Part 23 (1/2)
The day after we had seen Mrs. Box come in, I was praising the braveness of Lieutenant Hesselberger in venturing to rescue her.
”It isn't all bravery at all,” said Brigham. ”He's brave as a panther, but there's more in it than _that_. There is about one man in a hundred, and not more, who can go among the most G.o.d-forsaken devils of Injuns and never get hurt. The Injuns take to them at a glance and love 'em. _I'm_ such a man, and I've proved it often enough, G.o.d knows! Lieutenant Hesselberger is one, and,” he added abruptly, ”Mr. Leland, _you're_ another.”
”What makes you think so?” I said, greatly surprised.
”'Cause I've watched you. You've got Injun ways that you don't know of.
Didn't I notice the other day, when the gentlemen were buying the whips from the Kaws, that every Injun took a squint, and then came straight to _you_? Why didn't they go to one of the other gentlemen? Because they've got an instinct like a dog for their friends, and for such as _we_.”
We were coming to Fort Harker. I forget how it all came about, but we found ourselves afoot, with a mile or two to walk, carrying our guns, carpet-bags, and _pet.i.tes bagages_, while about fifty yards ahead or more there was Brigham driving on merrily to the fort, under the impression that we had secured other conveyance.
Captain Colton fired his carbine. It made about as much noise as a percussion-cap, and the wind was from Brigham toward us. Carried away by an impulse, I caught Colonel Lamborn's light rifle out of his hand.
”Great G.o.d!” he cried, ”you don't mean to shoot at him?”
”If you'll insure the mules,” I said, ”I will the driver.” My calculation was to send a bullet so near to Brigham that he could hear it whizz, but not to touch him. It was not so dangerous as the shot I had fired over Sam Fox, and the ”spirit” was on me!
But I did _not_ know that in the covered waggon sat Ha.s.sard talking with Brigham, their faces being, as Ha.s.sard declared, just about six inches apart. I fired, and the bullet pa.s.sed just between their noses!
Ha.s.sard heard the whizz, and cried, ”What's that?”
”_Injuns_, by G.o.d!” roared Brigham, forgetting that we had left the Indian country two days behind us. ”Lie down in the waggon while I drive.” And drive he did, till out of gunshot, and then putting his face out, turned around, and gave in full desperate cry the taunting war-whoop of the Cheyennes. It was a beautiful sight that of Brigham's broad red face wild with rage--and his great gold earrings and Mexican sombrero--turning round the waggon at us in defiance like Marmion!
But when he realised that _we_ had fired at him, just as a pack of d---d Apaches might have done, for fun, to stop the waggon, his expression became one of utter bewilderment. As I came up I thought there might be a s.h.i.+ndy.
”Brigham,” I said in Spanish, ”_es la mano o el navajo_?” [Is it to be hand, or knife?]
Brigham was proud of his Spanish; it was his elegant accomplishment, and this was a good scene. Grasping my hand cordially, he said, ”_La mano_.”
Like a true frontiersman, he felt in a minute the _grandeur_ of the joke.
There was, if I may so vulgarly express myself, an _Indian-uity_ in it which appealed to his deepest feelings. There was a silence for several minutes, which he broke by exclaiming--
”I've driven waggons now this twelve years on the frontier, but I never heard before of tryin' to stop the waggon by shootin' at the driver.”
There was another long silent pause, when he resumed--
”I wish to G.o.d there was a gulch (ravine) between here and the fort! I'd upset this crowd into it d---d quick!”
That evening I took leave of Brigham. I drank healths with him in whisky, and shook hands, and said--
”I did a very foolish and reckless thing to-day, Brigham, when I shot at you, and I am sorry for it, and I beg your pardon. Here is a dagger which I have had for twenty-five years. I carried it all over Europe. I have nothing better to give you; please take it. And when you stick a Greaser (Mexican) with it, as I expect you will do some day, then think of me.”
The tears rose to his eyes, and he departed. I never met him again, but ”well I wot” he ever had kindly remembrance of me. We were to be guests of General Custer at the fort, and I was rather shy of meeting the castellan after firing at his driver! But he greeted me with a hearty burst of laughter, and said--
”Mr. Leland, you have the most original way of ringing a bell when you want to call a carriage that I ever heard of.”
As for Ha.s.sard, when he witnessed my parting with Brigham, he said--
”This is all mighty fine! daggers and whisky, and all kinds of beautiful things flying around for Brigham, but what am _I_ to have?”
”And what dost thou expect, son Ha.s.sard?” I replied.
Holding out both his hands, he replied--