Jane Allen: Center Part 3

"Oh, how jolly! Jane, how do you think we will ever be able to tear ourselves away from all this? Couldn't we start a home-study course, or something outside?" pouted Judith.

Donning their brilliant sweaters, the girls were soon ready, and taking their places in the buck-board set out to a.s.sist in the inspection.

Within the corrals the shouting of the cowboys, and the antics of broncos and ponies, presented a scene quite like the Wild West of the screen world. Jane and Judith were in their glory. Jane with the joy of exhibiting the "High Spots of Ranch Life," she had promised, and Judith with the exhilarating delight of observing such wonders for the first time.

"And to think I might have missed it all," she reflected in Jane's ear, when a dash of the ponies brought them up to the end of the fenced-in patches of dust, noise and horses. "I had not planned to stop off until-Can you guess what made me think you lived somewhere near the Montana trail?"

"Oh, of course. b.u.t.te, p.r.o.nounced 'beaut'?" ventured Jane, and even Henry Allen considered the guess worthy of a prize. And he said so.

This particular evening, the prelude of a series that followed, there was carried out a program of such enjoyment, that one would easily agree with Judith, it would be hard indeed for the girls to tear themselves away from the ranch life to take up the circ.u.mspect duties of college. The excitement of actually bargaining with the Indians and obtaining the souvenir beaded bags (although none with an abject apology worked in its intricacies was to be found for Judith), then the dear moccasins, about which Mr. Allen coaxed the squaws to tell such quaint fables, not to speak of the mysteriously woven baskets, made big enough and small enough for any imaginable dressing or sewing use, when all garnered and gathered made up a precious burden for the depot cart in which the El Capitan party rode home that wonderful summer afternoon.

"Couldn't we stop at Squaw Squatty's, Daddy? I would love to have the old Indian tell Judy's fortune," Jane suggested.

"Oh, yes, do," pleaded Judy. "I want so much to know about a big secret I have planned for the first half," she volunteered. "Jane, I'll tell you about it, maybe. But I should like to know how it will all pan out, and I'm sure a squaw would be able to foretell," she ventured, with a sly grimace at Aunt Mary.

CHAPTER IV-WOO NAH AND THE FORTUNES

"Can we make it, Daddy?" asked Jane. "Doesn't that look like a little cyclone cloud?" indicating the cloud with a "tail" that seemed to be gathering color and speed as the buckboard traveled on.

"Old Squatty's cabin would be as good a place as any in a blow," her father replied. "If we get one, we could put the horses in shelter around there, and maybe the lightning might give the old lady a real glimpse into the beyond. Shall we try it, sister?" to Miss Allen who was, as a rule, rather timid of the storms that sprung up so suddenly on the plains.

"I am perfectly willing," acquiesced the lady. "As you say, brother, the cabin would be a comparatively safe place to seek shelter in."

With that velocity peculiar to storms of the prairie the antic.i.p.ated baby cyclone gathered force, and with one great gust and almost without warning broke over their heads.

Jane opened the curtains of the cart to allow the gale a way out, without incurring the possibility of upsetting them. Judith was simply fascinated with the sweep everything was taking, but Aunt Mary gathered herself as far as possible into her bonnet and wrap, scarcely venturing to speak while Mr. Allen held his horses in with a firm rein.

"Just a few paces," he shouted rea.s.suringly. "Hold tight!"

"All right," called back Jane, and so deafening was the swirl that only a clear, loud voice such as she exercised could have made its way to the driver just in front.

Two big s.h.a.ggy dogs intercepted the dash of the buckboard into the squaw's lane. The old woman was still outside, hunched up in the queerest sort of a hammock, made of a halfed barrel, strung up to two young oak trees. With something like a howl she called the dogs off, and waved a stick to the travelers to come in, seemingly sensing the possibility of profit in their visit. Mr. Allen discovered where to find shelter for his team, and as the storm was tearing and scattering limbs of trees, and everything it could wrench from stability, he did not stop until he had entered the queer stable with the cart and its occupants.

"Now we are in for it," he admitted, a.s.sisting Aunt Mary to alight.

"I'm glad we are here and not on Steeple Hill."

"Thrills!" exclaimed Judith. "More thrills. I have seen nothing but wonders since I came to Montana. I really think, Janie, I have had more real experiences while here than in all my coast touring."

"Lovely of you to say so, Judy. But just wait till you see old Mrs.

Teekawata. She is the wife of the one great medicine man, or rather his widow. Don't mention fortune telling, that would offend her. She is a 'scientist.' She will mix up stuffs, and get clues from the smoke! That is if she is in a communicative mood."

"Or in need of white bread," amended Mr. Allen, who had overheard the girls. "Teekawata is a business woman with talents wasted. She should have been a copper queen."

The storm was scattering almost as quickly as it had gathered. The old squaw had tumbled out of her half barrel, and leaning on her stick, awaited the party's approach from the shack. Aunt Mary edged close to her brother. She had no love for these old Indians, and rather feared for her belongings when in their company.

"Greeting!" called Mr. Allen to the old woman. "Thunder Cloud sent you his good word. Did you see how he followed us in here?"

"Si si," answered the woman, who was of the Mexican type. "Approach!"

and she indicated an old bench under the mendicant vines that straggled around the hut. So heavy had they grown the rain of the shower had not penetrated their depths, and like a canopy, they arched over the poles, propped at ends for their support. She stared at the girls without any pretext of apology. Judith with her dark hair seemed particularly attractive to the squaw's flagrant scrutiny. Aunt Mary remained outside.

"The young ladies wonder," ventured Mr. Allen, "if you have heard from Teekawata lately, Woo Nah. Perhaps he has sent a message for their good health?"

"Health!" she repeated in good English. "The medicine man forgets not the health of good white brothers. The sunset gives light to their cheeks, and the stars sleep in their eyes," she rhapsodied.

Jane nudged Judith to make note of the compliment.

"When Woo Nah was at the government school," continued the Indian, "she has seen many young girl. They come to give English. Some with hair and eyes like the morning, others with the midnight hair and coals from the fire eyes. But they all like Woo Nah," she insisted.

"Of course," chimed in Jane. "We like her also. Will you tell us what you know from your great husband, the Medicine Man of Broken Hill?"

"Teekawata, would not that I should foretell. But I give a dream-a dream of happiness," and she arose from the patched chair to lead the party within the cabin.

"I shall wait here," concluded Aunt Mary, who had no curiosity about the fortune telling or the interior of the ramshackle hut. In fact she was holding unnecessarily tight to her small hand-bag.

"Woozy," whispered Judith, whose eyes were sparkling like the coals or the quartz gems Woo Nah had described.

Within the cabin an a.s.sortment of snake skins and some very large ears of dried corn formed a queer decoration on the log walls. A few skins, perhaps those of the prairie rat, were also in evidence, while the glossy red corn with its artistic husk hung gracefully over a strange picture, that Jane told Judith was a portrait of the famous medicine man Teekawata. Chairs were relics of civilization which must have touched the spot at some time in a period of miners transition. The table was nailed to the wall and on it the litter of stuff spoiled an otherwise rustic effect. An American stove in the corner was evidently of the same vintage as the chairs, and there were other bits of furniture and dishes-perhaps accepted in payment for the services of the medicine man, who for years had given some sort of service to the settlers and their families.

"Not sisters?" asked and answered the old woman, to Judith and Jane.

"No, but very good friends," Mr. Allen replied with a ring in his voice that Jane and her chum fully appreciated.

The old woman now took her place on a queer high stool. On a three-legged table just beneath this stool was a big Mexican earthen bowl. Carefully she took a cover off the rather pretty jar, and then opened what looked like a snuff box. This she squinted into with a show of importance and concern.

"For the ladies' good health I will ask Teekawata to make promise," she began. Then she lifted the snuff box above her head and muttered some unintelligible wail.

Judith had grasped Jane's hand. The scene was getting weird and a return of the storm, a sort of backfire, made the whole thing seem uncanny.

"Experience," whispered Jane. "Gives us material for school work."

"Yes, but it is creepy," answered back Judith. "I wish the storm would blow over."

The old woman continued to mumble and make cabalistic pa.s.ses with the snuff box. Finally she took a match and dropped some powder from the box into the bowl, struck the match on the side of her stool and put the flame to the powder. Soon a slim string of smoke climbed out from the edge of the jar.

Mr. Allen's face wore so broad a smile that, if the girls had thought of attaching any significance to the performance, this would have dissipated it.

"Teekawata, come!" called the Indian.

"Midnight hair and starlight eyes," began the squaw, "Teekawata sends greeting and health. In gold you will make the fortune of much. Much yet will you find in the great heart of friends. From the Bear come strong." At this moment she brought her arms out in a gesture indicating strength, but Judith dodged. She liked the soothsaying as an entertainment, but objected to personal demonstrations. The old woman scowled. Jane was bowing her head in abject attention to make amends for her friend's distraction.

"The Bear star will give our girl power," suggested Mr. Allen to keep the squaw on the right track through the clouds.

"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed the woman. "Teekawata knows no white spirit."

"Beg pardon," Mr. Allen could not help whispering for it was too funny to interrupt a ghost like that.