Lydia of the Pines Part 33

Marshall and his crowd, they'll make a big fight. I may have to compromise. I may make my bill read, only mixed bloods can sell their lands, not full bloods."

"Good!" said an Indian. "Full blood don't want to sell, anyhow."

"Better for you mixed bloods," agreed Levine, "because you'll get higher prices for your land, but worse for us whites, for there'll be less land, unless--you mixed bloods should happen to swear the full bloods are mixed too."

No one spoke for a minute, then a fat, yellow-faced half-breed laughed.

"I'll swear old Chief Dawn had a white great-grandmother. I'll get even with him, for throwing me out of the council."

"Exactly," said Levine. "It'll be a good way for all of you to pay up old debts. Any of Marshall's men been up here lately?"

After a pause, one of the younger Indians said, "Some young fellows been going through the woods measuring out a road and they acted like they was just out for a vacation when any one was around. A year ago I see one of the fellows riding out with Marshall."

Levine grunted. Lydia's heart was pounding so hard that it really pained her. She stared at John unbelievably. Yet it was the same familiar, sallow face, with the gaunt look about the cheeks. Only the eyes were strange. Lydia had never seen them so hard, so searching before. Kent was breathing deep and he did not loose his hold on her arm.

"Well," said Levine, "is that all you folks have got to report, after six months? What do you think I'm paying you for?"

An old mixed blood, almost as dark as a full blood, removed his pipe from his mouth. "All the shoes we buy this year made out of paper, cost four dollars, melt when they get wet. Woman at Last Chance tell me Injun Agent tell her he gets those shoes from Marshall."

"The hog!" grunted Levine. "Anything more?"

What more might have come Lydia did not know for an old squaw came tottering into the fire glow. She was gray headed and emaciated.

"Oh, that's our old squaw, Kent, remember?" whispered Lydia.

"Shut up!" murmured Kent.

The squaw made her way up to John. There was something sinister in the look of her and he rose.

"What you do now, white man," she snarled. "Steal! Steal more, eh?"

Levine looked down on her and his voice was pitying. "Why, you poor old devil, you look half starved." He dug into his pocket and brought out a silver dollar. "Go get some grub," he said.

The old woman stared from the dollar to Levine's face and her voice rose to a shriek.

"Steal! Steal! Make our young men drunk! Make our young girls have babies that grow like these snakes," she pointed a trembling, scrawny finger at the scowling mixed bloods. "White man--dirty fool--dirty thief," and she spat at Levine, at the same time striking the dollar from his hand. It rolled out onto the needles and lay s.h.i.+ning in the firelight.

John stiffened and the mixed bloods watched him curiously. But the squaw suddenly burst into the feeble yet deep drawn sobs of the old, and tottering over to the silver she picked it up. "Hungry!" she sobbed. "All the time much hungry." And she started slowly away from the fire in the direction of Kent and Lydia's hiding-place.

"Quick!" whispered Kent, and noiselessly the two ran back into the darkness of the woods, through which, however, a silver light was beginning to filter. "There's the moon," he said in a low voice. "Now I can find the lake."

He took Lydia's hand and they hastened in silence toward the rising moon. In less than half a mile they found the lake and far around its curving sh.o.r.e, the gleam of their own camp fire.

"Holy Mike! What do you think of that!" demanded Kent as they headed for the fire. "Isn't Levine a wonder!"

"Oh, Kent!" gasped Lydia. "What shall we do!"

"Do!" cried Kent. "Why keep our mouths shut and see what happens.

Lord, what an adventure! Lyd, I wouldn't have missed this day for a hundred dollars!"

Lydia scarcely heard him. "John Levine!" she murmured. "My best friend! Oh, I can't believe it."

"Shucks! Why, that's life! Gee, what rich pickings! Me for the real estate business!"

"Kent, it's stealing, just as my squaw said. And it's just the meanest, dirtiest kind of stealing!"

"It's nothing of the kind. The whites have got to have that land and if a lot of sentimental grannies won't let us get it openly, we've got to get it quietly."

They were nearing the camp now and Kent stopped and in the moonlight took Lydia by the shoulders. "Look here, Lyd, don't you tell a soul about what we saw. Promise me!"

"I'll do nothing of the kind," snapped Lydia.

The two stood staring at each other. The lad, tall and broad, his dark face tense; the girl, slender, her fair hair s.h.i.+mmering, her eyes clear in the moonlight.

"Promise!" repeated Kent.

"I will not!" returned Lydia.

Kent's hold on her shoulders tightened. He wanted to box her ears and yet, as he gazed at the wistful, sensitive lips, he felt a sudden desire to kiss her.

"Well, promise me, you'll say nothing while we're in camp, anyhow."

Lydia hesitated. After all, she thought, to whom could she tell the story and what could any one do! "All right, I'll promise that," she agreed, slowly.

Kent took his hands from her shoulders. "Come on then, old lady. Gee, this beats hanging poor old Florence Dombey under the willows. Give me your hand and I'll tow you along."

It was scarcely nine o'clock, after all, when they trudged into the camp. Charlie and Gustus came in a moment later, having heard Miss Towne's call.

"Oh, Lydia! Lydia! I've worried myself sick." And the cruel Miss Towne, the grouchy Miss Towne, threw her arms about Lydia, with a little murmur that was curiously like a sob.

"We were just going to the settlement for help," said Charlie, "though we were pretty sure nothing serious could have happened."

"Of course nothing serious!" protested Kent. "We were too smart to follow the roads and got lost going and coming. We waited for the moon to come up and we haven't had anything to eat but chewing gum."

"We saved your supper," said Margery. "Come on, Gustus, we'll heat it for 'em."

"Margery'd be a real human being, if she'd stay away from her mother,"

observed Kent. "For the love of Mike, let me sit down!"

"Here, get in the hammock and let me fix the cus.h.i.+ons for you!" cried Olga, who had been eying Lydia closely.

"Thanks, I prefer the dining-room bench, right now," returned Kent.

"Come on, Lyd. Food!"

Lydia was tired the next day and elected to stay in camp with Miss Towne while the others, including even Margery and Gustus, went on an all day strawberry hunt.

Lydia lay in a hammock with a book all the morning, but the greater part of the time, Miss Towne observed, her eyes were fastened broodingly on the lake and not on the printed page. The two went bathing alone, at noon, and afterward lay on the gra.s.sy sh.o.r.e, drying their hair.

"Lydia, wasn't Kent nice to you, yesterday?" asked the chaperone, abruptly.