The Cabin on the Prairie Part 27

The officers stood looking at each other perplexed, and were continuing their conversation in a low tone, when Long Hair entered, and without noticing any one, stood, with folded arms, gazing at Charlie.

"Long Hair," said the captain, turning abruptly towards him, "how long did you get here before we did?"

"Little time--not much."

"Were you on the ground when we heard the discharge?"

"In tree; just here; over dere."

"Did any one leave the cabin after the guns were fired?"

"No leave cabin," he answered.

"Who do you think fired the guns, Long Hair?"

"Charlie fire gun."

"But Charlie is dead; and the discharge was only a few moments ago."

"No; Indian no sense; Charlie no fire gun. Bub fire gun."

"Impossible," returned the captain, impatiently. "How could such a child do it?"

"What string for, cap'n?" asked Long Hair, pointing to the twine that hung from the gun triggers, which, being so near the color of the walls, had been detected only by the Indian's keen glance. This ingenious arrangement was examined with interest; and the conviction was fast gaining ground, that Long Hair was not far from right in his conclusions.

"But where is the child?" asked the captain; and again they searched the cabin. The closet was peered into to its topmost shelf; a few boxes that had been left, emptied of their contents; even the bed on which Charlie lay was minutely examined, and the improbable supposition that the walls of the cellar might conceal him was renounced, as the soldiers struck the b.u.t.ts of their guns against the stones.

"Is it possible," asked the captain of Long Hair,--for he had learned to rely much on his sagacity,--"that Bub could escape from the house?"

Long Hair shook his head, saying,--

"No trail; Bub no go."

"May it plase your honor," said the Irish private, O'Connor, touching his cap to the captain, "I belave, on me sowl, that it's the ghost of the brave lad that shot the guns. The likes of him, sir, would be afther defendin' the cabin if 'twas only out of respect to the onburied bodies of the women and the childers that has been murthured by the hathen savages--bad luck to 'em!"

"Long Hair," said the captain, smiling at the superst.i.tion of the warm-hearted Hibernian, "I've a mind, while the men are taking their rations on the gra.s.s, to leave you to clear up this mystery; I believe, if any one can find it out, you can."

The men, having fallen into line, stacked their guns, and Long Hair was left alone with Charlie. He stood for a moment looking at the quiet form of the boy; and the workings of his usually stolid face showed the affection which he felt for him. He then carefully looked about the room, then went quietly out, and pa.s.sed around the cabin, critically examining the ground as he walked. He soon returned, and made directly for the cellar, gliding noiselessly in his moccasins down the stairs. In the dim light he carefully went over the cellar bottom. Taking up some of the litter with which it was covered, he gently sc.r.a.ped the fresh sand away until he came to litter again.

Patiently and carefully then he removed the top litter from a wide s.p.a.ce, noticing from which direction the sand had been thrown, and in a moment he was standing where the heap had been, which Charlie and Bub had shovelled away. Stooping down now, he saw where the earth had been fretted by the stone as it had been pulled out and in; then he placed his ear to the ground, and listened intently; instantly he glided from the cellar, and stood with folded arms before Captain Manly.

"Well, what luck?" asked the captain.

"Long Hair find pappoose."

There was a general excitement at this, and a number arose, as if eager to follow the captain and the Indian; but Long Hair stirred not, saying, angrily,--

"Too much sojer; scare pappoose."

"That is sensible," said the captain; "you and I will go alone, Long Hair."

The Indian led him at once to the place in the wall where Bub was concealed.

"Pappoose in dere," said the Indian, pointing to the stone. "Take stone out."

The captain drew it forth, got down on his hands and knees, and peeped in, and saw Bub's bright eyes looking into his; and, taking hold of Bub's chubby hand, he said, soothingly,--for Bub now began to cry,--

"Don't be afraid, my little fellow; we are all your friends, and have come to take you to your mother."

"Won't Injun kill me?" asked Bub, glancing apprehensively at Long Hair.

"No," said the officer; "it's Long Hair; he came to keep the bad Indians from killing you."

When Captain Manly appeared with Bub in his arms, the air was rent with the joyful shouts of the soldiers; and Bub suddenly found himself a hero, as he was borne about and caressed by them--a joy that was suddenly intensified to a wild pitch of excitement, as word was brought that dear, brave, romantic Charlie had revived. He was not dead. Aroused by the shouts of the soldiers over Bub's appearance, he had opened his eyes, and, imagining that the Indians were a.s.sailing the cabin, murmured, in a clear, distinct voice,--

"Pull the string, Bub!"

CHAPTER XXII.

TOM AND THE MONEY-LENDER.

Mr. Cowles--farmer, grocer, postmaster, and money-lender--drew his chair to the fire. The large, old-fas.h.i.+oned stove had an open front, and it was pleasant, on such a piercing day, to see the flames leap, and hear the wood crackle, and sit in the genial warmth.

The table was neatly set for supper. There was a platter of cold prairie chicken, a gla.s.s dish containing wild-plum sauce, and a plate of biscuit; while on the stove hearth stood a white tureen, holding a few slices of hot toast.

Mrs. Cowles, having been informed by her liege lord that her presence was not desired at that particular hour, had gladly improved the opportunity to take a cup of tea with her friend Mrs. Barker, and learn the particulars concerning the accident that happened to Bill Walker and Maria Hobbs the night before, who, while returning from a log-house dance, six miles away, were upset from the wagon into Slough Creek. Mrs. Cowles dearly loved a dish of gossip, which, smoking hot and seasoned to one's taste, was always to be had at Mrs. Barker's.

The Cowles were a money-loving and money-getting race, from the least of them to the greatest; and Mr. Charles Cowles was not a whit behind the shrewdest of them in this respect.

It was a stormy afternoon in March, and the winds, which, like troops of wild horses, came careering across the prairies, and charged upon the money-lender's "framed" house, furiously whirled the snow, and made shrill, wintry music. Mr. Cowles added more fuel to the fire, reseated himself, put his feet into a chair, and fell into a deep study.

He was the moneyed man of the place, and, although comparatively a new comer, was the autocrat of the settlement. His first visit to the town, "prospecting," caused considerable commotion; for if the groves and prairies had been arranged on the plan of a vast whispering-gallery, the fact that he had a golden purse could scarcely have circulated more rapidly. Many prophesied he would not condescend to dwell in so small a town--a surmise that seemed the more probable from his haughty, overbearing carriage. And when it was certain that he had bought out the best of the two stores, and carpenters were set to work building a large addition to the grocery, and teams arrived from the Mississippi loaded with barrels and boxes of goods, there was general congratulation. The town will go ahead now, the settlers said; men of capital are beginning to come in, and land is sure to rise.

But Mr. Cowles did not pitch his tent there for the benefit of the public, as the public soon had reason to know. He invested nothing in "improvements," but simply kept his stock replenished, selling at the high frontier prices, giving credit when wanted, but always taking ample security, and letting money in the same way, at five per cent.

per month.

The settlers had met with the usual financial disappointments of the frontier, and then a business revulsion at the east caused a fall in the value of land, and a diminution of immigration; and, having expended the little they had on their arrival, they were compelled to do as best they could. In this extremity it became common for them to get trusted at the store for groceries, and hire money of its proprietor; and in an astonis.h.i.+ngly short s.p.a.ce of time, the sharp grocer held mortgages on most of the farms in the neighborhood. He was inexorable when pay-day came; and if the money was not ready, he foreclosed, deaf to all appeals. But of this he invariably gave each one who applied for a loan an offensively plain warning. He was a middle-sized, broad-chested, black-eyed man, muscular, pa.s.sionate, blasphemously profane, heavy-voiced, had a remarkable command of language, and when angered his eyes seemed to shoot lightning, and he would gesticulate with great energy. There was no respect of persons or station with him; high and low were served alike. When credit or money was asked for, he would say,--

"Certainly, sir; but, mind you," with a fearful oath, "if you don't pay according to agreement, I shan't wait a moment. Everybody that deals with me has to be on the square. O, yes; you _expect_ to pay, but you won't. And don't you come whining and crying round me then; it won't make any sort of difference. I've put my grip on your land, and I tell you now that I shan't let go. Don't you say, then, that I didn't tell you beforehand just how it would turn out."

The money-lender of the young village was feared, hated, and fawned upon. His bearing was imperious and sneering towards all. He had a vigorous intellect, however, was uncommonly well-informed, and would discourse to the groups in his store, sitting with his stout legs hanging over the counter, with a coa.r.s.e brilliancy, original and sagacious, from which the more cultured might cull gems of thought, fresh and striking, despite the terrible swearing, which would startle even bad men.

Was there "a well in the rock" of this man's hard heart? We shall see.

The lines of the money-lender's face were bitterly hard; but on this afternoon his features worked as if strong conflicting emotions were striving for mastery. Something unusual was stirring his brain; he sat thinking, thinking, uneasily s.h.i.+fting his position, and at length arose, and pa.s.sing through a dark hall, entered the shop, and said,--