Shadows of Shasta Part 7

"Don't you see the skins there? Whar kin they sleep? They'll come afore dark, for even an Injin can't climb these rocks after dark. And when the gal's in camp, and that feller fixed--eh? eh?" And he tapped and rattled the manacles.

"Eh? eh? old Toppy?" and the two men poked each other in the ribs, and looked the very villains that they were.

"But let's see what they've got here. Two tiger-skins, an old moccasin and a tomahawk;" he looked at the handle and read the name, JOHN LOGAN; "Guess I'll hide that," said the agent, as he kicked the skins about, and then stuck the tomahawk up under his belt. "Guess that's about all."

"Guess that's about all!" sneered the other; "that's about all you know about Injuns. Allers got your nose to the ground, too. Look here!" And the man, who had been walking about and looking up in the trees, here drew down a bundle from the boughs of a fir.

"Well, I'll swar! ef you can't find things where a c.o.o.n dog couldn't!"

"Find things!" exclaimed the other, as he prepared to examine the contents of the bundle; "all you've got to do is to look into a fir-tree in an Injun's camp. You see, bugs and things won't climb a fir gum; nothing but a red-bellied squirrel will go up a fir gum, for fear of sticking in the wax; and even a squirrel won't, if there is a string tied around, for fear of a trap. Wal, there is the string. So you see an Injun's _cache_ is as safe up a fir-tree as under lock and key. Ah, they're awful short of grub. Look thar! Been gnawing that bone, and they've put that away for their suppers, I swar!"

"Wal, the grub is short, eh? They'll be rather thin, I'm thinking."

The other did not notice this remark, but throwing the bundle aside, he rose up and went back to the tree.

"By the beardy Moses! Look thar!" and the man looked about as if half frightened, and then held up a bottle.

"Whisky?" asked the other, springing eagerly forward.

"No," answered the man, contemptuously, after smelling the bottle.

"Water, eh?" queried the other, with disgust.

"Wine! And look here. Do you know what that means? It means a white man!

Yes, it does. No Injin ever left a cork in a bottle. Now, you look sharp. There will be a white man to tackle."

"Wal, I guess he won't be much of a white man, or he'd have whisky."

"Shoo! I heard a bird fly down the canyon. Somebody's a comin' up thar."

"We better git, eh?" said the other, getting his gun; "lay for 'em."

"Lay low and watch our chance. Maybe we'll come in on 'em friendly like, if there's white men. We're cattle men, you know; men hunting cattle,"

says the other, getting his gun and leading off behind the crags in the rear. "Leave me to do the talking. I'll tell a thing, and you'll swear to it. Wait, let's see," and he approaches the edge of the rocks, and, leaning over, looked below.

"See 'em?"

"Shoo! Look down there. The gal! She's a fawn. She's as pretty as a tiger-lily. Ah, my beauty!"

The other man stood up, shook his head thoughtfully, and seemed to hesitate. The watcher still kept peering down; then he turned and said: "The white man is old Forty-nine. He comes a bobbin' and a limpin' along with a keg on his back, and a climbin' up the mountain sidewise, like a crab."

"Whoop! I have it. It's wine, and they'll get drunk. Forty-nine will get drunk, don't you see, and then?"

"You're a wise 'un! Shake!" And they grasped hands.

"You bet! Now this is the little game. The gal and Logan, and the boy, will get here long first. Well, now, maybe we will go for the gal and the boy. But if we don't, we just lay low till all get sot down, and at that keg the old man's got, and then we just come in. Cattle-men, back in the mountains, eh?"

"That's the game. But here they come! Shoo!" and with his finger to his lip the leader stole behind the rocks, both looking back over their shoulders, as Carrie entered the camp.

Her pretty face was flushed from exertion, and brown as a berry where not protected by the shock of black hair. She swung a broad straw hat in her hand, and tossed her head as if she had never worn and never would wear any other covering for it than that so bountifully supplied by nature. She danced gaily, and swung her hat as she flew about the little camp, and called at her chubby cherub of a brother over her shoulder. At last, puffing and blowing, and wiping his forehead, he entered camp and threw himself on one of the rocks.

"Why, you ain't tired, are you Johnny?"

"Oh, oh, oh,--no, I--I--I ain't tired a bit!" and he wiped his brow, and puffed and blowed, in spite of all his efforts to restrain himself.

"Why you like to climb the mountains, Johnny. Don't you know you said you liked to climb the mountains better than to eat?"

"Oh, yes, yes--I--I like to climb a mountain. That is, I like to climb one mountain at a time. But when there are two or three mountains all piled up on top of one another, Oh, oh, oh!"

"Oh, Johnny! You to go to bragging about climbing mountains! You can't climb mountains!" And again the girl, with shoes that would hardly hold together, a dress in ribbons, and a face not unfamiliar with the dirt of the earth, danced back and forth before him and sung s.n.a.t.c.hes of a mountain song. "Oh, I'm so happy up here, Johnny. I always sing like a bird up here." Then, looking in his face, she saw that he was very thoughtful; and stepping back, and then forward, she said: "Why, what makes you so serious? They won't never come up here, will they, Johnny?

Not even if somebody at the Reservation wanted me awful bad, and somebody gave somebody lots of money to take me back, they couldn't never come up here, could they, Johnny?" And the girl looked eagerly about.

"Oh, no, Carrie, you are safe here. Why, you are as safe here as in a fort."

"This mountain is G.o.d's fort, John Logan says, Johnny. It is for the eagles to live in and the free people to fly to; for my people to climb up out of danger and talk to the Great Spirit that inhabits it." The girl clasped her hands and looked up reverently as she said this. "But come, now, Johnny, don't be serious, and I will sing you the nicest song I know till Forty-nine comes up the mountain; and I will dance for you, Johnny, and I will do all that a little girl can do to make you glad and happy as I am, Johnny."

Here John Logan came up the hill, and the girl stopped and said, very seriously,

"And you are right sure, John Logan, n.o.body will get after us again?--n.o.body follow us away up here, jam up, nearly against Heaven?"

Here the two men looked out.

"No, Carrie, n.o.body will ever climb this high for you,--n.o.body, except _somebody_ that loves you very much, and loves you very truly."

"Injins might, but white men won't, I guess; too stiff in the jints!"

And again the girl whirled and danced about, as if she had not heard one word he said. Yet she had heard every word, and heeded, too, for her eyes sparkled, and she danced even lighter than before; for her heart was light, and the wretched little outcast was--for a rare thing in her miserable life--very, very happy.

"I ain't stiff in the jints, am I, Johnny?" and she tapped her ankles.

"Carrie, sing me that other song of yours, and that will make my heart lighter," said Johnny.

"Why, Johnny, we haven't even got the clouds to overshadow us here; we're above the clouds, and everything else. But I'll sing for you if I can only make you glad as you was before they got after us." And throwing back her hair and twisting herself about, looking back over her shoulder and laughing, looking down at her ragged feet, and making faces, she began.

Like the song of a bird, her voice rang out on the coming night; for it was now full twilight, and the leaves quivered overhead; and far up and down the mountains the melody floated in a strange, sweet strain, and with a touch of tenderness that moved her companions to tears. Logan stood aside, looking down for Forty-nine a moment, then went to bring wood for the fire.

As her song ended, Carrie turned to the boy; but in doing so her eyes rested on the empty bottle left by the side of a stone spread with a tiger skin, by the two men. The boy had his head down, as if still listening, and did not observe her. She stopped suddenly, started back, looked to see if observed by her brother, and seeing that he was still absorbed she advanced, took up the bottle and held it up, glancing back and up the tree.

"Somebody's been here! Somebody's been here, and it's been white men; the bottle's empty."

She hastily hid the bottle, and stepping back and looking up where her little store had been hidden, she only put her finger to her lip, shook her head on seeing what had happened, and then went and stood by her little brother. Very thoughtful and full of care was she now. All her merriment had gone. She stood there as one suddenly grown old.

"Oh, thank you, Carrie. It's a pretty song. But what can keep Forty-nine so long?"

The boy rose as he said this, and turning aside looked down the mountain into the gathering darkness. The girl stood close beside him, as if afraid.

"He is coming. Far down, I hear Forty-nine's boots on the bowlders."

"Oh, I'm so glad! And I'm so glad he's got pistols!" said the girl, eagerly. The two men, who had stepped out, looked at each other as she said this and made signs.