The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [81]
one swift stride toward the man that stood nearest, swinging his rifle over his head. Forward sprang the doctor to his side, his poplar club likewise swung up to strike. Back fell the Indians a pace or two, the Chief following them with a torrential flow of vehement invective. Slowly, sullenly the crowd gave back, cowed but still wrathful, and beginning to mutter in angry undertones. Once more the tent flap was pushed aside and there issued two figures who ran to the side of the Indian boy, now swaying weakly upon his rifle.
"My poor boy!" cried Mandy, throwing her arms round about him, and, steadying him as he let his rifle fall, let him sink slowly to the ground.
"You cowards!" cried Moira, seizing the rifle that the boy had dropped and springing to the doctor's side. "Look at what you have done!" She turned and pointed indignantly to the swooning boy.
With an exclamation of wrath the doctor stepped back to Mandy's aid, forgetful of the threatening Indians and mindful only of his patient. Quickly he sprang into the tent, returning with a stimulating remedy, bent over the boy and worked with him till he came back again to life.
Once more the Chief, who with the Indians had been gazing upon this scene, turned and spoke to his band, this time in tones of quiet dignity, pointing to the little group behind him. Silent and subdued the Indians listened, their quick impulses like those of children stirred to sympathy for the lad and for those who would aid him. Gradually the crowd drew off, separating into groups and gathering about the various fires. For the time the danger was over.
Between them Dr. Martin and the Chief carried the boy into the tent and laid him on his bed.
"What sort of beasts have you got out there anyway?" said the doctor, facing the Chief abruptly.
"Him drink bad whisky," answered the Chief, tipping up his hand. "Him crazee," touching his head with his forefinger.
"Crazy! Well, I should say. What they want is a few ounces of lead."
The Chief made no reply, but stood with his eyes turned admiringly upon Moira's face.
"Squaw--him good," he said, pointing to the girl. "No 'fraid--much brave--good."
"You are right enough there, Chief," replied the doctor heartily.
"Him you squaw?" inquired the Chief, pointing to Moira.
"Well--eh? No, not exactly," replied the doctor, much confused, "that is--not yet I mean--"
"Huh! Him good squaw. Him good man," replied the Chief, pointing first to Moira, then to the doctor.
Moira hurried to the tent door.
"They are all gone," she exclaimed. "Thank God! How awful they are!"
"Huh!" replied the Chief, moving out past her. "Him drink, him crazee--no drink, no crazee." At the door he paused, and, looking back, said once more with increased emphasis, "Huh! Him good squaw," and finally disappeared.
"By Jove!" said the doctor with a delighted chuckle. "The old boy is a man of some discernment I can see. But the kid and you saved the day, Miss Moira."
"Oh, what nonsense you are talking. It was truly awful, and how splendidly you--you--"
"Well, I caught him rather a neat one, I confess. I wonder if the brute is sleeping yet. But you did the trick finally, Miss Moira."
"Huh," grunted Mandy derisively, "Good man--good squaw, eh?"
CHAPTER XV
THE OUTLAW
The bitter weather following an autumn of unusual mildness had set in with the New Year and had continued without a break for fifteen days. A heavy fall of snow with a blizzard blowing sixty miles an hour had made the trails almost impassable, indeed quite so to any but to those bent on desperate business or to Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police. To these gallant riders all trails stood open at all seasons of the year, no matter what snow might fall or blizzard blow, so long as duty called them forth.
The trail from the fort to the Big Horn Ranch, however, was so wind-swept that the snow was blown away, which made the going fairly easy, and the Superintendent, Inspector Dickson and Jerry trotted along freely enough in the face
"My poor boy!" cried Mandy, throwing her arms round about him, and, steadying him as he let his rifle fall, let him sink slowly to the ground.
"You cowards!" cried Moira, seizing the rifle that the boy had dropped and springing to the doctor's side. "Look at what you have done!" She turned and pointed indignantly to the swooning boy.
With an exclamation of wrath the doctor stepped back to Mandy's aid, forgetful of the threatening Indians and mindful only of his patient. Quickly he sprang into the tent, returning with a stimulating remedy, bent over the boy and worked with him till he came back again to life.
Once more the Chief, who with the Indians had been gazing upon this scene, turned and spoke to his band, this time in tones of quiet dignity, pointing to the little group behind him. Silent and subdued the Indians listened, their quick impulses like those of children stirred to sympathy for the lad and for those who would aid him. Gradually the crowd drew off, separating into groups and gathering about the various fires. For the time the danger was over.
Between them Dr. Martin and the Chief carried the boy into the tent and laid him on his bed.
"What sort of beasts have you got out there anyway?" said the doctor, facing the Chief abruptly.
"Him drink bad whisky," answered the Chief, tipping up his hand. "Him crazee," touching his head with his forefinger.
"Crazy! Well, I should say. What they want is a few ounces of lead."
The Chief made no reply, but stood with his eyes turned admiringly upon Moira's face.
"Squaw--him good," he said, pointing to the girl. "No 'fraid--much brave--good."
"You are right enough there, Chief," replied the doctor heartily.
"Him you squaw?" inquired the Chief, pointing to Moira.
"Well--eh? No, not exactly," replied the doctor, much confused, "that is--not yet I mean--"
"Huh! Him good squaw. Him good man," replied the Chief, pointing first to Moira, then to the doctor.
Moira hurried to the tent door.
"They are all gone," she exclaimed. "Thank God! How awful they are!"
"Huh!" replied the Chief, moving out past her. "Him drink, him crazee--no drink, no crazee." At the door he paused, and, looking back, said once more with increased emphasis, "Huh! Him good squaw," and finally disappeared.
"By Jove!" said the doctor with a delighted chuckle. "The old boy is a man of some discernment I can see. But the kid and you saved the day, Miss Moira."
"Oh, what nonsense you are talking. It was truly awful, and how splendidly you--you--"
"Well, I caught him rather a neat one, I confess. I wonder if the brute is sleeping yet. But you did the trick finally, Miss Moira."
"Huh," grunted Mandy derisively, "Good man--good squaw, eh?"
CHAPTER XV
THE OUTLAW
The bitter weather following an autumn of unusual mildness had set in with the New Year and had continued without a break for fifteen days. A heavy fall of snow with a blizzard blowing sixty miles an hour had made the trails almost impassable, indeed quite so to any but to those bent on desperate business or to Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police. To these gallant riders all trails stood open at all seasons of the year, no matter what snow might fall or blizzard blow, so long as duty called them forth.
The trail from the fort to the Big Horn Ranch, however, was so wind-swept that the snow was blown away, which made the going fairly easy, and the Superintendent, Inspector Dickson and Jerry trotted along freely enough in the face