The Ranche on the Oxhide Part 18

Shortly after dark the redskins came up with their best toggery on, and when Joe, who had donned his Indian suit for the occasion, told White Wolf he was ready, the Indians commenced to circle around the great fire of logs, in their savage fashion. Some of them jumped stiff-legged like an antelope when he is first startled. Others, bending nearly double, shuffled in pairs, each one on his own hook, trying to see which could make the most ridiculous postures, for they have no regular figures, but keep admirable time to the drumming on the tom-toms.

When the first dance was finished, they gave a representation of the scalp dance. The chief crept along the ground, putting his ear close to it, in the att.i.tude of listening on the trail of the enemy, then waving his hand for his warriors to come on, they rushed into a supposed Indian camp, and went through the simulation of killing their victim, and wrenching off his hair with their knives. The motions, which at times were really graceful, were carried on in perfect unison with the monotonous pounding of the drums.

The next dance was named "Make the buffalo come." The medicine-men, who claim to possess mysterious powers, tell the warriors to dance, for that will make the buffalo come, and then they can get their meat. The crafty old fellows are sure never to order the dance until about the season that the animals come to that part of the country where the tribe may happen to be. They are kept dancing night after night until the buffalo really make their appearance, then the medicine-men claim that they brought them by their incantations and the wonderful power of their medicine.

For this dance, White Wolf's warriors and himself covered their heads with the skin of a buffalo's head, horns and all, so that they looked like a lot of men with the heads of that animal as part of their anatomy. It was a long dance, and during its performance, the most indescribable antics were gone through.

The family were well pleased with the entertainment, and when it was over, Mrs. Thompson invited the Indians into the sitting-room, where the girls had prepared a little supper for them, consisting of cake and lemonade. The latter was new, and created quite a sensation, but Joe told them it was not fire-water, and they might drink a barrel full without becoming crazy.

At midnight when the dances and the supper were over, the p.a.w.nees rode back to their camp, delighted with their evening's entertainment.

The next morning Joe was down at the Indian camp very early to see his dusky friends make ready for their departure. The chief told him that they had camped on the Oxhide for the last time; the whites had taken up all the country, and the buffalo would come there no more. Now when they needed buffalo meat, they would be obliged to go out as far as the Walnut, and in a few more years there would be no buffalo at all. His people would have to take the "white man's road" if they expected to live. He and the other warriors made their youthful friend some presents, and told him that they had to go by the house to take the trail down the Smoky Hill Fork to their distant home. He said that they would stop a moment at the ranche to say good by to all the people who had been so kind to him and the tribe every year since they had camped on the creek.

Joe returned to Errolstrath, feeling very sad, because he had become much attached to the Indians, and he knew that he would miss them so much, and feel lonely for a long time. He told the family that the p.a.w.nees would come soon to say farewell, and that they must be sure to be out on the veranda when they came.

By nine o'clock, Kate, whose ears were well trained to faint sounds, through her vigilance when a captive in the Cheyenne camp, came into the house from the porch where she had been attending to her birds as usual, and said the p.a.w.nees were coming; she could hear the tread of their ponies' hoofs.

Then the family took their places on the veranda, as they had promised Joe. Presently, slowly coming up the trail, with White Wolf in the lead, the band of p.a.w.nees were seen approaching the house. Arrived in front, they all halted, and with their usual "How? How?" saluted the family.

All came down from the porch to shake hands, when Ginger, who with the other ponies was running loose in the bunch, came up to Kate and, neighing affectionately, began to rub his nose against her arm and shoulder. The salutation of her once favorite pony was too much for the warm-hearted girl, and she burst into tears as she returned the animal's love for her by throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh, father!" said she, "why did I ever consent to part with Ginger? I am so sorry now. I would give worlds to have him back again."

White Wolf, noticing her weeping, asked in his own language why the little squaw was feeling so badly. Joe told him how she loved Ginger and how sorry she was she had ever consented to give him up.

White Wolf then said: "Tell her she shall have her pony again. I am a chief and do not like to see the white squaws cry." He dismounted from his animal, and going up to Kate, took Ginger's foretop in his hand; then taking hers, he pressed into it the bunch of hair.

Ginger neighed when the rude ceremony of returning him to his former mistress was over, seeming to understand just what had been effected.

Kate took the chief by the hand and thanked him as earnestly as she could find language to express herself, which, of course, had to be interpreted by Joe.

Then Rob brought from the stable the five other ponies that had been given for Ginger, and after a few more parting salutations the p.a.w.nees rode down the trail.

Ginger was restored to his stall in the stable, and Kate was the happiest girl in the settlement that day.

CHAPTER XX

CONCLUSION

RETROSPECTIVE--THE OLD TRAPPER Pa.s.sES AWAY--MR. AND MRS.

THOMPSON ARE DEAD--GENERAL CUSTER AND COLONEL KEOGH ARE KILLED--ERROLSTRATH BELONGS TO JOE AND ROB

TWENTY-NINE years have elapsed since the events related in this story.

The Indians, buffalo, and antelope have all disappeared. There is no longer any frontier. Granite monuments mark the dividing line between great states. The children of this generation will never know by experience the hardships, the perils, and the amus.e.m.e.nts which so conspicuously characterized the life of Joe, Rob, Gertrude, and Kate at Errolstrath.

General Custer, Colonel Keogh, and nearly all of the famous cavalry regiment commanded by the great Indian fighter went down to their death in the awful ma.s.sacre at the battle of the Little Bighorn, or Rosebud, as it is sometimes called.

The old trapper, Mr. Tucker, who was such a warm friend of the family, has long since pa.s.sed away. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson are buried in the quiet cemetery on the hill, near the ranche. Kate and her sister have been married for many years and still live in Kansas, but not at the dear old home. Errolstrath belongs to Joe and Rob. It is now a large ranche, comprising many thousand acres. Where the buffalo and the antelope used to roam in such vast herds are to be seen, peacefully grazing, hundreds of mild-eyed Jerseys and the broad-backed Durhams. A new house with all modern improvements has been erected on the site of the old one. On its broad veranda may be seen every evening in summer the children of the two brothers, to whom, as the shadows lengthen, they tell of their own early experiences when they too were children and when the ranche was far out in the wilderness of the great central plains.

The shrill whistle of the locomotive may be heard at the ranche as the palace trains with their load of living freight dash along the bank of the Smoky Hill, toward the Rocky Mountains. Ellsworth has grown to be a beautiful town with electric lights and all the appliances of our wonderful nineteenth century civilization.

The moon shines as brightly and the birds sing as sweetly as of yore around Errolstrath, but of all the familiar faces that knew it so many years ago, only those of Joe and Rob may be seen. Even they are bearded, their hair is slightly mixed with gray. They are growing old; but the laughter of their merry children serves to keep green the memory of their own happy childhood.