A Man of Two Countries Part 7

"You're as c.o.c.ky as a rooster," expostulated the other. "Phil Danvers has swore to do his duty--an' he does it. The most of us is on the make up here, an' the Police've got their traitors, as you know. Danvers is sort of unusual, that's all."

"He ain't my style!" was the retort.

"No," was the dry comment, "I shouldn't presume he was." But the sarcasm was lost on his hearer.

"What was eatin' Scar Faced Charlie, anyway?"

"He's squiffy." Bill had heard the conversation between Me-Casto and Charlie on the trail, but was in no mind to retail it.

"I'm goin' out," said Burroughs, presently, and at this broad hint Bill rose.

"I'm in yer debt," he began awkwardly.

"That's all right." The trader knew and Bill knew that the paid fine was another cord to bind him. "An' now we'll make a pile o' money 'f we're careful. Joe's inside the fort an' you an' me are outside, an' the Injuns are always dry--see? This deal's goin' to be pretty hard on me, what with the government confiscatin' all them nine hundred gallons of whiskey; but we've got more comin', an' we'll have to mix it a little thinner, that's all."

Burroughs went toward the Indian lodges and soon discovered Charlie also sneaking thither.

No superfluous words were spoken. "What'd yeh do it fer?" The angry trader whirled, the teamster facing him.

"You let Pine Coulee alone!" mumbled Charlie, far gone in liquor.

"That's it, eh?" commented the enlightened Burroughs, turning away contemptuously. "Like h.e.l.l I will!"

Not long after Arthur Latimer answered a recent letter from the doctor in Fort Benton. He gave a vivid account of recent events and of a dinner that had been given at the military post on Christmas day to which he had been invited.

_"After the dinner," he continued, "the boys sang for an hour or more. They have good voices, and it was worth a long journey to hear them sing 'The Wearing of the Green.'_

_"Colonel Macleod seemed to enjoy the music immensely, and (I don't see how he happened to think of it) he called Danvers up and asked him if he knew anything from 'Il Trovatore.' Phil saluted and said that he had heard it in London. Thereupon the colonel asked him if he could sing any of the airs. Phil hesitated, but the commanding officer's request is tantamount to a command, and after a moment he began the 'Miserere.' The men were still as death. Probably they had never heard it before. You, of course, remember that superb tenor solo--the haunting misery, the despair! And what do you think? When he got to the duet I took Leonora's part. Phil gave a little start, but kept on singing, and we carried the duet through.

My! but the men nearly tore us to shreds. O'Dwyer fairly lifted Phil off his feet, at this triumph of his hero, for he has taken a great liking to our silent Englishman. The colonel thanked us with delightful appreciation and soon after went out--more quiet than ever. I reckon he was homesick. We all were--a bit. Sweethearts and wives seemed very far away that night._

_"You speak of Scar Faced Charlie's avowed intention of abandoning his freighting. He'll probably never come up here again. He recently sent me some cash I'd loaned him, and he intimated as much. Before he left here he returned his squaw, Pine Coulee, to her father; then Burroughs bought her for a bunch of ponies._

_"Me-Casto couldn't compete--poor devil. He, like all Indians, had gambled away his small stock of ponies early in the fall--as Burroughs well knew."_

"Come on, Arthur," called Danvers, cheerily, as he stuck his head into the room. "There's a dance on at Bob's trading-post."

"All right." Latimer hurriedly put away his writing and soon they ran along the trail to the rendezvous.

"Look, there is Me-Casto!" exclaimed Philip.

"Where?"

"Skulking in the shadows back of Bob's place."

"Bob better look out," said Arthur, as they pushed open the store door.

"Me-Casto is not here for any good."

The candle-lighted room was well filled with traders, troopers, trappers and squaws. No buck ever partic.i.p.ated in a white man's dance, but several stood by the door and looked on. Every one was in high spirits, and when the fiddler, a French 'breed, struck up, stamping his moccasined feet to keep time, each man secured a squaw and took his place. A brazen-lunged 'breed shouted, "Alleman' lef'! Swing yer partners!" and the couples swung giddily around.

Danvers joined in with right good-will. Occasionally he danced; more often he sat on the long trade counter and kept time to the emphatic music by beating his spurs heavily against the boards behind his feet.

Latimer and O'Dwyer danced joyously; but Burroughs, apparently uneasy, as the evening wore on, kept a watchful eye on the outer door. Philip noticed, too, that Pine Coulee was less phlegmatic than usual, although she danced faithfully at the command of her lord and master.

Presently Me-Casto came in and stood by the door. With blanket m.u.f.fling the lower part of his face, he looked piercingly at Pine Coulee--at Robert Burroughs. The trader caught Me-Casto's eye, and, ostentatiously clasping Pine Coulee's hand as he swung her in the dance, he smiled full in the Blackfoot's face, purposely flaunting his ownership of the squaw.

Me-Casto turned and left the room.

"'On wid the dance, let j'y be unconfined!'" yelled O'Dwyer, as he combined an Irish jig and a Red River reel. He had not noticed Me-Casto, but Latimer and Danvers exchanged glances. Just then Pine Coulee looked wistfully toward the opening door. Burroughs, ever watchful, caught a glimpse of Me-Casto as his lips gave an almost imperceptible signal to Pine Coulee. The trader's anger was quick; his discretion slight. He struck the girl flat on the cheek.

"Take that!" he said savagely. "I'll teach yeh to hanker after that lousy buck!"

The words and the blow were simultaneous. So was the leap of the indignant Danvers.

"You coward!" he cried, "to strike a woman!" He took the trader by the nape of the neck and shook him soundly.

Before Burroughs could close with the trooper there came three rifle shots. Each time a singing bullet whizzed by a dodging form. Only one of the shots took effect. Pine Coulee sank to the floor, blood flowing from her bosom.

Screams, oaths and shouts mingled as Danvers raised the squaw. Latimer a.s.sisted him in placing her on a counter, while Burroughs, certain of the would-be murderer, ran outside for the a.s.sailant, the crowd following. A head pushed past the half-opened side door.

"Didn't I kill Burroughs?" The question was in Blackfoot.

"You shot Pine Coulee!" replied Danvers, sternly. In an instant renewed shouting indicated that the men had tracked the Indian. A moment later the sound of fleeing hoofs told that Me-Casto had made a get-away. The trot of other horses followed, but soon the eternal silence of the prairie reigned alone.

By the time Burroughs returned to the store Pine Coulee had revived.

As the trader was dragging the squaw to his near-by house, he paused on the threshold.

"Phil Danvers," he said, moistening his dry lips as his rage increased, "as true as they's a G.o.d above I'll pay yeh back for interferin'

to-night. I've hated yeh from the first time I set eyes on yeh! 'F I live I'll make yeh feel what hate'll do! Yeh're too good fer the Whoop Up Country, an' I've got a long score to settle with yeh! 'F ever white women come to this country an' yeh git a sweetheart I'll do my best to separate yeh! 'F yeh've got a sister I'll have her! I'll--I'll--G.o.d! But I hate yeh!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Chapter III.

The Hot Blood of Youth

The spring warmed into summer, the summer melted into autumn. Autumn, in turn, chilled into the white world of winter. All thoughts of the little girl on the _Far West_ had slipped from the mind of Danvers, and even the memory of Miss Thornhill became faint--obliterated by the strenuous life of the service. Promotion came in his third year of service as a reward for intelligence and efficiency. Danvers was offered and accepted a commission. He felt that life was good. Fears and homesickness had long since disappeared; the longings for other and more congenial, refined and feminine a.s.sociates came but seldom; still, the desire for the understanding of one alone, for a loved wife and a son to bear his name was not dead--it was simply dormant in that womanless land.

"The doctor will be here next week," announced Arthur Latimer, who had been bookkeeper in one of the trading-posts ever since he had come to Macleod, soon after Danvers was made a second lieutenant. "Colonel Macleod, I hear, has invited quite a party to visit him from Fort Benton."

"Yes. I heard from the doctor, too." Philip smiled at thought of his friend's surprise at his new rank.

It was not long before the visitors arrived, and, greatly to Danvers'

surprise, Miss Thornhill, accompanied by her father, the major, was among them.

The first white woman that he had seen for three years! He had never before realized how dainty a lady is in comparison with her sisters of the lodges. They may be kin in the world relationship, but, oh! the difference one from the other. The squaws, standing stolidly by, were intolerable. As Eva walked consciously past with Colonel Macleod, attended by the staff officers, she gave no sign of recognition other than a heightened color and lowered eye-lashes; but Philip felt that she recognized him. Before the girl reached the barracks Mr. Burroughs entered the stockade. With the a.s.surance of a favored acquaintance, he advanced and pressed the hand of Miss Thornhill.