Part 42 (1/2)

”Wall, don't it?” said the direct-minded Aunt Ri. ”Hain't yer got any power over 'em? If yer hain't got it over them, who have yer got it over? What yer goin' to do for 'em?”

The Agent laughed in spite of himself. ”Well, Aunt Ri,”--she was already ”Aunt Ri” to the Agent's boys,--”that's just the trouble with this Agency. It is very different from what it would be if I had all my Indians on a reservation.”

Alessandro understood the words ”my Indians.” He had heard them before.

”What does he mean by his Indians, Jos?” he asked fiercely. ”I will not have my name in his book if it makes me his.”

When Jos reluctantly interpreted this, the Agent lost his temper.

”That's all the use there is trying to do anything with them! Let him go, then, if he doesn't want any help from the Government!”

”Oh, no, no.” cried Aunt Ri. ”Yeow jest explain it to Jos, an' he'll make him understand.”

Alessandro's face had darkened. All this seemed to him exceedingly suspicious. Could it be possible that Aunt Ri and Jos, the first whites except Mr. Hartsel he had ever trusted, were deceiving him? No; that was impossible. But they themselves might be deceived. That they were simple and ignorant, Alessandro well knew. ”Let us go!” he said. ”I do not wish to sign any paper.”

”Naow don't be a fool, will yeow? Yeow ain't signin' a thing!” said Aunt Ri. ”Jos, yeow tell him I say there ain't anythin' a bindin' him, hevin'

his name 'n' thet book, It's only so the Agent kin know what Injuns wants help, 'n' where they air. Ain't thet so?” she added, turning to the Agent. ”Tell him he can't hev the Agency doctor, ef he ain't on the Agency books.”

Not have the doctor? Give up this precious medicine which might save his baby's life? No! he could not do that. Majella would say, let the name be written, rather than that.

”Let him write the name, then,” said Alessandro, doggedly; but he went out of the room feeling as if he had put a chain around his neck.

XXIII

THE medicine did the baby no good. In fact, it did her harm. She was too feeble for violent remedies. In a week, Alessandro appeared again at the Agency doctor's door. This time he had come with a request which to his mind seemed not unreasonable. He had brought Baba for the doctor to ride. Could the doctor then refuse to go to Saboba? Baba would carry him there in three hours, and it would be like a cradle all the way.

Alessandro's name was in the Agency books. It was for this he had written it,--for this and nothing else,--to save the baby's life. Having thus enrolled himself as one of the Agency Indians, he had a claim on this the Agency doctor. And that his application might be all in due form, he took with him the Agency interpreter. He had had a misgiving, before, that Aunt Ri's kindly volubility had not been well timed. Not one unnecessary word, was Alessandro's motto.

To say that the Agency doctor was astonished at being requested to ride thirty miles to prescribe for an ailing Indian baby, would be a mild statement of the doctor's emotion. He could hardly keep from laughing, when it was made clear to him that this was what the Indian father expected.

”Good Lord!” he said, turning to a crony who chanced to be lounging in the office. ”Listen to that beggar, will you? I wonder what he thinks the Government pays me a year for doctoring Indians!”

Alessandro listened so closely it attracted the doctor's attention. ”Do you understand English?” he asked sharply.

”A very little, Senor,” replied Alessandro.

The doctor would be more careful in his speech, then. But he made it most emphatically clear that the thing Alessandro had asked was not only out of the question, but preposterous. Alessandro pleaded. For the child's sake he could do it. The horse was at the door; there was no such horse in San Bernardino County; he went like the wind, and one would not know he was in motion, it was so easy. Would not the doctor come down and look at the horse? Then he would see what it would be like to ride him.

”Oh, I've seen plenty of your Indian ponies,” said the doctor. ”I know they can run.”

Alessandro lingered. He could not give up this last hope. The tears came into his eyes. ”It is our only child, Senor,” he said. ”It will take you but six hours in all. My wife counts the moments till you come! If the child dies, she will die.”

”No! no!” The doctor was weary of being importuned. ”Tell the man it is impossible! I'd soon have my hands full, if I began to go about the country this way. They'd be sending for me down to Agua Caliente next, and bringing up their ponies to carry me.”

”He will not go?” asked Alessandro.

The interpreter shook his head. ”He cannot,” he said.

Without a word Alessandro left the room. Presently he returned. ”Ask him if he will come for money?” he said. ”I have gold at home. I will pay him, what the white men pay him.”

”Tell him no man of any color could pay me for going sixty miles!” said the doctor.

And Alessandro departed again, walking so slowly, however, that he heard the coa.r.s.e laugh, and the words, ”Gold! Looked like it, didn't he?”