The Warden of the Plains Part 13

"We tried the medicines the Indians gave us, but they didn't do her no good. Often I wished the storm would stop, and I near made up my mind a dozen times that I'd go to Bennivale an' see the doctor anyway.

"The days an' nights went by slow, an' as I wus sittin' by the little un the door opened an' in come Bill, an' without say in' a word, jest as if he'd gone out o' the door an' come right back, he put his hand in his pocket, an' pulls out a parcel o' powders an' giv' them to me. It was the doctor's writin', an' I knew it. He put a letter along with the medicine, an' this is what he said, fur I always carries this letter with me wherever I go:

"'Dear Mr. Glad'--ye see, he called me by my old name o' the mountains, which I like best, fur it keeps me in mind o' the prairies an' the foot-hills. I can't speak it in the fine style he writes in, but I'll read it like our talk o' the prairie.

"Here's what he ses: 'Dear Mr. Glad, a stranger named Bill has just returned sufferin' with exposure, an' he has just informed me that one o' your children is very sick--a little girl. From all the fac's o'

the case, which I wus able to gather from yer friend, I am able to send you some medicine which I feel sure will restore her. Mix the powders accordin' to directions. Whenever you come this way, bring me a few furs, and I will pay you fur them. I want some good beaver skins.

Your friend Bill is a rare chap. He has had an excellent edication, and has seen better days. You can't go wrong in trustin' that fellow.

He is sharp, clever an' queer.

"'Sincerely yours, "'TOM. KETSON, M.D.'

"Comrades, as I read the letter I looked up an' saw that Bill wus pretty sick. He had suffered pretty bad from cold an' hunger, an' was a good deal frost-bitten.

"It wasn't long afore we fixed the powders for wee Nan, an' got Bill in good shape, but he wus very bad.

"Wall, the wee thing began to mend, an' Bill, lyin' beside the fire, though he couldn't speak much fur pain, wud sing a wee song, and coo to her--the stranger an' the wee un wur like lovers, an' they both kep'

gettin' better.

"After a time wee Nan got round again, but Bill never got over his long ride, fur it left a bad cough that settled on his lungs, an' he lost half o' one foot an' some toes off the other.

"Wall, last summer I went back to the old shanty where I used to live, to fix the fence round Nan's grave, fur ye remember, comrades, that she left us three years ago, an' we buried her beside the shanty. As I wus fixin' the fence, I saw a man walkin' with two sticks, an' he wus comin' to the shanty. I wus a wee bit suspicious, an' I stepped aside into the bush to see if he wur after mischief. He come up to the grave, an' kneeled down beside it, an' then he took some flowers--roses an' the like--an' planted them on the grave. I waited fur a long time till I saw him wander off, an' then I come down an' finished my job.

"I saw him go to one of the coulees, an' there I found his shanty. I dropt in to get somethin' to eat, just fur an excuse, an' when the door wus opened it wus Bill 't met me.

"Boys, ye mind that cripple that ye wus laughin' at in camp the other day? Wall, he's pa.s.sed in his checks. Ye won't trouble him any more.

I went to dig his grave, an' I made the best coffin I could fur him.

The boys made fun o' him because he wus only a cripple an' he wus poor.

They called him 'Tanglefoot Bill,' an' a good deal o' sport they got out o' him. Wall, when I looked at his feet an' heard him cough, I thought o' the day I wus mendin' the grave an' of the stranger who went fur the medicine fur wee Nan.

"I put a board at the head o' the poor feller's grave, an' these is the words I wrote on it:

"'TO THE MEMORY O' PRAIRIE BILL, THE FRIEND O' WEE NAN."

When Old Glad had finished his story the men knocked the ashes out of their pipes, and wrapping themselves in blanket or skin, turned over on the sod and went to sleep. They had to make an early start in the morning, and though they made no comment they felt no interest in asking for another story that night.

After breakfast no time was lost; the dishes were washed, and the "boss" of the outfit put everything in order to start the long cavalcade of men and horses. Three heavily laden wagons were fastened to each other, and then ten or twelve horses. .h.i.tched together to draw the load. Four or five of these teams comprised a train, and the manager of the whole was the "wagon-boss." He was generally a shrewd, hard-working, capable man. Black Jack was the name by which the boss of the train to which Old Glad was attached was known. He was a sterling fellow, big and strong, with long hair and heavy moustache.

He was a man of few words, but an excellent boss-captain of the fleet of prairie schooners. Though many of the men he employed on his fleet were accustomed to use pretty strong language while on the trips across the prairie, they desisted when with Black Jack. He was a stern man, but with his stern determination had a kindly manner and a love of honesty which affected his men and imbued them with something of the same spirit that animated him.

Jack had married a handsome half-breed woman, who lived in a neat log shanty in one of the settlements that had grown up around the Hudson's Bay posts. She was queen of the home, and her chief pride lay in having it well kept and attractive to her husband when he returned from the long trips on the prairie. The house was a small one, but ample for their needs. It was built of hewn logs laid one above the other until the walls were about eight feet high. Notched ridge-poles formed the roof, which was thatched with prairie hay and moss and made water-tight by a plastering of mud. The interior had white calico stretched over the ceiling and was whitewashed with lime. The walls were covered with pictures from the ill.u.s.trated papers, which served the double purpose of keeping out the wind and providing a sort of universal library and reading room, affording many hours of amus.e.m.e.nt to Julia and her friends.

Two years previous to his marriage a little girl in the settlement had been left an orphan. Jack had taken compa.s.sion on her and provided her a home, and Alice was now the joy of his household. He spent many of his leisure hours in making her toys. She was a pretty, dimpled-cheeked child with light hair and blue eyes, and was always happy and strong. The Indians called her Curly Hair, but Jack had named her Alice. While he guided the long train of wagons across the prairie the wagon-boss's thoughts were often in the log house with his little girl. Black Jack had therefore been one of the most interested listeners to Old Glad's story of wee Nan and Prairie Bill.

A halt was called at noon, and after a spell of rest they journeyed onward steadily, until as darkness fell they entered the trading-post of Whoop Up.

After picketing their horses and wagons inside the stockade they had supper, and sat down around the fire to talk. The manager of the Fort had much to ask of Black Jack and his men concerning the prospects of the buffalo trade, the condition of the Indians and the probabilities of the weather, and then they drifted into the old course of story-telling.

A few minor anecdotes were told and enjoyed, but when Black Jack, looked up from the fire and spoke his men listened eagerly.

"Our visit here," he said, "reminds me of the year of the small-pox among the Indians."

The wagon-boss spoke excellent English, and in spite of the many years spent on the prairie he had retained much of the purity of his native speech.

"It was very late in that fatal year. The Bloods, Blackfeet and Piegans were restless and seemed bent on war, and the Crees and a.s.siniboines were none the less fidgety. Not far from here, on the banks of the Belly River, a band of Bloods and Blackfeet were camped, and the South Piegans had pitched their tents on the St. Mary's River.

"The Crees and a.s.siniboines, as you know, hate the Blackfeet. There is a tradition that many years ago when the Crees and the Blackfeet were united as one family, there was only one dog in the camp, and some of the people having quarrelled over the possession of this animal, the tribes took up the quarrel and soon were at enmity, and although they have made treaties of peace since there never has been the same unity as existed in former years.

"They were at the time of my story bitter enemies to each other, and the Crees thought they could do no better than take advantage of the great loss sustained by the Blackfeet and Bloods through the ravages of the small-pox plague and attack them. They had, therefore, come down to the Little Bow country with this determination, and encamping there waited for accurate information as to the strength and location of their enemies.

"The Bloods, Blackfeet and Piegans were well armed, having obtained good rifles from the traders across the line, but the Crees and their confederates had nothing but arrows and old guns supplied them by the Hudson's Bay Company.

"The Crees sent forward a band of seven or eight hundred warriors to reconnoitre. These came upon a band of Blood Indians camped near the Fort and attacked them, killing a few men and women.

"This roused the camp, and it did not take long to send word to the Blackfeet and Piegans. The Bloods had lost some of their best men and were in the mood to fight desperately.

"In the early morning the fight began in earnest. The Bloods a.s.sisted by their allies drove the Crees hard. Overcome by superior numbers they were forced to retreat lower down the river until they reached the big coulees where the trail crosses the river.

"You remember the big coulees beside the trail; but it was a little lower down the Belly River that the battle raged the hottest. The Crees and the a.s.siniboines were in one coulee, the Piegans in another, and the Blackfeet and Bloods in a third.

"Well, boys, I believe that was one of the greatest battles ever read of, for the fellows fought like troopers. Talk about your British soldiers, there are none living who could beat some of those men for courage and skill according to their own methods.

"The Crees put their horses down in one of the river bottoms to shelter them from the bullets of the foe, and although they had no better weapons than bows and arrows and old guns, they had the advantage of their enemies in position. They fought desperately for some hours, however, without gaining much on either side. As they were unable to reach each other and engage in a hand-to-hand light, nor to learn the actual strength of the enemy, they were too wise to risk an open attack. As they lay hidden by the ridge of the coulee they crawled to the top and fired. Some of the Crees, more daring than the others, raised themselves above the edge and were immediately shot down by their enemies. The better weapons of the Blackfeet were telling, and the Crees were getting the worst of the fight. Seeing this they determined by a sudden movement to evade the Piegans and Blackfeet.

They rushed down the coulee, sprang on their horses and made for the river. The Piegans saw them and pursued them, and a general fight followed, in which both Piegans and Crees were carried over one of the steep precipices. Some were killed outright, others badly injured.

Stones were hurled into the ravine by those above, bruising the warriors of both sides.

"Still the Crees and a.s.siniboines dashed into the river. Many of them were shot or carried down by the current. The Bloods and Blackfeet went in after them and a terrible slaughter took place. As the Crees struggled in the water they were shot down like dogs.

"It was terrible to slay the poor creatures in such a cruel fashion, but an old Indian friend of mine who was at the fight told me with glee that it was splendid sport, for if the Crees had got the chance they would have done the same thing to them.

"Others of the Blackfeet crossed the river higher up and engaged the Crees in another skirmish, in which about fifty were killed.

"If you go along the river now I can show you some of the piles of stones that were raised to mark the spot where Blackfeet and Bloods fell, and others where the Crees were slain. A great many of the latter were killed, but we never learned the exact number, so many were carried down the river.

"My old friend Jerry Potts said the Blackfeet only lost about fifty.

"The tribes had, however, apparently enough of fighting, for the very next year they made a treaty, and have never since gone to war with each other. Since the white men came to the country they seem to think they have a common enemy and no time to fight among themselves."

When the boss had finished his story the men spread their buffalo robes and blankets on the floor, and lay down on them to sleep the sound sleep that only an open-air life can induce.

CHAPTER II.

Up among the foot-hills of the Rockies, far from the villages that have sprung up in the western country, nestling beneath the shadow of the everlasting hills, a tiny cottage shanty stands. The way to it from the main trail is hidden behind the overlapping spurs of hill which rise in undulating lines from the plains to the bewildering pa.s.ses of the mountain range. The sun alone seems to have found its way to it, and shining down in a benediction of beauty brings its picturesque outline into bold relief against the background of sun-kissed cloud and sheltered mountain tops.

Some anchorite surely, weary of the world, whose wounded spirit needs the healing influences of nature unalloyed by man, has built his dwelling here. Some artist who would saturate his senses with the beauty of the ever-changing shadows, the luxury of color, the softness of the veiling mists, the tender touch of coming night, the mystery of distance, has come here.