a robber, anyway." "Look here," said I, "you know I've come a long way and taken no end of trouble to keep you out of mischief. You're not going to play the hog. THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 29 You Gadarene swine, if you're not respectable in this life, where will you go when you die?" Brat couldn't see why I should have all the fun, so I invited him to another thrashing, and he ex- cused himself. "Promise," said I, "to be good." Seeing preparations for war, he gave a sullen promise. "S'elp you Bob?" "S'elp me." "Honor bright?" "Bet yer sixpence." "Brat, why not turn cowboy?""" "But is that respectable?" "Extremely so. Go and be good in the United States, where you'll have lots of room. I don't want to fcrowd you. Brat." "I know that, Hosay." Of course, we were talking in Spanish, and in our language my name is spelled Jose, lest the Eng- lish should guess the pronunciation. "And you can say," I added lavishly, "that this gun," I was taking sights, "was stolen from you by Indians. Also the cow." "But it's not true I" 30 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "It it." "Oh, but it's not fair I" "Child." said I, "our ancestors were not caught by mere pony soldiers with such trifles as a gun and a cow." "Pony soldiere?" "Yes." "You don't mean the mounted police?" I had never heard of mounted police, but I look- ed grave and wooden. "I don't tare I" he cried. "I bought that gun from their sergeant." "And a licenser "But the cartridges," said poor Braf, "are forty- fives, and they don't fit the forty-four bore. You might let me keep my gun." "Oh, all right." I must own I was reluctant "Catch!" "And the cow. Shifty Lane wouldn't pay me my wages, so I collected his cow. The police wiU say it served him jolly well right" I was too hungry to relinquish real beef. "No," said I firmly, "you'd better let me look after the poor fcow." So Brat began to tell me his adventures, and THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 31 how he had been fool enough to flirt wii.i Got- Wet I was disgusted with him. especially as Lane's half- breed daughter had be^n making violent iove to the Indian. Tail-Feathers. I told Brat he really must remember his social position, the natural obligations of his rank, the utter foUy of stooping to such a creature as Got-Wet Indeed, I had some hope of improving my brother's morals, laying down pre- cept and example, when Rain said the soldiers were coming. She had been worrying us all the time we talked. I kissed poor Brat, and we promised to write let- ters, though neither of us thought of giving a pos- tal address. Then I sent him away with my bless- ing. "Vaya usted con DiosI" "Adios," the Brat sobbed, "AdiosI" So we parted, and my little brother went on down the valley, very grateful. At an angle of the cliffs, he waved his hat in farewell, and passed on out of sight. For my part, I mounted my sorrel and rode off, driving the cow toward a break in the cliffs, where I proposed to dine for onjce on beef without any foolish delays. But Rain trailed after me with 32 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD the pack beasts, pleading that there were soldiers in pursuit She spoke of some awful fate awaiting Indian cow thieves caught red-handed with the white man's beef. Of course, what she said was all very well for Indians, but I told her I was white, and all the pony soldiers could go to blazes. I was hungry. Poor little girl I I suppose she craved as much as I did for a juicy rib. a tongue, the kidneys. Unable to resist the kidneys, Ra.'n followed. The low sun was right in our eyes. The meadow was all haze; we could not see very well. And Rain was crying. And through her sobs, Rain warned me. The scout-interpreter, who was bringing the soldiers to take a cow thief, was none other than her own betrothed lover. Tail-Feathers would see us two together. He would be angry, jealous. He was the champion rifle-shot of the Blackfoot nation. I had a rifle to threaten, no cartridges to fire. So she made me fly from him, and march swiftly these weary hours. To delay our flight was death. I set my teeth, and refused her the slightest notice. I hated Tail-Feathers I iTHE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 33 IV Between the meadow and the foot of the cliff some former channel of Milk River had left a narrow lake. This pulled me up short, and as I looked for a way round the water, a smoke-puf! appeared at the rim of the cliff overhead, a rifle-shot rang out with rumbling: thunder echoes, and my sorrel horse crashed down dead, leaving me more or less in the air. A second shot crumpled my cow. A third grazed my naked shoulder, lifting blood. Then came Rain at full gallop to my rescue, screaming in Blackfoot to the man up there on the cliff. "TaU-Feathers! Oh, Tail-Feathers, how could you? Killed my pony, spoiled the cowl Don't kill my squaw 1" Her squaw 1 She called me a squaw 1 Mel I jumped up and down in my fury. "See," Rain shrieked. "My squaw is dancing I Lookl" "How dare youl" I shouted at her. "Boy-drunk-in-the-moming," her eyes were danc- ing with fun. "I'm saving your life, you silly." "Mind your own business 1" "Seel" She pointed at a gaunt, middle-aged In- I M THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD djan in n gr»y slop »uit, who rode along the sky-line seeking a way down the cliffs. "There," she said. "My man." It was cerUinly very awkward. "I am his woman," she said demurely, then tossing her head with a flash of royal pride, "and he's my man I He comes now to take me to his lodge." "But what right had the feUow to shoot me? Confound his cheek, he has shot me I" "Not much," she caressed the long wale carved in my shoulder. Then she gabbled so quickly in her sweet liquid speech, that I could only just catch flying words. She was telling Tail-Feathers to stop kiUing me. As if I cared I Tail-Feathers was a mighty warrior, who could never stoop to killing a mere boy with no s^p. a boy with a false wig of woman's hair. She begged me to set to the camp work, the squaw's work, so I could stay alive until the soldiers got me. Blind with tears, moaning with rage, I shot back the lever and jammed it home, as though I were loading my rifle. Tail-Feathers should think he had an armed man to fight, not a squaw begging THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 35 hU mtrcy. I knelt down and took a sight at the approaching horseman. If it wer« only loaded! Rain was nervous. Her litUe toil-worn hands were trembling as they caressed my head. "You're not an Indian." she crooned. "Not like an Indian, kneehng out here in the open, exposed, with an empty rifle. Fight-in-ti.f-open-with-an-empty-gun is the sort of person who makes my man laugh. Oh. surely he must see that you're a mere boy. a child, too young for killing. "See how he leaves his pony and climbs down —and comes from bush to bush and hides behind the rocks— He's coming very near to see what's wrong, why you don't fire. And I stand behind you, so if he fires he'U get us both. Hear how he shouts— Wants me to get out of his line of fire. I'm so frightened!" She rumpled up my hair, and laughed with queer, little, tremulous chuckles. "Ho, Tail-Feathers." she called, "you're not to kill my funny boy any more. I'll never love you if you hurt my boy." But Tail-Feathers yelled from behind a rock, denouncing her for a wanton unfit to be his woman. "Men are so stupid," she whispered in my ear. "He's going to shoot us both." 36 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I asked her quickly and roughly if she would be my wife. If I had brought her ^o such a pass as this, it was her due, and as a gentleman I could do no less. Yet when she answered, "No," I felt re- lieved. "To marry you," she chuckled, "to be your woman? Boy-drunk-in-the-moming will take me to his lodge of all the winds, a queer person who can not hunt or fight or even run away. He'll feed me through the hunger-death next winter. Oh, you funny boy, I hope my man won't get you." Now she had roused me to such a pitch of frenzy that death was easy compared with the shame of life. I could see the Indian creeping behind a rock not fifty feet away. The Blackfeet have no oaths, but I could swear, and did, until Rain shrank back in horror. I sprang straight at the man, who was so startled that he fired high. He was pumping a fresh cartridge, and praying the Great Mystery to guide his aim. By all the rules of war, I had no right to charge him, for no sane man would dare. He thought me crazy, bullet proof, inspired by the Big Spirit. But when he turned to run, I thought I was losing him, and with a scream of passion hurled THE GLAMOUR L7 YOUTH 37 my rifle whirling through the air. It caught him just at the base of his skull, and felled him. Then, with my foot upon his neck, I turned on Rain. "Am I a squaw or am I a man?" I asked. "Woman, come here, you're mine I" For just one quivering moment. Rain obeyed me. Then we both ftlt a tremor in the ground, and looking up the valley saw a mounted man, full gallop, charging at us. "The pony soldiers! Fly for your lifel" cried Rain. Vl Slide-out Detachment was an outpost of the Northwest Mounted Police, where the sergeant- m-charge had the mumps, which made him look ridiculous and feel cross. To him came Tail-Feath- er, the scout-interpreter, with complaint from Shifty Lane about a stolen cow. There was not a man to be spared, so a recruit was sent on patrol. Constable Buckie, with the scout for chaperon. Poor Buckie rode in mingled pride and pain : PRIDE. Half a mile out, he chucked his white helmet into a bush and put on a stetson, the flat- brimmed slouch hat of the prairies, which in those days the police were not allowed to wear. He took 38 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD off his gauntlets because their pipe-day smeared him, and stuffed them into his wallets. He sported a silk handkerchief to dust his beautifully polished long boots about once in every mile. For the rest, he had a red dragoon tunic, indigo breeches with a yellow leg-stripe, white cross belt, a blazing bright belt of burnished cartridges, a foot-long Adams revolver in its holster, and a Snyder carbine slung athwart the horn of the stock saddle. PAIN. The poor , soretail would have died on duty rather than let his grief be seen by an Indian, but he rode well over to starboard or at times with a list to port, and hung on with bloody spurs, while he loped a rough rangy gelding whose trot was agony. PRIDE. Approaching Lane's, he put the gaunt- lets on, and ogled Got-Wet, who made him first flirtation signals while she talked to the scout in Blackfoot She was making Tail-Feathers to under- stand how Rain, his promised wife, was traveling just ahead with a white man disguised as an Indian. Leaving Constable Buckie to play with Got-Wet, the scout rode on to kill me. What happened after- ward between Got-Wet and Buckie in the bam loft is entered in the constable's official notes as "infor- THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 39 mation received." He was both proud and shocked at his own conduct, supposing that eveiy flirt went direct to perdition. PAIN. Buckie rode down the valley all day long wondering what could have become of his chaperon. Toward sunset, a sound of rifle-shots ahead aroused him to a sense of something wrong. He saw the chance for some great deed of war, and since he could not bear the pain either of trot or canter, he had to charge at full gallop, keeping his eyes shut because he was scared to look. PRIDE. He pulled his gun. Now I was standing on his chaperon's neck, whetting my knife to scalp my first real Indian, when suddenly I saw a proper Tommy Atkins, of scarlet cavalry, somehow broke loose from England and charging straight at me, blind. "Whoa I" said I. "Whoa, boss!" At that, the rangy gelding pulled up dead, but the soldier came straight on until he bumped, and slid right to my feet "Hello!" said I. The soldier blinked at me, leveled his gun and grunted, "Hands up, you swine!" But at that moment, I wanted a whole regiment !i i'l 40 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD to defy, so I told him I'd see him damned first, for I would not throw up my hands for any bally Tommy. "Come, hands up, nitchie (friend)." "You siUy ass," I said. "Can't you see I'm a white man?" "You look it," said he with sarcasm; and being nicely stained brown aU over by way of costume, I could only smile. The rookie had misgivings. This episode would be grand in Saturday's letter to mother, but what would they say in barracks about pulling a revolver on an unarmed man. He smirked, so I told him to put his gun away and not try to be funny. He obeyed. "Consider yourself under arrest," he growled, for that was the way the non-coms, always ad- dressed htm. "Now," he stood up, "what d'ye mean by kiUing the cow and my scout-interpreter?" "If you—" I suggested blandly, "If you— what?" "If you please, pig," said I. "Well, I'll be dog-gonedl Say." he asked, almost respectfully, "have you seen a young fellow along here by the name of Pedro la Manfha?" "You dreamed him." THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 41 "Ax that girl." So I asked Rain in my best Blackfoot, but she did not understand it very well. Then it occurred to Constable Buckie that I might be Pedro in dis- guise. "Here, you," he asked Rain, "who killed that cow?" I translated. Now Rain was afraid of pony soldiers, but she remembered being iuEulted by her man, and charged with being a wanton. He should rue that ! "He killed the cow," she answered, pointing at Tail-Feathers, who lay still unconscious. "And the pony?" Again she pointed at the police-interpreter. "And who killed my Indian scout?" For answer, she showed the soldier that long red, burning wale across my shoulder, while her point- i^.g finger accused the police-interpreter of attempt- ed murder. "Boy-dnuik-in-the-moming," she said in Blackfoot, "tell my words to the pony soldier. Tell him, I say you had no cartridges when this man tried to kill you." "She says," I explained, "that I had no ammuni- tion, and that's a fact, worse luck." "Tell him," said Rain, "that you clubbed Tail- Feathers with your medicine-iroa" n ■4 42 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I blushed as I translated. "This mighty hero " she says, "charged like the great chief of all the buffalo. H,s name is Charging Buffalo, and aU that sort of stuff, don't ye know." The Indian began to groan. Pedro la Mancha. just tell the girl you're both my prisoners." ' "The silly ass." I translated, "thinks I'm Pedro and so we're prisoners. Isn't it a lark 1" "She's a nice little piece." added Buckie. "Tell her to cut up the cow and get supper." So I sent Rain to get supper, and she went, head bent, feet dragging, for she was terrified at being a prisoner. ^^ "Pedro." the soldier was unsaddling his horse. you may play at Indians, but I guess you've been raised for a lord, or some sort of pet. Say you won't run. and your word is good enough." Having nothing to run from, and nowhere to run to. I readily gave parole. Wild horses could not have dragged me from that camp with real beef in sight. "As to this infernal Tail-Feathers." Constable Buckie looked round. "Hello! Look outi" The scout-interpreter felt so much better now THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 43 that he was able to sit up with his rifle and take a pot-shot at my back. I had just time to jump on his stomach before the thing went off. Rookie he was, and not over-wise at that, but Constable Buckie felt that for a scout-interpreter this Indian was too impulsive. He therefore per- suaded Tail-Feathers to lie down and take a nap with contusions, then put the man under what he called close arrest, tied up like a brown paper parcel, for delivery to the sergeant-in-charge at Slide-out. xhe dusk was falling, and big white stars broke through as the sky darkened. "I reckon." said Con- stable Buckie wearily, "we've time for a swim be- fore supper." So I challenged him to race me at undressing, and dived into the lake, which was nice and warm for swimming. When Buckie had shed his uniform, he joined me, and very soon our troubles were for- gotten. At nineteen, it is rather hard to be officially minded after business hours. As for me. I liked Buckie iirst-rate, because he happened to be a dean- bred Canadian. I did not know that we should be chums for life. Rain was ever a busy little person, and now in the twilight she made haste to get everything ready. She cut loose Tail-Feathers, who passed away into ^ I f : 44 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD the gloaming, no longer in anyway attached to the mounted police. She used his lashings to make a neat bundle of Buckie's arms and uniform, which she dropped without a sound into deep water. Then leaving the supper to cook itself, she adjourned to an ant-heap a little way from the cmp. where all alone in the gloom she howled for her poor father. There was a tang of frost in the air when we came out chilled, famished and distressed by Rain's most dismal lamentations. The fire was dead, there was nothing to eat, and Tail-Feathers had escaped so it seemed, with Buckie's kit. As to Rain, she said we were very rude to interrupt her grief. She was an orphan, and a prisoner. Wrapped in my painted robe, with chattering teeth. Buckie St by our fire, projecting schemes for tracking Tail-Feathers by torchlight and by moonshine. It was awkward, though, that the Indian had decamped with both the police carbines, both their revolvers, ail the ammunition. Even when comforted with much beef, the pony soldier trembled at the thought of his doom when he made official report to the sergeant-in-charge at Slide-out. Later, in the darkness of the teepee, I heard him weeping, and at dawn he set out barefoot on some THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 45 futile attempt to track TaU-Feathers. The ground was then white with frost. On his departure, Rain sat up, a little heap of mischief, and whispered across the teepee, "If I were only freel" And I yawned back, "What then?" "I think," she said demurely, "I could find the soldier's clothes." "Catl" She purred. "And make you back into a white man, Charging Buffalo." "Why for?" "So you could go and be a pony soldier " "What's that?" "You saw the red coat, and your eyes were so hungry! You followed him like a dog, and for- got poor little Rain. Threw out your chest, sol and your shoulders, hump I And your eyes, ever so far away. Then I call, and you yawn, so! You re tired of Rain, and pkyi„g Indians, eh?" I made shamefaced objections, blushing hot all over as I realized at once that what Rain said was true. I wonder if other men feel as I do. I can not look unmoved at a pretty woman, and yet the 46 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD sight of the British scarlet excites me more than anything else I know of. To speak to a man who wears it makes me catch my breath. Equally strong is the appeal to my senses of revolvers, cartridge belte, long boots, skin clothes or any gear of horse- manship or wild life. To see these things makes my heart leap, to use them is a lasting enjoyment, whereas I have looked on big stacks of gold, or silver, or treasures of diamonds, without the least emotion. As soon as Rain spoke, I was sick of Indians. Life was impossible outside the mounted police. "I only try," she mimicked my voice when I talk- ed to the Brat, "and take so plenty trouble to keep you out of meeschief I" "And if I go for a soldier, what about you?" I asked. "Me?" she sighed. "Oh, I go catch poor Tail- Feathers. He got no beef." As a matter of fact, poor Tail-Feathers had come in the night, had loaded his horse with beef, and now, well hidden in the cliflfs, was ea, g the same while he watched Buckie's futile attempts at track- ing. The soldier came back blue with cold, gray with despair and only too g^ad when I proposed that Rain should be free from arrest if she could THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 47 find his dothea. She placed a string in his hands, and bade him pull. So he hauled the bundle of arms and clothes out of the lake. Over a big fire inside the teepee, we hung his clothes to dry. and after breakfast, while I made a most careful toilet, a naked constable drafted in a damp note-book the full official version of his patrol. "How will this do?" he began. '"Dear Guts 1' I mean, 'Sir. I have the honor to report for your information that when I made Lane's from infor- mation received'— from Got-Wet when we hid up m the bam loft-'to the effect, viz: that o!d Shifty was up to his usual games, cheating said Pedro la Mancha out of four months' wages, so Pedro skinn- ed out with Got-Wet's cow. which didn't belong to Lane anyway, because Pedro's brother Hosay la Mancha, a respectable British subject, had gone to collect the cow for Got-Wet.' So that's all clear - eh?" •Tine," said I, from behind the hanging clothes. " 'Meanwhile, I sent the interpreter ahead'— so he wouldn't catch on to Got-Wet and me in the bam loft— 'with instructions to pick up the cow tracks, and when I caught up'— Say, old fellow, don't want to let on that I invaded the damned 48 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Sutes under arms. It wouldn't be good for GuU, and he'd throw Catherine wheek if he thought I'd raided Montana. We'll say I caught you up at the boundary line, 'where my interpreter was shooting up the cow, the pony and Hosay la Mancha. I detained the prisoner in dose custody, but he skinn- ed out' — and you can't see his tail for dust — 'so I brung in Mr. la Mancha, who wants to take on in in the Outfit, and have the honor to be, sir, your obedient servant, regimental number'— I'll have to look that up— 'David Buckie, Constable.' How's that, umpire?" "Bull's-eye!" So I stepped out from behind the clothes-line. After all, my dress suit was by a jolly good cutter in Savile Row, the shirt a bit nunpled but a decent fit, the pumps and socks quite new and, nothing paid for. In my best Oxford manner, I held out the white tie and asked Buckie to make the bow. "You bally idiot I" I added, be- ;cause he rolled into the fire, singeing my painted cow-skin. Stark naked, the buck policeman rolled back over the cooking-pots and prayed to be carried away for burial. Then he sat up wiping his eyes with my necktie. "Chee I Now whar hev I put me lavender kids?" he howled. "Oh, hang my collar on the THE GLAMOUR OF YOUTH 49 chMidelier while I .wetti Me put. U split from ear to tu. and it's my night to how-w-ll Yew- ow-wl" • I told him these were all the clothes I had. "Just turn them loose on Slide-out. Think of Guts I Why, you ring-tailed. lop-eared coyote, you can't join Our Outfit dressed like a blasted Comet!" "What's to be done?" "I guess I'll cache you in a prairie-dog hole untU I've stole you a shirt and overalls. AUee samee, that kit would take first prize for fancy dress at a ball, or I'm a shave-tail." Even in those days, Buckie suffered from a re- spectable soul, which made him a bit of a prig for routine, a glutton for etiquette, a shop-walker for deportment, and most maidenly particular about his clothes. He kept us at work for hours cleaning kit before he would get into uniform, then mourned aloud because for all my evening dress I had lost my opera hat and ought not to go bareheaded. In the end we departed riding his big horse tandem with me behind, pursued by Ram's howls, malicious, derisive, devilish little howls. Were these for her poor father? CHAPTER II THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD RAIN was a little brown hen-angel, the half- grown, all fluffy chicken of a seraph, with a tang of earth about her, just deceptively human and alluring enough to tear my heart-strings when she flew off leaving me to bleed. To guard her, I forsook my Brat whom I care for. But when she seemed to love another man, and laughed a good-by to me I could only go. A boy may love a maid and yet love life. So I loved Rain, but not as yet more than I loved my life. That was to come, but in those days, life was falling me, yes, tugging hard. Certain fabuliste have alleged that I joined the mounted police in evening dress. This is not true, for when Buckie was escorting me to Fort French, my place of enlistment, we lunched by the trail-side with an American cowboy who had a quart of pickels. Afterward, we played cards, my kit SO THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 51 staked against his. He won. riding away in my dress suit with the tie under his oflF ear. and the near end of the collar pointing S. S. E.. while through his nose he sang a hymn beginning, "Oh say. can you tell?" I still had my broken heart, and a dog, but as tp the costume in which I joined the police, my modes- ty forbids particulars. One of the greatest difficulties in the writing of this book is that my publishers hs-, ; a craze for particulars. They say that the story is too vague. I ought to state the facts. Now if. to take an example. I give my regimental number in the mount- ed police. I shall be identified, extradited and hang- ed just as I have begun to settle down. I have bor- rowed Buckie's number, a cruel humiliation for me because he was always so dumed respectable that he had scarcely any defaulter sheet. "Regimental Number 1107 Constable la Mancha. J., is hereby taken on the strength of the Force from the 20th instant, and posted to C Division." So read the orderly corporal, standing at the south end of number two barrack room in Fort French while I lay on my trestle and purred. Presently the corporal, announcing details, told off Surly McNabb. troop teamster, to fetch a load 1 I 53 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD of (kmI with me for off man. My purr changed to a groan. The bugle was sounding "Last post" with a cold m its head as the orderly corporal clanked away to call the roll next door. Then Windy O'Rooke sat up and shouted he had a dollar to say that "Surly bucks stiff-legged at taking a blanked rookie on coal fatigue. It's me he wants." "Mr. Affable McNabb," said I, "has been using influence to get me. You cuckoos who steal one another's ideas think Affable's a morose beast with a thirst But gentlemen, he has a faithful heart. My dog to your dollar, Windy, I'll make him deliver a speech of fifteen minutes." "Done I" McNabb intervened with a horse brush, which I fielded, and returned to its own address. Repri- sals followed, while I dived under beds capsizing their peaceful inhabitants. So there was rough- house for the space of thirteen minutes while I was partly killed, before the bugle saved me. For at "Lights out," the room corporal ordered silence. The lamplight changed to moonlight and a red glow from the stove, the stampeding of elephants became a creeping of mice, and Windy sat up m bed for a long luxurious scratch. THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD S3 Next morning Surly drove his four-horse team to an outcrop of coal about sixteen miles up the valley of Old Man's River, and not one word would he vouchsafe to me. While he watched me load the wagon he ate his lunch, and smoked for hours but still said never a word. Once when we start- ed back toward barracks I thought he was going to speak, for I asked him politely if he were not too tired, but he only shouldered me off the wagon seat so that I lit on my tail i„ a blue pool of profanity. I had to climb on the tail-board, dead tired, black as Satan and most frightfully cold Did you ever try to whistle Te Deum in rag- t.me? I tried it. with my teeth for castanets, while I sat m a wind like a scythe and whittled Surly's grub box into kindlings. Then I made me a lovely fire m the load of coal, and sang Lead Kindly Light to cheer old Surly. When it got too hot, I dropped down and walked behind singing. Oh. Paradisel Oh. Paradisel I greatly long to ^^^ ^"aJ[J" •"'* ^"*"'"« Home attempting rep- '^''\rb'an'dtt'^"=^''*'^°^'''°''«P ^"'t:^dSertot''i'"*^^'"*'"P'''''"-^ 54 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I was begrinning to run short of rhymes when the horses got a whiff, and aU four of them stampeded as though there were no hereafter, while Surly poured forth rhetoric from the midst of that bound- ing conflagration, mitil he managed to capsize the wagon. When I arrived on the scene I found him perched on a boulder still declaiming, so I sat down to take notes of his benediction. "Please," I would •^. "I can't do shorthand— what comes after 'lop- eaied'?" or "Hold dn. McNabl^from 'pigeorn toed son."' and at last. "Say. Affable, what's the time? You've preached a good fifteen minutes so I ve won my dollar bet" Then Surly grinned for the first time on record, so I measured the smile with my pencil and noted It down at five and three-q.uirter inches. At that the teamster laughed until the tears rolled streaks down his dusty face. What with reloading, and too much conversa- Uon. we got to the post an hour late for supper So the teamster told the troop cook that I was a blackguard. Such is the origin of two famous nicknames, for he was known as Chatter McNabb and I as the Blackguard as long as we served iii the force. The affair of the Matrimonial Gazette has grown THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 55 into a regimental myth, but that is due to Rocky Mountain liars, for whose inventions I do not claim credit Historically the matter dates from my first patrol, when a one-horse rancher at The Leavings gave me a copy of the journal. I made haste to advertize. I announced myself as a re- spectable bachelor, considered extremely good-look- ing and very young, with pretty habits, domestic tastes, nice manners, a bewitching smile, a romantic past and enormous expectations. Ladies might correspond with a view to matrimony, and as my address was "Fort French, North West Territories, Canada," they must have felt tiiat distance gave' them safety. Sixty-eight damsels responded, rang- ing from fourteen years of age to eighty, and most of them sent photographs, original or borrowed. Keeping a dozen beauties for my own consumption, I sold the rest by auction or private tre^y at prices varying from ten cents in cash to as many dollars promised. Each mail brought sixty-eight love-letters addressed to J. la Mancha, by his fiancees, and as Cupid's postman I distributed the ladies according to their post-marks. If two dam. sels happened to write from the same town, when a virgin changed her address on going to school or leaving, when our gallants at Fort French swapped. 56 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD •old, traded, or pawned their dames, or parted with their dearest girls to settle a canteen biU— then there was misunderstanding and prospect of a fight. The claimants for a lady's hand would meet be- hind the stables while the rest of us made a ring until the pair found out which gentleman loved best The correspondence was enormous and con- fused. In these annals of true love I can only select one case as bearing upon my story. The little cat in question claimed to be Mrs. Burrows, widow, of Helena, Montana, submitted the photograph of a widowed aunt, and loved Mr. la Mancha with a headlong passion. I traded her, I remember, to the troop cook for an L O. U. on a sucking pig for Christmas. Cook swapped her for a terrier of three sorts to Sergeant-Major Buttocks. He was caught by his wife in the act of mailing his irrevo- cable vows, and finding himself severely repri- manded, made a hasty sale of the Helena widow, trading her for a pair of long boots to one of our' officers. Inspector Sarde. So far the game went merrily with no harm done, but now the sergeant-major had to explain that although he was forever her adoring Jos6 la Mancha, he was about to change his penmanship. THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 57 This he refused to do because his own wife forbade him. so I was sent for by Inspector Sarde. At the troop office I had to concoct a letter. In this I was Samuel Partington, requested by J. la Mancha to advise the widow Burrows that he had injured his right hand while trapping a catamaran, but lyas learning to write with the left, for what odds if the fist was awkward so long as the heart was true. Both the inspector and the sergeant-major were so delighted that I made them a fair copy while both of them sat by without suspicions. In this I explained to the widow how she had been swapped for a sucking pig, a dog and a pair of boots, her latest proprietor being Inspector Sarde. The fair copy was duly posted. Still all went merrily and no harm was done. But none of us liked Sarde. With all his undoubted merits he had a meek and guileful tongue which curried favor, and a smile a deal more friendly than his eyes. An officer who creeps in search of popu- larity is sure to be detested by soldiers, and their opinion is not far astray. One night in the barrack room a debate arose as to whether Inspector Sarde was a gentleman I took his part and bet a dollar I would prove him thoroughbred. Next day I addressed a post-card S8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD to ConstoWe Buckie who wu stiU at Slide-out, and on the back of it wrote the story of a litUe jest I had at Sarde's expense. The card was posted at the orderly room, found by the clerk and shown to Inspector Sarde. I am sorry to say that Sarde wad my post-card, and handed it to the officer com- manding, who refused to look and told him he was a cad. So it proved by testing that poor Sarde was not a gentleman,, and I lost my bet. More- over, from that time onward he was my enemy, a fact observed by every officer and man in C Divi- •ion. This was a boy's feud with a man, the quar- rel of a trooper with an officer, the risks on one side, the power on the other, and I preferred an opea breach without any sneaking, free from de- grading secrecy. Looking back I know I was a fool, but not unmanly. In the good old times there was a law of pro- hibition excluding liquor from the territories lest it should reach the Indians. In an arid country, such a law produces unnatural thirst, and even the most temperate men take a delight in outwitting a fool government. So the law breeds law-break- ws. informers, whisky thieves, drunkards, bad liquor and delirium tremens, promotes the use of drugs and generally plays havoc with public mw- THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 59 ab. Let any man who doubts my statement ask the nearest policeman whose duty it is to know the actual facts, while legislators live in a world of dreams. During a severe winter drought. Inspector Sarde's mother sent him a case of eggs. As iar as one could see it was quite in order that Mrs. Sarde should send twelve dozen eggs to her ab- stemious son in partibus infidelium, where luxuries are scarce. They were packed in salt, shipped C. O. D. by express, forwarded from Fort Benton in the stage sleigh, consigned per I. G. Baker and carried to Sarde'!> quarters by a constable on fa- tigue. That was I. In course of duty, I just bumped the eggs to see if they were "fragile" as advertised on the case, and at once there arose a perfume which no police constable could possibly ignore. Did hens, I won- dered, lay eggs filled with whisky? Or having laid eggs full of meat did the hens blow them, fill them with comfort, and seal them up with wax? Or had they matured on the way? Or was an officer, a justice of thf peace, importing illicit refreshments? Would they be good for Sarde? Was it not my duty to save the officers' mess from making a beast of itself? «6 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I took that case to the barrack room and sub- mitted it to a board of constables, who pronounced each several egg to contain more than two and five- tenths per cent, of alcohol, and resolved to compen- sate the owner for that disgusting state of intoxica- tion to which he was no longer liable. The case was therefore reloaded with a dead cat, and a puppy of last year's vintage, and a twelve horse-power bou- quet on which we laid an epitaph in verse. "Toll for the eggs The eggs which are no more All sunk within the Braves Fast by their destined shore.. We were not in the bottle. No barrel met the shodt. We sprang a fatal leak. We ran on Duty's Rock. These are but cat and puft Not alcoholic eggs. So weigh the vessel up; Stand firm upon your legs : Then boil the tea and pass it round To the Guardians of our Land, "21 "^ your life it's not our fault That whisky's contraband !" Next day at morning stables. Inspector Sarde being orderly officer, put all the duty men under arrest for making chicken talk when told to answer their names. He wid he was surprised. THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 6t Afterward, at breakfast time, he opened his case of refreshments, which stampeded the officers' mess. He really was surprised. Before office, old Wormy, our officer tommand- ing, sent for Mr. Sarde. "My yong frien', how you charge my mans for dronk on catan'puppy, heinr Or you say dronk on veeskeyegg. Whose vceskeyegg? Yours? How you come by dose vees- keyegg? Where you get. heinr Bien, M'sieu L'Inspecteur Veeskey-smogglel Sacre mo'jew Ba'teme. Damn I" So we were all released without trial, but Mr. Sarde would like to see Constable la Mancha at his quarters. I told the orderly sergeant that I was suffering from severe alcoholic depression, but all the same I was paraded up before the bereaved inspector. "My man," said Mr. Sarde, "you know that a commissioned officer can not threaten a constable." I was shocked at the very idea. "But I may promise. La Mancha, to watch over your interests like a guardian angel." I told him he was a tripe hound. "Orderly Sergeant," said the officer, "you will note the words used, and place this man under close arrest," «» THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD So I got a inonth'i impriionmcnt, and they uy h wu moM impreMive in the guard-room to hear my voice in the celli a« I prayed for Sarde. You may not remember, but an American cow- boy won my dreaa suit at ca«U. When he got back to his outfit over in Montwia. he met my brother, and gave him my address. Then Brat wrote to me, telling me how on the day we parted he had struck grub with the Double Crank beef round-up who todc him on as wrangler, at twenty. whUe they worked the Kato-yi-six. This being translated from cow talk into English means that Brat as he wandered afoot down Milk River coulfe, came to a wagon where a co enlisted at Fort French a hundred miles from temp- tation. With Brat in barracks, I felt that my responsi- bilities were overwhelming. There was so little room in number 4 cell for setting a good example, and through the loop-hole in the log wall at the back it would be difficult to train a young man in the paths of virtue. Thrice daily I had him up out- side the loop-hole to see that he cleaned his nails and had no high water mark about his neck, that he committed the standing orders to memory, brushed his teeth, wrote to his mother, threw a smart salute, and minded his manners when addressing a superior officer. He must not play cards except with rookies, or borrow money from chaps who ought to be kept at a distance, or get acquainted with any beastly civilians, or make silly practical jokes, or give cheek THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 65 to a blanked inspector, or correspond with girls. Long years later, he explained to me why he had been content to stand and freeze while I lectured. I was all he had in the way of parents, and my voice reminded him of one which was hushed at the sol- emn gates of Paradise "except of course," he added, "when you used bad language." It was rotten luck for him that I should be in prison just when he needed me. Nobody else could be bothered to teach a mere coyote. Nobody, for example, took the trouble to warn him to have moccasins in his pockets during a sopping thaw out on the Milk River Ridge. The patrol were wet to the waist when they camped, bui by midnight it was thirty degrees below zero, and the frozen boot cut the toes off my brother's right foot, laying him up for two years. Brat's great soft black eyes seemed always to be lighted from within, his smile had a haunting ten- derness. In him I could see my mother, as I re- member her before she left us. m Rain often used to tell me about her hero, her elder brother, Many. Horses, chief of the Crazy 66 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Dog hand in the Piegin tribe of the Blackfeet, aad of his woman, the daughter of the head chief, whose name was Owl-caIIing-"Coming." Many Horses stood six foot two, lithe as a whip, rode like a god, and had the suriy pride of Lucifer. You may see his likeness, both as to form and color, in old bronze portraits of Augustus Qesar. But please take that in profile, because poor Many Horses had a most sinister spirit Apart, however, from that, his was an astounding combination of blessings— youth, health, beauty, grace, dignity, high rank as a warrior, and virtues so exalted that I fo«ffld him painful to contemplate. He was a mix- ture of Bayard, Galahad and the Cid, a knight- errant of stainless honor who had never seen a joke in his life, being void of the slightest vestige of any sense of humor. Among the merry Blackfeet that man was a freak. At the time I lay in the cells, this savage gentle- man discovered my address and came north to kill me. Ideas with him were very rare events, and in this one he took the pride of an inventor. But how could he get inside the fort? A white man had merely to walk in through open gates, but these were closed to Indians. He hoped for the vacancy left by Tail-Feathers of scout-interpreter, but THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD tj found that the place had been filled by old Beef Hardy. A clever man would have seen a dozen ways of getting in, but this hero was stupid as he- roes are in fiction, so he thought that only as pris- oner could he gain admittance. To get himself made prisoner he rode to Stand-off. reined his horse at the door of the police detachment, made sure that the boys were watching him through the win- dows, then fired at their pet dog. So he was brought as a prisoner to Fort French, and lodged in the cell next to mine. Confinement knocks the morals out of any In- dian, so after the first night this poor chap was lonely and frightened. I was bored to tears, and both of us were glad to have a gossip. Thus, before we had heard each other's names or seen each other's faces, we were fast friends, whispering Blackfoot through a knot-hole in the bulkhead. We talked through Saturday afternoon and Sun- day, we gossiped in the sign language when out at work on Monday. By Monday evening, I had given him full directions for finding and killing Boy-drunk-in-the-moming, his sister's lover, his mortal enemy. And so he told me the story of Rain's adventures during the Winter of Death. 68 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD IV When the buffalo hunting failed, Many Horses took his women and diildren up into the val- leys of the World-Spine and there, through the moon of falling leaves, they had meat in plenty. But when cold weather came, he and his woman Owl-calling-"Coming," out hunting far from camp, got snowed up for more than a week. Only after much prayer and sacrifices to Old Man were they able to climb through the soft snow and get a back-load of meat to their home lodge on Cut-Bank Creek. And then they came too late. When Many Horses told me that, I had my eye at the knot-hole to watch the sign talk. He finished with a sort of apologetic squint as though he hated to worry me with trifles. It seems that toward the end of the long waiting, his little son, aged five, had moved to the chief's place, facing the door of the lodge, and there said family prayers with the sacred pipe in his little frozen hands. So his fa- ther found him, and the two younger wives with all the children sat in their places, dead. Owl-calling-"Coming" ran mad, but Many Horses got her down to Two Medicine Lake, hoping for THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 69 htunan company to lure her spirit back. There they found a lodge with Tail-Feathers and his woman Rain, dying of hunger. It was in a dry, cold, dreary way that Many Horses answered my questions concerning his sis- ter Rain. She had married Tail-Feathers because he wished her to. Now she was very poor, her property and that of her man being sold for food in the early days of the famine. Moreover, instead of hunting, Tail-Feathers would tumble down dead and lie doggo, until Rain snared a rabbit and he smelt food. But the big snow had put an end to Rain's poor foraging, and the man lay doggo while the woman prayed. It was then she vowed that if her man got well she would dedicate a temple to the Sun God. Rain's prayers were very strong, for sure enough her brother came with meat, and her man got well. So she sat for days chirping and twittering like a small brown squirrel while she fed her man with soup, and his strength returned. In those days. Owl thawed to weeping, and her spirit came back to her body. When all the meat was finished. Rain's secret helper came in a dream bidding her send the two men, Tail-Feathers, her husband, and Many Horses, 70 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD her brother, to steal ponies from the Stone-hearts, and use them for hunting the white man's buffalo (cattle). The men obeyed and very soon her lodge was red with meat. Now it was time, said Rain, to lay her vow be- fore the chiefs in council, so they brokt^ camp and went down to the agency. There they found the great chiefs begging the agent to have mercy upon their people, for already a fourth part of them were dead, and the rest were dying. But the agent fed their com to his fat chickens, and said he was grieved at the deplorable supersti- tions of the Indians. Then the chiefs starved in council until Rain sent them a pony-load of meat, so that their hearts were warm, and they consented to her plea. If the tribe lived at the full moon, in the moon of falling leaves she should be made a priestess, and dedicate a temple to the Sun. "My prayer is heard," she said, in her great joy. "My man is saved from death, the Sun has given us food, and the animals will be kind to us and pity us. In three suns, the wicked agent will be sent away, and there will be food for all our people." Three days were scarcely past before a big Stone- heart chief arrived at the agency, who gave the com and the agent's chickens to feed the dying THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 71 women crouched beside the gate. The wicked agent was sent away in shame, and a wagon train of the Long Knives (United States cavalry) brought food for all the people. Surely Rain's medicine was very strong! But as it happened, the trader, Bad Mouth, to- gether with his woman, and his daughter, Got-Wet, were staying at the agency, and when they heard that Rain was to be made priestess of the sun, they put a rumor about that she was unclean. She had lived, said Got-Wet, with a white man disguised as an Indian, aye and traveled with him all last sum- mer. The chiefs had chosen a harlot to be their sacred woman. Many there are among us who see appearances only, who live to keep up appearances, even as a coffin does with varnishing and brass-work though that within is something less than man. Tail-Fea- thers had kept up appearances as became a virtuous husband as long as Rain's wealth lasted, and now must make up appearance as an outraged husband, c-iting his woman out of the lodge which was all !hat remained of her dowry. She sat in the snow, her head covered with ashes, hiding her face from women she had fed, who passed by holding their noses. Even Many Horses believed her guilty, but 73 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Owl bought her a little lorli^e lest she should die of cold. For two days the chiefs debated her case in coun- cil and Many Horses, though he believed her guilty, would not allow his fellows to accuse ais sister. At the end, he brought her before them u j'ldgment, she standing woefully frightened, v ji clenched teeth and fists lest her timid feet shculd be tempted to run away. "Woman," said the Wd chief, Medicine Robe, "we know that your mysterious power saved your man from death. We know that your dream fore- told the coming of the Long Knives with food for our dying people. We have heard your claim to be a sacred woman, and we may not deny that right lest we offend the Spirit in the Sun. "Yet by our law, no woman may be priestess un- less her man declares her a wife and mother of clean life. "Your man accuses you of bcioK a harlot He asks that your nose may be cut off as a warning to all the people. Come, I promise full pardon if you Confess your guilt." "Am I a harlot," Rain answered angrily, "be- cause I was sister to a helpless, useless boy? Would ^ THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 73 God have spared my man because a harlot prayed? Would God have sent food to our people but for this mysterious power virhich is in me? Let God be my judge I" The head chief was sorely troubled. "If you are a harlot," he said, "and we make you a priestess to de- file the holy ground, to profane the House of the Sun, your death is nothing to us wL' 1: God stamps out our fires. Once more I offer mercy. You are free to go, so we never again shall see your face." Rain clutched at her breasts with both hands. "And my baby," she cried, "my baby that is to come— shall it be called the White Man's Sin? Do you think I will go away like a guilty woman, and have my baby shamed? I stay, and in the name of God, I demand my right to prove myself clean, a faithful wife, an honorable mother, a sacred woman." "Then we must open the Sun Lodge," answered Medicine Robe, 'not by the Blackfoot, but by the Absaroka rites. Among the Sparrowhawk people the sacred woman comes up from the river bearing a fagot of wood, and a bucket of water. She walks to the Sun Lodge, there to make fire, to boil water, to keep house for the Holy Spirit." II 74 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "I am content," said Rain. "But," said the chief, "her path is lined on either side by all the warriors, and they will see that no woman suspected of foul life shall reach God's house, for if any man knows that she has sinned, he must thrust a spear through her body, and all the men must bathe their weapons in her blood. "Are you content?" "I am content." "In the moon of falling leaves, at the full moon, the Sun Lodge shall be built at Two Medicine Lake, and there you shall walk through the lane of war* riors, to die as a harlot, or to live as a sacred woman." "And I shall live," said Rain. Many Horses, being of crossed vision, confused the issues. He was shocked that his own sister should be accused, indignant with her for being condemned to death, but most of all, enraged against the white man who had caused the scandal. In his poor stupid heart, his honor was the impor- tant thing at stake, and not his sister"? innocence and life. So he came to find me oiat iind kill me, then take the consequences as became a chief. "Your sister," I told him, "has two friends, two THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 7S champions. So one must be murdered and the other hanged. Then Rain will have no friends." He had not thought of that ir.i Our superintendent commanding was painfully short of men, with half his troop out on the plains, while the rest had staff jobs exempting them from duty. At the great ten o'clock parade, the orderly officers, sergeant-major and orderly cor- poral would assemble to hear one rookie answer his name for recruit drill, stable orderly, mess fatigue and odd jobs. So, at the end of a fortnight's rest in the cells I received a hint that an apology to In- spector Sarde would win me back my freedom, to do half the work of the post. I asked leave to ap- pear before Superintendent Fourmet, and when I was paraded at the orderly room, was so jolly glad to see the old chap again that I could not help smil- ing brightly. "Prisonnier," said Wormy, "you withdraw the tripe 'ound ?" "Yes, sir." I cocked up one eye at Sarde. ."You apologize?" Midocarr resoiution tbt cha«t (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I 1.8 ^ /APPLIED ItvMGE Inc B^— ; 16S3 East Wain StrMi S'.S Rocftnlar. N«w York 14609 USA ^= (''6) «2 - 0300 - Phon* SS^ (716) 2Ba - 59B9 - Fax 76 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "I wish I hadn't said it" "Bien! You promise to be'ave?" "For six months, sir; till the moon of falling leaves." "Eh? Vat you means?" "Then I'll put in for a pass, if you please, sir, and blow off steam outside." Bubbles of suppressed joy disturbed the serenity of the court. I always find joy pays. "Return to duty," said Wormy. "About tur-r-n! Mai;-r-r-ch I" said the sergeant- major. But I snatched my forage cap out of his hand, jammed it on and threw a salute. "May I speak, sir?" "You are permit to spik." "Release the Indian, sir, and let me serve his sentence. Please, sir, the poor devil's a friend of mine. He's innocent, and belongs to the South Pie- gans, so what's the good of wasting government grub to feed a United States Indian. If he's free, sir, you won't need a guard." "Stoff a nonsense. You would be prisonnier! How you say no guard ?" "Oh, sir, that's all right. I'll keep the guard- house dean and lock myself in at night." THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD tj Dear Wormy loved a joke. "You say zees In- dians he is ennocent, heinT How you know?" "I talk Blackfoot, sir." "Veil done, my boy I Veil done." "He's in for shooting up a dog. Can't be done, sir. His rifle used to be mine— so I know it shoots round comers, and that dog, sir, is all comers. Why, sir, if you aim at a cow with that old gun you have to fire backward. The Blackfeet are rotten shots, anyway, and this man's a champion misser with a squint. Let him off, sir." "You offer to serve hees sentence?" "Yes. sir." "Can you proof hee's not guilty?" "You have my word of honor, and his squint, sir." "Humph 1 You .tan go to your duty." I cleared out quick lest Wormy should change his mind, and whistled piercing shrills to Rich Mixed across the square. For Many Horses, that day was one of bewilder- ment. From the interpreter he learned that I was the very man he had come to kill, that I had offered to serve his sentence for him, and that he was par- doned. On his release at sundown I met him out- side the gates and gave him a long knife, just bor- I'll r 78 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD rowed from the cook-house. "You came," said I, "to kill me. When does the fun begin ?" For a long time he stood looking down into my eyes, then swung the knife close to my ribs to see if I would flinch. "Frightened?" I asked. He dropped the knife between us in the snow. "If I kill you," he muttered, "and they hang me. Rain will have no friends." I gave him some tobatco and my pipe. Then we sat down in the snow and smoked, while some of the bo>s were jeering at us from the gateway. But we spoke in signs and in Blackfoot, so that they did not understand. The man's very slow mind was working out new ideas. "We are Rain's friends," he said, holding the pipe to the four winds, to sky, and then to earth. "And we believe," I said, "that she is innocent." He made the sign of assent. "You are ready," I asked, ^'to stake your Ufe that Rain is innocent?" "You and I," he answered, "are her brothers." "I was her brother." "Then," he said, clasping my hand, "I give you my name, and call you Many Horses. I take your new name, Charging Buffalo," THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 79 He oflfered me blood brotherhood, the greatest honor that one Indian can pay to another. But I laughed. "Vou," said I, "shall be Charging Buffalo, but I'm too poor to be called Many Horses. My name shall be No-horses-but-wants-to-owe-for-a-mule." He shook his head, bewildered, and made the sign, "No good," flicking his fingers at me. How dull must life be for men who never see a joke. "Go," said I, "tell Rain to keep her courage up, and not to fuss." So I made the moon sign and the zigzag fluttering down of a falling I "■ "1 will be there in the autumn." M« VI Think of your sins. What made you a soldier a-serving the Queen, Ood save the Queen ! C^'J ^.t rr* *^^ '''5" ^''^ t'^'"'^^ °f to-morrow, Ood save the man who remembers his sorrow Ood save the man who must mourn for the past Sundown at last. Here's rest for the past, and here's hope for the morrow. '^ That is what the bugle said, thrilling the clear dusk with torrential music, as I came over from seeing my frozen Brat in hospital. Rkh Mixed I 8o THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I ■ 11 ii danced ahead on three legs sidewise, while his eyes worshiped me. For this day he had seen me at guard mounting, jchosen as cleanest man for com- manding officer's orderly. The bugle thrilled my bones, my heart was lifted up to the angel glories, which followed the sun to his rest, but all the same to me most beautiful of all things visible were the glowing scarlet of my own serge jacket, the poised forage cap, the flash ai\d gleam of my boots, the silver note of my spurs, as I swaggered across the parade ground. For five months, I had been a beauteous example of piety in humble life, and though I was rather stiff from yesterday's patrol of sixty miles, both loveliness and virtue were my portion. Rich Mixed lay on his back to pant with adoration, and my riding whip flicked him ten- derly as I passed. For, in that instant, I thought of Rain. All my hopes, dreams and desire made throne and clouds and rainbows for her court. In thirty days more, I was to die for her, and had no other wish or expectation. Close in the wake of the bugle music came the soft, distant, mournful howl of a wolf. That was Rain's call I Oh, then I knew I had been too good too long. With a sigh for departed virtue, I swung off round THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 8i the stables, dodged behind then- .limbed the ma- nure heap piled against the stock ., and there stood looking out across the plains. From somewhere dose at hand in the dusk, I heard a most seductive little howl. At that, I sent Rich Mixed home, dropped lighUy down the outer side of the rampart, and pounded across the boulder flats tmtil I saw a little heap of something up against the sky-line. "Oo-oo!" said the little heap, and "Oo-oo-ool" I scrambled up the bank of Old Man's River and whispered: "Is that you?" "Oo." Sd I squatted, with ominous cracks at the seams, on one spurred heel, then lighted a cigarette, so she might see my little new mustache. "Well," I puffed, with becoming condescension. "What's up ?" Of course, I adored her, but with a woman it never pays to be monotonous, for if she knows ex- actly what to expect, she loses interest. "Once, in the very-long-ago-time," she crooned, in a sing-song voice, "there used to be a queer per^ son called Boy-drunk-in-the-moming." "Oh, boshl" said I, hating the memory of such a name. "You mean Charging Buffalo." "Um?" With one wicked eye cocked up, she moued at me. And that struck me cold, for she » P 82 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD had never flirted. "I used to like being kissed," and she turned the other cheek. "You little liar," sr.id I, disgusted, "you never once let me kiss you, made me swear I'd go to hell if I touched you. Why, half the time you wouldn't let me into your lodge, so I had to freeze outside. And when it was warm, you slept outside yourself. And when I said I'd let you be my woman, you went and married Tail-Eeathers." "Still," she crooneJ, "I like^ your attempts at kisses, and cuddles, yes, and little wee, tender scratches round my neck." The seductive little rogue I And yet how could a buck policeman in barracks run his own squaw on fifty cents a day — and keep our wolf pack out of her teepee — and not be caught by the authorities? Think of the chaflf, Sarde spying, the fury of the officer commanding, the disgrace to the service I Besides, there was something wrong, something artificial, unreal, unworthy about Rain to-night. It was not to a cheap flirt I had given the worship due to my mother, and to the Queen of Heaven. "Go back to your man," I said sternly, "it's his job to scratch your neck." "I come," she purred, "to be your woman." "I'll see you damned first!" I rose to go. THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 83 Then Rain stood up erect, all pride and joy, hold- ing a baby at her breast, for all the world like the great sacred pictures of Our Lady. "See," she whispered. "My own man, Tail- Feathers, has a baby son. I nurse this ever-so-small Two Bears. I love him, oh, so dearly. Isn't he beautiful I" "The deuce." It wrenched my heart to think what might have been-my child, my happiness. "Growls-like-a-Bear. Says 'Woof I Woof!' be- cause I love my son I" "Oh, I don't care," said I in a jealous rage. "It's nothing to me. Once we were sister and brother, you and I, innocent children playing in camp, and on the trail, playing at being grown up. You never were my woman." Then al' about me in the gloaming, I heard a rip- ple of laughter, and one by one there rose up out of the dusk gaunt Indians, trying not to laugh lest they should seem ill-mannered. One grand old chief lifted his head, palm forward, to the stars, making the peace sign. "My son," he said, "I ask you to shake hands, after the way of your people." "How !" came the greetings all around me. "How, Shermogonish! Greeting, soldier! We all want to' shake hands." '1. ^fei I :M U liii i 84 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "My son," said the head chief, "you are a Stone- heart We believe that your tribe are like ghosts, because you have no hearts, and do not really live. Because you have no heart, our daughter. Rain, is innocent." My memory flashed back to that world I had left behind me ever so many weeks ago, to happy par- ishes in Mayfair and St. James's, where men were simple and unpretentious, frank and kind. So I saluted Medicine Robe as one would address a min- ister of state, expecting a blessing from Mad Wolf as though he were a cardinal, and felt that Flac Tail was a retired general who had led an a.my in battle not so long ago. Then there was Many Horses, my blood brother. I was so glad to see them! "My son," said the head chief, throwing his robe wide open, disclosing the bow in his hand, the arrows at his belt. "I came to kill you. It is well I waited. You will eat in my lodge ?" I said I was hungry enough to eat the lodge. So they escorted me, walking in single file, with feet straight to the front, as softly shod people do, lest they should bruise their toes against the trail edge. When we came to the lodge, the head chief took his seat with his guest and the men on his left. THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 85 his wife and all the women on the r.'tht. We had an Absaroka sausage, full of intere-. and excite- ment as a haggis. Chicago bully beef, and a dish of berries, with graceful acts of tribute to the gods, and the decorous ceremony of the pipe to follow.' Then Medicine Robe, as host, spoke with a tender irony of the white n^en, but said that some were straight even as Rising Wolf, his oldest friend. For Charging Buffalo had given courtesy to Rain, his daughter, and lately delivered Many Horses from prison. Mad Wolf spoke ne::t with grave sweet dignity. saying that his prayers were answered as to Rain. They knew her powerful medicine came of a pure life, and as a sacred woman she would bring good fortune to the people. But Many Horses said, "Let us wait till after the storm before we dry our clothes. Seme of the chiefs are seeking my sister's death, and her own man has sworn to kill her at the Medicine Lodge. I ask my white brother to attend the holy rites of the Sun God, and tell the people he has dons no evi! to our sacred woman." On this, the white brother made his first speech in Blackfoot, with a strong foreign accent, some- what to this effect: "I've been most frightfully ■ t- n 86 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I good for five whole moons, because I'm putting in for a pass in civvies, for the moon of falling leaves on urgent private business; and the Great White Chief, Old Wormy, will have to stretch his heart to the size of a kit-bag before he'll trust me out of sight in the dark. His heart is small this week, because somebody stuffed his parrot till it bust. "Unless he believes I bust his bird, I think he'll be all right. My little brother. Brat, has lent me his cowboy kit. I'd have his horses, too, but Brat lost them at poker to the hospital orderly. Look here. Many Horses, your white brother wants you to come with a spare pony, and show me the way to your circus." "It is good," sighed my blood brother, who dis- liked lending his ponies. "All right," said I, "that sausage has made my heart warm to my Indian fathers," I waved my hand to the women, "and aunts, and things. I'll be on hand at the medicine joint to speak with per- sons who talk bad about Rain, and I've put in five months' pay at revolver practise. "Now look here, you chaps, excuse my country manners, but that's 'First post' sounding in barracks now, so I'll have to run like a rabbit to be in time for roll-call. If I'm late, I'll be disemboweled and THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 8; fined five dollars. So long. Chief. Cheer up, lit- tie girl." I bolted, leaving the Piegan chiefs to preserve their ceremonial gravity, while the women rocked and sobbed with hysterical laughter. vn On the eve of my furlough, "to attend the fu- neral of an aunt at Billings," I was accus-d by the sergeant-major of bursting the esteemer rreen parrot of my commanding officer; and for giving cheek got one month confined to barracks. Also the Brat, in an attempt to win back his horses, played cards with the hospital orderly, and whereby he lost his cowboy kit, a residuary inter- est in Rich Mixed subject to owner's decease, a three-pound pot of greengage jam and my new pri- vate revolver. To crown all, I was warned for mess fatigue, so that when I bolted I would be missed at daybreak. Thus dogged by undeserved misfortune, I as- suaged my grief by playing tards with the hospital orderly. If he won, he was to have two black eyes, an inflamed nose and a complete set of fractures, as shown on a chart in the surgery. Perhaps this 88 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD medicine man preferred not to be greedy, for he lost three horses, a cowboy kit and stock saddle, a .38 seven-chambered blue Merwin and Hulbert re- volver with adjustable three-inch and six-inch bar- rels, a pot of jam, a residuary interest, thirty-two dollars and seventy-five cents in cash, and the cook's I. O. U. on a sucking pig. Much soothed, I addressed a private note to the (commanding officer, in which I told him that I had not spoiled his parrot, but tendered in its place a tame whisky-jack, who could swear in French al- most as well as himself. With regard to breaking barracks and being absent four days without leave, I felt bound to do so on a point of honor, but left Rich Mixed as a pledge of my return to take my punishment. The letter, the whisky-jack and the dog were to be delivered after breakfast, when Wormy was al- ways peaceful. The moment after roll-call, I told the corporal of my barrack room that I had an appointment to smash up the man who had busted old Wormy's parrot. As it transpired, I had already done so, but the corporal seemed pleased, and would not expect me back before he fell asleep. At the sta- bles, I changed into cowboy kit, then took my newly- THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 89 won saddle to the manure heap, where I dropped it outside the stockade, and jumped down myself. Many Horses was waiting with his ponies, and so I saddled one and we rode away, bound for the herd camp. There lived Brat's ponies which I had won from the hospital orderly, but the event of stealing them fell quite flat, since they were now my property. My blood brother's Indian silence got rather on my nerves. We rode breast-deep in a silver mist, while the moon came glowing like a coal above the frosty levels in the East, and swung the stars blind across the awful silence. Once in two hours, we rested and took fresh horses, at times would flounder through some deadly river, or pass a sleeping herd of the range cattle, or clatter down the steeps of hills invisible. Then the slow dawn merged into frosty daylight, while on our right Chief Moun- tain, a snow-draped cube of limestone, captain of the Rockies, glowed in the sun's red glory as he rose. We passed the Medicine Line and entered the United States, quite safe from all pursuit. Toward noon, when a hundred and ten miles had given us a taste for food and sleep, Mount Rising Wolf was high against the sun, edged with an icy silver to where its wall fell sheer into blue- Qj Si ifi ii' h 1 t I it miuiiima I 90 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD gray shadows. Then, while the ridged and fur- rowed plain still seemed to sweep straight on into that shadow, with staggering abruptness a valley opened right before our feet, miles wide, of lake, meadow and timber. We looked down, through scattered Douglas pines, upon a circle of teepees a mile in girth, each tawny lodge of bison hide painted with unnatural history animals, rows of dusty stars, or symbols of lightning, flood, or a protecting spirit. The smoke of feasts went up from within the lodges, the children played about them, gamblers squatted chanting over the stick game, crowds in their gayest best watched some old battle played by warriors, and round the tent-ring crept a gorgeous procession of mounted men, singing some tribal hymn. Midway between tamp and lake, stood a tall post, whence dangled a faggot of sticks, and round it was a circular fence of branches sloping inward as though to form a dome, not quite roofed over. This was the Sun's house, completed after four days of ritual preparation, and now awaiting to-morrow's dedication. Facing its east doorway. Rain kept the long fast, attended by celebrant priests and sa- cred womea Many Horses unloaded his pack pony, and after THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 9, making pmyer set out a scrap of looking-glass and an array of face paint, to put on symbolic colors, with all the gravity of a white nun busy shaving Next he adorned his war-horse, who showed much pnde and joy. Last, he put on his own ceremonial dress-a quilled and beaded buckskin war-shirt, em- broidered moccasins, leggings fringed with scalp locks, a coronal of eagle plumes and a painted robe -each with its proper formula of prayer, as befit- ting the whole armor of righteousness, which we Christians have abandoned since it went out of fashion. I helped him reload the pack horse, and then he passed me riding his war-horse after the manner of the French haut Ecole. No horsemen m the world rival the plain's Indians in grace, or the Blackfeet in strength, beauty and majesty of bearing, and Many Horses, noblest of all the Pie- gan leaders, looked gravely pleased with his mag- nificence. As we rode down the hill, for all my fine cowboy gear, I felt mean and common, consigned to the lower classes. One would have thought this gallant and not myself had come to challenge the nation as Rain's champion. My reception at the chief's lodge was an affair of long and gracious procedure, which I marred by chewLig a dried cow-tongue, and finally spoiled by 92 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD going off to sleep with the meat in my mouth, and rude growls when disturbed. While still I slept, More Bears, the dignified public crier, drummed his tound of the camp with my challenge. "Listen, all people, to the words of Charging Buffalo, adopted s^ n of Medicine Robe, brother of Many Horses. "Who says I slept with Rain ? Who says the sa- cred woman is unclean? Let him meet me in sin- gle combat to the death, or wash his mouth and keep himself free from slander. "Does Tail-Feathers wish to prove his woman a harlot ? Let him come to the meadows at sundown and make his words good, or hold his peace for- ever!" When the sun was nearing the World-Spine, Medicine Robe made me wake up for coffee, dog tired, stiff and famished, feeling the sick reluctance toward life of some client in a dentist's anteroom, or prisoner given a nice breakfast prior to execu- tion. Presently, I was to be taken out and shot by Tail-Feathers, champion rifle-shot of the Blackfoot nation. I wished I were somebody else, anybody anywhere else, yet managed to conjure up a pale ard dismal grin when Many Horses arr^'ed, lead- ing his painted war-horse and bearing his splendid THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 93 war-dress as gifts for his white brother. In return, I gave my cowboy kit and the three ponies, quite sure I would not need them any more. Then I sat cross-legged, forcing myself with sick distaste to eat, while I made lamentable jests to shock my squinting brother. Many Horses had just seen Tail-Feathers in a frightful passion, showing the people how he could shoot at full gallop using his carbine with one hand like a pistol. Kinsmen were rallying to his support, whole clans were painting *hemselves for war, the duel might well be prelude to a battle, and the whole outlook was extremely black. "Don't cheer me up any more," said I, thrusting the food away. My shoulder ached where Tail- Feathers, with a very long shot, had creased my hide only a year ago. The Piegan chiefs drifted in, each leaving his horse at the lodge door, to join the solemn gather- ing a-.d profound misgivings, while I twiddled my small revolver, and showed them the tiny pellets with which I proposed to fight. Flat Tail granted to lend me a roer, a young cannon warranted at five feet to split a grizzly bear. Iron Shirt, the sar- castic, told me I'd best clear out. Medicine Robe proposed that each chief raUy his clan for a display 94 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD of ovc. whelming force, lest there be civil war. Cut I explained that little medidne-irons like my small revolver had all the fierceness of the biggest cannon full of compressed ferocity, the same as with small d<^s. I sent a boy with one of my cartridges as a gift to Tail-Feathers who, seeing its smallness, would not run away. That set the chiefs to laugh- ing, and I went on chaffing until I had them happy. The honor of the outfit ,was in my keeping, the honor of the flag, the honor of my race. I pity cowards who daily undergo such fears as I had then, and suffer the throes of death without gain- ing death's release. Five months of daily practise at the cost for am- munition of nearly all my pay had proved to me the virtue of my little killing gun up to three hundred yards. For small targets it outranged my oppo- nent's carbine. Besides, 1 7:ad filed a cross on the head of each bullet to make it spread like a mush- room, large enough to put a bear out of action. That is against the rules of war, so let the critic judge me who has faced the odds himself, and with his lone gun challenged the champion of a savage tribe in face of all his kinsmen. Nothing had I to say about the range of my weapon, and as to my practise, it was not wise to THE AGE OF KNIGHTHCXJD 95 brag. Only by striking awe into the hearte of the Blackfoot nation could I save the woman they had sworn to sacrifice. Tne chiefs were busy helping me to dress, chant- ing the prayers which go with sacred garments, and with a strange thrill, I felt that these men loved me.. They roused within me the knighthood of my fa- thers, that ancient chivalry which inspired men to fight for the honor of ladies. And now I remembered my spiritual ancestor, the knight of the sorrowful countenance, el Seiior Don Quixote de la Mancha. I laughed with tri- umph as the chiefs fell back when I stood robed and armed. Then I breathed the Ave in prayer to Our Lady, the great Queen of Heaven, whom I served, defending Her woman. Rain. The chiefs formed my mounted escort as we rode through the camp, then past the Medicine Lodge, and that small booth where little Rain sat praying.' The big empty meadow was before us now, and here on our right were all the people massed upon a hiUside, the women and children like great beds of flowers, the men in clusters, mounted, their war- plumes at large upon the breeze. On our left, a solemn grove of trees in autumn gold curved with the blue lake into a haze of purple against the 96 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD mighty cliffs and snow-fields of Mount Rising Wolf poised like a cloud in the windswept blue of heaven. Ahead, the low sun filled the meadow with a dust of light. Then came a sudden impassioned roar of warn- ing from the people, the chiefs behind me stam- peded to either side dear of the line of fire, and out of the gold haze swept a rolling globe of dust. Then there was silence, 'save that the dust globe scattered, revealing the earth-devouring rush of a charging horse. When danger comes at full gallop, there is no time for fear. The brain works at lightning speed, the exalted senses live a.i hour within each flying second. To shoot from the saddle? But would this horse I rode stand fire ! To gallop for position broadside to that glare? Why make myself a tar- get! To dismount, for cover and steady aim be- hind the horse? Most certainly. The turf was quivering. Can't see the man! Only fluttering p! .mes above the dust. Can't see his horse— but only that blur of black. Point the forefinger along the barrel, closing the hand. Onet Tail-Feathers fired also. His bullet whirred quite close. Point, closing the hand-Two! Agiix^Three! THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 97 Down went the Indian's horse with a shattered shoulder, while the man came sailing on a long curve through the air, head down— smashing to earth on the nape of his neck— while the dust rolled away. There he lay black against the glare, head twisted horribly aside, legs twitching— stark now in the rigor of death. I swung to the saddle and pricked gently forward, gun covering my enemy lest he show signs of life. The palms of my hands were sweating, my body all a-tremble, heart jumping, brain reeling, in a great roar of voices. Why were the chiefs yelling as they closed round me? Like a hurricane, the Pie- gan warriors, thousands strong, came charging at me, firing at me, swirling round me with uproar, like tumbling waters— distant waters— the rush of some far-away rapids— or rain at night. When my head cleared, the head chief, in a blaze of pas- sion, was roaring at the mob : "Silence! Fall back I Who fights my son, fights me I "Silence! Silence! Hear me! That liar defamed his woman, fouled his own lodge, slandered the holy servant of the Sun, insulted God— and died! ",You saw him die— not in fair fight, but trying to steal an advantage over my son, who fought with the glare in his eyes. 98 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Are there any more liars here to slander eur sacred woman? One at a time — icome, liars! My son and I and all your chiefs, are ready to do battle. "You, Thtmder-Brooding, will you dare to fight me? You helped raise the slander. Fight, or take your shame back to your lodge, you dog-faced cur. Get home!" The crowd was breaking, sullen, cursing me for a Stone-heart, muttering 'at their chiefs, while the mother and sisters of Tail-Feathers began to wail for their dead, appealing for vengeance. "My son," said the big chief tenderly, "the an- ger of the people turns on you, and my young men are very hard to hold. We chiefs will be your es- cort until we get you safe out of this crowd, and your brother. Many Horses, will ride with you to Fort French." I was not allowed to see the sacred woman. vm There was the Union Jack ablaze up in the sunshine above the gray stockade. The bugler was sounding "Evening stables"; the duty men would assemble, ntmiber off, number by fours, march to the stables, break, and tend the horses. It was THE AGE OP KNIGHTHOOD 99 all exactly as usual, the commonplace of life, the old routine, the dear familiar duty, the knowledge of days to come shaped in the very pattern of '" lys past— even if one dropped in from another world. Attended by Many Horses. I rode in past the guard. Eleven poor devils were on parade in the brown canvas fatigue dress, with brushes and curry combs. The orderly corporal was calling the names, he and the sergeant-major in scarlet undress uniform, the fat Inspector Bultitude in black undress, with a sa- ber. I tumbled off my horse and leaned against him reeling, then braced myself to attention and saluted —the back of my hand touching the great rustling coronal of eagle plumes, as I faced that staring, grinning and convulsed parade. "Come, sir," I reported, "to give myself up." "Drunk I" Bultitude burbled at me. "Bur-r-rl Disgrace! Take that bur-r-r— man to the guard- room, shove him bur-r-r— Cells." "Consider yourself," said the corporal, taking me by the arm. The air ws-i all gray fog, and the corporal's voice was very far away. "Come, chuck a brace! Stand up, man." The ride of two hundred and twenty miles within two days had overtaxed my strength I loo THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD The gray fog went back, against the walls of old Wormy's drawing-room, and /he hospital ser- geant said I was all right He gave me more braiiu^ and I sat up quite welL The superintendent commanding stood with his back to the stove, and Beef, our interpreter, was questioning Many Horses. My Indian brother spoke, at first with a shy dignity, then with warmth, as he told how I had savjcd Rain's life, and lastly with power, as he strung wild flowers of native rhetoric pronouncing a message from his chief. When he forgot his lines, I prompted him in whis- pers. "From snake-tongued agents, land thieves, and Colonel Baker we turn in our despair to the white North. We know that the fires of the north mm — (the northern lights) can never give us warmth, but only portend the storm. Yet we put up our hands to that glow and feel some comfort from men who never lie. The world is very dark for Indian people. To show our hearts toward the mounted police, we send your warrior back as our adopted son, with the name, the dress, the ra:iK of a Blackfoot chief." You know how a horse has a child's brain with a saint's character. My Indian brother was like THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD ,o, that, with intellect enough to run « errand, and m«je.ty of character that made him wem more than humaa He .poke for a conquered and dying peo- ple, who yet were a master race more spiritual than ours. Perhaps, in the life to come, we may be their servants. Wormy shook hands with the envoy and gave back a hearty message to his brother chief, then sent off Many Horses to receive the hospitality of the tort. Tue old man sat down, glaring at me. for we were now alone. "You begin." he said, in his native French patois. by bunung my coal wagon, you make of my fort a matrimonial scandal, you steal Monsieur Sarde'- ^g-box you explode my parrot, you call me Wormy behmd my back, you rogue, you write that impudent letter, and break barracks, you mix with those savages to bring disgrace on the force, you n-n away to kill an American Indian and embroil me m an international row with those infernal states, and then you come back dressed as an Indian chief to turn my troop upside down, looking so damned innocent!" I tried to look like an orthodox police constable >n a scrape. ¥ 't I02 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Please, sir," said I in French, "I gave you my word I'd be good for six months, and I've been too frightfully good. The time was up, sir, on Mon- day." "But my parrot?" "I thrashed the man who did that." "Who?" "Dunno, sir." "I see. You can not betray a comrade. Still, I should like to know. It was so mean." "You'll know, sir. He'll be the first deserter. We're driving him out of the force." "My boys don't hate me, then?" I couldn't answer. He had brought up tears which I had to swallow, for we loved him. Then he tried English. "Tink yourself, boy. Le bon Dieu. He send my wife no child, an' ze pay — not too mcch for buy tings at Hodsonbay Com- pagnie, so? We haf not the life of luxury. Vot haf we but zee troop, an' my leetle 'orses, eh? So you call me Wormy." "English for Fourmet, sir." "Sol" "Men, sir, without nicknames don't ccant. They're not worth counting when there's trouble coming." THE AGE OF KNIGHTHOOD 103 "They call you Blackguard." I grinned. "Then," he flashed round at me. "why you behave lak dam' baby, eh?" And I flashed back, "Were you never young?" The grizzled superintendent blushed with pleas- ure. "I took on," he said, "as constable— Regi- mental Number Six, the Constable Fourmet. But, my boy, I try. So you ? Pooh ! You burn my fort next 1 So you go to headquarters." "Oh, not that, sir!" I pleaded. "Can't you pun- ish me here?" For I thought of Rain. "And I shall miss you." he sighed "Je suis Can- adien. I, too. was le beau ieigneur. So I lak not to loose a gentUhomme from my troop. "Now you caU me old fool, eh? Go ron away— change you your clothes. Vitel An' to-morrow you report at orderly room to take your medicine." So we shook hands, and for once in my wicked life I shed tears of remorse. I had sinned against the discipline of the force, attacking the foundations of the public safety. I had disturbed the serenity of the Blackfoot nation, the most formidable savages on earth, at a time when our weak settlements lay at their mercy. While in the Canadian service, I had killed a sub- 104 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD ject of the United States, and nations have been em- broiled in war by trifles less than that. It was Superintendent Fourmet's duty to expel me from the service, and deport me from the country. Oh, well for me if he had done !;is duty. With Rain my wife, we might have ' /ed in honor, help- ing to save a dying people before it was too late. I am an aristocrat for the same reason that a wolf is a wolf, and hold equality to be an illusion of the uncouth. And as a wolf will mate with wolf. Rain was my natural partner. But we were held apart by an unnatural conven- tion, that horrible fetish respectability, god of the Anglo-Saxons, enemy of Christ, forever forging chains for free and liberal spirits, parting honest lovers, selling virgins in marriage to beasts, and vending dean men to most unholy women. The temple is profaned by all who buy and sell their bodies in wedlock or without, but most of all by the respectable, who bind us with chains most griev- ous to be borne, and where Christ gave us the one commandment — Love, dare to forbid the banns. CHAPTER III THE SWING OF ev:;nts BEFORE I left Fort French on my way to regi- mental headquarters I promised old Wormy to lead a better life. The first duty then was to provide for my Brat in hospital; so I raffled my war-horse, and sold oflf by public auction a dozen damsels to whom I had been postally engaged; then lost the whole of the money at cards with the hospital orderly. So I said good-by to Brat. Parted from all my vices I felt like an empty box, all chiaroscuro and good intentions, yet in the stage sleigh caught by a two days' blizzard it was really too cold to reform. That autumn storm was a hundred and eight miles long from its tail at Fort French to its nose at Fort Calgary with a hundred degrees of cold and the nip of a crocodile. Then at Fort Calgary I had to wait in barracks, for the unfinished Canadian Pacific Railroad ran trains. ip6 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUi»RD weather permitting, or when the driver was sober. Anyway, I had time to lose my sustenance money over a game of poker, and when Rich Mixed and I got (HI board the train we had nothing to reform with except a tin of crackers. We were beastly pinched on the six hundred mile crawl east to Regi- na, the mounted police headquarters. I had rather looked forward to seeing civilization after some eighteen months of the other thing, but the train was jammed with men coming down from the construction camps in the Rockies and most of them had forgotten to take a bath. The floors of the cars were swamped with tobacco juice, the stoves were red, there was no ventilation. The air made my head swim, and Rich Mixed was taken sick. I had been pining for company, but — well, there were some Canadians — fine chaps, pla>ing cards, the stakes in hundreds of dollars. I could only af- ford to look on for half a minute. There were American commercial gents, pale, high-pitched, talking millions and millions of dol- lars. I could not afford to listen. Then there were navvies busy getting drunk, and even their talk never went as low as ten cents. They, too, were above my station. I even heard a man THE SWING OF EVENTS 107 say, "Catch on to all that for fifty cents a day!" I could not teU him my pay was fifty-five cents. That was when I stood up to take off my buffalo coat, and all the people stared at the red tunic Somehow these good folk did not belong to my tribe, but I did not know till then that the red coat shuts off the world like a wall. Only I felt they ditpised me, so I blushed. It was as though a flock of sheep stared with contempt at a collie, and that made me grin. The better half of me is Irish, sharing the same heritage with every British Tommy, every British bluejacket, every British irregular on the far flung frontiers. Even the English feel it, whose hearts are like cold fish, the glamour of the service, the magic, the witchcraft, the religion of this justice- under-arms guarding a fourth part of all mankind from war, keeping the peace of the seal Spain was, England is, and Canada will be, a power snatching fire from Heaven to yield the peace of el Etemo Padre. Santissima Maria— I belonged to that! Oh, but it was more, a great deal n >re. In the frost of the window beside me there was a patch of clear glass, and I could see a cloud race past the moon, above the driving surf of the snow-sea, while io8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD the blizzard battered and thundered, hilf lifting our train from the rails. I wanted to be back where I had been, riding storms. I belonged there, I be- longed to that. If we who serve with the colors under Old Glory or the Union Jack were serving for pay the public enemy could buy us for more pay. Could you bar- gain with us in terms of cash for the austerities of actual service, disease, wdunds, death? "Credo in unum Deum," roared the storm. "Om- nipotentem," roared the storm. "Creatirem Coeli, et terrae," roared the storm. I and the storm were servants of one God. I knew then that never while I lived could I belong to a civilization which meas- ures life in dollars. I was at a castle in Spain tipping the groom of the chambers with one raw oyster in his extended palm, when Rich Mixed woke me up with his cold nose in my hand. The dawn was breaking, the train had pulled up at Moose jaw, and there was a new passenger approaching, al! furs, frost and fuss. The men in the car were stretched or coiled on the seats, like corpses in the wan gray light of morning. The only empty place was the one which belonged to my dog, so he was saying in dog talk. THE SWING OF EVENTS 109 "Ur-rl Gur-r-rl" which means: "Isn't he poi- sonous. Don't let him take my seat. Yur-r-rl" So I took Rich Mixed on my lap and said, "Sit on your tail, my septic friend." Yet this person must needs argue about seats farther on, so the brakeman called him a fool and walked off. It seemed to me, though, that this un- wholesome stranger shied, not at the dog but at me So I told him I was only a policeman, and the dog was most particular as to what he ate. The man sat down. As yet I had no suspicions at aU, but the person must needs explain a lot of stuff about being a pho- tographer and making good money with pictures of mountain sceneries. That set me wondering, for If he came from the Rockies, why should he board the train five hundred miles out on the plains? And if he really was a photographer, he should have the camera tripod, slide box and that well-known professional manner. "Cur-r!" said Rich Mixed. Where had my decent dog met this liar who shied at police? My septic friend was a town scout, so the only town where the dog could have known him would be Winnipeg. Then I jumped the rest of the Tiray to that House of the Red Lamp, the place no THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD where this book began, where Rawhide Kate had shown me a photograph of her husband — thi» very man — a circus artiste with a breast of revolting decorations, and a brace of revolvers — Jonathan Withal, King of Guns. Afterward, I remembered, he murdered Rawhide Kate. The police descrip- tion mentioned a wen on his neck and oddly enough this duck sat in his fur coat with the collar up while he sweated. Besides he k^pt his hands in the side pockets, and by the bulge, it was guns. He had me covered. You know how one thing leads to another. We talked about Rich Mixed. Then I got confidential, telling him all about my dog's half-sister. Biscuits, and he told me exactly how much money he made. So I was envious, sick of the police, proposing to desert, tliat I might take to drink and photography which in his case were such a success. But he ex- plained through his nose how some folks being prejudiced jest nachurally couldn't see the differ- ence between a drinkin' man and a drunkard where- as he could take it or leave it alone: that's what, although there's some as would figger five dollars a day for drinks as coming rather steep, yes, sir, but them's cheap men. As for him he wanted me to know that he was bad, and wild, all hard to curry THE SWING OF EVENTS x 1 1 and full of fleas and could shoot the spots out of the ten of clubs at a mile. He paused, giving me time to admire. Then he mentioned a bottle right here in his va- lise. By that time I had caught a strong Amurrican accent, yes, siree, and owned his talk made me thirsty, although one drink of the real quintessence would put me under the seat dead drunk, because I'd just recovered from hydrophobia. Out came his hands from his pockets which made me real proud to have his confidence, you betcher life. Then the patient turned round to open his valise while I grabbed his collar and wrenched it (iown, locking his elbows behind him until I tied his thumbs together with a string. He wanted to give a display of fireworks, but couldn't reach his guns. So I had to tell him not to say things I was too young to hear. "Jonathan Withal," said I, when we were settled down again. "I arrest you in the Queen's name. You will be charged with the murder of your wife, and I warn you that anything you say will be used in evidence." The episode was sordid, its memory has become unpleasant, and it would not be mentioned here iia THE C31EERFUL BLACKGUARD but for the iuue which altered the course of my life. I had been sent as a bad character for a course of recruit drill and discipline at headquarters, but ar- rived at Regina with a prisoner who was in due course committed to trial for capital felony at Win- nipeg. I was sent as escort to give evidence of ar- rest, and pending the trial and hanging was posted to our detachment at Fort Osborne just outside that city. Afterward I remained on detachment during the early winter. During those few weeks at Winnipeg I had a couple of letters from my Brat who had taken to crutches and felt able-bodied. He told me that there was some rumor of Sarde getting married. The inspector had bought an engagement ring, also a girl's fur cap and coat which had gone by the stage sleigh to Helena where Widow Burrows lived. He had applied for transfer to depot at Regina as being nearer to civilization. My friend Buckie was in from Slide-out Detachment and was going on prisoners' escort to Regina. In response I sent Brat my first poem, in celebra- tion of Sarde's alleged engagement to Widow Bur- row*. THE SWING OF EVENTS 1 13 When the artful Meringue Met the gay Macaroon, And they sighed, and then sang In the light of the moon— 'Twas there! 'TwasthusI 'Twas then 1 met my first, my only love. 'Twas warm ! One day I was on sentry at the gate of Fort Os- borne when a tramp came along the street, a bare- headed, red-haired hobo shivering in remnants of a jersey and broken down sea boots. "I'd been in Roosia once," he told me afterward, "and you made me think of a Roosian grand dook I'd seen reviewing troops— wot chanct 'ad I eot eh?" * ' I remember being very comfy in fur cap, short buffalo coat, long stockings, moccasins, and my belt of burnished brass cartridges in the sunlight shone as a streak of blazing light. I asked the freezing sailor if he wanted to take on in the force. For answer he gulped at me. so I pointed out the way to the recruiting office. "Second door on the left. Good luck to you." A few minutes after the tramp had gone to his fate a municipal policeman arrived, one of the fa- mous Winnipeg giants. He inquired after a red- haired hobo, who was badly wanted for kicking a t : ■ftlB ; 114 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD booking derk of the Canadian Pacific through the office door which happened to be shut. The clerk was being removed to hospital. Yes, I remembered seeing a person with red hair —of course, the very man. Ten minutes ago he had passed going toward Red River in a parachute. The Winnipeg police giants are ponderous of un- derstanding and sensitive to chaff. The guard-house was not in use, and the men on guard lived in the barrack room. So there I was when, after my relief, I lay on my trestle half dressed, doing bed fatigue, my dog asleep beside me. Yes, I was eating dates when Red Saunders, the sailor hobo, came out from the medical ordeal. "Hullol" I called. "What luck?" 'They snapped me up!" cried Red, and at that the corporal of the guard, who was playing c"ds at the table, looked up laughing. '"Ere!" Red seized the corporal by the collar, "come and 'ave yer 'ead punched !" "Two, four, six," said the corporal over his cards, "and a pair, eight" "Carrots!" I shouted. Red forgot his corporal and hastened across to destroy me. "Dates, I mean," said I gently, holding out the bag. "Sit THE SWING OF EVENTS ' 115 here on my bed; Rich Mixed i, only .narling for effect Won't bite. Too full to hold another mouth- fill. Do you knaw. Red. that the genUeman over there is your luperior officer?" "Swine I" "How true. Yet for touching even a chaffy cor- poral the punishment is death." "'E insulted me 1" "Death. Court-martialed and shot at sunrise, then buried in the dogs' churchyard with a dreadful epitaph. After that you'd be punished for kicking that clerk into hospital." " 'E can't 'and me over to the police," Red low- ered at the corporal, " 'cause we're shipmates now I belong." "That's so. We've all got to behave as shipmates, and we mustn't scrag the bosn." "I can take an 'int." quoth Red, who was gulp- ing down the dates, stones and all. "I sai— wot d'ye think the josher said in there? Axed me my catechism, s'elp me, and I 'ad to write the answers. " • 'Ad I served before? Yes. before the mast. " 'Married ? No, thank Gawd. "•Could I read and write?' So I wrote down. 'Hain't I a-doing of it? ii6 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD '"Character from the clergyman of my parish?* Parish, mind you. Mine's the sea, so I writes down, 'Reverend Davy Jones don't give no discharges. " 'Care and management of 'orses?' Well, I said, I'd 'ove some overboard acrost the Western. "Makes me strip bare, buiT 'n buttocks. "And take them oaths. Oaths from me! I axed 'im if I looked like a traitor, or a Dago." "A Dago, like me?" i Red gave me his grubby sti'-ky hand in sudden sympathy, bidding me cheer up. " 'Cause even a Dago ain't so bad as niggars." I mopped my eyes with a handkerchief and begged him not to comfort me too much lest I shed un- manly tears. "Tell me," I went on, "about the man you kicked." "Ruptured, I 'ope. You see I went into the C. P. R. office and ast for a job, and 'e said no English need apply. I'd best go, says 'e, to the Society for the Relief of Destitute Englishmen. So I ast 'im wot 'e was and 'e says, 'Canadian, get-to-'ell-out-of-'ere.' Then I 'ummed Gawd Save the Queen at 'im for maybe fifteen minutes to lure 'im out from behind that 'ere bulkhead. "The girl with the parcels was buying a ticket THE SWING OP r VF^NTS i , 7 iT^u'T" '''" '''°"'" °'' "^ ^'^ "--« and god.fil,edteeth. Sort of, v.. „,.„,,,,,, he twelve o clock tram leaves at noon to-n,orrow. and the fare dont h,„clude no Pultaan bunk nor n,eals nor an extra h engine, and in the event of Indians you wont be scalped, madame, 'cause you're just too beautiful.' And she is, too. ,. "^^^"^hile I just sang the national anthem at >n,, knowing it was bound to work if I kep' on pa- rent, 'e gettin' as red as a lobster with 'is un'oly passions, until at last she says, 'Good-by,' an' drops er parcels Stands like an 'elpless angel, saying ow silly she is. "Yuss. There's me at 'er little feet a-pickin' up the pawcels 'and over 'and, when h'out comes Mr Clerk from 'is sheltered 'utch to say I'm a thief- so I lets out a mule kick and 'e performs the high trajectory-yuss, and busts his bloomin' hypotenuse nght fair across the seat. And I never said nothin' to nobody. Nar! Then just as I'm opening the door for 'er ladyship to pawss out 'e comes along for another, and gets some more of the same in 'is bleedm' gizzard. I gives it to 'im abundant, enough to lawst, but the lidy says, "Ow could yer!' and wants to offer me money. Says I to meself, 'I 'ear ii8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD thee speak of a better land,' so not wanting to in- terfere with them 'ippopotamus police I comes 'ere for sanctimony. "Oh, yuss. She was h'angels h'ever bright and fair by the nime o' Vi'let Burrows. That's 'er tally. Tells the clerk she 'ails from 'Elena, Montana." "Whatl" "Vi'let Burrows, of 'Elena, Montana. 'Ere, what's up?" But Violet Burrows, of Helena, Montana, was the lady I had swapped for a sucking pig to the Cook who traded her for a dog to the sergeant-major who sold her for a pair of boots to the good In- spector Sarde. Then I had written advising her to bring an action against poor Sarde for breach of promise of marriage. According to Brat's last letter. Inspector Sarde was at Fort Qu'Appelle twenty miles north of Troy station, on the Canadian Pacific And here was Violet Burrows on her way to Troy. It would never do. She was much too good for Sarde. She belonged to me. I rushed at the corporal of the guard, and told him to parade me to the officer commanding. "Oh, go and die," said he, still at his cards, "my deal." But I had him firmly by the ear. "Come quick," THE SWING OF EVENTS ? 119 said I, "come on. I've got to.get. transferred— to- morrow's train-* little widow-a grandmother of nrine, and bound for Troy. Oh, by^my sainted aunt's dear speckled socks, come on!" m A mile outside of Winnipeg station, just .at the end of the sidings, the west-bound train slowed down, then stopped to admit three passengers who came in a government sleigh. These boarded the train and marched through the cars in procession: an important dog snuffling at the passengers on an official tour of inspection, a red-haired sailor tramp, so badly wanted by the local police that he had to be shipped outside their jurisdiction, and a black- avised soldier who, to judge by contemporary por- traits, looked rather like the devil. As we three entered the day-car the tramp shouted, "There she isl" r I told him it was rude to point, bade him stow] my luggage and sit down, and then approached the lady, throwing a salute. "Widow Burrows?" I asked. "Miss Burrows," was the prim answer. She was a pretty, tip-tilted blonde, of the best ii- m; I20 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD housemaid type, a dead common young animal, yet quite attractive in a land where women were still rare. In England I used to sample them by doz- ens, taking an educational course in any favors that they had to offer. This one had a pert fur cap, a coat of the same which fitted crushingly over a most pretentious bustle. The skirt seemed hung the wrong way round. From the size, shape and con- dition of the hands, gloves would have been ad- visable. She giggled under inspection. From Sarde's photographs, of course, she knew the uniform of the mounted police and airily sup- posed me to be his messenger; so I told her I was to be escort as far as Troy, then shed my hot furs and asked if I might sit down. For a mere messenger she thought that rather fa- miliar, so I told htr not to bristle because it was not becoming. "Now, don't drop your parcels, my dear." I pointed out Red Saunders in tiie comer. "The kicker you hired yesterday is tamed and eats out of my hand. But have you engaged assas- sins for to-day?" I searched under the seats, and told her that I was timid about being kicked. "Oh, say!" She was all of a flutter. That spe- cies usually got excited when they expected kisses. THE SWING OF EVENTS 121 It was well to keep them expecting, for when they had nothing to hope for interest was apt to flag. "Now don't be formal, young woman. A smile, please. There, how charming the sudden sunshine! And how is your late husband? The one in Hel— in Helena.'" "Sirl" "How stupid of me. Not introduced, eh? Miss Burrows, allow me to present Mr. la Mancha who wrote to you once or twice, you may remember, eh?" "Ohl" "Please do that 'Oh!' again. Lips perfectly en- chanting, Mrs. Burrows. I could arrange my kisses in that vase like roses." Miss Burrows played at indignant heroine mo- lested by a villain. "^~^—l'm n-not Mrs. Burrows. I told you be- fore." "So? You've exorcised the ghost of the late hus- band? May his divorced spirit fry, for all I care. Miss Burrows. Or perhaps you're only a widow at home in Helena." "Now you go away, Mr. la Mancha, or I'll get right mad." IN i I i i IM THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Don't call me mister. Call me Blackguard" "I got no use for you anyways." "You advertised for me." "I didn't! I never 1 You advertised!" "Ah! And you sent me the photograph of an ugly aunt— a scarecrow— instead of your lovely self. iWhy— why?" "Say," she bridled, "if Mr. Sarde sent you to — waii — ^all I kin say is — " "Don't you mean wasf" "I'll tell Mr. Sarde— there!" "Do you know that his father was hanged when his mother stole the ducks?" My arm stole round her waist. "Oh, we'll be noticed! I'll scream! I swear I'll scream!" "We'll both scream. Then we're sure to be noticed." "You're just too horrid. It's not respectable." "I hang in thy sunshine all spread out, like a kipper. Make me what you will." My arm dosed round her waist, and was hardly long enough. "Now you want to let me go right now, or — " "My dear, you've never enjoyed yourself so much in all your life." "I shall call for help!" THE SWING OF EVENTS 123 "Da If I'd only a tuning fork, I'd give you the note— the high Q." "When the brakeman comes, or the conductor, I will, I swear I will I" "Won't the newsboy do? Don't eat me. try a banana." I bought one from the newsboy for fifteen cents, half peeled it and held it to her lips. "I won't touch it," she said, and bit. "I~" "Bite, ruby lips, clutch hard, oh, pearls, and give your tongue a rest, 'cause you can't talk with your mouth full, greedy. To think that all your ances- tors lived on nuts 1 Exit banana up center. And now with its tender inside skin I wipe the powder gently off thy nose." "We'll be seen I" she pleaded. "And envied. Don't I flirt nicely ? Banana skin should be good to swab off rouge, but I think this must be a preparation of pig fat and brick dust, for it won't come off. I use cherry tooth paste, but then. I'm a brunette. And now, my dear, if you'll turn your nose half left. I don't mind kissing you." "I dare you 1" "This way. Um. If I weren't so painfully shy, yes, you may tickle me." "I didn't" 124 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Then you should. Now, when you're finished huflfing like the female puff bird, you'll tickle me. or I'll dance you the length of the car." "Will that do?" "Nicely, thanks. Now left ear." "There's the brakeman, he'll see us I" The brakeman passed, followed by the conductor who examined tickets, but Miss Violet with her nose in the air and my arm 'around her waist, pre- tended total strangers. I began to lose interest. The girl was mine for the asking. Any man in the force could have won her easy favors. She only interested me as Sarde's property. "And so," said I, "you're meeting him at Qu'Appelle." "Mind you own business." "It is my business. Didn't I tell you to sue him for breach of promise?" "There isn't any breach. We're engaged, so there." "So you've got to marry him, eh?" and I led her on to talk about herself, the only topic she had for conversation. Miss Burrows, was, I believe, not fortunate in the selection of her parents, and had been adopted at the age of fourteen by an uncle, Eliphalet P. Bur- THE SWING OF EVENTS wj rows known as Loco, because ' . happened to be cracked. He was caretaker at a bankrupt mine near Helena, absorbed in fooi invention which used up all his wages, and glad to have Miss Violet because she was cheap. A servant would expect to be paid. To those who have eyes, ears and a heart, the wilderness gives a better education than the schools but the girl turned her back on that, sprawling in the parlor with windows draped to shut out all thmgs beautiful. The place was full of shams and plush vulgarities, and there she spent her leisure reading novels. Now fiction honestly made by craftsmen may be true to human life, and at it. best a mirror re- flecting the world. But an average novel depicts a hero perfectly sweet, canned virtue, guaranteed bullet proof; and a heroine who is potted chastity and warranted tender: two figures void of human character, whose respectable passions are thwart- ed for about three hundred pages, saleable at one dollar and thirty-five cents. Then they mar^r, and bve happily ever after. Truth may be stranger than that— but I have doubts. Miss Violet's novels depicted viUians of spotless blackness, the good flawlessly innocent but painfully 136 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD underfed. Vice lived in guilty splendor, wicked earls lunched in their coronets, lurid adventuresses went hurtling to the bad, and nobody had the slight- est sense of humor. She f*d on offal. Old Burrows had a stepson, young Joe Chambers, a cow-hand earning forty dollars a month, a decent fellow, tongue-tied and a lout, but with the makings of a first-rate husband. ,He spent his money on presents, his spare time in devotion, while Miss Vio- let, who had nobody else to fM with, made love to him out of books, had him for dummy to keep her- self in practise, and wrecked his life without the least compunction. She waited for the lover of her dreams, the hero of fiction, and in this condition replied to my mock advertisement in the Matrimonial Ashbin. Some shreds or casual patches of modesty impelled her to send the portrait of a repulsive aunt, and to fit herself out in bogus widowhood. Decent women avoid that sort of correspondence, and our boys of C Troop felt that the girls who made love by post were fair game for any sort of lark. For the sheer repulsiveness of the photograph she sent, this correspondence was a standing joke in the troop until Inspector Sarde was fool enough to take her seriously She sent him a photograph of THE SWING OF EVENTS 137 herself and dropped the pose of widow. I sent her ample warning. Had she shown my letter to her lover, Joe would have ridden across and shot me. Had she shown «t to Uncle Loco, he would have prated and been tiresome. Even her conscience told her she had laid herself open to insult and as a matter of common sense, had better take no risk of something worse But her vanity had been wounded and in a silly rage she must needs get even. She would take my ad- vice and lead Sarde on into a promise of marriage, then If he broke his pledge threaten an action at law. So came Sarde's photograph in uniform, and with qu.te regular features and a viking mustache he seemed her ideal lover, her hero of fiction. He wrote too as lonely men are apt to do. After all he held Her Majesty's Commission in a distin- guished corps, had official rank as a gentleman, was ex-officio justice of the peace, could give her a social position, offered marriage, and was now in earnest. The poor fool thought herself in love. Sarde was not very clever. An Ontario farm a mihtary college, and some forlorn outposts on the frontier had not completed him iif worldly wis- dom. With a lieutenant's pay, to iharry on the 138 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD strength of a pretty photograph gave him distinction in a world of fools. By running into debt, he managed to send an engagement ring, and after- ward that sealskin cap and coat, cut as the fashion was, to fit over a bustle. All that I knew, from my chum Buckie who sent me a letter of gossip from Fort French. Later, Sarde sent the girl a hundred dollars, a month's pay, and got himself transferred to Fort Qu'Appelle within reach of civilization. For her part Miss Violet developed lumbago in the left leg, so that Loco had to engage a Chinese servant. Released from housework, she decided that her mission in life was to help Loco with his invention, for which she must prepare by spending a year at college. Thus Loco was induced to borrow sixty dollars for her fare down Elast — "spoiling the Egyptians" she called that, and Joe raised forty dollars. "All's fair in love," said she. Heart-broken, she left old Loco to his fate, board- ing the train at Helena in floods of tears. "I cried my eyes out." By the time she reached Fargo, she cheered up. "Can't be helped," said she, and took the train for Winnipeg. There, feeling much bet- ter, she bought a ticket for Troy. A stage sleigh thence would take her to Fort Qu'Appelle, and she wired Sarde the date of her arrival. By the time I THE SWING OF EVENTS ,39 met her outside Winnipeg on board the west-bound tram, she had recovered from her late bereavement, it sail ma lifetime." said she. "It's love at long range." said I. "The adoring swme sends you a first-class ticket for Cupid's ex press, saying. 'Co.^ie to my arms, regardless of ex- pense. But. my dear, why Sarde?" "And why not.'" "There's me." "You? You're only an enlisted man. but my *-ynI IS an officer." "Comfort me," I squeezed her, "or I'll scream " My attention wandered to Rich Mixed, to Saun- ders who grinned and winked, to the few passen- gers and the passing landscape. But Miss Burrows to brmg me back to the main thing, herself, produc- ed a grubby hand while she talked palmistry, bid- ding me read her fortune. I told her between yawns that the paws of little cats are much alike, useful for mousing "But I'm a lady." "Ladies and cats are pretty much the same. Both wash themselves all over every day." It was not in that sense Miss Burrows had claim- ed to be a ladv. and with an angry flush she set m to work to put me in my place. ISO THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Oh, say," she asked incisively, "ain't English common soldiers with' red coats called Tommies?" "Toms," I corrected, "not Tommies. Toms. A she puss, whottises cheap scent instead of licking her fur, is apt to get scratched by Toms." "How dare you say I'm no lady?" "You're not, my dear. You're nice- and common, frightfully attractive, pretty enough to turn theohead of any Tom. Why, pussie, dear, if you lived in England, any of our chaps would walk out with you in the park. They'd charge half-a-crown — but, by jove, I'd do it for a bob." "Holy snakes! Me to pay you for — wall, I g^ess that's all you red-coats are fit for anyway. We thrashed the stuffing out of you !" "We're better without the stuffing. Oh, much better. I never pad. Do you?" "We chased you out of Amurrica." "We liked it. We like being noticed. What breaks our hearts is being ignored by a proud pieople." "How about Bunker Hill?" "Ah, yes. How true. But if he'd been a good Amurrican you'd call him Bunker G. Hill, or Bun- ker Zee Hill, eh?" "It was a battle, and you ran like rabbits." THE SWING OF EVENTS 131 "Eh? Did we smeU some beer? At the slight- est wh.ff of beer we outieap the longest rabbit Makes me thirsty to thiric of. Wish I'd been there Pussie. where is Bunker V. Hill? There may be some beer left" "Boston, of course." "Boston. We've got a little town named after It. And Where's Boston?" "You ain't so ignorant aj that. Wall, I reckon It s the capital of New England." "Oh, we've got a place named after New Eng- land, too. Let's see-oh, yes, isn't it run, like ours by the Irish?" "You make me sick." "How charmingly frank you are." "And you," she sniveled, "just"_«,f^_"treat- mg me"-^,y_"as if I wasn't a lady." "That," said I gravely, "I shall never be." "So I'm no account," said Miss Burrows with asperity. "I think you've got just the homeliest face, and the most or'nary manners I ever seen You're no gentleman." "Alas, nol I was found in an ashbin with dead cats. My manners were a disgrace to my native slum. My face is my misfortune. Pity me." "You're a brute I" she sobbed. I 132 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Cry, but take care, my dear, not to sniff. There, you spoil it all by sniffing." "Beast I" "Beauty ! And so we're Beauty and the Beast. She loved him." At that she cheered up, and scratched. "The beast," said she, "was a prince in dis- guise, but you're a — " , "No, my dear. He wasn't a mere prince. He traveled in white goods, a real gent, a swell." "You're laughing at me." "All the time," said L "Oh!" "Because you're angry, my dear, for once in your life you're behaving simply and naturally — rirst lesson in being a lady. You'll get on." "Oh, that's what you think." "American girls are the cleverest in the world at the great business." "Wall now, what's that? I'd love to hear." "Getting on. The principal word in the great American language is the verb to get. I get, you get out, he gets there. We are getting on, you are getting way up, they are busted. Do you use hair oil?" "No, of course not." THE SWING OF EVENTS 133 "Then you may lay your golden head upon my- hold on. I'll spread my handkerchief-so. Now cuddle up for a sleep." She had supper with me at the dining station, and afterward while I smoked, ate candy until she could hold no more, and played with Rich Mixed ' until both were tired. "Sleep is good," I told her, "so two sleeps are better than one. I told the brakeman to wake us up at Troy. Sweet dreams." Sometime in the dead middle of the night, Inspec- tor Sarde boarded the train at Troy, and came swaggering through the cars in search of a girl w,th an aureole of bright hair, a dainty tip-tilted nose and pouting lips, wearing the furs he had sent her, awaiting his first kiss, demure, shy, innocent. He found his promised wife clasped in my arms her head upon my shoulder and both of us fast asleep. He never really loved me, anyway. Being a Canadian he had the national qualities of strength and self-control, and yet was capable of a bhnd white fury in which his eyes would blaze from a livid deathly face. Because he did not lift his voice or use unnecessary words I found him quite impressive. On this occasion a stroke from his whip aroused me so that I started broad awake 134 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD staring up at an officer of the corps. I threw off the girl, stood to attention with wooden gravity and aaluted. As to Miss Burrows, with one blink she sprang into his arms and said, "Oh, Cyril 1" which made him rather comic in his high authority. He licked his dry lips before he could even speak. "Constable," said he, very cold and rigid, like some cold monumental lamp-post entwined by a siren or a mermaid, "what are you doing here?" "Transferred, sir, Winnipeg to Regina." "Get off the train," his words were stinging, his tone had malice. "I'll wire the commissioner that I detained you on my detachment, and in the morn- ing you report at my office for duty." "I understand, sir," for he had me at his mercy. I saluted and turned to obey. Then Sarde faced the woman who had betrayed him. "Come," he said icily, and turned on his heel. "Oh, Cyril 1" "Come," he repeated, over his shoulder, "un- less you prefer to go on with the train; you can go to hell for all I care." "Oh, Cyril, let me explain!" "Are you commg or not?" THE SWING OF EVENTS 135 So he left the train, with the woman trailing after him, makings* scene. I followed. IV Far back in the long ago time an Indian woman lay m her teepee ^ying and wHh her last breath called her lover's name. And many miles away her lover heard. He pufled up his dog-train and stood beside the cariole, and listening to the silence, cried "Who calls?" The French Canadian voyagers would tell that story of the fodian who heard a spirit voice, and answering cried, "Qu'Appelle ?" From that cty was the valley named, and the old Hudson's Bay Fort is still called Qu'Appelle. On the hillside overlooking the fort stood our log shanties of the police detachment, but Inspector Sarde, the officer commanding, and his new wife had quarters at the hotel. I was posted to Sarde's detachment and as all soldiers know, when an officer commanding is down upon any trooper he can easily drive the man to mutiny, desertion or suicide within the first few weeks. Sarde did his very best to that intent, hazed me, nagged at me, goaded me, set traps to catch me 136 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD in some lapse of temper, told me off to impossible duties and used false charges to give me ruthless punishment. My pay was collected in fines, the other fellows had their leave stopped on my account that they might be turned against me, and once I passed a night in the cells with a hundred degrees of frost. Of course I deserved all I got, and made no moan because I had so richly earned Sarde's hatred. He put me on my mettle, forced me to ex- cel in every duty, made me the best man in his com- mand, set me to keep the other chaps in good spirits and make him a good example in the way of man- ners. Of course, our men told nothing to civilians about affairs within our family; but passers-by on the road who saw me undergoing punishment, began to spread the scandal until nobody in the place would speak to Sarde or call upon his wife. Buckie, the dear chap who first had introduced me to the outfit, was recently transferred to this di- vision, and posted to Fort Qu'Appelle. He was my friend in very bitter need, feeding me coffee when I was like to freeze on pack drill, rousing the other fellows until they would perjure themselves to the eyes in my defense, getting me help with my extra THE SWING OF EVENTS 137 work, turning the crowd against Sarde. And then he used to comfort me in private. One Sunday afternoon Sarde was away to Troy, and Buckie helped me at the stable where I had to set the ring for a stove-pipe in the roof of an A tent. For some time we were busy while we measured and cut the canvas. Then, sitting on up-ended buck- ets in the warm dusk, we began the stitching. After a morning talk with Sarde I felt so ill that I asked Buckie if the man intended to kill me. "Sarde," answered Buckie, "says he'll tone you down or kill you, one or the other. You need it a whole lot. Why? Because you'd got to think you were Adam before the creation of Eve. The world is not inhabited entirely by one Blackguard. Sup- pose you think about somebody else for a change." That was straight from the shoulder anyway. Since first I had seen him a rookie of the rookiest, he had become tremendously grown-up into the very stock pattern of buck policeman. "The C Troop crowd," he went on, "think you're the sort of bounder who needs to live in lime-light on salvos of applause." Buckie's respectable soul was in full revolt at my enormities. I tried not to flinch. 138 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "I ain't much on soldiering" — ^he was so nice in the vemacylar I— "but I been taking stock of the men who count, who do things and get the outfit a good name." I thought of Buckie's first advent on the charg- ing steed, and how I halted his trooper, so that the cavalier sped at me through the air, gun still in hand and resolute for dut^. "The real men," said he, "keep their nwuths tight except when they've something to say. That gives 'em time to think; you don't get any. They obey orders, and there's nothing else in life until they've done their job. So they've no time to show off; you have. You'd make a showman, or a clown in a circus, whereas this outfit is something serious." I reminded Buckie of being really serious once when Rain stole his clothes and he paraded around in my painted cow-skin robe tracking a malefactor. "Now, Sarde," he went on, "was only a corporal when he took a prisoner out of Big Bear's camp in face of two thousand guns. He's a man, and he'll be superintendent before he's through. You'll never get your stripes. Why, Blackguard, Sarde wouldn't be a man at all if he allowed you to monkey with his wife." I told Buckie to pet me, or I'd cry. He said he THE SWING OF EVENTS ,39 couldn't because he was using his foot to hold the canvas down. Then, stitching away with sail-needle and palm thimble, he looked up at me with just the expression of some prim old maid. "Did you ever hear tell " he asked, "of old Fort Carlton?" Rather t Fort Carlton stood on the bank of the ice-dad North Saskatchewan, a cluster of framed log houses inside a stockade with bastions on the two rear comers. How well I rememberc-d the pic- turel It was a trading post, strong against bows and arrows, but from the high edge of the plains even a trade musket had range enough to pick men off m the square. All that, I had read as a boy in fine adventure books, longing to ride with the Fr«,ch half-breeds and the Cree Indians running buffaloe.' up there on the plains above the fort I wanted to taste the pemmican made by their squaws of bison beef and berries, to sail with the gay bri- gades which carried that food to other Hudson's Bay posts all down the great Mackenzie. But now the bison herds were swept away, they and the hunters and the brave voyagers. "We're going there," said Buckie. "What, to Fort Carlton?" "Yob bet. That's why Sardf prdpred » stove- I40 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD pipe hole for this tent It's to cover a sleigh for his wife. The sleigh will be rigged as a shack with a stove, kitchen, bed, everything." Now I began to understand why men were being drafted in to Fort Qu'Appelle, the tons of harness and gear we had been overhauling, Sarde's visit to Troy and lots of other happenings. Buckie began to gossip, i "Down at the Hudson's Bay store yesterday a Scotch half-breed from the North was talking of Louis Riel, the man, you know, who got up the Red River Rebellion way back in '71. He is up there now, among the old buffalo runners and voyagers, who used to hunt and man the brigades for the Hudson's Bay Company at Fort Carlton. He is spreading treason among the breeds and the Crees. God has sent him, he says, to raise war against the police, the white men and the pope, to found a re- public of hunters and voyagers, to be the father of all the prairie men. They are to bum Fort Carlton, to kill all the mounted police, to drive the whites from the plains — for then the buffaloes will come back, and their lodges will be red with meat as in the good old times." "So there'll be war?" I asked and my heart was jumping with excitement. THE SWING OF EVENTS 141 "When the grass comes." Buckie threaded his needle neatly as a housewife. "War," said he. "That's why we're going to Carlton, and Sarde won't have much time to spare for hazing you, eh, Blackguard?" Buckie proved right in all that he had told me. Within the week we marched, some sixteen men, mostly green recruits, each driving a one-horse sled known as a jumper, laden with forage, bedding, kit, camp gear, grub and even fire-wood. As on a sea voyage, there was nothing to be had by the wayside, so our jumpers were laden like so many little ships,' as our flotilla drove on the great snows. The mer- cury was frozen, and at the Salt Plains, it was sixty degrees below zero, rough travel for Mrs. Sarde in her sleigh-tent, not comfortable for us. One of our fellows. Crook, had his brain chilled, and in high delirium drove off to chase a star until a iiule chap called Sheppey rounded him up and herded him to camp. We had to leave Crook at the Salt Plain station, and Doc, with his face frozen off. stayed with him by way of nurse. Sarde was quite friendly to me on that trail, and for once I liked him because he played the man, taking his share with us, not with his wife. And I was happy trotting beside my jumper, pulling my 143 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD hone out of snowdrift:, busiest man in the crowd when we set up the tents and cooked, rolled down our beds and slept, broke up our camp and marched. I even made Buckie own up I was not a bounder. Indeed, that five days' journey had been quite perfect if only one might have left the baggage be- hind, and gone without a cold tmcomfortable body, a sled and a weary horse. ,The spirit needs no bag- gage to enter that great White Silence of the snow- field or to visit the night splendors of the star drift. On our last march of sixty miles we drove through the log village of Batoche where Louis Riel was hatching his new rebellion, and some of his hunters lounged sullen in their doorways. There we crossed the South Saskatchewan and all day long were driving through the land between the two branches of that river, so very soon to become the seat of war. It was dusk when we came to the edge of the plains, looking down on the valley of the North Saskatchewan. It was starlight when we reached the foot of the hill, and swung round the stockade to enter the river gate of old Fort Carlton. CHAPTER IV TBE PASSIONS OF WAR 'pWO human lives flow sparkling down child- ± hood's merry rapids, and more sedately across the sadder years, to draw together, then to run apart, until at last they meet midway upon their journey, and as one life go married toward their rest Two rivers tumbling down the Rocky Mountains, sparkling through the foot-hiUs, racing across the plains, draw near together, then flow apart a while before they meet, and marry to form the great Sas- katchewan rolling toward the sea. There is my map, but I was always bad in my geography, and as to history— well, what can you expect of a blackguard ? Just where the two Saskatchewans first draw near, and are but fifty miles or so apart, our base, Fort Carlton, stood on the northern branch, and Batoche, the rebel camp, was on the southern river. Below M3 i« 144 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD these, in the land between the rivers, lay the Prince Albert settlement, and its trading village stood on the northern branch fifty-five miles down-stream from Fort Carlton. So you see, the rebels com- manded the main approach both to the fort and the settlement. They were strong enough to threaten one while they attacked the other. But neither fort nor settlement had strength sufficient to attack the rebels. So much for strategy. Louis Riel commanded at Batoche four hundred buffalo runners, dead shots at full gallop, and per- haps the finest marksmen in the world. He had two hundred Assiniboin warriors, and twenty-two hundred Crees — in all three thousand men. His envoys were at large among the Black feet, and if they rose — good night! Still worse, the Irish Fe- nians in the United States seemed able to control the government, for they were openly preparing, in Riel's interest, their third armed raid upon Canada. Worst of all, we could not arrest the rebel because he happened to be French Canadian, and had the active sympathy of fifteen hundred thousand brave compatriots. Our first motion might give the whole Dominion to the flames of civil war. I don't know whether that paragraph is politics or tactics, but the position was very awkward. THE PASSIONS OF WAR ,45 For eleven years now, with only from three to five hundred riders, the mounted police had held that big wild empire of the plains, so that civilians went entirely unarmed because we kept the peace Now the settlers were threatened with every horror of red Indian warfare, and they had no guns And we were isolated. No help could reach the plains. There was not then, and is not now. any tra.I connecting the plains wi^h Eastern Canada, or with the Pacific coast. On either side of us rolled Ae terrific and unbroken forest, and the Canadian Paafic Railway was still a string of gaps. When Canada raised a field force for our rescue the United States refused a passage for her troops. Neither could England help us, for the Russians were march- ing on India, and war might be declared at any moment. So everything depended on little scattered clus- ters of the police and on our big chief. Sorrel Top commissioner of the outfit, gentle, brave, strong' wise and greatly loved. All through the winter he had been throwing small detachments into Carlton unfl on the first of March, in '85, we numbered a hundred men. Fifty civilians joined us as volun- teers, and all the loyal Scotch half-breeds came to us for refuge. The rest of the Prince Albert set- 146 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I tiers held their village, some of them armed with stidcs. On the twenty-sixth of March, at 2 a. m., a des- patch came in from Sorrel Top to Paddy, our com- mandant at Carlton. At three o'clock the rider was released to catch some supper, and from the mess- room his news went through the fort. Rich Mixed and I were over at stables,, for Anti, my poor horse, had all his pasterns badly stocked from too much work patrolling. So he had some sugar, and we were getting on quite nicely with the treatment when somebody came over from the mess-room. "That you, Buckie?" "Remnants of," he growled. I told him I was on picket again at four. Life was too good just then to waste on sleep. "It's war," said Buckie. War at last I He sat on the bail between two stalls, drooping with weariness, while the lantern light cast shadows on his face, dead white with smoldering eyes. "Turn in," said I, "or you'll be crocked by morn- ing." He told me he was on flying sentry until four, then gave me news. By stripping his far-flung outposts, our big chief, Sorrel Top, had scratched up another hundred men THE PASSIONS OF WAR 147 and was marching from Fort Qu'Appene. Two men were badly frozen, sixty-five were snow-blind, the horses had played out, and some civilian team- sters lagging behind were captured. Then a rebel ambush had been discovered just four miles ahead, so Sorrel Top, with a sixty-mile march, had swung into Prince Albert. There he was resting twenty- four hours to organize the settlers for defense. He would arrive this day, the twenty-sixth, take over our command, and with the combined force crush the re- bellion before it got too strong. But we were not to move until he came. That is a wise delay which makes the road safe. "Who do you think," asked Buckie, "rode in with that despatch?" I supposed he would be some poor B Trooo co- yote. *^ "His name," said Buckie impressively "is Toe Chambers." But that was the name of Mrs. Sarde's old lover the Montana cowboy. Had he joined the force? "Asked for you. Blackguard." "Go, fetch him." By the time I had saddled Anti and bridled him —he was Anti-everything, especiaUy the bit— Btickic came back with Chambers. He was a suH.icious, jealous, dear-eyed sort of beaK without «ny Muidl 148 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD talk. He sized me up, judging my points as though he were asked to buy me, but not one word would he say until Buckie cleared. Then he spoke slowly, tersely, and with weight in all he said, most clean of heart, direct and sterling man. Miss Burrows, he told me, had wrote from Troy in the British possessions, to Loco, her fool uncle. Claimed that she'd met in the cars going west a man which belonged to the police, name of La Mancha. Was that my name? I owned up. Name sounded Dago, but I seemed to be white. Had treated her white, anyways. He thanked me, and I bowed. At Troy this lady got off the cars to nuqry an officer, name of S'irde. Was he any good? "No." She was Sarde's wife, she wrote, and heaps mis- erable. I could have opened Mr. Chambers' eyes. His lady had a smile for one man, "Oh, thank you, how nice I" for another, dropped her gloves for a third — she was great at dropping parcels — made eyes at all the rest. She had three- fourths of our gar rison in'^ state of day-dreams and fond hopes for more, the kind of flirt who ogles niggers so that THE PASSIONS OF WAR 149 they go crazy and have to be burned. I could not teU Chambers all I thought of his lady, who wrote that her heart was broke. Nothing had this real man to say about his own engagement to the woman, of the ranch he had stocked with cattle under her brand, registered in her name, not his own "with the stock association up to Helena." He told me nothing then of the •dobe cabin, the fixings, the pi-anner, all for her, of the months' wages he had given that she might get eddicated down in civilization, or of the callous way she had betrayed him. Only he stiffened, and his voice came near to breaking as he told me of suspicions. This guy she'd married up with must be some swine, and needed shooting a whole lot for making her un- happy. So he'd rode to Troy and found her gone. That meant, I suppose, that he had sacrificed his liv- ing, to ride a thousand miles for a woman who had not even troubled to send a post-card. At Troy he reckoned to find the preacher who had hitched up that team. I had tried also, but only discovered that Miss Burrows went with Mr. Sarde from Fort Qu'Appelle for a sleigh-ride, and came back married. Chambers had tracked the pair to Troy, where he found that the ceremony had been performed by ISO THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Happy Bill, a converted railroad fireman, not in holy orders; not licensed to marry people. He had broken the law to perform a sacrilege. "He ain't no branded preacher," so Chambers put it, "but a maverick which ain't allowed in the herd, and railroad men is worse than sheep herders, anyhow." Sarde had found the woman in my arms, and as she played crooked with Jiim, so he had done with her. There had been no marriage. She was not his wife. "And now," said Chambers, "I done joined the police, to follow this here Sarde. Your general give me a despatch to ride, and I shorely burned this trail to get here quick." He pulled the service- revolver from its holster. "I hain't stuck on this hyre soldier gun," he said, "but I had to hang up my Colt at the Troy hotel — so this will have to do. Where's Sarde?" "I'd like to see Sarde kiUed," said I, "but I'd hate to see you hanged." "Where's Sarde?" "Search me," said I, "he's not my property." "Where's Sarde?" "Find him," said I, and swinging to the saddle, rode away. THE PASSIONS OF WAR IS« At 4 A. M. I relieved the chap on picket just at the brow of the plains where the road curves over southward, toward Batoche. The orders he re- peated showed quite clearly that Paddy expected the rebels to rush the fort at dawn. Orion was setting already, and the stillness be- came more terrible every moment, the live menadng silence. Before I had even time for an alarm shot the rebel scouts might rush me. for if they meant to attack the fort at dawn it was high time they put me out of aption. Stars rose upon my left, they set upon my right, then the earth's edge darkened black against the east, and it looked as if some «ngel with a brush made a faint wash of stars to paint the sky. Up the hill behind me cmie thud of hoofs, and swish of skidding runners, clank of harness, voices. "Gid-upyoul Haw.MoUie!" I sensed a mounted man leading a string of sleighs up the long hill from the fort, but never saw them until they topped the brow curving past me lUmy-gray like ghosts. They were bound, they told me. to get the traders' stores from Duck Lake Post before the rebels came. I heard reveilM sound, its notes faint silver. tin- Si I 152 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD gling the Ane air. The eastward sky was lemon flecked with rose, the snow-field was changing from indigo to lilac, then the red sun shone level through poplar groves, and made their frosted branches cornelian in mist of fire. The sky was cobalt next, and shadows like blue pools filled all the hollows, while the poplar groves were changing to tremulous white diamond. It was time for breakfast, but my relief was late. Then I was drowsy pacing old Anti on a measured beat to keep us both awake. Half sleeping I heard at distant intervals the bugles call- ing "Dress," "Stables," "Grub pUe." The string of teams came rattling homeward now, at a sharp trot, taking the hills on a lope, the team- sters shouting chaff one to another, the men in the sleigh beds with their carbines ready, peering back. The sleighs came past me empty, and somebody shouted, "Rebels! Run, Blackguard I Rebels com- ing!" "Send my relief," I yelled as they went swinging down the curve, the first patrol of the regiment which ever showed its tail t an enemy. For a long time I scanned the rolling plain ahead with all its frozen pools and clumps of aspen. There was no sign of rebels. Then from the fort I heard the bugle crying a new call : "Boot and saddle!" THE PASSIONS OF WAR 153 Not knowing what that was, I rode to the look- out, from whence I could see the square aswarm with men, all falling in like atoms of some crystal until a general parade stood rigid on command. It was but a mile. I could see Paddy making a speech, and heard the thin thread of sound, lost in a riot of cheering. Then there were short sharp barks of command whUe the advance guard formed fours, the little brass seven-pounder swung her little tail, dismounted men piled into all the sleighs sent out again to load at Duck Lake Post, and the rear- guard covered all— out through the water-gate, round the stockade, across the trampled meadow and up the timbered hillside. Two scouts came ramping past me and plowed on into the blinding glare. Next Paddy, attended by his bugler, rode up to the hill crest, and I begged him to let me come. "Fall in," said he, "rear-guard." So I spurred through the drifts to get there lest he should change his mind. The column was in half sections, the last consist- ing of Buckie who fancied himself with the stiff cavalry seat, and the Montana cow-hand who rode easy. I dropped in behind them and called Joe Chambers back. Had he seen Sarde, I asked. 154 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD He had not Sarde was jtut ahead, riding abreaat of the cd- unrn in full view, but Chamber* did not know hit enemy by sight, and Buckie had not told. "You see that officer?" I asked. "Your partner," said the cowboy, "says that's In- spector Brown." "Yes, Bunty Brown," said I. "Your partner called him Jocko," said the cow- boy. "So that's Sarde 1" He whipped out his gun and spurred forward. "Old Bunt was a jockey," I explained, "before he went to the bad and joined the police." Chambers fell back beside me and sheathed his gun. "Seen Mrs. Sarde?" I asked, to change the sub- ject "Sent her a note," said Chambers; "she sent a letter back." He would not tell me what was in that letter. Ten miles we rode through park-land with its little tarns for ducks, its aspen groves and drifted glades where soft snow lay neck-deep beside our trail. Then, as we passed through a narrow belt of bush, word came from man to man, that the scouts were racing in. Beyond the timber our £oluina IHE PASSIONS OP WAR ,55 formed front on the left, extending out at right «i- glei from the road for nearly a hundred yards. The big sleighs plunged through drifu like boats in a storm at sea, forming a rough and broken line of nunpart. Then we dismounted into snow breast- deep, and sent back all the horses into the bush for shelter with one man to each bunch of four, while the rest of us took cover in dusters behind the sleighs, and our officers tramped out a pathway close behind us. The open land ahead was only about a hundred yards across encircled by clumps of bush. On our far right, across the road, a lane deep^rifted, went off to a litUe shack on rising ground. That farm had a field enclosed with a snake fence which filled the angle between lane and road. Out there along the road beside the fence was Paddy, with our interpreter. Joe McKay, a half- breed, a chap we liked. He was interpreting to the skipper while an Indian, wrapped in a dingy white blanket, stood making a long oration. This was the Cree chief, Beardy, who owned the farm op our right He seemed to be talking forever and ever, amen. I felt it was aU some endless, rambling dream, irom which I should wake for breakfast. Beside •m IS6 THE CHEERFXJL BLACKGUARD me on my right was Chambers, and half my mind was listening while he talked. He told me of the ranch he had made for Miss Burrows, the shack he had built for her, the fixings, the omymints. Those made me chuckle, while the other half of my mind wondered resentfully what the joke was about It seemed profane to laugh while in my dream I knew I was badly frightened. Out on the road the Indian suddenly snatched at the interpreter's carbine, but McKay was on the alert, and emptied his revolver into Beardy, who crumpled up, staggered against the fence and lay there twitching. Our leader swung rotmd in the saddle, and "Fire, boys I" he shouted. "Please, sir, you're right in the wayl" cried the seven-pounder gun. "Oh, never mind me I" laughed Paddy. Beardy had held him in talk while the rebels, four times our strength, traveling light on snow-shoes, hidden within the bush, closed in a horseshoe formation with our line between its prongs, almost surrounded at point-blank range for the coming massacre. We faced a blinding snow-glare toward the sun, where trees of branched sprayed diamond sparkled along their roots with jets of ^.ame, and gusts of smoke like pearls rolled in serene air. We fired out a blue THE PASSIONS OF WAR ,57 •moke film, our bullet, whipping the crert. of now- drift into spray, «,d du«t of diamond feU from the fairy woods. So rifles blared and wnoked. so bullets whined at.d wng, but still the dre«n sense told me it was u. ^ mere twittering as of summer birds amid the r i,.> silence of the plains which fiUed the vault of luaw • sun-high with peace. Then my mind dear. ;, 'or a gust of lead was smashing the sleigh-box above nj shattermg and splintering planks into long sliver/ I knew that our force was helplessly bogged down ambushed and being destroyed. After one shot the seven-pounder jammed. Nine gallant civilian vol- unteers were killed attempting to charge the shack upon our right. The enemy at both ends enfiladed our broken line. Then in the bush I saw a man leap, falling Buckie let out a little yelp of bliss, but this was my meat and I claimed it. "And what's the next ar- tide ?" said I. At my side I heard something grunt "Pig!" said I. but Chambers rolled over against me So Budtie and I let our carbines cool off. while we watched Chambers to see what was wrong with him. The red flush faded under the tan. the strong fea- tures became thin, pinched, frozen. His buffalo coat spread broad upon the snow, the sunlight blazed i iS8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD on scarlet serge and glittering buttons, but his face was in gray shadow. "Wake up, old man," said I, stripping his serge apart to give him air. "Where is it, Joe ?" His fingers plucked at my sleeves. He whispered but I could not catch the words. Then the day- white face relaxed, a blue shadow like rising water flooded over it. The lips parted. I took a le*ter out of the dead man's pocket. A bullet whipped fur from my sleeve, one crashed against my carbine so that it stung my fingers, and half a dozen shattered through the sleigh as I turned back to the fighting. Those shadowy figures n:?v- ing through the bush toward our rear must be stopped quickly. Just thai Doctor Miller came mooching along be- hind me, and half a dozen men were begging him to take cover, while in a gentle drawling voice he told us not to fuss. "Fine scrapping, boys, make the most of the en- tertainment. Just been shot in the pocketbook my- self. Bullet hit a pack o' debts but nary one receipt So, this man's promoted, eh?" He knelt down be- side Joe's body. "Beyond my jurisdiction, Black- guard, eh ("' THE PASSIONS OF WAR 159 He gave me the dead man's belt of ammunition, dusted the snow from his knees as he stood up, and went lounging back down the line, giving a new heart, a finer courage to every man he passed. Red Saunders had found his place too warm a comer, so he climbed over Buckie and lay down on the dead man's outspread overcoat, his legs across my own. He said he always 'ated getting wet. "Happy ?" I asked him, for I liked the sailor hobo in those days. "'Ungry. Gimme blood I Did ye see Sarde ? 'E's the only h'orficer lying dahn. Got Gilchrist's car- bine. I kicked 'im-by h'accident, cruel 'ard. too. 'Ad to appollergise." "Aim lower," said I, "point-blank. And lie low; your blazing red hair draws fire." My next shot got my man, at least I think so, al- though Buckie claimed him. "If I'm knocked." said Red, "I 'ereby wills and bequeaths to you. Blackguard, h'all my just debts. Share up them cartridges and don't be a 'og." To cheer up my Brat in hospital at Fort French I had sent him by the last mail out a nice dirge set to our old Spanish tune of Alcala. So I began to sing that while I loaded, pumped and fired : ''ill i6o THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Cany Brat reverently, gently, slow. Pace by the trunnions with patient tread Over the drifts of the rolling snow With arms reversed, for the dead." "Cheerful, eh?" was Red's pungent comment "Little we thought of him while we shared All that was worst in the long campaign. Little he guessed that we really cared: But drums roll now, for the slain. "Spreading the flag o'er his last long sleep. Leading the charger he may not ride ; Though for the living the ways are steep The road for the dead rolls wide. "Bravely he suffer'd, and manly fought. Great with Death's majesty, rides he there. Royal the honors he dearly bought, "The peace which we may not share." "Oh, shut it," Red wailed. I fired once more at a pearl of smoke under the diamond trees, while I heard the death-scream of a horse at the rear, the shouting of orders and then the bugle crying, "Cease firing! Retire!" The rebels were charging. The horses led up to our line were bucking, fighting, breaking loose, fall- ing as the teamsters backed them to the sleighs. THE PASSIONS OF WAR i6i Anti went down dead as I mounted. I saw a team- ster crumple up, the chap whose load of .coal I had burned to make him speak, Chatter McNabb! Then I went mad with hatred of the rebels, I was mad with everything, with everybody, jostling Chat- ter's horses into place, snatching the traces up and hooking on. swearing at Red's bungling attempts to help me. I shouted at Chatter to keep his hair on for I wouldn't let him be scalped. I dragged him, all white with snow out of the drifts, hoisted him to the sleigh, and tumbled him into the sleigh-bed all of a heap. There was Sarde in the sleigh-bed teUing me to make haste, for he had business with the officer commanding, needed swift transport. I hated him for the trick he had played on a woman, I hated him for Joe Chambers' death, I hated him too much to look at him. or speak, but jumped to the driver's seat, and stand- ing on it to get a better purchase, lashed the team to a gallop hoisting them over the drifts in flying snow surf and a hail of lead. And then I heard a yell from the rear, shouts that a wounded man was being left behind. I must go back. But Sarde heard nothing of that, and cared for nothing except his errand to the commanding officer. ■ii» 1- V 1 182 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD In Canadian hands the quivering haft and gleam- ing blade of an ax ring out wild music to its whirl, its bite, its rending and swirl of splinters. "Go it, you cripple !" I yelled. Then from within I heard the quick live clamor of a second ax and a third. The fire, with gathering strength at frightful speed, now roared along the buildings round the square, flames leaping high through crashing roofs to light the jammed confusion of sleighs and rearing horses, while the whole mass were driven scorched against this northern wall. But the call of Sarde's ax had roused the whole of our ax-men to help, hewing a gap through the wall; its tall posts reeled and fell one by one, the breach was widening, at last there was room, and the sleighs began to file past me. I had swooned by that time with the loss of blood, but somebody with a handkerchief and a gun made a rough tourniquet, which stopped the spurting blood until Doctor Miller came. They put me into the last sleigh as it left the abandoned fort. As we slowed down to climb the Prince Albert hill, I looked back at that red splendor which had been Fort Carlton. Across the meadow, on snow that glowed like blood, some one was running, a woman who lugged a bundle and brandished an um- THE PASSIONS OF WAR 183 brdla while her big bustle wagged from side to side. The sleigh was stopped and Mrs. Sarde climbed in. So the long night retreat began, and as we gained the rim of the plains, wr saw the first vedettes of the astounded rebels commence their swoop for plunder on what was left of Carlton. Thus ended the busiest hour in my life, for trouble rains on those already wet. i : ; w At dusk on the eve of Palm Sunday our sleighs drew into Prince Albert. For three days and three nights our people had not slept, but there was stiU no rest because a first-class panic broke out among the settlers at the fort of refuge. The doctor had to find some sort of shelter for the wounded men, and the only place free from slush within the Prince Albert stockade consisted of a stack of up-edged planks. He laid us there, and dressed our wounds while the panic raged all round us with deafening iQlamor of screaming men, sobbing women, children in hysterics, a hammering which they mistook for musketry, and the alarms of the church bell over- head. Ill f. H i84 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD My turn came last, for Sarde had given me only a trifling flesh wound through the upper arm. "Is it hurting?" asked Doctor Miller. It was. "That's heahhy granulation," said he. "Does you good. Serves you right. I'm going to sit with you and have a pipe, or else I'll be asleep in another minute. Got a match ?" His face was long, lean, whimsical, his speech a gentle drawl aching with himior. All of us loved him and the memory of that unhappy gentleman shines down the years just like a ray of light. "And now, my boy," said he, stufiing his clinical thermometer under my tongue, "I'm going to feel your conscience, if you've got one." He had me gagged with that infernal instrument. "Inspector Sarde," said he, "rode with me a-ways on the trail confessing all your sins. You don't seem to get on with my brother officer to any great extent. Wall, sonny, you've both got a tem- perature and you've both got clinical thermometers in your mouths to allay the heat Nothing like a thermometer for a hot patient. The day a soldier marries, seems to me, he hangs up all his weapons, and swaps a little drill for bloody war. You're THE PASSIONS OF WAR i8s in jolly good luck it wasn't you she married. You ought to be sorry for Mr. Sarde, not hit him be- cause he's down." I nodded. "Quite so. But he keeps his temper and every- thing else he gets. You give yourself and all you've got, away. I like a fool, too. But why bring a false charge of cowardice?" I took the thermometer out of my mouth to say I withdrew the charge. He clapped it back again and told me to shut up. "Do you think," he asked, "that it's your solemn duty as a buck policeman to interfere between your superior officer — and the devil ?" I shook my head. "And why wear mocc^si.is when you kick an officer? Need boots." My toes were still hurting. "Mr. Sarde was hurt," said the doctor. "I should feel hurt if you kicked me. That's only • natural. I'd shoot you, too, or operate — which is much the same thing. You see, my dear boy, even the commissioner might object to having his troop- ers kicking his officers, and his officers shooting his troopers when both should be shooting rebels. i86 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD If he finds out, he'll kick Mr. Sarde out of the force, and have you shot for mutiny. Serve you both dam' well right. "I don't mind that at all, but what if these bally civilians get to know too much? Scandals in our outfit— there's the rub. Scandals in our outfit 1 Won't do. The civvies will get too happy. It isn't good for 'em. They oughth't to be encouraged. Just look at them, screeching with fright, as if there were no hereafter. Did you ever see such a howling disgrace to the whites!" "Let's see," he whipped the thermometer out of my mouth, "I guess you've been pinked by a rebel sniper, eh?" "Yes, sir. Shot by a rebel." "And Mr. Sarde is a good officer?" "Hero of Carlton I" "And at Duck Lake fight you misunderstood Mr. Sarde's order to turn back after wounded men, en?" "Yes, sir." "So long as you're left alone you don't bring any charges, and so long as you behave he brings no charges, eh?" "Please tell him, sir, that I thinK he's a disgrace to the force, and I'll get him pitched out if I can. THE PASSIONS OF WAR 187 But it won't be by any dirty trick or by giving the outfit away." "What makes you hate him. lad?" "Instinct. He's poison." "Why?" "Well, sir, compare him with old Sorrel Top, or Paddy, or the great Sam himself, or dear old Wormy, or young Perry, or dammit, even Paper Collar Johnny." "Canadians aU. Mr. Sarde is Canadian, too." "The others are gentlemen. A cad with a com- mission is an outrage. He means well, but he doesn't set me a good example, sir; he's bad for my morals; he makes me peevish. What have I done that this bounder should come to reign over me?" The dear man held up his thermometer as a threat "When the patient," he chuckled, "gets full of re- partee, poor charity takes wings. I'm off to torture a wounded volunteer, and after me comes the par- son. Beware of doctors, Blackguard." He gave me my pet name ! Next day the wounded were moved to Miss Ba- ker's house— to be haunted by an angel. I used to nip out of bed and help her while she threatened f i i88 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD to turn me into the horse corral. To that house came Mrs. Sarde secretly, with a pudding. I like chocolate shapes. She threatened widowhood and overdressed the part. She told me in stage whis- pers how she had crawled and crouched behind the comer of the stockade at Carlton, with creepy gestures in the shuddering gloom, to hear me read- ing the gospel to poor Sarcte. She made me tell her all I had heard, and more, about Happy Bill, the converted railroad stoker, how he wasn't exactly a parson, and his monkey business not precisely a marriage. Oh, she was great as the outraged wife, betrayed but calm, trapped in a bogus mar- riage, but chock-full of respectability, a helpless prey. Fact is, the woman was having the time of her life, reeking adventure like a bom adventuress. She clawed the air, she capsized my pudding, she spouted melodrama drivel about her marriage lines and bloody doom. This way lies madness ! Gimme the dagger I She had a fat part to play in real melo- drama, pleased all to pieces, having paroxysms of rage and grief, with one eye cocked at my shav- ing glass. Then she was washed away iil floods of tears, while I taught her how to do coyote howls, until at last she looked up with a grin as if to say, "How's that, umpire?" THE PASSIONS OF WAR 189 Only he is fortunate with women of whom they take no notice. I was not fortunate. They always noticed me, to my undoing. Of course, they made me pay, at every gate, their toll of kisses on the hell road. Here was the puss complete who, when I called her a shammy little liar, avowed me to be the only man who really understood. Because I denied her I was the only man she ever wanted. She knew that I liked pussies, that no puss could be too fluffy— and let me see her at her fluffiest. She wanted to get rid of Sarde that she might marry me. I told her kittens were all very well to play with, but not much use to keep, because they always degenerated into cats. My ears should select my woman, not my eyes. Oh, she was very fair, and most alluring, catch- mg at my senses, tearing at my heart— a foul temp- tation to my body. And I was twenty-one years young in those days. I took her by the shoulders from behind, kissed her upon the neck— a much less tempting place than the lips I craved for— and bundled her out of the house to sulk in the horse corral while I devoured her pudding. It was after the war was over, some time about September, that the Sardes were transferred again to Fort Qu'Appelle. And there the woman went 190 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD stalking for Happy Bill. She thought herself no end of a scout when she found him. Then she paid five dollars to be told by a real live lawyer in his legal jargon that she was not a married lady. Her next act was to write a declaration of her woes and "pin it to Sarde's bosom with a dagger" — which means, I suppose, that she left a letter for him on the dressing-table before she robbed his cash-box, and streaked off home to uncle. She used to write me most inviting letters. CHAPTER V THE WUMPS 'pHIS job of writing ptazles me. I am like a X merchant selling a pearl necklace : wiU you have my string or my pearls? My threadbare story is that of an obscure man, but illustrates a theme worthy of your attention. That is why I wumble most confusedly. To make each chapter a coherent story, I have copied the great musical composers. They write a series of "movements," or moods of mental con- fusion to form a "symphony" or aU-round muddle So do I. The result should appeal to all men, but there is so much immoral wisdom in every woman that I doubt if one of them will read my book. Now I am coming to a chapter which will not stand symphonic treatment. It is a sort of footling mtermezzo, and the best way to handle it is that of the songs without words. We will have a series of wumps, or songs without music. 191 193 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD The Blackguard' f Wump The Alpuxarras appear to have worried along without me as their marquis. The angels never seemed inclined to pay for my board as their mis- sionary. The devil had not commissioned me as his real-estate agent, or any other business man en- gaged me for useful work! The police outfit was considered a last refuge for the destitute, but even in that I was not offered so much as a lance-cor- poral's chevron. Nobody would ever take me seri- ously. One cf our teamsters who spoke ancient Greek like a native said I was "the dead spit of Pan"; Buckie, to whom the proprieties, deportment and the conventions were all one God, averred me to be sub-human, a faun if only I could learn to behave half decently. I was anything but a gentleman, having, I remember, oiled his hair with birdlime while he slept, so that on waking he could not tear himself from the pillow. As to the other fellow, observing that I was lean, swart, weathered and grotesque, they urged me to pawn my face. Call even a dog by such a name as Blackguard, and you might as well hang him. Even in those days I knew that I did not belong THE WUMPS ,93 to the civilized world at all, and that only half of me was serving in the mounted poI e. That was the half of me which craved for the Burrows woman, and cut her adrift from Sarde without any intention of taking her for myself. Indeed, it wu not that particular minx I cared for, but rather an impulse to chase anything in skirts. Low caste women always hunted me because I was the troop jester, the comedian, quick, vital, joyous, of bril- liant moods, and blood red-hot with life. Nobody knew the other half of me-the immortal part which worshiped the memory of Rain, the sacred woman of the Blackfeet, with a laiiting growing spiritual homage ; the spirit in me which for my mother's honor and Our Lady's glory defende-1 women in the duels with Tail-Feathers and the long feud with Sarde. God made me a patrician pledged to chivalric service, wholly estranged from all ma- terial interest, from the ambitions of civilized men. I was beginning to weary of the noise in camp and barracks, yearning even then at times for the ren:nte hills, the uttermost solitudes. There were moments on lone patrols when I could sense the presence of shy immortal creatures, kin of forgotten gods. I kept silence lest I disturb sweet April water- ing her buds, or May as she tended her flowers. ^'ti IM 194 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD or June, setting immort 1 seeds in holy ground, while the big wind goc > tumbled their clouds through the celestial heights to bring fresh rains for Eden. To me already the days were notes, the months were chords, the years were phrases of one brave melody sung by flying earth as she cleft the deeps of space, a singer in the choir of the spheres whose adoration fills eternity. I knew that I was a very little spirit which must be kept in tune, free from impurities. The Regimental Wump Tliat peace which passeth all understanding g^s up from the pUins forever, filling the wide grass lands and the skies above. Because it passeth un- derstanding it escapes the attention of the police re- tained in its service. The summer cured our crisp grass into gold un- der a dome of azure, and across this floor of heaven groups of profane small creatures rorle in important errands, bursting with an infinitesimal rage, ex- ploding when they met with sudden cracklings of battle, one party following the other to various ambuscades and places of starvation within the shod- ows of the northern forest. Like bees and ants they THE WUMPS 195 •eemed to have dim instincts, working upon some ordered plan of mutual destruction. And I was one of these. We fought, we bickered through long delays, and fought again. A little Canadian army came very late, helped us most gallantly, sowed their dead, •nd went off home in triumph. We rode, we starv- ed, we stamped out the last embers of revolt, hang- ed Riel the dreamer and tidied up the littered set- tlements. We settled back again to our routine of active service as officers of the peace. We saw the Canadian Pacific rails run clear from sea to sea, we heard the Canadian colonies awaken to find theu;- selves a nation, we watched history casur.g her long shadows into the future. We liders of the plains were as God made us, and oftentimes even worse. For a regiment is a thousand times more human than a man in child- hood and in growth, in overstrain of war, and maladies of reaction, in pride of strength and lan- guor of decay. Our regiment was more human than most, tremendously alive, enraged with the late rebellion as a breach of our great discipline of the peace, and frantic at the loss of our leaders, Sorrel Top and Paddy. We had a fit of nerves, with serio-comic mutinies, typhoid and an epidemic 196 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD and desertion. Then came Larry, the new commis- sioner, a mere civilian to reign over us, who ex- pelled our old hands if tliey dared so much as spit sidewise. And we were swamped under a heap of rookies— a sort of dirty animal, void of manners or morals. The regiment was still painfully young, fighting the tyrant Larry, who was 'destined to be our best friend, and even to inherit the dear title of Sorrel Top. His godless rookies grew into the men who finally tamed the plains for settlement, the leaders in the conquest of the North, the officers of superb Canadian regiments in South Africa, with a deal more to be proud of than mere millionaires. The floor of Heaven was of gold in autumn, like unto fine glass in winter, and paved with starry flowtrs in spring. Where our horses trampled there is peace, where we lay down to rest there grows the golden wheat, and where we sowed our dead a nation lives. Buckie's Wump In the fall of '86 our camp was at the breezy edge of the plains overlooking the ford of Battle River. Out on the flat beyond was pestilence-rid- den Battleford, where D Troop was down with ty THE WUMPS 197 phoid, losing a man a day. Our F Troop detach- ment had come from Prince Albert to take over the D Troop patrols. Our men were away close-herd- ing the beaten sullen tribes of the Cree nation, and helping the bumed-out settlers. I was in charge of the two or three men left behind in camp, and we had orders not to go near stricken Battle ford. We sat in camp and watched the funerals. At stmrise and at sunset we rode and led our horses down to the ford for water and those big four-footed babies had us bareback, so there was lots of fun. One morning young Hairy, on leaving the water, walked under the * srry cable, which scrap- ed me off his back into a pool of dust. Then he turned round to grin and while I was reproaching him with my quirt, there came from across the river sounds of lamentation. There was Buckie, oh, yes, Corporal Buckie, if you please, of D Troop, in his Sunday best, while Rich Mixed, wet from the river, leaped all over him spoiling his pretty clothes. With his forage cap poised on three hairs, his glow- ing scarlet and his gleaming boots, Buckie was be- ing absolutely ruined while he denounced my dog. I rode across to the rescue, leading Mrs. Bond, and Buckie made the passage on her broad buttocks. Since goodness knows when, I had not seen my 198 THE CHEERFUU BLACKGUARD chum, so we spent the whole morning together among the wild flowers up on the hill near camp between the torrid sun and a jovial wind. And Buckie brought forth documents — his little official soul did dearly love a docttment — all lettered, and scheduled in a rubber ''and. To wit, viz: — A. Ululations from Brat, at Fort French. Got-Wet was haunting him, and my little brother moaned for me to keep him out of mischief. But I never answered let- ters. B. Copy. Confidential report, obtained, it seems, by art magic, from Inspector Sarde to the commissioner at regimental headquar- ters. He had the honor to submit that the Blackguard was an undesirable character, and needed watching. He had the honor to be, sir, your obedient servant. C. Proceedings of Buckie. Took on as orderly-room clerk to Sam, superintendent commanding D Division, and the greatest man on earth. Showed Sam the above men- tioned confidential report, with further evi- dences of a private enmity. Sam was furi- ous, and pitched Buckie out of the office. THE WUMPS «99 D. Copy of letter from Sam requesting commission to transfer Reg. No. 1107, Const, la Mancha, J. and Reg. No. 128, Const, la .Mancha, Pedrc to D Division. E. Copy of General Order No. 12,578,- 901, transferring Brat and me to Sam's troop from the 21st instant. F. Copy of General Orders transferring Wormy's troop to Battleford, and Sam's own, D Division, to Fort French ! 'I f ki m So Brat and Buckie and I were to serve together under Sam, the greatest of all Canadian soldi ' God." He bolted to his duties. As to Rams, at the risk of a dangerous fall, he lighted a agar. I dismounted to stamp out the flame from his dropped match in the grass, then mounting again set off at a racking trot, which smashed the cigar in his hand and left the remains smoldering on the trail Without breaking pace, I swung down, trampled the sparks and vaulted back to watch Rams having his vital organs torn adrift and pounded to a hagg-s during an hour of vengeance. Never again would he smoke selfishly, or while he lived would drop a lighted match. But would he live? I was angty at losing my dinner, and being sent to Mrs. Sarde's — into temptation. Worse tl.an that, the presence of Rams profaned a landscape ineffably M I I I ;:, 253 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD pure and sacred in its wild beauty. The hot air quivered with perfume under the fir trees of that open forest, the birds rang out ecstatic little songs, canaries flaunted their topaz from tree to tree, and humming-birds, each like an emerald in a mist, hov- ered among the flowers. We Spaniards make an art of living, quick in every fiber to live, to love, to worship, to sin, to suf- fer; but, alas, so maay are religious, monks and nuns mewed up in convents instead of breeding children. These Anglo-Saxons have no time to live, let life itself drop lost out of their grasping hands because they are sires and mothers fending for their homes, begetters of nations, piling wealth on wealth, ruling the sea, taming the wilderness, filling the continents with their endless, meaningless clamor for more and more. This brutal creature I rode with could see timber by the thousand feet per acre, real estate by sections and town sites, minerals by the ton, the horse-power of cataracts, but not the deli- cious valley, the aged hills bowed with their weight of years. My people came to worship, his to de- stroy. It must have been ninety-five degrees in the shade as we dropped down the white bluffs, and splashed across the Columbia just by the outlet of Lake Wind- MR. RAMS aS3 ermere. I took the sandwiches from my wallets, and we had lunch in the saddle, walked our horses through enchanted woodlands where trotting would seem profane. With a wiy smile, my tenderfoot avowed that he must have a squeam after all. It ached,^ he said mournfully. "And yet." he asked, "what's the usual name for it?" "Oh, it's only the thing you get squeamish with," said I. "Among my mother's people they cut the Squaminosa Invertibilis in infancy, just like your doctors cut out the vermiform appendix, and as they do the killing they ought to know." He gulped the bait. "Your mother's people?" he asked, ard offered a cigar, which I declined with thanks. Havana wrappers covered a multitude of wrong 'uns. "My mother's people? Oh. yes," I remembered. "She's from the New Hebrides. Married my father when he was a Methodist missionary. But then he took to preaching against the black-birders, slavers, you know— so the traders ran him out He was fed up with the missions, anyway." Rams was hooked good and hard, so I played him. "If only." I sighed, "he had caught the mission schooner 1" ti r i: 111 II 254 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "What happened?" "You see, it's never safe in canoes along the New Guinea coast. Poor father was caught, and — ^well, I can just remember the smell — cooking, you know." "Horrible I But you escaped?" I couldn't really convince him unless I owned to that. "Yes, mother and I escaped — swam Torres Straits, got to the pearling station on Thursday Island." He swallowed that Uiirty-mile swim, not to men- tion sharks, and said he had heard a lot about Thursday Island. I thought best to skip the island. "After we got home," said I, "we were dread- fully poor. Mother had a perfectly awful time in London, starving. Then she met Madame Tus- saud." "But she was in the French Revolution. It says so in the guide-book." "Yes, the waxwork business went to her son, you remember, and this was the grandson's second wife, I think — a perfect angel, anyway. Mother got a job as charwoman at the waxworks. How I re- member sitting in a comer all alone behind those weird dead figures I They frightened me horribly at first— in the dark, you know, after dosing timc^ MR. RAMS ^SS and mother scrubbing the floor down in the Chamber of Horrors." "Awful place that. Scared me." "In short frocks." I added by way of local color. "I was only five. And then came the trouble— fingers missing from the statues, and ears and things from the sit-down figures. The management found out that mother was a Kanaka, from the New Hebrides. They shoved her in jail." "But, why?" "And mother a Methodist!" I wiped my eyes with my shirt-sleeve, deeply moved, then gulped, and went on bravely. "She'd given up eating such things, but there it was, the suspicion, the doubt- fingers missing, and ears— and the nose of Marie Antionettc— the highest I ever reached. You see. it wasn't mother. It was me. It was hereditary." I choked back a sob. "That's why my name's Lemuncher." Rams became very uneasy. He was broke dead gentle to ride or drive, but shied at cannibals. From the Columbia crossing up Toby Creek to Paradise Flat we climbed about fourteen miles and, scared as I was of night catching us on that dim trail in the mountains, our horses needed rest. We found a Mexican packer camped with his bunch of 256 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD burros, keen for a gossip in Spanish, insisting that we share his venison stew. I slacked cinches and introduced Mr. Rams to "a Kanaka friend from the New Hebrides." "But fancy Kanakas here I What next !" "Yes," I confessed, "a lot of my mother's people settled here to get away from the missionaries. You see, they eat salt, and it spoils their flavor. We'll stop for dinner and try Kanaka cooking." Mr. Rams was at his second helping when a sud- den thought drove all the blood from his clerkly vis- age. "What food is this?" he gasped. "An Indian girl," I told him, "dear little papoose our friend shot yesterday." Rams broke for the woods. The Mexican warned me to make the Throne Mine by daylight, but when I led the mare to my poor tenderfoot he seemed in a state of collapse. And yet I tapped the manhood which underlies the English character, for ill as he was, and believing me to be a thrice confessed cannibal, insane and armed, he faced me like a hero. "Qear out I" he shouted, pointing me down the trail. "I'll walk to the Throne. Gear out I" "I'm to deliver you," said I, "in good repair, and take a receipt for you." MR. RAMS 257 His sparring attitude was in quite exceMent form, but I told him to lower the right fist just an inch,' and wade right in for blood. The blow on my solar plexus made me reel, but of course I sttod to attention. He had to be deliver- ed in good repair, not damaged, at the Throne. His second made my nose bleed. "Defend yourself," he howled, and poured in all he had until his breath was gone. "When you're done being peevish," said I, "we'll hit the trail." "I don't understand," answered my tenderfoot. "rhat's the trouble," said I, while I stanched my now. "You don't understand. You mount on the off-side, drop matches to set the country all ablaze, foul the stream where my horse drinks, believe all that you're told, and don't know venisoii from human flesh. So you have tantrums like a teething baby." "Then you're not — a — " "Cannibal? No. But you're a silly ass." "Perhaps you're right," said Rams, as I hoisted him into the saddle. Dense forest filled Paradise Canon and from its head a switch-back trail climbed up the flank of a gigantic ridge. Along its spine we climbed for many 258 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD a weary mile until even the fflidsummer length bf the day began to fail us md twilight was closing in. Ranu talked with a slight twitching of his large, seductively uglv ep,rs — ^the kind one longs to stroke — and a faint snufHe of the nose, pinched red by wearing glasses, which loIS01UTI0N TBT CHAIT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHAKT No. 2) 13.2 tti IK 2.2 2.0 I 1.8 ^1^1^ /APPLIED IIVHGE Inc 1653 East Main Strtat Rochester. Nsw York 14609 05A (716) 482 -0300 -Phone (716) 268-5989 -Fox 264 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD sufficiently I have supped. Take these away. Re- move these, ray dear." With a clatter of Mexican spurs on the floor, I rolled in from the kitchen for my supper. "Ah, Constable," said Loco, "I had — at leas-t, I guess my niece reserved some supper for you in the kitchen." "I only looked in. Burrows," said I, "to tell Rams here to water and feed the horses. I'm spending the night with friends." "Ah, at the 'Tough Nut,' " Loco beamed with re- lief. "Most welcome there, I'm sure." His bald head, as he sat there, was quite irresisti- ble, so I applied a spoonful of mustard and a sprink- ling of pepper to the shiny surface. Then, leaving the three freaks to their entertainment, I went out to the stable. In a sudden passion of blind rage. Miss Violet was calling her uncle a damned fool. So having gone into temptation and not been tempted — ^which really was disappointing — I found I was not engaged to marry Miss Burrows. That was all right. I watered and fed Black Prince and Gentle Annie. Then gathering both blankets, my doak and hardtack for my supper, I turned my back on Freak House, and put but for solitude. THE SACRIFICE 26s Rams and Miss Violet searched for me long and loud, but I wanted to be alone. Only a few paces beyond the cabins. I came to an edge of space. Thousands of feet beneath lay an abyss of clouds. Near by on the left the Throne Glacier made its broken leap, a cataract of ice, while on my right the clouded gorge of Horsethief Creek, with murmur of distant waters, curved away toward the Columbia Valley. There I could see the faint lights of our camp, and as I watched, a thread of music, delicate as some blown thread of cobweb, bade me "Come home! Come home!" It was last post. It seemed so far away, that life, that service, up here among the snowdrifts and the rocks of frosty silver, which jnit the swinging and eternal star- field. Here was a sanctuary for driven souls, where no pursuing evil dared to come near me. This glacier was surely the throne of our Eternal Father attended by mists of spirits, hosts of stars and presence invisible who, with a sighing, wind-like breath, prayed for His coming to judge, to save, to pardon. I ate my hardtack with a curious sense that this bread was sacramental, lay wrapped in my cloak, awake in perfect rest, and at the dawn knelt watch- tf ftj 1 a66 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD ing for the sun, until the Rocky Mountains were molten at the edges with his blinding splendor. II Before the freaks were astir, I mounted Blar!; Prince, told Gentle Annie to come along or starve, and set out riding in company with health, the god who lives outdoors. ' No wholesome lad of two- and-twenty. well armed and mounted, in the glamour of the daybreak, is ever so unhappy as he claims; but still the toys at the "Tough Nut" hailing me for breakfast, relieved a gnawing anxiety below my belts. A bird in the hand is better than a bull flying. And after breakfast, they would not let me go, which pleased me. I had a day to spare. I learned also that frontiersmen of many tribes and trades are all one brotherhood— of fools. "Of course," as Long Shorty told me after break- fast, "poor Loco doesn't count. He doesn't belong to our ancient Order of Fools, who follow the tracks of wandering St. Paul. Bobbie, it's your wash-up, so get a move on. Bobbie and I take turns at muddling things." The prospector coiled his legs on the door-step, and lighted his corn-cob pipe. "We look down," said THE SACRIFICE 267 he on those old Spanish miners with their diricy addera. buckets instead of pumps, and mule Aras- t«. That's the way Loco jeers at our fissure veins. He has a pair of rotary fans, which get up a cyclone between them, and the dust in that cyclone W.11 tear a steel crowbar to pieces, yes. to dust of steel. Rock shatters to dust before it has time to drop through. "Put money in that idea, and get at a tangt . n.om:tains like the Sierra Nevada, which runs a dol- lar a ton in gold. It costs us two -.rs to mine and mill, but Loco can do it for nin. , cents. He can transmute the Sierra Nevada into gold-^d we prospectors are down and out along with the buf- faloes and the Indians. We're out of date, says Loco." "Then he's a genius?" "He's a fool. His fans get cut to powder. When I worked for him last winter. I offered— for a half interest— to make him fans which wouldn't get cut to pieces. I would have cased the fans in bott which means black diamonds, and made the fool a multi-bilHonaire. Instead of that, he sacked me Pity. that. I'd have been halfH>wner of a comer in gold." "What Vfpuld yo^ dp?" m li if i 268 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Buy mother an orchard down home in Nova Scotia. Open up the plains for a nation— you see, I'm Canadian. Buy a fleet, and station it on the coast of China to meet the Yellow Peril — you see, I'm British, too. I'd buy me a horse like that Black Prince of yours, and"— he glanced ruefully at his long boots, which were dropping to pieces — "yes, and a new pair lof boots— that is, if the cash held out." We looked on trailing mist wreaths, combed by the torch-like pines at timber line. "The weather's going to change," said Long Shorty, then scrambled to his feet, for a man of six-foot five must have room when he wants to yawn. "Come," said he, "help me to point some drills." That man made me thoughtful. No climb is too high for an ass with a load of gold — Rams, for example. And here he was at the top, ready to my hand, so tame I could stroke his long seductive ears. Now an ass-load of gold was merely wasted on Loco, and yet it might be useful to Long Shorty and Bobbie Broach. They had gone to work in their turuiel, and left me at the forge to sharpen drills. Qose by among the spired pines was their log cabin, with its mud chimney, while an extension THE SAf ^IFICE 269 oftheroofniadeapor i„ front. Beyond that a cutfng in the hillside gave entry to the tu n ' Whose waste reck „,ade a terrace heaped with 1 very ore a-gh'tter in the sunshine. The place w s 1 - bea„t.f„,. so dignified, so aching pL T I -en were ,n rag., and Kving on half rations, yet Bobb.e Broach had been bom in a .uddle and stay- ed there, a woman had muddled Shorty's life for h.m, but both of them lived straight in a confusing world. I wanted to be their friend. Rams, of his own accord, came out for a walk expectmg as rich men will to patronize the poor' and put them through their paces. He thought I had gone back to camp, did not expect to see Me. Come here " salfl T "t «*>. ^- Let s see your mouth." My good fellow— er— why?" "Teeth still all right, eh? Or did Loco steal tnem ? He grinned, and murmured that he knew his business. I said I knew more about mining than a Fribure expert. * He told me huffily that he had graduated at Fri- owg, the greatest mining school. E'E ! 270 THE CHEERFU', BLACKGUARD I pointed to the tunnel. "Isn't that the best min- ing school ?" He scoffed at ignorant prospectors, then sat down on a log in the forge, with me beside him. "They'll ask you to dinner presently," said \. "Don't be unkind to them. Pretend to be genial— but make them keep their distance. Mention your rich rela- tions. Trot out the dear Duchess of Clapham Junc- tion. They'll be frightfully impressed. At dinner, tell them how much better food you've been used to, and ask them how much there's to pay. We of the lower classes love being patronized. So good for us." "You think I'm sudi an infernal cad?" "Why, Rams, you've been wondering if you ought to tip me." He flushed at that A chipmunk, proud of his gaily striped fur coat, was showing off on the anvil "Cheep?" said he disdainfully. "Cheep," said I, to pass the time of day. "Cheep!" Polite, but hurried, he found just time to curl his dainty tail up his furry back to please me. "Cheep! Cheep!" said I, and he scampered up my boot-leg expecting lunch. ^•HoVs the nut t»ii5i»«s8, ch, Cheep?" THE SACRIFICE 371 "Oh. if that's all I" He Kampered back to the aii- vil, then turned and swore at me. The distant clang of a hammer now noticeably ceased, and Broach, a muddy little man with a putty face, came out from the tunnel, crossed to the shack and went in. Presently there was dinner smoke at the chimney, while from the tunnel came fainter sounds of tapping, then thumping, then silence, and Shorty came running out. A volley of stones came flying after him, the hillside quivered, and smoke poured from the tunnel. Rams had picked up a thick, short yellow stick like barley sugar with the feel of wax. "Give that to me," said I in a sharp whisper. But he was sulky. "Put that down," said I, "it's dynamite 1" I grabbed too late. Rams had thrown the stick at my chipmunk, and it whirled, spinning over and over until it struck the anvil. A red flower seemed to bud there, which grew to a giant blossom, filling the world. iii A pain in my right thigh pulled me awake, to find myself on a bunk inside the shack. Shorty was cooking by stove-light, while wisps of red smoke toiled round hb lanky frame, and rain thrashed the 27a THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD roof. The wind leaped at the cabin, roaring like a beast. "Rams killed?" I ask. "We set a broken arm," he said, "and packed him to the Throne. How do you feel?" "Dunno. Surprised, I think. Where's Broach?" "Taken your horses down to your camp. He'll bring up grub, and a doctor. Here's some coffee." I found that my thigh was snapped, a simple frac- ture which my friends had set and splinted without disturbing me. My skull was bruised, too, and I did not feel really well when Shcty lifted me up to pve me coffee. Then he sat on the edge of the bunk with his own tin cup. "I guess," he said, "that tenderfoot was careless." "Threw dynamite at a chipmunk." "There's a hole," said Shorty, "where we had our forge." "How much will that cost Rams?" "Don't know yet. It's our first capitalist, so it's lucky it wasn't put out of business, eh? That arm should tie it down six weeks, while we sell it wild- cats. We've got a dandy bunch of wild-cat claiws, and they might cost a Friburg expert—" "He's that." THE SACRIFICE 273 "Say fifty thousand do" ,rs. Thanks, old man We're grateful." Ill My bloou came by inheritance, my vices by con- tagion. My blood was wholesome, healing me rapid- ly from the start, and as to contagion of vice, or any kmd of foulness, there really was no room in that little shack. I do believe most heartily that unhappy people infect their homes with selfishness, nagging, peevishness, rancor, melancholia, murder, which like the microbes of disease, are living evils, the devils which our Lord Christ found such sport in hunting. But where Shorty and Broach kept house there was only room for fairies, and they swarmed. I k-now, because fairies are so exactly like children in the way they love noise and mess. Think how delighted they are in hiding things which humans leave lying about! Th.se prospectors, for instance, had mislaid everything they had not reaiiy losf But if fairies are merely untidy, squirrels are dis- solute. A pair of them lived in the roof, who kept a squirrel maid to help them scatter flour, nuts and cinders. She had lost an eye, and nevr threw any- thing straight. 274 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Besides these people, I had visitors, beginning with Sergeant Gathercole, an ex-vet., a nice chap, and a temperate man when sober. He had a charm- ing habit, I remember, during meal times of combing out his tawny mustache with his fork. Gathercole came with a pack-horse load of government grub, a proper splint and bandages which made me com- fortable, and any amount of advice, messages, even presents from fellows I disliked. The troop, he told me, was leaving for Wild Horse Creek, but Black Prince was to stay with our Windermere detach- ment, and I could send down for him when I was fit for duty. For the first fortnight, I had only occasional news of the three freaks up at the Throne. They lived in the douda, believing that they held the mighty secret by which whole mountain ranges could be milled for gold. They dreamed of wealth beyond imagination, and carried themselves like demigods— at first. , Then at our shack there arrived, with pomp and circumstances. Doctor Eliphalet Burrows impress- ively arrayed in a silk hat, frock suit and nice brown shoes. Some one had told him long ago that his voice was resonant, so he did cultivate the same, pro- ducing it like a bull frog from his thin hind legs. Ac- cording to his niece, Mrs. Sarde, he had a most THE SACRIFICE 375 charming wniJe, ,nd this. too. he used at random. Indeed, he was so mellow and rotund, so large and resonant, that one might safely compare him with a drum— played by Mistress Violet. He comrasted my trivial injuries with the grave .condition of his esteemed friend Rams, who had sus- Umed an oblique fracture of the humerus, whereas I had only a mere broken thigh-bone. The rich man's finer nature, so delicately strung, made h.m most exquisitely susceptible to pain. Next, Loco proceeded to find hi elf in a most embarrassin8--ahem-situation. being suah that notwithstanding the expressed wish of his de-h niece, I would not permit him to discuss that unf. , tunate comretemps which had attended my visit xo his humble— ahem— abode. I told him that mustard made the hair grow. Charmed as he had been to receive as his honored guest the distinguished English mining engineer his deah friend Rams, a six weeks' visit was more than he deserved. The fact was that, to be perfecUy frank, provisions were running-ahem-and he re- garded with concern an impending inconvenience to his Illustrious guest. Now he was given to m,der- stand that the authorities had placed at my disposal a pack-horse load of-ahem-ahem- To be pre- 276 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD cise, did I think that, under the peculiar — ^ahem— which had arisen through my misunderstanding the — er — nature and uses of dynamite, I should be — ahem— disposed, et cetera ? I told him I'd see him damned first, and he said he would pray for me on his way home. It is the nature of women to disdain those who love them, and to love those who abhor them. I loved all women, so Mistress Violet, knowing she ovirned me anyway, could not be bothered to call until I had been about a month in bed. The good hope of catching Rams was better than the poor pos- session of her Blackguard, so when she came at last it was on business, without the least pretense to senti- ment. I had pretty well cured her of trying that on me. "I just got," she explained, "to marry Rams, and that's all there is about it. I've come to sit with you all the time now to make him jealous." "I understand," said I, "the watched pot never boils." "I got him bubbling once or twice," she giggled. At an elevation of eight thousand feet, water will boil without being hot enough to cook an egg. So on this moimtain top. Rams' bubbling point was a long way short of a grand passion. "Worms ain't THE SACRIFICE ^„ more slippery." said Mistress Violet. "After all we done, too." Loco's festal apparel and brown shoes, her own frocks-of the kind which shriek to heaven, and a heap of household linen, had aU been bought on cred,t to astonish Ran,s. "As to provision^«y, Sassl Jells! Egg-powders! Apple-butter! Tomay- to.s! Pait-defore-grassI We ran our face for the "But when Rams actually came," said I, " he got burnt beans, and sow-belly done to cinders." "Whose fault was that?" she bridled. "Besides he put off coming, until he arrived with a bang and we weren't even dressed. We'd been wearing store clothes for a month-and there was me caught with my bangs in curling-irons." 'Still, Rams is in clover now." "That's all you know. We got a house full of fancy groceries, but no grub. And would you be- heve ,t-when I sent Loco down for beans, flour and ^acon, the trader at Windermere wanted him to pay "The wretch!" "And now," she culminated, "it's up to you to lend me fifty dollars." I saw no fun for me in feeding beans to Rams. M' i 1': ' .. I ' f :J i 278 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Besides, my two hundred nice little dollars felt so snug in my hind pocket They stayed there, too. I was a very acrobat on my crutches, before the quality at Freak House bestowed another visit. This time, my caller was Rams, in a state of panic. "I may have dallied," so began his plaint, "but not philandered. Believe me, I never. Once, of course, I chucked her under the chin, and when she said that pimples on the neck could be kissed away — of course ! But it never went so far as a hint, much less a suggestion." "Then, why this fuss?" It appeared that Loco, who had tact enough to stampede a locomotive, wanted to know the inten- tions of his deah young friend with regard to his — ahem — ^niece. The American heavy father, especially when he happens to be the heavy uncle, can be frightfully impressive on that subject. Rams, too, had been reading Wild West in his leisure moments, and, as everybody knows, the denizens of that region in- variably shoot In Rams' dilated vision. Loco Bur- rows was a westerner, a frontiersman, with symp- toms of desperado and a gun. "Asked me," the Englishman groaned, "if my in- tentions were honorable. As if I had intentions I THE SACRIFICE Why. my dear fellow, strictly on the q. t, she's lower middle class I" "You don't say so?" "Fact My father. Sir Augustus, you know, will cut me oflf with a bob. Still. I didn't want to be shot." "So you're engaged? A thousand felicitations!" Rams fled. But then he came back next day in a dreadful state of mind, bearing an old number of the Macleod Gazette, with mention in it of Inspector Sarde. "We have much pleasure in announcing that the popular mspector is coming back to our district Are we to be introduced to the beautiful Mrs. Sarde we heard so much of?" On being confronted with this damning text, the lady had explained with tears that she was not exartly a widow, because her late husband was liv- ing, and had never married her. V/hereat Rams flew in a passion, broke his collar stud, and with one end of his collar pointing out the sun. "said a few words." I fancy he used language. What an escape !" he said. "Suppose I'd married her! Why. oh. why. should these awful people be trying to hound me into a marriage? There's some- thing fishy. IsmeUarat I'm not such a fool as I If I f ft 28o THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I look — ^not by a long chalk. If this invention is all right, why should they — ? I'm off." Suspicious of anything fishy which smelt of rats, he went muttering homeward. "Have another go at Loco's estimates — tampered — suppose— damned — m'n-m-u. — " The clouds were trailing along the hill, and a fine rain washed the autumn foliage into a riot of orange, flame, lemon and' soft amber, melting into fog against green gloom of timber, and its deep blue glades. I was alone since early yesterday, for Broach had taken his toothache down to the Winder- mere blacksmith, and Long Shorty had gone with him for a load of stores. I redded the cabin tidy, baked a batch of bread, made dinner and my siesta, then sewed a pink seat to Shorty's blue overalls, while the rain changed to sleet, the sleet to snow, and a young storm woke to howls as the dusk deep- ened into a horrid night. Then the prospectors came home with my horse and an official If'^er. I had orders to attach all property of Eliphalet Par- doe Burrows for debt, and to arrest him on a charge of issuing fraudulent checks. But morning would be the proper time for that, and meanwhile there was supper to cook for weary nen. And all this time there was an argument proceed- THE SACRIFICE 281 ingit the TTirone. With an unlimited capacity for foolmg himself, and none for fooling others, the mventor had made false estimates of his great in- vention, and Rams, with the quivering nostrils of suspicion, at last had found him out. Here were round numbers rather than square facts, and pretty httle improvements of dull assays, a few naughts cocked on to tiresome statistics, and quite a dainty cookery of accounts. So Rams was shocked to the Boul at finding bigger rascals than himself, denounc- ing Loco for swind'lng. forgery and fraud, accusing Mistress Violet of attempted bigamy and blackmail. Both said exactly what they thought of Rams, but Mistress Violet began first, said most, continued longest and had the best of it. From noon to mid- night, she made a general confession of the young man's imperfections, and the depravity of English- men, denounced her Uncle Loco and bewailed her fate. And then the trouble began for the two men. having made common cause against the lady, fell out between themselves. They got in a passion, and threw things, including the lamp, which set the whole place in flames. So while the woman stood outside wanning herself by that fire, and wearying the very skies with her indignation, the men, driven to Ignominious flight, set out upon the trail snarling ?a ill .m ill If f 382 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD at each other like two dogs. Had they come to me, I should have tied them together and watched the fun, but they ignored my presence at the "Tough Nut," and went on to lay their demands for justice before the sergeant in charge at Windermere. The sky was clearing then, and the moon rose on silver waves of Alps and deep blue troughs between, along the stormy ranges which crown the continent. And there the wqman, who had no further use for Loco or any hope from Rams, was left among black ruins on the mountainside, abandoned. When a selfish soul has nothing left but self, then loneliness is tragic. Like ivy torn from a wall, this creature had nothing left to cling to, no strength to stand alone. The bitter dawn wind swept the last sparks from her burned world, and the raw chill snatched all her warmth away. So she lay moaning. W Down at the "Tough Nut" cabin, we slept SOtmdly, having seen nothing but the driving snow, heard nothing but the storm. But as the dawn light roused me I remembered that the Throne cabins must be seized for deb^ and Loco taken down to Windermere, for which there would be scarcely time THE SACRIFICE 383 « the brief autunm day. So without disturbing my f nends I brewed a cup of coffee, and nude Z way on prutche, to the stable behind the cabin I .addled Black Prince, climbed to his back and"od nicks of Ran« and Loco bound for Windermere. 1 found the Throne cabins a heap of smoldering ^^h.ch had been the door-steplay that poor tnlf J "^u"** '"' ** '=°'"P'*'* ""■«« than usual I ^ her that the moans and wriggles completely spoiled her performance as a swooning lady. She wanted to play at abandoned heroine, but I w« , eaHoo cold and hung^ for heroics, and toMhe pretty roughly to shut up. Then she thought thi he'r r^T"^' ^-^« ^<^^ with the 4h I h- bndle. forgetting that real paladins never have 8-ele^. I told her that the walk would dob" good, and a mile of floundering through drifts ce _^nly wanned the cat. By the time w! reached! Tough Nut" she was hung,y. and after breakf„I purred, makmg eyes at the prospectors, although for a sohd year they had been beneath her notice. ^,11 ^1""''' ^'" '"' *** "''P "y W^nJ* to the Wcalthofthatgildedass.poorcrookedRams! The 284 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD time had come for parting with Shorty and Bobbie Broach, and they refused to snare the little wad in my pocket They lent and saddled their pony for the woman, and when Black Prince had finished his breakfast we had to hit the trail. There was plenty for me to think about on that long day's march to Windermere. Loco was on his way to a term of imprisonment, and when he came back his employer? would not be pleased with his excessive zeal as their caretaker at the Throne. Rams, of course, would go home to his native land, where there are more fools to be cheated than in any other country of equal size. And this woman was left on my hands. What could I do with her? She had no relatives, had earned no friends, and could not find employment where there were no employers, and she was desti- tute, many hundreds of miles out in the wilderness. Had I been wise, I should no doubt have given her the couple of hundred dollars in my pocket to pay her way to the settlements, and there make a fresh start in life. Had I been wise— but, then, I doubt if any really and truly wise man would have much of a story to tell in making a chronicle of his life. Had I been altogether a bad man, I should have used this woman committed to my mercy, had her as mistress THE SACRIFICE !1 aSs until her tongue galled, then turned her loose, the worse for havi.,g known me, to take the one trail open to her talents. But had I been altogether bad- should I confess my errors in a book? Perhaps there were other ways of dealing with th.s affair, but at the age of twenty-three. I lacked the experience which makes all things clear to the reader. I could see but one way consistent with de- cency and my honor. And all the way from the Throne to Windermere, and through the day's march from there to Canal Flats, and all the weary trail from thence to the mission. I saw no other course but that of marriage. The three years since first we met in the train at Winnipeg had enlarged the girl into womanhood, the slattern into a housewife. Shallow she was in- nately vulgar, with no heart, no morals, and no mind; but by this time she had learned enough to wash, to mind her manners, restrain a shrill un- pleasant voice, limit her temper to only occasional field days, and turn her increase of beauty to ac- count in the ruling of men. To this young animal was given hair as glorious as the sunshine, a skin I'ke transparent milk, suffused with the glow of peaches, and covered with a bloom most rare and lovely, eyes very changeful and bewildering health t: ! I i 3ti ! 386 THE CHEERFUi: BLACKGUARD strength, grace of bearing, and the temper of the spring-time between sun and shower. Small bUme to me if my five senses worshiped this triumph of nature's artifice, which the creature had for sale for Sarde's position, Rams' money, or any passbg storm of her ambition. Those greater women whose souls are not for sale will be the last to judge her. We Latins are perhaps more womanish than the Wond men of the North, having more sympathy, and deeper understanding of women. It was my fate to discern, to see right through them, and I had no illusions concerning Mi-tress Violet Her beauty appealed with frightful strength to my manhood. In saying, "With my body I thee worship," I should speak the truth. But, "With my spirit I thee wor- ship," I could say to Rain, and to no other woman I ever knew. Passion I had for many, devotion I had toward all things beautiful, but love for only one woman, and her I might not marry. I have spent days trying to write this passage, to express in words of clean, just, decisive English the relations between a man and a woman brought together in wedlock, where the woman gave all, but the man gave nothing because he withheld his soul. "He who called Arms and Letters a pair of sis- '^Wf^ THE SACRIFICE ag^ ««". knew nothing .bout their family, for no line- HM are so far apart as saying and doing." fJZtZ'jT"^''''''''"-^ '.nothingtodo but look hade, I gabble most confoundedly; but in ttose day, I was a man-at-arms. I migJt bein" deedtroop jester, but the jester's habit is the mask of reticence. I made the woman meny. to ease the How could I tell such a Creature that, in giving my hand. I gave my mother's «nk. my mother's dig- n>t^ The woman might be Sarde's wife, or S«de s d^carded mistress, for all I cared, but not Ae Marchioness of the Alpuxarras to tarnish the old and lovely memories of my house. Raric is a «sponsib.hty. at times a burden, a thing we try to forget m our private life. „ot to be soiled in tl« filthy conversation of camp or barrack, not to be tarnished by a woman of doubtful character. Un- less I iould pass my knighthood on to the sons of a gMtlewoman. the succession would go to my brother And so, before we parted at Wild Horse Tr\l *^r *" ^" ^""^'^ ''«P'«S *he badge of tiic Golden Fleece. The incompetent in charge at the Kootenay Mis- s.on was my friend of the church parades, and he 388 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD refused me marriiige. Had he been a Chrittian, there had been no mAt age, for ever so gladly would I have made confessi ti to a real priest, and at his orders provided for the woman in her necessities. But this parson was merely a creature of convention, since the weeds of respectability sprang up to choke the flowering of his soul. He objected to me as a Papist, to the woman as a Prohibitionist or a vege- tarian, or some such uncouth sectarian outside the pale. He objected to the social misalliance, as though he were priest to a god of etiquette. He de- manded a permit from my commanding oiHcer. He demurred on grounds of infancy. "We don't mind getting married," I told him, "un- less you prefer that this woman should be my mis- tress." At that, he collapsed altogether, and merely to save him from being mixed up in a scandal, that marriage was made in hell. "Whom God hath joined," he said, "let no man put asunder." "But why blame Him?" I asked, and the service ended. Of the same breed are marriage and repentance. THE SACRIFICE Our borrowed pony had bwn left behind at Wind- ermere from whence the «flora and I rode double on Black Prince. My broken leg was scarcely fit for travel, and the wedding delayed us al«, for ~me hours on our way to troop headquarters at Wild Horse Creek. But swift and direct went a despatch from the sergeant in charge at Windermere to the officer com- mandmgD Division. The news reached Sam a day ahead of us. ' To him. as the nearest magistrate, it was reported that Doctor Eliphalet P. Burrows was in custody charged with fraud, with destroying the security for h.s debts, and with burning the Throne cabins where he was caretaker in charge. Mr. Rams was detained on charges brought by Burrows. Constable la Man- cha. riding double with the runaway wife of Inspec- tor Sarde. was on his way to report to the O. C. D. Division. So we were expected, and on my arrival in camp at Wild Horse Creek. I was paraded at once before my officer commanding. "Constable." he asked, "what do you mean by brmgjng Mrs. Sarde into my camp?" 290 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "The lady, sir, whom I have brought is the Se- nora de la Mancha." Sam turned to the orderly corporal. "Place this man," he said, "under arrest." I handed over my side-arms. "Prisoner," said Sam, "you will be charged with going through the form of marriage without per- mission, and in defiance of regulations. You're en- titled to twenty-four hours to prepare your defense." "I don't ask a minute, sir. Whatever you do is going to be dead straight to-day or to-morrow." "You take a grave risk playing with me," said Sam. "I see, sir, that you're striking camp, for a march. I don't want to be a prisoner and a nuisance while there are wheels in mud-holes." That spirit appealed most powerfully to Sam. "Defend yourself," he said gravely. "I'm your best friend." He knew I loved him dearly. "Sir, I found this lady abandoned on the Selkirks in several feet of snow. I took her to the padre at the mission. It was no time for fooling, I gave her the only protection possible. Sir, you'd have done the same. Now I've come straight to report." THE SACRIFICE 29, "What, go through a mock marriage with an of- ficer's wife?" "That, sir, is not true." "What, you charge my brother officer .'—Corporal just stand back out of ear-shot. Now, La Mancha,' what on earth do you mean ?" I told him of Sarde's bogus marriage with Miss Burrows, performed by Happy Bill, a bogus parson, of how the facts were discovered by Joe Chambers, who died, passing the woman's defense to me, of my duel with Sarde to obtain her release, and her re- turn to her guardian. Loco Burrows. "You bring no charge, then," asked Sam, "against Inspector Sarde?" "None, if he leaves me alone." Sam recalled the orderly corporal. "Prisoner," said he, "you plead guilty to a charge of marrying without leave. I'm sorry to say that my duty requires me to report this matter to the .tonunissioner. and he will give sentence. All I can do is to report with a strong recommendation to leniency, for. in spite of your defaulter sheet, you're the best duty man in my division. "But--why, man. you'd been warned by express orders from the commissioner that your next offense III Kli r IB i i' ::i- ; ! li 292 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD would be final. You've no more chance than a snowflake in hell. Don't you see you idiot, that a constable can't marry an officer's wife, or — or mis- tress? It's impossible. "And I won't have a woman with my column. We may be in for a roii.^h trip crossing the Rockies. But, then, we can't leave a woman here in the bush. You'll have to take furlough. Corporal, make out a fortnight's pass. He'll report at Fort French. "La Mancha, I think, on the whole, you'd better turn in your accouterments, kit, all government prop- erty. I'll advance your pay to this date." "Is it so bad as that, sir?" "I'm afraid so. La Mancha. You must leave camp before watch-setting. Good-by, my boy. God bless you." So he shook hands with me. And after I had gone, he spoke in private to the corporal. "Warn that boy," he said, "not to report at Fort French. I'd rather see him desert than get a year's hard labor, and discharged with ignominy, or even transferred to the civil courts on a charge of bigamy. It's expensive sometimes. Corporal, to be a gentleman, eh ?" So far as the troop knew, I had a honeymoon furlough, and as I should visit the United States, my THE SACRIFICE 353 kit was turned in for safety. The boys raked the camp for rags which represented my kit turned into store, so that I had my buffalo coat, blankets and good clothing to take away with me. Breeches with the yellow stripe tom off, boots and Brafs old coat were all I could raise in the way of civilian dress, bu. the officers gave me a horse, the sergeants' mess another, the troop subscribed saddles, pack gear and camp outfit, by way of a wedding present While I was packing, I came upon my war-dress as a Blackfoot chief, the gift of Many Horses, dear Rams squinting brother, on that day, only three years ago, when I made her a widow. If only I had married Rain! I wept when I was bom. and every day explains the reason why. The seiiora never guessed that I was outlawed but seemed much more than content with a hundred men to play with. She had come down in the world from an inspector's lady to a constable's poor thing but seemed much more at home in her new part' Playmg cat's cradle with Red Saunders. Red 'oped she would 'ave 'appiness. Throned in Budcie's tent, she held her court after supper, while I dragged up my friends and intro- duced them. "Allow me to present Wee James' legs 294 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD — ^the upper part of him having gone aloft." Wee James stood six-foot seven. "This is Tubby, our brevet acting deputy vice- cook. Allow me to make known Detective-Sergeant Ithuriel Fat McBugjuice, bai bingah, yaas. The grin with a face attached belongs to Mutiny. Rich Mixed makes his bark and wags his compliments. Here's Sergeant Snuffleton, all present, and correct waist measurement fifty-nine, my dear, and bustle a number twelve. Calamity makes his bow. And this is Tribulation, with a bad cold from oversleeping on sentry." I went to the lines, where Buckie and Brat were loading my pack-horse, and would not let me inter- fere with that, or with the saddling. Restless, 1 wandered among the tents, where the boys were pre- paring for a morrow in which I should have no share. "Sweat, you poor workers," I told them. "Lick, spit and polish, for every day has its dog; but I'm a free civilian. No more parades, no more pack drill no guards, no cells, no more fatigues ex- cept good bed fatigue. "Go it, you pigeon-breasted shawtails, clean har- ness, you poor-souled rookies, you pemmican eaters, you pie-biters, you ring-tailed snorters I "The Blackguard was taken young and raised on THE SACRIFICE 395 alkal^-everybody's dog on government beans' and ««w-belly. rode sweating hell-for-leather after horse th.eves rebels and coyotes, wore government socks, and didn't believe in the gawspel— "Sweat, you slaves, rustle, you gophers, till the cvvies send kids to «mp for a convent training, you sons of sm-but I'm for the open range, and you'll hear my long wolf-howls by starlight." Then I was back with Black Prince to say good- by. and when Brat came to fetch me. I turned on him with a snarl, blaspheming horribly. So I got the seiiora astride on a man saddle, and mounted my own plug, taking the lead-rope from Buckie to tow the pack-horse, and gave Sergeant- Major Samlet an episcopal benediction. The whole troop had gathered round us to shake hands at part- mg, and fire a volley of old boots and rice as our bridal procession moved out into the darkness, into the wilderness. Three rousing cheers drowned the music of last post, the funeral music which is played over open graves. Buckie and Brat came down to the ford of Wild Horse Creek, and there, w.iile Rich Mixed barked all round us. I had to say good-by. Brat was laugh- .ng still over the sergeant-major's pleasure at my Latin compliments: "Maledkol Maledidte!" Then 296 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD our horses went splashing into the ford, and I saw my dog break back to his home in camn. for the bugle was calling "Lights out" to the very stars. God who mends breaking hearts may have heard me laugh when my dog deserted me. The news of my marriage with Mrs. Sarde swept through the regiment like flames through grass. All men knew now that either Sarde had made a bogus marriage, or eWe the Blackguard had committed bigamy. Then Sarde's position become impossible, for his brother officers demanded of him that he clear himself of scandal or send in his papers. He produced counsel's opinion that a marriage made in good faith before any genuine minister of religion would hold in law. He obtained a warrant for my arrest and extradition on charges of abduction and bigamy. If I cMne to trial, my very innocence in- volved a year's imprisonment for desertion from the force. To allay the danger of my being arrested, the Brat and Buckie put about the news of my death, killed by the fall of a horse down somewi.ere in Montana. Then Sarde felt safe, and slandered my memory. When God made everything that creepeth, He saw it was good. So Sarde was good, but I do not think that he improved with keeping. THE SACRIFICE 397 The story of my death grew from a rumor into a belief, and the old hands remembered that Brat once had a brother— killed, poor chap, by the fall of a horse down somewhere in Montana. We who once served in the great regiment have often come together by accident in the later years, meeting old comrades in the Klondike gold rush, or the South African field force, or the national re- serve of British veterans. We make new partner- ships for auld lang syne in Sikkim or Patagonia, Damaraland or Samoa, or, dressed up like ridiculous waiters, dining at some white table in town. We parted as troopers to meet as officers, our scalawags are squires, our wasters wealthy men, but our meet- ings are grave with memories of Toby who died a tramp, of Jumbo who shot himself, of Monte who was rolled on by a horse. Spirits are calling to us across the deep from every continent, and all the oceans. The glass that was lifted for a toast of the good old times falls broken, because some remem- bered voice comes from among the candles : "Well, here's luck!" I have been present when men, who did not sus- pect my membership, spoke of the tribal memories, and one of them, I remember, mentioned the Black- guard kindly, as numbered among our dead. ^ 1 • I CHAPTER X THE ORDEAL BY TORTUBB THE husban4 who shows suspicions of his wife gives everybody to hope that she is dissolute. I never showed or felt suspicion concerning the Se- iiora de la Mancha. While a ship's pump runs foul there may be suspicion, but when the ; earn clears all doubts are at an end, and it is best to run her aground out of temptation. At Lonely Valley, the seiiora was free from temptation. In summer, I earned my living as a riding man, in winter as a wolfer and trapper on the Montana ranges ; but all the year round my earnings went to the land and fencing, the stock and implements, for our homestead in Lonely Valley. I could not become an American citizen without perjuring my oath of allegiance to Her Brittanic Ma- jesty, so my seiiora was sole owner of that home- stead. Until I could get a livelihood out of the ranch, ;298 THE ORDEAL BY TORTURE 299 she had to face the tragic loneliness of all pioneer women out on the frontier. And that was her pro- bation, test of her womanhood, measure of her reality, if she would be my wife. I hoped that, with Uie advent of our son Ernesto, the woman would find her soul. For the soul has no life in itself, can not be bom except in love for others, or can not live save in self-sacrifice. For the first two years, I think, I was half-dead with pain, for I could not see the wilderness in which I rode, or feel the glamour of the sky-line, or taste the freshness of the air, or scent the perfume of the plains or mountains. Then came a third year, when poignant memories dulled down to bearing point, and I began to live. All of us. I suppose, have known some usual hazards of battle, thirst, famine, cold, pestilence, fire, flood, storm or sickness, perils of the body ap- pealing to our courage and leaving quite pleasant memories. I. for one, have found these things good for me, yet look back only with dread, with horror, to perils of the mind. There are sorrows of which even remembrance is screaming agony, and of that kind was my default from the mounted police. To forget or go mad, to fight devils and drive them out, to be reminded and have to fight again, to beat aside 300 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD expedients of drugs, of drinking, of suicide, and face naked the terrors of memory — all that was part of my training, the best part, the ordeal by torture. I had no hope. Unless the ssnora went blind, un- able to see my faults, or I went deaf, unable to hear her tongue, the future had become impossible for both. Yet desperation is mistress of the impossible, and there was oije way to make the senora's life an easier burden. I had found out what dollars were worth when I trieu to borrow some. But I need not borrow. I was twenty-five, so it was time for my swindling trustees to render the Brat's estate and mine into my keeping. So at the end of my third year as a cowboy, after the beef round-up, I let the senora suppose I had gone to the hills with my traps, but spent every dollar on a passage by rail to New York. I lived on crackers. From Philadel- phia, I earned my passage as a stiff on a cattle boat to Liverpool, thence tramped to Cardiff, and signed on as deck hand with the Bilbao tramp. Spain I crossed afoot, but at Madrid made myself known to friends of my house, who lent me clothes, and ob- tained my presentation to the Queen Regent. By Her Majesty's aid, I recovered all that was left of my stolen inheritance, a thousand dollars a year, with some small arrears. Then it was diiHcult to get THE ORDEAL BY TORTURE 301 away, but my return to Montana was made in com- fort. At Fort Benton, I opened bank-accounts for my brother's share and my own, letting him know by letter of his succession. Brat used to address me by mail as Mr. Crucible. So I put on the good old cowboy kit once more saddled my horse and rode for Lonely Valley in the first of the winter storms. ,1: ; ■! J Under a low gray sky lay patches of autumn snow on dun grass withered brown. I looked up to the red sun setting above the snowy clouded flanks of the Rocky Mountains, and Lonely Valley opened at my feet where shadow- of evening groped from hill to hill. There had been a snow-storm all last night, a thaw all day. Only a few streaks of snow lay on the turf- roofed cabin. :he barn and stack, and the plowed fire-guard. The door of the cabin creaked, swing- ing on Its hinge straps, and in the yard a little wolf sat watching that, afraid to venture nearer. I found the stable empty, as well as the cabin Shoved IP 1 comer by the cabin stove was Don Er- nesto's cradle, which I had made of a soajvbox with I II 303 THE CHEERFUL BL ACKGUARD tarrel stoves for ito rockew. That cradle was (cov- ered with dust Out In the yard I found a tiny grave-mound, and at its head a cross n ade of two lathes bound with a bit of tope. Pinned to the head of the cross there was an envelope scrawled with the words, "My hart, 2i Sept. 1890." When I sat down beside that cradle, I heard from the sodden eaves outside the cabin a steady drip and splash of water beating out the time. Great swing- ing stors across the dial of night can measure all eternity without a sound, but these drops of water, thudding, splashing, insistent, peevishly beating time, endlessly beating time, remorselessly, i.orribly beating time, had driven a woman mad. Yes, even when I crushed my ears with both hands, still I could feel these splashes throbbing out the time, measuring out the nunishment of time, re- morseless, passionless discipline of time, allayi-^g medicine of time, whereby the Great Physician cures ailing, restive, quivering but eternal souls. For time is only force, vibrant like sea-waves on a coast, beating against the feet of the eternal. Why should the woman, made for eternity, be so rebuked, so maddened by mere time as to dash her fists against the logs of the wall until they were stoined with THE ORDEAL BY TORTURE 303 MooA The pain of her bleeding fists had eased the mind's revolving agony. Unable to endure the feel of the room, I went out, and on the sodden ground saw tracks, an hour old, perhaps more. A horse, prosperous, fresh and well •hod, had come by the trail from Canada. A man with the chain spur straps worn only by the police had walked across from the stable to the cabin, had «een the dusty cradle, had visited the grave. And how the woman would play up with such a part as that I She would be discovered kneeling beside the cradle— and make a fine pretense of find- ing gum-sticks to kindle ihe stove. There would be ostentatious concealment of bleeding hands under her apron, the mourner's covered hands to be found, to drive my comrade crazy, storming about the Blackguard's villainy while he took charge of her affairs, appointing himself a woman's champion. Then she would prate about marriage oaths, and put up arguments for him to contradict, excuses for me which he would trample on, and hesitation pro- voking him to use force, most violently tearing her away— all his own fault, of course, and quite against her wishes. And then the supper, with Mistress Violet waiting 304 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD on the man, unable to touch a bite of food herself except on the sly, while she was getting his coffee or cooking another batch of her slapjacks. While she did stage business, taking off the wed- ding-ring to lay it on the dresser, her eyes would devour the scarlet of his coat, the tan of his neck, her ears would wait for the clink of a spur when he moved, the ci^ak of his great belt. How women undervalue what is given, and die for the things denied them! When her time came, that woman would stage-manage her own death, and neglect her own funeral to carry on a flirtation with the devil. Oh, yes, my lady was too desperate with grief to pass another night within the haunted scene of her calamities. She would be abducted at once be- fore the man had time to change his mind. She would interrupt her packing with floods of tears, while she stowed her own goods and everything of mine which might be saleable — my best riata, my breaking curb, spare gun, and buffalo coat, even my father's watch, and my mother's ring which I had trusted to her especial care. The man took her mare and the pack-horse out of the pasture, and close by the house door he loaded her baggage with a squaw hitch, unhandily, with such a trampling about as would suflfice for a pack- THR C'RDEAL BY TORTURE 305 train. The, ac r oss his I lunderings came her dainty tracks out Iro.n rh. doorway to where he helped her mount. And they two had ridden southward, to camp on wet ground within five miles or so, where I could see a faint, reflected hght against Skull Rock. It is curious to remember how all my thoughts were evil as long as I stayed in my cabin, or tracked about the yard where the very air was fouled by a taint of misery, of morbid brooding, of outrageous wrong. Yet in the stable, where I passed that night, my thoughts were innocent, my prayers went straight up hke smoke on windless air, and I was comforted. In quite the best of tempers, I woke up from my sleep in the hay, bathed, breakfasted, brought in a horse from pasture, saddled and rode out. Where I had seen the glow from their supper fire, my seiiora was in camp with her deliverer, be- side the hollowed flank of old Skull Rock, which towered three hundred feet above their bed place. They were at breakfast, taken by surprise, with no chance of catching their horses to escape. It made me catch my breath to see the dear, fa- miliar scarlet serge, the morning sun aflame on his belt, as the man rose to face me: my friend. Red Saunders-that Cockney sailor-tramp who, ever so long ago, brought news of the Burrows girl in Win- I li 306 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD nipeg when he came to engage for the service. I bore no malice toward him for rescuing a woman in distress, no ill-will toward the senora for thinking my long absence meant desertion. I took oflf my hat, as one always must to a woman, dismounted, because one does not ride on ground where people are en- camped, then turned to my friend with outstretched hand. "Am I excused?" I asked. But Red stood back with his hand to his holster. "Violet," he said hoarsely, "get abaft thish yer rock." "Die first," she answered, with a laugh of defi- ance, "it's you that's scairt, not me." So they betrayed guilt I had not suspected. I sat down cross-legged before their sage-brush fire, and took a branch to light me a cigarette, while they stood watching, ill at ease, afraid, the woman making hysterical talk of the weather, the man judg- ing distance to where the old Flukes mare grazed, jangling her bronze bell. "Sit down, compadre," said I to the man. "We've got to talk this over. Won't you ask the senora to take a seat? Oh, pray be seated. Believe me, I ad- mire your good taste in selecting so lovely a woman to run away with — ^your friend's wife, too." THE ORDEAL BY TORTURE 307 It is when the tone is soft that words come to an cage. Covering the woman with his body, Red fumbled nis holster open. "The service side-arms." said I, "are badly hung and take too long to draw." and my Colt beckoned nim gently to a seat. The man's face was deathly now, beaded wiu, sweat. "The senora will realize," said I, "that the wom- an .s never to blame, whatever happens. When love >s dead vows break of their own accord, ano lovers part; the woman to seek such solace as she can find. the man-believe me, an imperfect brute-to wish her every kind of happiness. Is this understood ?" Ere, cut that out!" said Saunders. "Ifs fight I want, not talk!" "Last night," said I, "yonder in Lonely Valley I read the tracks, the sign, and wished-believe mel that I might be a better husband. Yes, I put up my httle sad prayer to that effect. I fear I bore you." The senora was crying. "This lady," said I, "was quite right in leaving Lonely Valley." Saunders hurled turses at me. insulting, defiant challenging, goading. 3o8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "Quite so," said I. "Quite so. As you remark, there are three of us here, with only room for two. Your gun is loaded? You should be sure of that. The light is good, the distance— ten feet— quite am- ple. If you get up and lean against the rock behind you, it will steady the aim, for your hand is shaking, Red. Braceyourself up, man. For the honor of the force, don't furik now that you're caught." The senora howled. "The lady," said I, "was prepared for this, or she would not have brought you here. She will oblige us by dropping her handkerchief as a signal for us to fire." Now Red was blind and deaf with passion, screamii:g at me to stand up. But to reply to an evil word '.vith another taunt is to clean off dirt with mud. "Alas," I said, "I'm timid. I prefer to sit, so I won't tumble down. The senora is requested to stand out of the line of fire." I watched her sway- ing upon her feet, rocking as though she would fall, as she stared at me, horror-struck. "As the senora wishes," I said, "to take no part in this little disagreement, you, Mr. Saunders, will count three slowly, firing at the word, 'Three.' " Red braced straight upright, silent, and as I looked THE ORDEAL BY TORTURE 309 up his gun sights into his eyes, I knew that the kick ofthe gun would throw the shot clear above me. Onel he gasped. "Two !" and with a scream, the woman flung herself into his arms, guarding him will, her body, destroying his aim. I shouted, "Don't fire I" and lowered my gun "You bleedin' curl" Red yelled. "I'm goin' to k.Il you! And he wrestled with the woman to throw her clear. I Jumped to my feet, and showed Red my Colt spmmng the empty cylinder. "Not loaded. Red' You see.' I didn't expect a fight." I sheathed my Colt, then snatched Red's Enfield This one. you see, is loaded," and I spilled the cart- ndges. then battered his gun against the rock until the trigger smashed. "You didn't understand me," I explained. "You betrayed your friend, you betrayed this unhappy woman in her trouble. How should you under- stand? I am fastidious, and do not grant to curs the honor of engaging me. There, you may have your gun. Catch!" I walked to my horse and mounted. "You may understand," I said, 'that this ladv was my wife but It seemed that love was buried, with a little cross on the grave. So the Senora la Mancha was free 1:^ 310 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD But I was not free. She might have intended only a brief absence on business of her own, or perhaps a holiday. She might have been taken by force or lured away by fraud. She might still care for me, and she might return. "I came here to get proof, to find out for certain which of us two she loves. It was into your arms, not mine, she threw herself. Is it not proved ? The honor.of guarding this lady is yours, not mine." Then Red's eyes fell before mine, and he under- stood. "Seiiora," I lifted my hat, and bowed to her for the last time on earth. "When Beauty murdered her sister Chastity, she was turned into a vulture. "You may remember that Joe Chambers died for you, and Sarde lost his career, and I was ruined, as this poor man will be ruined, and others after him. "You are too wondrous fair to be all one man's own, but God aids her who changes, as you will change. "So I commend you — ^may you ride with God. Adios." Swinging my horse, I spurred homeward, and once again was young. CHAPTER XI THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA r\VR souls are like the musical instruments. V^ which do not emit their melody unless they are beaten, plucked, blown or scraped. And on this text, I pray you hear my sermon. The European has goods to add up, neighbors from whom he subtracts, estates to multiply, and fortune to divide. For this arithmetic he needs ma- chinery of the brain which widens out the forehead To him are given all knowledge, glory, pride, mag- nificence. the dominion of the earth, the mastery of the sea. the command of the air. But from the red Indian who hath not, and whose forehead is pinched for lack of exercise, all things are taken away. And yet it is my comfort to remember that ances- tors of mine, who conquered the new world, mar- ned with Indian women. From that blood in my veins I have the pinched forehead of an Indian, the 311 313 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD happy poverty, the shiftless lassitude, which mocks at the laboring white man. Do you suppose the Indian venerates a religion worn on Sundays only ? Do you imagine he respects the laws — a spider's web to catch the flies and let the hawk go free? The white man's only ambition is to have; his years are spent in a fussy aimless selfishness, for which he forsakes the dignity of manhood, and be- ing too busy, he has no time to live. The Indian's holy ideal is to be, to learn from na- ture the upward way toward God. The Indian sees the white man self-made, self- conscious, self-centered, self -sufficient, self-opinion- ated—all and entirely self. For this poor prisoner within the bars of self the windows of the soul have all been darkened, so that he can not see, or hear, or scent, or taste, or feel the world he lives in, Heav- en's fairest province. Blinded and deafened, dulled, a groping creature, he is a specter haunting Para- dise, waiting for death to reveal the glories which life has oflered. Just at the last, before I said "Adios" to the world, I saw a little of the United States, something of England, and of my native Spain. I saw Spain, the land of the past, England, the land of the pres- THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 313 ent, America, che land of the future. In America, I witnessed the rise of nations, in England, the poise at the zenith, in Spain, the fall. It was like a coast, the very coast of time, with the rushing onset, the tumultuous crash, and piteous dragging ebb of ris- ing, breaking, dying empires. They come, they have, they fall, passing away, and are not. From all that I rode away, leaving the storm of nations to rage and break on pitiless coasts of time. "Leave all that you have, and rise, and follow me. Having is only a shadow which flies away at sun- down. Do you remember that our Lord was forty days away in the . pirit teaching souls in prison ? He may not have mentioned His Jewish name to them. They may have called Him Love, for that is the real name of the Only Son. And if He came again, do you think it would be to the stupendous temples, which the white men need as trumpets to make their prayers heard above the deafening clamor of the cities? Would not the In- dians be swifter to give Him welcome? The world-storm died away in the far distance. Give me the weal of being, which is no shadow flyiiig away at sunset, for when my sun goes dcvn, I 314 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD ■hall pass into star-dad night, to be immortal in eternal heavens. The homestead in Lonely Valley belonged to the lefiora, not to me. For any larger career than that of pioneer farmer my penmanship was childish, my spelling gaudy,' while as to sums, well — if I added two and two, it made one blot, which I had to wipe up with my tongue. And as to being a threadbare marquis in old Spain, I think I am still too much alive for that. Very high and pompous with my dreams, I put on my buckskin war-dress as Charging Buffalo, the Piegan Chief, loaded a couple of pack-ponies and set out from Lonely Valley riding my lop-eared, wall-eyed pinto cow-horse. That night in camp, I 'boiled a tea of herbs, wnich gave me the Indian color. Next day, a pack-horse had my saddle in his load, for I was riding once again bareback, as Indians ride, rejoicing in the natural and perfect savage grace of a horsemanship whose rhythm is like the easy flight of birds. The half-forgotten language came back phrase by phrase, until I could think in Blackfoot as a poet might think in verse. The In- THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 315 dian life was coming back to me, the hardy, re- sourceful, abstemious habit of the war trails. Mount Rising Wolf lifted his head above the northern sky- line, and on the fourth evening, I trailed across the meadows beside Two Medicine Lake where once— The mile-wide ring of the tribal camp was gone like any snowdrift, empty was the field where I had killed Tail-Feathers in the ordeal of battle. Now, as then, the low sun filled the valley with a dust of gold, and out of that my enemy had come in a whirling cloud. Standing behind my horse I had sighted— waiting — and clenched my hand on the gun as that thundering charge swept home. There his horse leap«d and crashed to the ground in death. Here, the man's smashing fall, and he lay, twitching horribly— Otit of the golden haze came a cluster of mounted people, men and women, not the fierce warriors, Blackfeet of six years ago, but the poor blanket In- dians of the reservation, cowed broken paupers on their way to draw their weekly rations at the agency. And these, as in a dream, saw the red sunlight kindle a buckskin war-shirt, the blithe wind stream- ing with a warrior's eagle plumes, a chief out of their great past, riding down from Dreamland. Men sighed and women whimpered as they saw that 3i6 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD But now the warrior from Dreamland reined his horse, dismounted, took cover, and with a little glit- tering revolver — Then they remembered! At this very place had Charging Buffalo killed the champion rifle-shot of the Black foot nation, and saved Rain the sacred woman from being murdered I At their shout of welcome I swung astride my horse to give them the signs of peace, of greeting. Then, from their midst, bidding them halt, a woman rode forward alone, dropping the blanket from her shoulders, tidying her hair with little pats and strokes, greeting me in her shy sweet English, and with mocking, derisive eyes. "So," she said, "you come !" "Rain!" "My dream — he say you come." "Rain! Rain!" "Yes," she chuckled, "um — Boy-drunk-in-the- moming I" "Nay. Charging Buflfalo!" "How many horses you bring to buy Rain ?" Squinting delightfully in his efforts at Indian gravity came Rain's big brother. Many Horses, am- bling beside me to reach out a bashful hand. THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 3,7 "Brother." he said, in Blackfoot, "1 knew you must come back." Now my Indian blood-brother had no ideas of his own, but his mind was like a lending library to take and issue the ideas of others. And what Rain thought, he said. So she had known for all these years I would come back to her. It went without any saying that I came back to marry Rain. All her people knew as much, for when they had given me their gracious welcome, they went on, as they must, to draw their rations, telling Many Horses to hurry up and join them. Not that a hint could penetrate his hide. But, then, there was no need for Rain and myself to be alone, for she and I were one, and nobody else existed as we rode side by side through a haze of glory. Out of that, we came to a little cluster of teepees by the lake-side. Rain's only son, young Two Bears, had gone away to the Sand Hills, but her brother had a bunch of brown babies— three of them in his lodge— who were trying with grubby hands to mend her heart Rain was a very great lady among the Blackfeet, daughter of Brings-down-the-Sun, widow of Tail- Feathers, and a sacred woman, but in her brother's : 3i8 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD lodge only a nurse, the down-trodden victim of that triumphant sits-beside-him wife, Owl-Calling-"Com- ing," mother of real brown babies. Children were scarce as angels in the Blackfoot camps, and Owl had full right to make merry. All in a bustle, she prepared a feast for me. There was pathetic borrowing from the neighbors to make that slender sdpper, at which we all pretended to have no appetite. Only when it was over could I unload my horses, and for once in my life play at being millionaire. I had never dreamed I was so fabulously rich, but there were presents for every- body hidden away in my cargo, besides provisions enough for a great banquet, which kept the tribe feasting till sunrise. The gods of the Blackfeet had deserted them. Within a generation their forty thousand mounted warriors had become a remnant of five hundred paupers, sick with tuberculosis, brutalized with liquor. They had lost their faith, their self-respect, their native cleanliness, their arts, games, festivals, and now, in sullen apathy, awaited death. Yet in one camp at least the dying fires flickered up at my coming. Old Medicine Robe called his priests and sacred women to the sweet and solemn ritual, with which I was formally adopted as a THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 319 Blackfoot, as a chief and as his son. The young men roused themselves for a hunting and killed deer, so that the women might dress the skins, and make clothes for Rain and for me. The poles were cut, the cover sewn for my lodge, in which I had to sit in lonely state while Rain attended me with meals, which she brought from her hearth. The lodge was furnished for me with robes, blankets, panther skins, back-rests and parfleche trunks. Then I must take my ponies and tie them at the lodge door of my brother. Many Horses. But Many Horses, not to be outdone, tethered every pony he had left at the door of my new teepee. That was Rain's dowry. And lastly, the wedding moccasins were made, beautifully embroidered with porcupine quills, dyed in wild herbs. These, with a fine dinner, were brought to my lodge by Rain and Owl. But Owl stayed outside, while Rain came in, and by that happy action became my woman. I kneel at my table here, to pay my reverent trib- ute to this adorable woman, and her commanding loveliness. Rain was a lady to her finger-tips, and in any society would have had the men at her feet. Shy, dainty, with a quaint delicate humor al! her own, she mothered and owned me with perfect tact 320 THE CHEERFXJL BLACKGUARD ' and rare intelligence, for the woman who obeys her husband rules him. If my lady had faults, I loved her for them. And where every dog, baby and kit- ten saw her excellence, how could I be blind? It was my right and privilege to serve my lady, but her heart was like a sanctuary too holy for me to enter. To her came men in trouble, confessing their sins; and' all their secrets, with many of her own, she kept to herself. She told me only what it was good for me to know, and if she told me secrets, I can keep them. I have nothing else to keep. For seven years I was not the Blackguard at all, but something quite different, so the chronicle of that time hardly belongs to this writing. And yet writing is a sixth sense for the absent, a consolation for those who are alone, for those who are lonely. By all the codes, the sanctions of conduct and standards of judgment which make the world's opinion, I was the husband of a prostitute and kept a squaw for mistress. But by the pity of Christ, I had tried to save a falling soul from ruin before I married an honor- able woman. Our codes, our sanction, standards, opinions, views, like our bilious attacks, our selfishness and our debts, are matters demanding attention without THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 321 adding to our welfare. Will you accept my opin- ions as a gift ? Shall I adopt your views ? These are infirmities of the mind or body which we can not sell or give away or thrust upon our neighbors. Our bodies are fouled by the world, our minds are fogged until the blazing truth of God bums our impurities. It is conceivable that from such a world as ours only as pariahs can we advance in manhood, in moral worth, in spiritual growth. I have climbed mountains from whose summits all the ways of the world looked small as spider-threads, leading to nowhere in particular ; and if we descried from the heavens these beaten paths of men, they would not seem, I think, to be the only trails through the star-fields. Since public opinion hanged the Saviour of man- kind, it seems to need a guide. m The fox who had lost his tail attempted to set a fashion in docked foxes. So I, who could not ask for rations as an Indian, persuaded my friends to have no further dealings with the white man. His agent was a thief, his missionary, schoolmaster and farm instructor were 322 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD a pack of fools, his regulations were fences to be jumped, his rations poison to their self-respect, his clothes were sinful forms of ugliness, his stuffy buildings killed them with consumption, his man- ners and customs ruined Indian women. Our head chief gave me leave to form a band of hunters and trappers, men, women and children sworn to earn their living, and avoid the whites, to eat wild meat, to wear skin clothes, and be real In- dians, not imitation whites. And so we took to the woods. Through our separation. Rain had played the woman, but from the time of our marriage was a child again, for life was one long game at which she played with happy gravity. When I confessed my trouble in keeping clear of Sarde, my enemy, because I wanted always to take his life. Rain went to work playing at magic, with all the simple earnest- ness she gave to cooking eggs. To her mind eggs, casting out devils and making poultices were parts of housekeeping, and she must have my soul cleaned or my socks patched, because she insisted on a t'Ay husband. She banished Sarde from my thoughts, she exorcised Red Saunders. She made me pray to the fairy animals, and threatened to sacrifice all my hair to the sun unless I behaved myself and spoke THE SOUL OF I.A MANCHA 323 respectfully about my mother-in-law. This mother- in-law, if you please, was the beaver woman spirit who helped Rain in her dreams. It was not etiquette that I should meet the lady. Among the Blackfeet. as with the whites and other barbarians, the women rule all they love. It was part of Rain's game, to rule our wandering tribe, so we poor tribes-folk obeyed her when we had to. Her religion forbade us to eat fish or ground game, but we needed a few sins just to keep us in practise, so when she had duly forbidden unholy food, she used to do the cooking. Her faith de- nied" us the shooting of wolves because they were hunting comrades, but I must own that the govern- ment bounty on their scalps appealed to me more powerfully than relig-on— and then she gave my earnings to the poor. In the matter of bears, however, Rain's piety was rather quarrelsome. She would not let me mention any bear except in terms of compliment, as "The gentleman with the fur coat," or "The Inspector General of Berries." Once, when I used the words, "Damned Greedy Brute," a grizzly overheard me, and ate our camp that night. "I told you so," said Rain. As to shooting a grizzly: "He is always an- 324 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD noyed," quoth Rain. "And sometimes more so." I shot that robber, all the same, and my wife needs hang up her best frock as a sacrifice to the sun before she dared touch the skin. She moistened its brain with her tears while she dressed the pelt, and when the work was finished refused to sleep in the lodg^ with it for company. Indeed, she made such a fuss that I gave up hunting bears and they could cock snooks at me whenever we happened to meet. The fact is. Rain tamed me until I had not so much as a vice to call my own. They do say that when the lion is dead, even the very hares will pull its mane. We had our little troubles. There was, for ex- ample, a good deal of starving to do. But God is omnipotent : and money is His lieutenant My pay for being a marquis, five hundred dollars a year, went a long way toward putting off inevitable fam- ines. Each year, too, we brought our pelts to the traders, who were surprised at the prices they had to pay in guns and ammunition, traps, tobacco and comforts. They said I was aptly named as Charging Buffalo. Under our chief's direction, we turned weavers, making our scratchy blankets of mountain goat hair. They fetched a deal of money ; but with the pottery THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 325 we were not successful. My Indian brother, Many Horses, had only to give one squint, and our best pots fell all to pieces. Sometimes in spring we would plant com, pump- kins and tobacco, and if we happened to pass that way in the fall, would gather such a crop as the wild things had spared to us. Great were our har- vests, too, of camass and wild fruit dried and stored up for winter. If ever we happened to kill a mave- rick cow, we tanned the skin, dried the meat and buried the bones, leaving no trace of our crime against the white men's buffalo. Very particular, too, was Rain with our young men, forbidding them to steal chickens or even to scalp settlers. That was not, she said, the way to ignore the white men. So, barring the needs of trade, we left them severely alone, and played at ghosts on our moonlight flittings through any outlying settlements. Sometimes we rescued loSt and starving travelers, who would spread the news of an unknown Indian tribe at large in the wilderness. Once, an official came to herd us back to our reservation, but unfor- tunately his interpreter could not speak our language and, as none of us understood a single word of Eng- lish, we could not make out what was the matter with him. We fed this person and his interpreter. 326 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD we gave them tobacco, we tucked them up in bed and sang a lullaby; but when they fell asleep, we broke our camp and vanished, leaving no tracks on land because we went by water, a long night's march along a river bed. The white men reported us drowned, but Rain explained to me that this was not so. We wandyed along the ranges wherever we fotmd food, southward to Mexico and northward into the Alps of St. Elias, wintering in alpine pas- tures, traveling in summer throu|^ the upper for- ests and the nether deserts. But where we went during those happy years, I have not the slightest notion, for, after all, heart's ease and life's delight are poor geographers. We were not careful of maps, considerate of the way, or very much con- cerned as to our destination. Once we were in a valley of the Canadian Rockies, a gorge so fouled with deadfall, with beaver swamps and snow-slides, that, high as the water ran, we were forced to seek our passage along the river bed. Then came a cut bank strewn with fallen trees, which reached out into the middle of the current. At that, the rock floor on which our horses waded came to an end, and down we went into deep water, com- pelled to swim across to the farther bank. The THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 327 ponies rolled in the swell of that white-manned rapid like boats in a storm at sea. I turned and saw Rain laughing. Then my horse went under altogether, rolling over three times without touching bottom, and both of us were very nearly drowned. Afterward, I asked my wife if she had been frightened. "When I saw my big baby," she said, "getting its inside wet, I told my secret helper to swim quick. And the woman-beaver dived." "So you were frightened ?" "If you died. Big Baby, you'd have to come back to me to be comforted. And when I die I shall look after you. And when we're both dead, we shall ride the Wolf Trail together, because you are me and I am you for always. Nothing else matters, and there isn't anything left to frighten us." Rain would be teaching me quaint dances, or set- ting our household in a roar with imitations of my face as I played the flute. She mocked, flouted, caressed all in a breath, and chaffed me with make- believe flirtations, pretending to fall in love with Left Hand or Bearpaw, our young warriors. Yet while she crooned and twittered over her household work, for all the world like some fussy bird at nest- ing time, I began, vaguely at first, then with a grow- 338 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD ing sureness, to feel that the play was forced, that my fairy woman was in pain, trying to hide some illness which sapped her strength. Then once, by accident, I saw, when she thought herself to be alone, agony in the poise of her body, desperate fear in her eyes. That summer, a certain attentiveness of the trad- ers, a disposition to ask needless questions, gave us a sense of being watched by the authorities. Trav- eling with horses, and leaving tracks, we were lia- ble to be followed and interfered with. For that reason, we built birch-bark canoes which, swimming upside down as a rule, gave us more bathing than we really needed. At least, we left no tracks. Our river, without disclosing its name, went bub- bling affably, capsizing us at rapids through hun- dreds of miles of alpine wonderland, northward at first, then west, then southward — in black jiLie jun- gles now, which yielded us no food. Beyond that, the river took to evil courses, plunging as one long riffle, br : en by cascades into an ever deepening abyss whose walls were mountains. Our web-foot tribe — for so Rain called us — ^began to be afraid. From our next camp, I climbed a hill to see what became of the river; and on my return found a white man seated beside Rain's fire. He was a great THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 329 gaunt frontiersnuui, whose mouth had been large for a dog, and in his eyes the smile of heaven's own sunlight. Owl's two little girls were climbing all over him, the dogs were adoring him, and Rain had given him the very last of our coffee. At shrewd sight, this visitor addressed me in Eng- lish, with a soft Texan drawl. "How much do you want for the bunch of babies?" "More than you've got," said L "I aim to cheapen them babies — or get them wings." "Wings?" "They'll ne«d 'em."* "You mean, there's bad water down yonder ?" "Yes, sir. Bad for brown babies. Thar's thou- sands of millions in Heaven, but they're scarce to be spared down heah, so I'll trade for this lot rather than see 'em wasted." "Where does the river go?" "To Heavea Jest keep right on. You cayn't miss it." "Is the canyon long?" "Ef the first mile ain't enougL, thar's two hun- dred comin'." "We're looking for the sea." 330 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "So'i Fraser River." "rhenit'«theFra«erl" "I wouldn't call a man plumb lost who'd eyes like your'n, so maybe the country hereaways has gawn strayed." "Or perhaps our planet ha* wandered out of the way?" "Out of which way?" "God's way»" "Say. I like you a whole lot. My name's Smith, 'cept that my friends call me Jesse, Sailor Jesse." "My name is— call me Squaw-man." "Put her thar," said Jesse. I have been easy of acquaintance, but of my few friendships that with Sailor Jesse of Caribou was perhaps most intimate. We sat together on the river bank under the golden mountains, where groves of yellow pines, like throngs of angels, swayed to the organ peal of a triumphant wind. We watched the brave river go merrily to her drowning. So merrily went my wife, full conscious of great death. I told Jesse about that red imp of pain, which danced and glowed like fire within her shoulder. To consult a doctor, I must risk a visit to settlements, where the authorities would arrest my tribe, herd- t THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 331 ing them to imprisonment on their reservttion. And that involved my own fate aa a deserter from the mounted police, accused of bigamy with Sarde's wife. Most wonderfully my friend's words flattened the rough difficulties, made my journey short and eased the way. On the coast, he told me, Indians went free and unquestioned like the white men. Food was abundant both by land and water. He would show me where I could make a base camp for my tribe within one day's journey of a cottage hospital. So Jesse led us by a portage across the coast range, and through the abysmal chasm of Bute In- let to a cove in Valdez Island. There the Douglas pines towered three hundred feet into the sunshine, and through their cathedral aisles ranged herds of elk. Sheer from the feet of the trees went the fa- thomless blue of a deep channel, and, far beneath, the waving swaying groves of a seaweed forest faded away into the nether darkness. My wife would not allow me to take her to the cottage hospital, lest seeing her untidiness in blood and pain, I cease to love. "If lesse sees me," she said, "it doesn't matter, and if I die it will be so easy to find this camp. I shall think of your wait- ing, guarded by spirit trees." !( 332 THE, CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD She went with Jesse, trusting him, and contented, and when my friend returned alone, on his way homeward, all the news looked good. There had been an operation for cancer, but Rain was doing well, and would be ready to leave the hospital in a month. For Jesse, a month had thirty days or so, but for me it numbered thirty years. I set my tribe to work praying by watch and watch for Rain's recovery, then fearing senile decay if I remained, I prepared a one-man outfit with thirty days' provi- sions, and set off in my loaded canoe to be near my wife at Comox. Although I doubt if God believes in churches, the Catholic faith in which I had been reared provides good medicine. So I made confession to a priest, and having received his medicine, which was good, secured his help as an interpreter. He arranged with the hospital that I should have news of my wife, and he wired for me to Staff-Sergeant BucHie, N. W. M. P., bidding my friend come because I was in trouble. When Buckie answered that he had applied for fur- lough, I was content at my camp outside the village with fasting and prayer and the daily bulletins. My hair changed from black to silver-gray, dear proof that God's hand was upon me. And then, one mom- THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 333 ing, as I came up from bathing, I found Rain wait- ing, seated by the fire. There had been a shower, but now, as the sun- shine swept great fields of color across the Gulf of Georgia at our feet, God's birds, like little angels, rocked the woods with song. My wife sat by the embers putting on little twigs. "Your fire," she whispered to me, "was almost out." Yes, almost dead. Of late, it had been hard to keep the fire alive. Faith is like that. One hardly sees it while the sun is shining, but it glows bravely in the night, a comfort in the darkness, a mercy in times of hun- ger, pain or loneliness. The world-thought comes like rain to damp the fires of faith, which feed on winds of trouble, blow high on gales of persecution, set the whole world alight just when our need is greatest. "See," said my wife, "the little flames have come. We'll make a fine blaze now." So a good woman makes our faith bum strongly. "There's no smoke now," she said. Prayer is the smoke which comes from the fire of faith, and when the air is calm it goes straight up. Mine had been blown about during the time of wait- 334 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD ing, but now my faith blazed clear in great thanks- giving. A few days later, when Rain was quite recovered and fixed in camp again, a telegram from Buckie told me to expect him. So I went to the railroad station and watched the day's train arrive. I was looking for a non-commissioned officer of mounted police, whose gold and scarlet made him the most brilliantly conspicuous personage in North America. ' Buckie was looking for some sort of cowboy. So it happened that a well-dressed civilian in tweeds, with a portmanteau, a rod and a shotgtm, came along the platform, and was hailed in stage whispers by an Indian loafer. "Oh, Buckie, how could you? Trousers turned down — umbrella rolled up— what awful side !" "Liar I" he answered. "I wouldn't be seen dead with an umbrella." "Oh, what a dog! wouldn't be seen dead with an umbrella! Don't let the crowd see us together. Fol- low where I lead. Drown your false teeth, Buckie, change clothes, take a bath— and God won't know you." Outside the village, I let him walk beside me. "But," he gasped, "you're an Indian!" THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 33S "Aye, Buckie. The troop jester is dead. Wasn't he killed nine years ago by the fall of a horse in Montana ?" "But— Blackguard!" "He's dead, too." A comedian's fun is the echo of pain, the motley worn by sorrow. But when sorrow and pain have fled away, you miss them, for we only know the light because it casts a shadow. "How you've ichanged!" sighed Buckie. Once upon a time there was an inventive fish, who discovered water. Some day, perhaps, an inventive man may dis- (K)ver love, the atmosphere our souls breathe. And other men will tell him, "How you've changed!" When we had gained the secrecy of the woods, and Buckie put down his load to sit on a wayside log among the fern, he told me wonderful gossip. My telegram had found him acting regimental sergeant-major at headquarters, and when he applied for a furlough on urgent private affairs, the com- missioner gave him a parchment signed and sealed by the viceroy. Her Majesty's commission. He was In- spector Buckie posted to his old Troop D at Fort French, by special request of Sam, the officer com- manding. The senior inspector there was Mr. Sarde. 336 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD The orderly-room clerk was Staff-Sergeant la Man- cha, my Brat. The rest of the fellows were new, and total strangers. Nine years. Of course. "Your wife — " he asked. "Oh, yes." I remembered. "How's my seflora ?" "Dead." "Can you prove that?" With all his old, quaint official delight in docu- ments, Buckie showed me a letter from the sheriff at Helena. It seemed that the seiiora had become a woman of the town, and died quite naturally of drink. Only the sudden flight of her kept man, Red Saunders, had given rise to a certain amount of suspicion, perhaps ill-founded. At least, the senora's death had set me free. So far, Buckie knew nothing of my alliance un- der the Indian law with my dear lady, and when we came to her camp, he was shocked to his official soul at being presented. Yet during the long years, he had learned to speak Blackfoot with a strong Canadian accent, and shy as my lady always was of strangers, she seemed to like my friend. After all, the chap was a gentleman, delicately tactful, reverencing women, and presently surrendered to her charm. Moreover, the pain and danger of her illness had partly unsheathed the sweet and radiant THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 337 spirit of the sacred woman, so that her beauty had taken on an unearthly glamour. To that, my friend proved sensitive. After dinner, I told Rain of my new freedom, and begged her to accept the white men's rite of mar- riage. To her, that observance seemed a very tri- vial matter, and quite ridiculous was the rank it would give to my consort as Marchioness of the Alpuxarras. And yet, as we hoped for children, she consented to legalize our marriage, and that after- noon we waited upon the priest to whom I had made confession. So far, my lady had been amused, but when Buck- ie unpacked his baggage, he gave her a wedding present, an old Spanish poignard, its Toledo blade mounted in ivory and tarnished silver. I thought the toy a most unlucky gift, but to Rain it was a perfect revelation, the first entirely useless thing she had ever owned, a possession for pleasure only, and therefore priceless. We spent the rest of our wedding-day hunting the village stores for objects of perfect uselessness. It was mid-afternoon next day before my lady, Buckie and I left, our canoe loaded to the gunwale with treasures. Till dusk, we paddled gently along shore, then on to midnight in glassy starlit waters. 3a8 THE CHEERFUL Bi^CKGUARD An hour's nap refreshed us for a pull againsi the tide, then dawn broke above the splintered ice of the coast range, day kindled the Vancouver Alps until they glowed like flame, and the sun melted the hills into the cloudy air. Then mighty whirlpools spun our canoe like a top between a tide of eleven knots and a backwater running eight. Dark forest closed in on either side of the tide-race, and we spurted across the back-sluice into our tiny bay. A bevy of children were skirting like gulls as we landed, a cluster of laughing women hauled the canoe aground. We were hailed by our one-legged Japanese cook, our three-legged dog, our lame wild goose, an old blind siwash crone, and all the mixed assemblage of our tribal pets. Many Horses, Owl- calUng-"Coming" and their young son. Bears, Left Hand and Bear Paw, the hunters, two darling old scare-crows, who called themselves my wives be- cause they were Rain's attendants; yes, the whole Black foot tribe came down to greet our chief and make her welcome home out of the Valley of Death. Then all together we attended Rain through the dim naves of that stupendous forest, until we came to a fire of cedar-wood, with its blue film of in- cense. There the clamor ceased, while our chief, as priestess, burned sweet grass upon the altar fire. THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 339 and o£Fered thanks for her recovery. Then came hymns and sacred dances, prayer and reading of the Bible in our own Blackfoot language. Buckie went fast asleep standing, and Bears gave an imita- tion of that performance, which broke up our ser- vice into roars of laughter. During the weeks of his furlough, Buckie, with grave enjoyment, shared our hunting in the forest, our fishing by torchlight in channels phosphores- cent as liquid starlight, the bathing, the feasts, the dances, the matins at the dawn, the evensong at dusk. But most of all, he liked to sit with me within the portico of our forest temple, whence one looked out between colossal pine trunks to the sea channel, the far white Alps and the great pageantry forever marching across the summer sky. The hum- ming-birds, the bees, the woodland perfume, sun- beams athwart vast shadows and the strong music of the winds and seas, made that place sacred in its loveliness. At times we were driven into our teepees by riots of the weather, when the women dressed skins and made clothing, while Many Horses kept an eye on the fire, and his other eye on the children. But into that great peace there came foreboding. Budcie and I knew well that cancer is incurable, that 340 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD soon or late the inevitable pain would warn my wife of death which science could only delay, which prayer could only ease, and which no power on earth could possibly avert She seemed to sense death, and at times would jest with Buckie, telling him that he must take her to the plains, or muttering in her sleep she would speak of the Blackfoot camps, or during matins would pray looking toward the East. She wanted ^o go home, and I must take her back. God would preserve me from my enemies. I think it was in that camp I first began to notice how often the dogs howled, as they do when they sense ghosts. I have seen Rain frequently stop on her way through camp to speak to her father, to her mother or to friends long dead. She saw them plainly, she said, and spoke to them familiarly, as we do to living people, without the slightest sense of fear. And her own spirit-power seemed daily to gain in strength. It was her custom to make magic for our amusement. On the last evening of Buckie's visit, a steady drizzle had driven us to make our fire inside the teepee, and half the tribe had gathered ior a feast of berries. Then the children asked Rain to call Wind-maker. "Come, Wind-maker," she whispered into the THE SOUL OF LA MANCHA 341 hearth-smoke, and as she threw some sweet grass into the fire, we heard a sigh in the air far off. Bears gathered the younger children about him, snuggling for protection, and all their eyes glow- ed in the firelight, as though they were a wolf- pack besetting our winter camp in the Moon of Famine. "Wind-maker hears!" they whispered. "Wind-maker comes 1 Oh, Rain, don't let him come too near us!" , For answer, we heard a distant muttering of thunder. A gust shook the rain-drops out of the trees above us, a seething of fine rain swept along the tent wall, and sudden little breakers lashing on the beach sent us a splash of spray. The smoke hole let in a swirling down-draft filling the lodge with smoke, while the wind sighed through the tim- ber like hands upon a harp. Then the deep storm notes volleyed, thundered with blaze after blaze of lightning, crash upon rending crash, and wailing flute-notes lifted to a hurricane-screaming blast, thrashing three-hundred-foot timber like a whip- ping reed-bed, rocking the teepee until the children skirled and the women huddled together in their fright. I saw Many Horses revealed in a livid 34a THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD blaxe of lightning, his iron hard face let rigid, hit teeth clenched, his crossed eyes glittering as though he rode into battle. His son. Bears, was standing exultant, shouting with triumph. And aU about my wife arose a mut of human spirite and vague animals, while the rain roared, the cyclone yelled, the thunder crashed and volleyed. Then my wife's hands swept slowly down- ward, while ih obedience, the hurricane roUed away, and the rain eased and steadied, until a last throbbing of thunder like ruffled drums muttered among the echoes of the coast range. Our lives are such Ulusions as that Our lives are God's dreams in which we drive, like storm-swept ships, upcm a sea of terror. We suffer and go to wreck, supposing our tragic miseries all real, while God is dreaming the world-storm in which He trains our courage. CHAPTER XII INSPECTOR Buckie's narbativk I AM the Inspector Buckie mentioned in the fore- going text, and to me is entrusted the editing and completion of this biography. I feel that in this con- ventional world so very unconventional a man as Don Josi needed a friend in his biographer. A hostUe witness, for example, might bias the gentiest reader by setting forth bare facts of bigamy and homicide which, taken without their context, would seem offensive and unpardonable. So facts nay be told as lies. To strangers, my friend may have seemed an in- credibly complex personality. One saw him by turns as the grave courtly Hidalgo of old Spain, as the roUicking Irish trooper, as the red Indian sai .t. and at the end as a very dangerous outlaw. Yet these were only the moods of a sincere and simple gentleman, unusual only in his terrific strength of character, which lacked the guidance ,of strong in- teUect. 343 344 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD I who was his comrade saw, in my dim official way, only the humdrum duties of the police, and the squalor of Indian decadence. But here in his mem- oirs, I realize for the first time the breadth and splendor of the regimental service, the spirituality of the Indian character, and the tremendous majesty of our wilderness. Don Jos6 had eyes to see that we were living an epic life in the homeric age of Canada. While I went blind, he saw with heroic visioa So having tamed his spelling, cleared his gram- mar, and composed his chaotic chapters into narra- tive, I leave my humble task as editor, to take up the duties of biographer. From his camp on Valdez, La Mancha took me back by canoe to Comox, the terminal of the Van- couver Island Railroad. During this thirty-six-mile passage, I found occasion to warn my friend against an act of folly on which he had set his heart However unselfish he might be in taking Rain home to die among her people, he had no business to risk a visit to the Canadian plains. There, at any moment, he might be recognized by people who had known him in times past, even by Inspector Sarde or Red Saunders, his mortal enemies. The sequel would be his arrest INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 34S "Risk," said he, "is the only measure of value. Unless I risk my money, my liberty or my life, how can I feel my pleasure in such wealth?" I told him 1 saw no gain it bo'ng such a damned fool. "Y01.1 should learn to f j'*cr n.; rh'liy. Kr\in and I must go to the Piegan ■ .:- p. Yui, :;. e, n. chap, the Wolf Trail starts /.o.n U «re, ^rl : ■.01. t want my wife to take that Uail aluiie" "You want to die with her?" "If I may. At least, to see i.. - off on her way to the Sand Hills." "Where is that?" I asked, for I had heard of the Sand Hills as the place of the Blackfoot dead. "I don't know where," he answered, "but if you think, you'll know that there must be a place of wait- ing where those who rest are watching for those who suffer." "Are you sure," I asked him, "that we outlive death?" "It stands to reason, Buckie. Love is God. There- fore, love is eternal. Therefore, the love in us is our portion of the eternal. We are like lamps, and love is the light we carry through the dark- ness." "But lamps go out." 346 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD- "Some do, and some bum low, but Rain will carry light enough to see by while she waits for me. Of course, I must go as far as I can with her." "Think of the risk." "The hope." I knew then that nothing could deter him. "Is it nothing to you," he asked, "that you are one of the lamps which light the universe?" And so we ^rted. i : II In great content I reported to the superintendent commanding for duty at Fort r .ench, and made the best I could of Mr. Sarde as a brother officer with whom I had little in common. The orderly-room sergeant was my own friend. Brat la Mancha, now well healed of his wound and free from lameness «cept when he had to limp in winter moccasins.' Narrowly he had escaped being invalided, and being a cnpple, could never be allowed to take rough duty but must content himself with office work. Thanks to Jose, who yearly sent him half the income from Spam, the Brat was passing rich, with a fine, pros- perous and growing ranch of his own, to which h« would retire when it pleased him to quit the force. INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 347 At the post we were agreed never to mention Jos6 even in whispers, lest the gossips begin to suspect that we had a secret. Sam, Mr. Sarde and one or two very old hands in the division, who had known Don Jos6, believed him to be dead. Brat and I were silent, except when we stole off together after mountain trout. The well-oiled machinery of our routine found more or less truthful chronicle in the year's report. A mild winter was making way for an early spring when, one morning, as orderly officer for the week, I sat working with Brat la Mancha in the office. There were papers to sign, applications for passes, or sc ;ne such trifles. Through the window I could see a man ride in, the sergeant in charge at Stand- off, our outpost with the Blood tribe, of the Black- foot confederation. Sergeant Millard seemed in a hiirrj', and that was quite unusual, for in the many years he had been father confessor to the Bloods, the smooth perfection of his work made life monot- onous. Now he spoke rapidly to the sergeant of the guard, then with the sergeant-major, who show- ed concern, and brought him direct to the office. There must be events afoot, so, when they enter- ed, I asked the sergeant-major to see if the super- intendent commanding was at home. 348 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Millard saluted. "I thought it best to report in person, sir,— a case of murder and suicide. Mr. de Hamel is wounded." "The Indian agent?" "Yes, sir. Yesterday, that's Sunday the fifth in- stant, Mr. de Hamel came over and dined at the de- tachment. He mentioned a Piegan family which had come in on Saturday from the Blackfoot reservation in Montana. The Indian seemed a total stranger, by all accounti well fixed, with a first-rate outfit, three women, and a nephew aged about fourteea They had no pass, but unless they asked for rations Mr. de Hamel felt that no action was necessary. The Indian and his nephew had gone off at day- break, mounted. The three women remained in camp." "Names?" asked the Brat. "I've got a memorandum here, sir, with names and descriptions." "All right, Sergeant." "Mr. de Hamel mentioned that the wife was Rain, a well-known sacred woman. Her medicine was said to be so strong that some of the people brought presents, but she lay sick in the teepee, and the two older women said she must not be disturbed." Murder and suicide I I glanced at the Brat, whose INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 349 face was white as chalk, and envied him the writing which kept him occupied through that long sus- pense. "You may remember, sir," said Millard, "and Ser- geant la Mancha here must remember, Saunders, Red Saunders, in the force." "Yes. Go on." I wondered if my v(5ice was all right. "Well, sir, there's been a red-haired hobo hang- ing around, doing odd jobs, for some time past. Called himself Redmond. Drunken waster, by all accotmts. Mr. de Hamel mentioned that this man was a deserter — Red Saunders." "Did you arrest him?" I asked. "I told De Hamel I would, sir." Deserters are useless, and our fellows prefer not to catch them. "Well, sir, from later information, I find that Redmond, alias Saunders, was seen by several wit- nesses loafing around the neighborhood of that tee- pee, until just before dark, when the old women were away for fire-wood or water. Then he went in." Brat coughed, and still, through all the years, I hear that sound. His notes were a mere pretense. Afterward I found he had been drawing little owls. 3SO THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD "According to the boy, Bears, he went with his unde, Charging Buffalo, to visit Many Horses, his own father, camped at Bullhorn Coulee. On their return at dusk. Charging Buffalo handed the boy his head-rope to take the horses to pasture. As the boy rode off, he saw his uncle in the open door of the teepe-, picking up an ax. He heard no sounds. "From the boy's evidence, and from the signs, this Indian must have found the white man assault- ing his woman. He came behind, and with a single stroke of the ax sliced Saunders' head in halves, leaving the blade where it stuck. Then he dragged the body off his woman, and found her with both hands clutching the haft of a knife. The blade was hilt-deep, and must have entered her heart, for she was already dead." Brat was not likely to stand much more of this. I sent him to fetch Sam. It was well we waited until Brat left the room, for Sergeant Millard gave particulars which even a hardened sinner prefers to forget. "The knife, sir." So Millard laid on the desk before me the Spanish poignard which long ago I had bought as a curiosity in Winnipeg, used for many years as a paper-cut- INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 351 ter while stationed at Prince Albert, and finally given to Rain last summer as a wedding present Now it was black with her blood, but it had saved her honor. I picked it up, forcing myself to in- difference. "An Italian stiletto, eh? How should an Indian woman come by that?" "Italian, sir?" asked Millard. "Venetian," said I, examining the hilt. "Looks like seventeenth century work. People wore the knives they used at table." "The Indians," was Millard's comment, "have kits of curios picked up jn their wars." I put the weapon down, and lighted a cigarette, proud that no tremor of the hands betrayed my agitation. An Indian had murdered a white man — that was all — and a squaw had killed herself. There was nothing to identify Don Jose. The sergeant was gray with fatigue, and I bade him sit down. "I think," he said, "that Indian had gone mad. They do sometimes. The old woman came back as he left the teejiee carrying his rifle, a Winchester. He was loading as he crossed to the agent's house. "Mr. de Hamel says I.e was smoking his after- supper cigar in the veranda when he saw the Indian 352 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD coining, stark staring mad. He tried to get into the house for his gun, but a bullet dropped him in the doorway. The left femur was broken six inches above the knee, but Mr. de Hamel managed to drag himself into the house and behind the front door. It opens ioward. Charging Buffalo went in and look- ed round, but couldn't find the agent It was after dark then. After a minute or two, he went out, running toward the pasture for his horse." "What grudge could he have against Mr. de Hamel?" "The man who had sheltered Red Saunders ?" An Indian, a bear, or a white man, will defend his mate from outrage, and kill without scruple, justly. That is unwritten law which needs no writ- ing. Red Saunders had to be killed, and the man who harbored such vermin must take the conse- quences. But what of the law which was bound to avenge De Hamel? "How long was it. Sergeant," I asked, "before this affair was reported?" "I found the bodies were still warm," he answer- ed, "the scent still hot, if I'd had the blof^Jhounds I requisitioned. But it was pitch dar' , no moon, sky overcast." "Could you find the tracks with a lantern ?" INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 333 In weary scorn, the sergeant retorted, "A lan- tern? Too good a target." Almighty Voice, the Cree outlaw, killed five of our men before we brought up a gaa and shelled his earthwork. Sergeant Millard was right not to at- tempt half measures. "De Hamel," he told me, "had arterial bleeding, and my first job was to clap on a tourniquet. He was pretty far gone when I reached him. I sent an Indian, his servant, to Doctor Delane, and put a sen- try on the house in case the lunatic came back for another shot. I saw that Mrs. De Hamel and the children didn't expose themselves at lighted win- dows. Next I had to handle the Bloods: they were getting excited. I couldn't get away imtil now." "You had three constables?" "One on pass, one on flying sentry, and one with the interpreter collecting information. At daylight, we picked up the tracks, before the people had them trampled, so I know which way the man went. I want a patrol, sir." "About this boy. Bears. You brought him in?" "He escaped, sir." I told him to send the sergeant-major, then get some food and rest while he had time. So I was left ialone. 354 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Grown men in my trade are expected to keep themselves in a state of discipline, but there are times when it is best to be alone. And even in solitude we of the North are denied the relief of tears, would rather sacrifice the respect of our ellows than lapse from self-respect. For us there ; i" relief. My fr= ,d and I had fought shoulder to shoul- der, wit.i only death between us, who needs no more space than a knife-edge. Stirrup to stirrup we had ridden the long patrols, faced the shrewd killing blizzards, and the terrific heat of an unsheltered land. No word or breath of discord had marred the perfection of our friendship. To him I owed the contentment which made a small career worth living. Enviously, and yet with dread, I had seen him climbing heights of the life spiritual which I could never dare. And now, it seemed, in one tremendous downfall he was cast to hell. He was mad, a homi- cidal BwnUc, to be hunted as wolves are hunted. From that I wanted to stand aside, had hoped in desperate anxiety that my commanding officer would come quickly and take charge. But now Brat re- turned with a stiff salute and the official manner to tell me that the superintendent commanding and Mr. INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 355 Sarde were away, not to be found. The burden of command waa on my shoulders, to set the chase in motion which was to hunt the one person I really loved. I suppose Brat watched my mood, for suddenly, alone as we were, he clapped his hand on my shoul- der. "Buckie," he whispered, "can't you get blood- hounds? Isn't it possible, somehow? It's the only hope ot getting him without bloodshed. Hire them, and if it costs me my ranch, I'll pay." "Where can we get them?" He drew back. "I don't know. One or two sheriffs have them in the states." "They couldn't send them out of their own dis- tricts. And, Brat— if our interests in this business got wind! No, we must get Jos6— and work up a good enough case for the defense. A jury would say it served Red Saunders right, and as to De Ha- mel, he was only wounded." ttl There are so many narratives of the famous man- hunt, official, 4)ublished, suppressed, or even truth- ful, that I am cumbered with too much material. The official ver.le. He told me that Rain was always at his side, that she would stroke his hair and give delicious mimicry of my voice and manner. "I begin to see," he said, "through veils which grow thin toward the light. "You know, Buckie, that when a gun is fired, or lightning flashes miles and miles away, you wait and count the seconds until you hear the crash. There's not really an instant between flash and bang, but we have an illusion which we call time. It does not exist. Time's only a thing we imagine: the pause between flash and bang." "The flash and bang of what?" "Suppose it is a word, proceeding out of the mouth of God, which bids your soul to serve. Be- tween the blaze and the report you enter time, bom. INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 395 living, gone, and all the long revolving years be- tween of happiness and sorrow, sin and penance, the passions, loves, ambitions, triumphs, failures, from birth to death exist within this instant we call a human life. We are like falling stars, the meteor stones which rush through the eternities of space unseen, unknown, save for the moment's blazing transit of earth's atmosphere. But we are spirits lit by a word of God." "Burned I" "Yes. Dirt and water will make your mud, but it takes heat and pressure to turn common stuff to gems, burning for stars, torture to create poor crea- tures like ourselves into immortal spirits, and God alone knows what terrific ordeal exalts His angels until they can exist triumphant in His presence. I am ready, waiting, impatient, filled with ambitions I hardly dare to think of. The light is blinding." "Aren't you afraid?" "Awed, rather. I shall leave fear behind me. The blind are made to see, the dead are raised, we poo- have the Gospel preach<;d to us. Blessed arc the blind, the poor, the dead, for even in Christ shall all be made alive, and death is swallowed up in victory." So, rapt in contemplation, this dying felon sav/ 396 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD not the walls which imprisoned his body, but viL:ons of immeasurable grandeur through the wide gates of ''••th. VI It would be morbid to dwell in detail on the last days, when many Indians were permitted to see the prisoner, when the men of D Troop who had hunted him to this death shook hands at parting, when the priest and I by turns sat with him while through the long hours we could hear the hammers at work upon the scaffold across our barrack square. At the very end of that, in the dusk, when our time came to part, I knelt to receive his blessing. Afterward, I sent my servant for Black Prince, and being off duty, spei't most of the night out on the plains, where I could be alone. The stars were very bright, and on the uplands a touch of summer frost turned ail the grass to silver. So the dawn broke, and far away I heard reveille sound, like a great throbbing prayer cleaving the skies. The whole Blood and North Piegan tribes had been assembled to witness the public execution of the Indian who had dared to levy war against 'fmr empire. The chiefs and medicine men of the INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 397 South PiegMM, stanch friends of Charging Buffalo as the adopted son of Medicine Robe, had come across from Montana to see his passing. Even some of the North Blackfeet and the Stonies had trav- eled the hundred miles or so from their reserves. All had pitched their teepees on the banks of Old Man's River, and in the daybreak I rode homeward through a camp of the Blackfoot nation worthy of earlier times. It was broad daylight when I reached my quar- ters, with time for a bath and coffee. Fear of pos- sible excitement among the Blackfeet had made it necessary to rally our men from the detachments, and muster a general parade of the division to hold the barrack square and guard the scaffold. 7 went on duty, took the parade and reported to the officer commanding. The prisoner, thanks to very careful nursing, had been well enough these last few days to walk, taking even a little exercise, although he had not strength to stand at his full height. He was bent like an old man, and when he left his cell would wrap himself in his large blanket, which formed a sort of cowl hilling his face. Civilians would come and stare, and he resented that. Now, leaning on the priest's arm, he came out 398 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD from the guard-house, attended '7 the guard, who fornied up round one of our transport wagons which stood in waiting. At my request, a pair of steps had been placed as a mounting-block, from which, with the priest, he entered at the tail of the wagon. The teamster was my junior counsel, and in the off man's place sat the fellow chosen as hangman, wear- ing civilian clothes and a silk mask. As the team started at a slow walk, the prisoner commenced to sing his death-song after the Indian usage, but the priest, as I learned afterward, asked him to stop, saying that the Blackfeet would under- stand, but white men would think him afraid. In a dead silence the wagon crossed the parade ground and backed to the scaffold, which was level with its bed. Then the priest lifted the prisoner, supporting him until they came under the gallows. The hang- man joined them, carrying the white cap which was to be drawn over the prisoner's head, hiding his face. I remember steeling myself to see the common- place details, and to see nothing else, to think of nothing else. A night of preparation had strength- ened me to face as best I could the public and shame- ful death of the one man on earth I loved. Even now I could not bear to lock toward that group on the scaffold, but turned about, surveymg the hollow INSPECTOR BUCKIE'S NARRATIVE 399 square of our parade formation, the dense mass of Indians surrounding the barT:,;V fence, the crowd of white men. Then I he .rd a suilder tremendous gasp of amazement, of ge. erul consteriation, and a single triumphant voice rang oui h^vn the scaffold. I turned, could not believe my eyes, stared won- der-struck; then ran as hard as I could pelt toward the platform. The prisoner, with one great sweeping gesture, rose to his full height, lifting the blanket apart until he held it behind him with widely outstretched arms, disclosing the scarlet tunic, breeches and gleaming boots, the four gold chevrons on his forearms of a staff-sergeant. The blanket dropped; he snatched away the long gray braids of hair, and cast at his feet a wig. There, with his curly raven-black hair, his laughing eyes and milk-white teeth, in the prime of radiant health, laughing hysterically, was Brat laManchal "Drugged!" he yelled. "He wouldn't go, but I drugged him. He's escaped! He's in Montana by nowl" Sam had leaped on the scaffold before I got there, and never have I seen a man in such a blazing rage as my commanding officer was then. "What does this mean?" he asked through his teetH. 400 THE CHEERFUL BLACKGUARD Brat stood to attention, beaming with an out- rageous benevolence. "It means, sir," he answered joyfully, "that the prisoner was my brother." "Your brother!" "Yes, sir; Ex-constable Jos6 de la Mancha, my brother, who changed places once with me when I was a prisoner. It's my turn now, sir. Hang me I" "By the Lord God!" "To Him, sir," answered Don PedrO haughtily, "you will leave my,brother. I am your prisoner." THE END