tales of trail and town- 第6部分

he　knew　not　whyon　a　galloping　horse　in　the　dust　of　the　prairie

far　beyond　the　seas！　　It　was　only　when　he　saw　her　cheek　flush　and

pale；　when　he　saw　her　staring　at　him　with　helpless；　frightened；　but

fascinated　eyes；the　eyes　of　the　fluttering　bird　under　the　spell

of　the　rattlesnake；that　he　drew　his　breath　and　turned　bewildered

away。　　〃And　do　you　know；　dear；〃　she　said　with　naive　simplicity　to

her　sister　that　evening；　〃that　although　he　was　an　American；　and

everybody　says　that　they　don't　care　at　all　for　those　poor　Indians；

he　was　so　magnanimous　in　his　indignation　that　I　fancied　he　looked

like　one　of　Cooper's　heroes　himself　rather　than　an　Atherly。　　It　was

such　a　stupid　thing　for　me　to　show　him　that　tomb　of　Major　Atherly；

you　know；　who　fought　the　Americans；didn't　he？or　was　it　later？

but　I　quite　forgot　he　was　an　American。〃　　And　with　this　belief　in

her　mind；　and　in　the　high　expiation　of　a　noble　nature；　she　forbore

her　characteristic　raillery；　and　followed　him　meekly；　manacled　in

spirit　like　the　allegorical　figure；　to　the　church　porch；　where　they

separated；　to　meet　on　the　morrow。　　But　that　morrow　never　came。



For　late　in　the　afternoon　a　cable　message　reached　him　from

California　asking　him　to　return　to　accept　a　nomination　to　Congress

from　his　own　district。　　It　determined　his　resolution；　which　for　a

moment　at　the　church　porch　had　wavered　under　the　bright　eyes　of

Lady　Elfrida。　　He　telegraphed　his　acceptance；　hurriedly　took　leave

of　his　honestly　lamenting　kinsman；　followed　his　dispatch　to　London；

and　in　a　few　days　was　on　the　Atlantic。



How　he　was　received　in　California；　how　he　found　his　sister　married

to　the　blond　lawyer；　how　he　recovered　his　popularity　and　won　his

election；　are　details　that　do　not　belong　to　this　chronicle　of　his

quest。　　And　that　quest　seems　to　have　terminated　forever　with　his

appearance　at　Washington　to　take　his　seat　as　Congressman。



It　was　the　night　of　a　levee　at　the　White　House。　　The　East　Room　was

crowded　with　smartly　dressed　men　and　women　of　the　capital；　quaintly

simple　legislators　from　remote　States　in　bygone　fashions；　officers

in　uniform；　and　the　diplomatic　circle　blazing　with　orders。　　The

invoker　of　this　brilliant　assembly　stood　in　simple　evening　dress

near　the　door；unattended　and　hedged　by　no　formality。　　He　shook

the　hand　of　the　new　Congressman　heartily；　congratulated　him　by

name；　and　turned　smilingly　to　the　next　comer。　　Presently　there　was

a　slight　stir　at　one　of　the　opposite　doors；　the　crowd　fell　back；

and　five　figures　stalked　majestically　into　the　centre　of　the　room。

They　were　the　leading　chiefs　of　an　Indian　reservation　coming　to　pay

their　respects　to　their　〃Great　Father；〃　the　President。　　Their

costumes　were　a　mingling　of　the　picturesque　with　the　grotesque；　of

tawdriness　with　magnificence；　of　artificial　tinsel　and　glitter　with

the　regal　spoils　of　the　chase；　of　childlike　vanity　with　barbaric

pride。　　Yet　before　these　the　glittering　orders　and　ribbons　of　the

diplomats　became　dull　and　meaningless；　the　uniforms　of　the　officers

mere　servile　livery。　　Their　painted；　immobile　faces　and　plumed

heads　towered　with　grave　dignity　above　the　meaner　crowd；　their

inscrutable　eyes　returned　no　response　to　the　timid　glances　directed

towards　them。　　They　stood　by　themselves；　alone　and　impassive；yet

their　presence　filled　the　room　with　the　sense　of　kings。　　The

unostentatious；　simple　republican　court　suddenly　seemed　to　have

become　royal。　　Even　the　interpreter　who　stood　between　their　remote

dignity　and　the　nearer　civilized　world　acquired　the　status　of　a

court　chamberlain。



When　their　〃Great　Father；〃　apparently　the　less　important　personage；

had　smilingly　received　them；　a　political　colleague　approached　Peter

and　took　his　arm。　　〃Gray　Eagle　would　like　to　speak　with　you。　　Come

on！　　Here's　your　chance！　　You　may　be　put　on　the　Committee　on　Indian

Relations；　and　pick　up　a　few　facts。　　Remember　we　want　a　firm

policy；　no　more　palaver　about　the　'Great　Father'　and　no　more

blankets　and　guns！　　You　know　what　we　used　to　say　out　West；　'The

only　〃Good　Indian〃　is　a　dead　one。'　　So　wade　in；　and　hear　what　the

old　plug　hat　has　to　say。〃



Peter　permitted　himself　to　be　led　to　the　group。　　Even　at　that

moment　he　remembered　the　figure　of　the　Indian　on　the　tomb　at　Ashley

Grange；　and　felt　a　slight　flash　of　satisfaction　over　the　superior

height　and　bearing　of　Gray　Eagle。



〃How！〃　said　Gray　Eagle。　　〃How！〃　said　the　other　four　chiefs。　　〃How！〃

repeated　Peter　instinctively。　　At　a　gesture　from　Gray　Eagle　the

interpreter　said：　〃Let　your　friend　stand　back；　Gray　Eagle　has

nothing　to　say　to　him。　　He　wishes　to　speak　only　with　you。〃



Peter's　friend　reluctantly　withdrew；　but　threw　a　cautioning　glance

towards　him。　　〃Ugh！〃　said　Gray　Eagle。　　〃Ugh！〃　said　the　other

chiefs。　　A　few　guttural　words　followed　to　the　interpreter；　who

turned；　and　facing　Peter　with　the　monotonous　impassiveness　which　he

had　caught　from　the　chiefs；　said：　〃He　says　he　knew　your　father。　　He

was　a　great　chief；with　many　horses　and　many　squaws。　　He　is　dead。〃



〃My　father　was　an　Englishman；Philip　Atherly！〃　said　Peter；　with　an

odd　nervousness　creeping　over　him。



The　interpreter　repeated　the　words　to　Grey　Eagle；　who；　after　a

guttural　〃Ugh！〃　answered　in　his　own　tongue。



〃He　says；〃　continued　the　interpreter　with　a　slight　shrug；　yet

relapsing　into　his　former　impassiveness；　〃that　your　father　was　a

great　chief；　and　your　mother　a　pale　face；　or　white　woman。　　She　was

captured　with　an　Englishman；　but　she　became　the　wife　of　the　chief

while　in　captivity。　　She　was　only　released　before　the　birth　of　her

children；　but　a　year　or　two　afterwards　she　brought　them　as　infants

to　see　their　father；the　Great　Chief；and　to　get　the　mark　of

their　tribe。　　He　says　you　and　your　sister　are　each　marked　on　the

left　arm。〃



Then　Gray　Eagle　opened　his　mouth　and　uttered　his　first　English

sentence。　　〃His　father；　big　Injin；　take　common　white　squaw！

Papoose　no　good；too　much　white　squaw　mother；　not　enough　big　Injin

father！　　Look！　　He　big　man；　but　no　can　bear　pain！　　Ugh！〃



The　interpreter　turned　in　time　to　catch　Peter。　　He　had　fainted。





CHAPTER　III





A　hot　afternoon　on　the　plains。　　A　dusty　cavalcade　of　United　States

cavalry　and　commissary　wagons；　which　from　a　distance　preserved　a

certain　military　precision　of　movement；　but　on　nearer　view　resolved

itself　into　straggling　troopers　in　twos　and　fours　interspersed

between　the　wagons；　two　noncommissioned　officers　and　a　guide　riding

ahead；　who　had　already　fallen　into　the　cavalry　slouch；　but　off　to

the　right；　smartly　erect　and　cadet…like；　the　young　lieutenant　in

command。　　A　wide　road　that　had　the　appearance　of　being　at　once　well

traveled　and　yet　deserted；　and　that；　although　well　defined　under

foot；　still　seemed　to　disappear　and　lose　itself　a　hundred　feet

ahead　in　the　monotonous　level。　　A　horizon　that　in　that　clear；　dry；

hazeless　atmosphere　never　mocked　you；　yet　never　changed；　but　kept

its　eternal　rim　of　mountains　at　the　same　height　and　distance　from

hour　to　hour　and　day　to　day。　　Dusta　parching　alkaline　powder　that

cracked　the　skineverywhere；　clinging　to　the　hubs　and　spokes　of

the　wheels；　without　being　disturbed　by　movement；　incrusting　the

cavalryman　from　his　high　boots　to　the　crossed　sabres　of　his　cap；

going　off　in　small　puffs　like　explosions　under　the　plunging　hoofs

of　the　horses；　but　too　heavy　to　rise　and　follow　them。　　A　reeking

smell　of　horse　sweat　and　boot　leather　that　lingered　in　the　road

long　after　the　train　had　passed。　　An　external　silence　broken　only

by　the　cough　of　a　jaded　horse　in　the　suffocating　dust；　or　the

cracking　of　harness　leather。　　Within　one　of　the　wagons　that　seemed

a　miracle　of　military　neatness　and　methodical　stowage；　a　lazy

conversation　carried　on　by　a　grizzled　driver　and　sunbrowned　farrier。



〃'Who　be　you？'　sezee。　　'I'm　Philip　Atherly；　a　member　of　Congress；'

sez　the　long；　dark…complected　man；　sezee；　'and　I'm　on　a　commission

for　looking　into　this　yer　Injin　grievance；'　sezee。　　'You　may　be　God

Almighty；'　sez　Nebraska　Bill；　sezee；　'but　you　look　a　dd　sight

more　like　a　hoss…stealin'　Apache；　and　we　don't　want　any　of　your

psalm…singing；　big…talkin'　peacemakers　interferin'　with　our　ways　of

treatin'　pizen；you　hear　me？　　I'm　shoutin'；'　sezee。　　With　that　the

dark…complected　man's　eyes　began　to　glisten；　and　he　sorter　squirmed

all　over　to　get　at　Bill；　and　Bill　outs　with　his　battery。Whoa；

will　ye；　what's　up　with　YOU　now？〃　　The　latter　remark　was　directed

to　the　young　spirited　near　horse　he　was　driving；　who　was　beginning

to　be　strangely　excited。



〃What　happened　then？〃　said　the　farrier　lazily。



〃Well；〃　continued　the　driver；　having　momentarily　quieted　his　horse；

〃I　reckoned　it　was　about　time　for　me　to　wheel　into　line；　for

fellers　of　the　Bill　stripe；　out　on　the　plains；　would　ez　leave　plug

a　man　in　citizen's　clothes；　even　if　he　was　the　President　himself；

as　they　would　drop　on　an　Injin　or　a　nigger。　　'Look　here；　Bill；'　sez

I；　'I'm　escortin'　this　stranger　under　gov'ment　orde