The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop

A deep silence fell on the mob. Every ruffian of them seemed suddenly frozen into immobility, and each sat with head turned and eyes wide-staring, watching the coming of the blue-shirted horsemen.

As the officer approached he was distinguishable as a powerful, smooth-faced young man in a captain's uniform. As his eyes rested on Curtis his plump, red face broke into a broad smile. It was plain that he was Irish, and not averse to a bit of a shindy.

Riding straight up to the agent, he formally saluted, and in a deep, dry, military voice, said:

"Colonel Daggett presents his compliments to Captain Curtis and tenders Squadron B, at your service. Captain Maynard in command."

With equally impersonal decorum Curtis acknowledged the courtesy.

"Captain Curtis returns the compliment, and thanks Captain Maynard for his prompt and most opportune arrival – Jack, I'm mighty glad to see you."

Maynard dismounted and they shook hands. "Same to you, old man. What's all the row?"

A clear, distant, boyish voice cried, "By columns of four into line!" and the bugle, breaking voice, caused the hair of the agent's head to stand; turning, he saw the squadron taking form as it crossed the stream. It required his most heroic effort to keep the tears from his eyes as his ear heard the dull rattle of scabbards and he watched the splendid play of the gray horses' legs and broad chests as they came on, weary but full of spirit yet. There was something inexorable in their advance. In their order, their clean glitter, their impersonal grace, was expressed the power of the general government.

Turning to the sheriff, he said: "Sheriff Winters, this warrant is bogus – forged this morning by some one of your lynching-party; the ink is hardly dry. I decline to serve it," and he tore it into strips and flung it on the ground.

"Halt!" cried the oncoming commander, and with creak of saddle and diminishing thunder of hoofs the Gray Squadron stopped within fifty feet of the agency gate, and out of the dust a young lieutenant rode forward and saluted.

"Hold your position, Mr. Payne," commanded Maynard.

"I just love Captain Maynard!" said Jennie, fervently.

"I'll tell him," said Lawson.

"Now," said Maynard, "what's it all about? Nice gang, this!"

The mob that had been so loud of mouth now sat in silence as profound as if each man had been smitten dumb. It was easy to threaten and flourish pistols in the face of an Indian agent with a dozen women to protect, but this wall of Uncle Sam's blue was a different barrier – not to be lightly overleaped. The cowboys were not accustomed to facing such men as these when they shot up towns and raced the Tetongs across the hills.

"Now what is it all about?" repeated Maynard, composing his comedy face into a look of military sternness.

Curtis explained swiftly in a low voice, and ended by saying: "This is, in effect, a lynching-party on federal territory. What would you do in such a case?"

"Order them off, instanter!"

"Precisely. I have done so, but they refuse to go."

"Do they?" Maynard turned and remounted his horse. Saluting, he said:

"Captain Curtis, I am ready to execute any order you may choose to give."

Curtis saluted. "You will see that these citizens, unlawfully assembled, leave the reservation at once. Sheriff Winters, with all due respect to your office, I request you to withdraw. Captain Maynard will escort you to the borders of the reservation. When you have a warrant properly executed, send or bring it to me and I will use every effort to serve it. Good-morning, sir."

Captain Maynard drew his sword. "'Tention, squadron!" The tired horses lifted their heads as the dusty troopers forced them into line.

Maynard's voice rang out: "Left wheel, into line – march!"

"You'll hear from this!" said the sheriff. "You'll find the State won't stand any such foolishness."

Yarpe's ferocity had entirely evaporated. "'Bout face, boys; we're not fightin' the United States army – I had enough o' that in '63. Clear out! Our bluff don't go."

The cowboys, cursing under breath, whirled their ponies and followed Yarpe, the redoubtable. The sheriff brought up the rear, still contending for the rights of the county, but he retreated. Small as the dusty squadron looked, it was too formidable, both because of its commanders and because of the majestic idea it embodied.

Calvin was the last to leave. "I done my best, Major," he said, loudly, in order that Jennie might hear.

"I know it, Calvin; come and see us again in your civil capacity," replied Curtis, and waved a cordial salute.

As the squadron fell in behind and was hidden by the dust of the passing cattlemen, Curtis turned to where Elsie still stood. He was smiling, but his limbs were stiffened and inert by reason of the rigidity of his long position before the posse.

"We are saved!" he said, in mock-heroic phrase.

"Oh, wasn't it glorious to see the good old blue-and-buff!" cried Jennie, the tears of her joy still on her cheeks. "I could have hugged Captain Maynard."

"There is chance yet," said Curtis. "He's coming back."

Elsie did not speak for a moment. "What would you have done if they had not come?" she asked, soberly.

"I could have delayed them a little longer by sending couriers to Elk and Grayman; but let's not think of that. Let's all go into the house; you look completely tired out."

Elsie fairly reeled with weakness, and Curtis took her arm. "You are trembling," he said, tenderly.

"I haven't stirred for a half-hour," she said. "I was so tense with the excitement. I feared you would be shot, and the tribe isn't worth the sacrifice," she added, with a touch of her old spirit.

"I was in no physical danger," he replied. "But I should have felt disgraced had the mob had its way."

"The people are coming back," said Lawson. "They have seen the soldiers."

"So they are!" exclaimed Curtis. "They are shouting with joy. Can't you hear them? The chiefs are riding this way already; they know the army will protect them."

The thick mass of horsemen was breaking up, some of them were riding towards the women with the camp stuff, others were crossing the valley, while a dozen head men, riding straight towards the agency, began to sing a song of deliverance and victory. Joyous shouts could be heard as the young men signalled the good news.

"The cattlemen are going – the soldiers have come!"

XXV

AFTER THE STRUGGLE

Upon reaching the library each member of the party sank into easy-chairs with sighs of deep relief, relaxed and nerveless. The storm was over. Jennie voiced the feeling as she said, "Thank the Lord and Colonel Daggett." Elsie was physically weary to the point of drowsiness, but her mind was active. Mrs. Parker was bewildered and silent. Even Parker was subdued by the grave face of the agent.

Lawson, with a curious half-smile, broke the silence. "There are times when I wish I owned a Gatling gun and knew how to use it."

Curtis started up. "Well, it's all over but the shouting. I must return to the office and set things in order once more."

"You ought to rest a little," said Elsie. "You must feel the strain."

"I am a little inert at the moment," he confessed, "but I'm Hamlet in the play, you know, and must be at my post. I'll meet you all at lunch. You need have no further worry."

The employés responded bravely to his orders. The cheerful clink of the anvil broke forth with tranquillizing effect. The school-bell called the children together, the tepees began to rise from the sod as before, and the sluggish life of the agency resumed its unhurried flow, though beneath the surface still lurked vague forms of fear. Parker returned to his studio, Lawson sought his den, and there stretched out to smoke and muse upon the leadings of the event, while Jennie planned a mid-day dinner for a round dozen. "It will be a sort of love-feast to Captain Maynard," she said, roguishly.

"Will he return so soon?" asked Elsie.

"Oh yes, he'll only go a little way. Jack Maynard can smell a good dinner across a range of foot-hills. Didn't he look beautiful as he smiled? I used to think he grinned, but to-day – well, he looked like a heavenly cherub in the helmet of an archangel as he rode up."

Elsie was genuinely amused. "What is the meaning of this fervor. Has there been something between you and Captain Maynard in the past?"

"Not a thing! Oh, I always liked him – he's so good-natured – and so comical. Can you peel potatoes?"

"I never did such a thing in my life, but I'll try."

About one o'clock Maynard came jogging back, accompanied by a sergeant and a squad of men, dusty, tired, and hungry.

Curtis met him at the gate. "Send your horses down to the corral, Captain. You're to take pot-luck with us."

Maynard dismounted, slowly, painfully. "I've been wondering about those girls," he said, after the horses were led away. "One is your sister Jennie, of course; but who is the other? She's what the boys would call a 'queen.'"

"You've heard of Andrew J. Brisbane?"

"You mean the erstwhile Senator?"

"Yes; this is his daughter."

"Great Himmel! What is she doing here?"

"She's an artist and is making some studies of Indians."

"I didn't suppose a man of Brisbane's blood and brawn could have a girl as fine as she looks to be."

"Oh, Brisbane has his good points – But come over to the house. Of course the mob gave no further trouble?"

"Not a bit, only the trouble of keeping them in sight; they rode like Jehu. I left the chase to Payne – it was what Cooper used to call a 'stern chase and a long chase.' Your quarters aren't so bad," he added, as they entered the library.

Jennie came in wearing an apron and looking as tasty as a dumpling. "How do you do, Colonel Maynard?" she cried out, most cordially.

He gave his head a comical flirt on one side. "I beg pardon! Why Colonel?"

"I've promoted you for the brave deed of this morning."

He recovered himself. "Oh! – oh – yes! – Hah! I had forgotten. You saw me put 'em to flight? I was a little late, but I gave service, don't you think?"

"You were wonderful, but I know you're hungry; we're to have dinner soon – a real dinner, not a lunch."

He looked a little self-conscious. "Well – I – shall be delighted. You see, I was awake most of the night, and in riding one gets hungry – and, besides, breakfast was a little hurried. In fact, I don't remember that I had any."

"Why, you poor thing! I'll hurry it forward. Cheer up," and she whisked out of the room.

Maynard flecked a little dust from his sleeve and inquired, carelessly: "Your sister isn't married?"

"No, she sticks to me still. She's a blessed, good girl, and I don't know what I should do without her."

"You mustn't be selfish," remarked Maynard, reflectively. "But see here, I must knock off some dust, or I will lose the good impression I made on the ladies."

"Make yourself at home here and we'll have something to eat soon," said Curtis at the door.

The dinner was unexpectedly merry. Every one felt like celebrating the army, and Maynard, as the representative of the cavalry arm, came near blushing at the praise which floated his way on toasts which were drunk from a bottle of sherry, a liquor Jennie had smuggled in for cooking purposes.

"I admit I did it," he rose to say, "but I hold it not meet to have it so set down."

Parker was extravagantly gay. "I'm going to do a statue of Maynard on his horse rushing to our rescue," he said. "It will be a tinted piece like the ancients used to do. That white helmet shall flash like snow. Sheridan will no longer be the great equestrian."

"Leave off the broad smile," interrupted Lawson. "Captain Maynard's smile made light of our tragic situation."

"I don't think so; it was the smile of combat," exclaimed Elsie. "It was thrilling."

Maynard bowed. "Thank you, Miss Brisbane."

"It was Jack Maynard's murderin' grin," said Curtis; "it was the look the boys used to edge away from at the Academy. I must tell you, Jack nearly got shunted into the ways of glory. He could whip any man in West Point in his day, and a New York sporting man offered to back him for a career. Thereupon Jack wrestled with the tempter and 'thrun 'im.' He now sees his mistake. He might have been 'Happy Jack, the Holy Terror,' by this time, earning two hundred thousand a year like the great O'Neill."

Maynard sighed. "Instead of which, here I am rescuing beleaguered damsels, like the hero of a dime novel, on two thousand a year."

Jennie spoke up sharply. "I will not have Captain Maynard made fun of any more. It was a noble deed, and he deserves better treatment for it."

Maynard bowed. "I have one defender," he said, soberly.

"Here's another," cried Elsie.

"With two such faithful defenders I defy the world!" he shouted, valorously. Thereupon they left off joking him.

As they rose from the table, Curtis turned to Elsie: "Would you like to go with me to make a tour of the camp?"

Her eyes lighted up. "I should like it exceedingly."

"Very well, about three o'clock we will go. You will have time for a siesta. You must be tired."

"Oh no, I am quite rested and ready to go any time," and her bright eyes and warm color confirmed her words.

With military promptness the horses were brought round, and, accompanied by Maynard and Jennie, Curtis, with Elsie by his side, led the way to the camp. She was a confident horsewoman and rode a fine brown pony, and Curtis, who had never ridden with her before, glowed with pleasure in her grace and skill.

As they galloped off up the road a keen twinge of remorseful pity for Lawson touched Elsie's heart. He was grown suddenly older, it seemed to her, as though he had definitely given up the attempt to remain young, and this thought made her rather sober. He was being left out of her plans now almost unconsciously, while the other —

"One of the real heroes in this affair," Curtis was saying, "is Crane's Voice. He has been in saddle nearly thirty-six hours, and is willing to start again to Pinon City if I ask it."

"Of course you will not?"

"No. I will send a white man. The settlers might do even Crane's Voice an injury."

All was quiet in the camps, with little sign of the precipitate flight of the morning, either in the faces of the men or in the disposal of the tepees. The old men and some of the women came out to greet their Little Father and the soldier of the good heart, and Curtis gave out a tranquillizing message and asked, "Have you called the council?"

"Ay, for sunrise to-morrow," answered Elk and Two Horns.

"That is good," he replied. "Where are your young men?"

"Some are in the hills, some are gone as messengers, others are watching the ponies."

"Call them all in. I don't want them riding about to-night. Keep them in camp, close by the soldiers – then no harm will come to them."

So, scattering greetings and commands, he rode through the two circles of tepees. The redmen were all eager to shake hands with Maynard, in whom they recognized a valiant friend as well as an old-time enemy.

They found the camp of Grayman less tranquil, for the stragglers were still coming in from the hills, and scores of women were busy resetting their tepees. Grayman himself came forth, nervous and eager. "Ho, Little Father, my heart is glad that the soldiers have come."

"We are all glad," replied Curtis. "Where is your son?"

Grayman looked troubled. "I do not know. He is away with Cut Finger, my sister's son."

"Cut Finger is bad company for your son."

"I know it; but they are blood-brothers, as is the way of young men. Where one is, there the other is also."

Maynard and Jennie were not as deeply interested in the camp as they had given out to be at starting. He was recalling to her mind some of the parties they had attended together at Fort Sibley. "Really, Captain Maynard," she was saying, as they rode up, "you would have it appear that we saw a great deal of each other in those days."

"That's my contention entirely," he replied, "and it is my intention to continue this Indian outbreak indefinitely in order to go into cantonment here."

"You always were susceptible to good dinners, Captain Maynard."

"Say good company, and you'll be right entirely."

Curtis, having caught Maynard's last remark, called out in the biting tone of the upper classman at West Point.

"Are you on special duty, Captain Maynard, or riding in the park?"

He saluted imperturbably. "By good luck I am doing both, at your service."

"Merely cast your eye around so that you can report the Tetongs peaceful and in camp, then you may ride where you please."

Maynard swept his eyes over the village. "It is done! Now, Miss Curtis, let's try for the top of that hill?"

"No, no, you have been riding all night."

"Why, so I have! In the charm of your presence I'd forgotten it. I'm supposed to be fagged."

"You don't look it," remarked Curtis, humorously, running his eyes over the burly figure before him. "At the same time, I think you'd better return. Your commissariat wagons will be rumbling in soon."

Maynard again saluted. "Very well, 'Major,' it shall be so," and, wheeling his horse in such wise as to turn Jennie's pony, they galloped off together, leaving Curtis and Elsie to follow.

"It's hard to realize that disaster came so near to us," he said, musingly, and Elsie shaded her eyes with her hand and looked up at the hills.

"There is a wonderful charm in this dry country! I have never seen such blinding sunshine. But life must be difficult here."

"You begin to feel that? I expect to stay here at least five years, providing I am not removed."

She shuddered perceptibly. "Five years is a long time to give out of one's life – with so little to show for it."

He hesitated a moment, then said, with deep feeling, "It's hard, it's lonely, but, after all, it has its compensations. I can see results. The worst side of it all is – I can never ask any woman to share such a life with me. I feel guilty when I consider Jennie – she ought to have a home of her own; she has no outlook here."

She looked straight ahead as she replied. "You would find life here intolerable without her."

"I know it; but in my best moments I realize how selfish it is in me to keep her."

"Suppose you were to resign, what would you do?"

"I would try to secure a chance at some field-work for the Ethnologic Bureau. It doesn't pay very well, but it would be congenial, and my proficiency in the sign language would, I think, make me valuable. I have determined never to go back to garrison life without some special duty to occupy my mind."

"Life isn't a bit simple when you are grown up, is it?"

"Life is always simple, if one does one's duty."

"That is a soldier's answer; it is not easy for me to enter into that spirit. I have my art, and no sense of duty at all."

"Your position is equally strange to me; but duties will discover themselves – later. A life without duties is impossible."

"I know what you mean, but I do not intend to allow any duty to circumscribe my art." This she uttered defiantly.

"I don't like to hear you say that. Life is greater than art."

She laughed. "How different our points of view! You are Anglo-Saxon, I am French. Art counts far more with us."

"Was your mother French? I did not know that."

"Yes – a Canadian. I have her nature rather than that of my father."

"Sometimes I think you are your father's daughter. Did your mother live to enjoy her husband's success?"

"Not to the full. Still, she had a nice home in Alta, where I was born. She died before he was elected Senator." They had nearly reached the agency now, and she shook off her sober mood. "Shall we go in with a dash?"

"I'm agreed."

She put quirt to her horse and they entered the lane at a flying gallop. As he assisted her to alight at the studio door he said:

"I hope your father will not require you to join him in the East. It is a great pleasure to have you here." His voice touched something vibrant in her heart.

"Oh, I don't think he will when he fully understands the situation. I'm sure I don't want to go. I shall write him so."

Curtis rode away elate as a boy. Something which he did not care to define had come to him from her, subtle as a perfume, intangible as light, and yet it had entered into his blood with most transforming effect. He put aside its analysis, and went about his duties content with the feeling that life was growing richer day by day.

Wilson, seeing his shining face, sighed and said to himself: "I guess the Major has found his girl. He's a lucky dog. I wish I could pick up even a piece of plain calico, I'd be satisfied." And he ran through a list of the unmarried women within reach, to no result, as usual.

Meanwhile the supply-wagons had arrived, and Captain Maynard was overseeing the laying-out of the camp just below the agency. Lieutenant Payne and his command returned at five o'clock, and in a short time the little village of white tents was in order. Curtis came over to insist that the officers take dinner with them at "the parsonage," and, as Captain Maynard had already spoken of the good company and the excellent dinner he had enjoyed in the middle of the day, Lieutenant Payne was quite ready to comply, especially as his lunch had been as light as his breakfast.

The meal was as enjoyable as the mid-day dinner, and the Parkers derived much comfort from the presence of the soldiers.

"I guess I'm not fitted to be a pioneer artist," Parker confessed, and the hearty agreement he met with quite disconcerted him.

Mrs. Parker was indignant at the covert ridicule of her husband, and was silent all through the meal; indeed, the burden of the conversation fell upon Jennie and Maynard, but they were entirely willing to bear it, and were not lacking for words.

"It is good to hear the bugles again," Jennie remarked, as one of the calls rang out on the still air, sweet and sad and as far removed from war as a love song.

"They're not so pleasant when they call to the same monotonous round of daily duties," said Mr. Payne.

Curtis smiled. "Here's another disgruntled officer. What would you do – kill off the Indians and move into the city?"

"To kill off a few measly whites might insure completer peace and tranquillity," replied Maynard.

"You fellows couldn't be more righteously employed," put in Lawson. "You might begin on the political whoopers round about."

"What blasphemy!" cried Jennie. "These 'noble pioneers!'"

"Founding a mighty State," added Curtis.

"Founding a state of anarchy!" retorted Lawson. "They never did have any regard for law, except a law that worked in their favor."

Parker got in a word. "Lawson, do you know what you are? You're what Norman Bass used to call 'a blame a-riss-to-crat.'" This provoked a laugh at Lawson's expense.

"I admit it," said Lawson, calmly. "I am interested in the cowboy and the miner – as wild animals – as much as any of you, but as founders of an empire! The hard and unlovely truth is, they are representatives of every worst form of American vice; they are ignorant, filthy, and cruel. Their value as couriers of the Christian army has never been great with me."

Maynard was unusually reflective as he stared at Lawson.

"That's mighty plain talk," he observed, in the pause that followed. "You couldn't run for office on speeches like that."

"Lawson's living doesn't depend on prevarication," remarked Curtis. "If it did – "

"If it did I'd lie like the best – I mean the worst of you," replied Lawson.

"In a few years there will not be an Indian left," Parker remarked.

"The world will be the poorer."

"They will all be submerged," continued Parker.

"Why submerge them? Is the Anglo-Saxon type so adorable in the sight of God that He desires all the races of the earth to be like unto it? If the proselytizing zeal of the missionaries and functionaries of the English-speaking race could work out, the world would lose all its color, all its piquancy. Hungary would be like Scotland, Scotland would be Cornwall, Cornwall would duplicate London, and London reflect New York. Beautiful scheme for tailors, shoe-makers, and preachers, but depressing to artists."