Part 41 (1/2)
”No, no; John, I won't take it, although I would rather have it than all your cattle; but if I take that revolver, everybody will swear that I precipitated the fight by going armed in violation of the compact. No, John, I wouldn't take it if I knew I never could come back without it, and taking it would save me. I won't do it. My life would not be worth a cent if I did. I wanted you to go, but the general and the doctor objected; so there's no use in talking; I am going.”
A man pa.s.ses close to Meacham and drops something in a side pocket of his coat. His hand grasps it, and his face indicates hesitation. The other says, in a low tone, ”It's sure fire;--it's all right.” 'Tis a small Derringer pistol, and it is not thrown out of the pocket. Dyer caught sight of this little manuvre, and he goes into his tent and quickly slips a Derringer into his pocket.
The Indian woman is weeping still. She refuses to let go the rope of Meacham's horse, until the command is repeated, and then she grasps his coat, and pleads again: ”You no go; you get kill.”
”Let go, Tobey. Get on your horse. All ready? Mr. Dyer, there is no other way to do.”
Riddle is pale, but cool and collected. He says, ”I'm a-goin' a-foot; I don't want no horse to bother me.” The Indian woman embraces her boy again and again, and mounts her horse. Meacham, Dyer, Riddle, and his wife are starting.
Fairchild says, ”Meacham, you had better take my pistol. I would like to go with you, but I s'pose I can't.”
”No; I won't take it. Good-by. Keep your promise.”
”Good-by, Maj. Thomas. Cranston, good-by. Good-by, Col. Wright. Be ready to come for us; we'll need you.”
”Don't go off feeling that way. I wouldn't go if I felt as you do,” says one.
”We will have an eye out for you,” says another.
They are gone, and we will follow. Canby and Thomas are just rising out of a rocky chasm near the council tent. Meacham and his party are going around by the horse trail. Words can never tell the thoughts that pa.s.s through their minds on that ride. The soldier who goes to battle takes even chances in the line of his profession; the criminal may march with steady nerve up the steps that lead him to the gallows; but who can ever tell in words the thoughts, feelings, and temptations of these men, going to meet a people under a flag of truce that had been dishonored by their own race within sight of the spot where they are to meet these people, after the earnest warning they had received?
CHAPTER x.x.x.
a.s.sa.s.sINATION--”KAU-TUX-E”--THE DEATH PRAYER SMOTHERED BY BLOOD--RESCUED.
While these two parties are wending their way to the council tent, let us see what is going on around it. On the side opposite from the camp a small sage-brush fire is burning. It is not at the same spot where the fire was built when Meacham and Roseborough had the long talk with Captain Jack a few days since. Why this change? Think a moment. The council that day was in _full view of the signal station_. This fire is _behind the council tent, and cannot be seen from the station_. Around the fire loose stones are placed. This looks suspicious. But who are those fellows dressed like white men, sitting around that fire? Ah! they are Modocs waiting for the commissioners. That man with a slouched hat and well-worn gray coat,--nearest the tent, is Captain Jack. He looks sad and half melancholy, and does not seem at ease in his mind.
Near him sits old Schonchin, the image of the real savage. His hair is mixed with gray. His face indicates that he is a villain.
That fellow who appears restless, and walks back and forth, is Hooker Jim.
He is not more than twenty-two; _his_ face tells you, at a glance, that he is a _cut-throat_. He is tall, stout-built, very muscular, and would be an ugly customer in a fight. He is accredited with being the best ”_trailer_,” and the closest marksman in the Modoc tribe.
That other young fellow, with feminine face, and hair parted in the middle, is a brave and desperate man. That is Shacknasty Jim.
That dark-looking man, who reminds you, at the first view, of a snake, is Black Jim. He is of royal blood, and half-brother of Captain Jack. His hair is cut square below the ears, and, take him altogether, he is a bad-looking man.
The light-colored, round-faced, smooth-built man, who stands behind the chief; is ”Ellen's Man.” He is young, and is really a fine-looking fellow.
He does not _appear_ to be a bad man, but he _is_; and you will think him the worst of the company before we lose sight of him.
The talk around that council fire would freeze your blood could you hear it. They are making arrangements for the carnival of death that they propose holding.
The chief is nervous, and speaks of his regret that this thing is to be.
”Ellen's Man” proposes to take his place if he lacks courage. ”I do not lack courage, but I do not feel right to kill those men. If it is the Modoc heart, it shall be done,” replies the chief.
Walk out towards the Modoc camp forty steps, and lying behind a low ledge of rocks are two boys, Barncho and Slolux. They are very quiet, but under each one we see several rifles. They are both young, and have _volunteered_ to play this part in the tragedy soon to be enacted.
Near them is another man, crouching low, and in his hand he holds a gun, with its muzzle pointing towards the tent. His face indicates a much older man than he really is. He is not there to take a part in the proceedings of the coming meeting, except in a certain contingency. There is a something about him that declares him to be a man of more than ordinary stamp. This is Scar-face Charley, and if, in the slaughter that is to ensue, Riddle or his wife should fall, the rifle that that man grasps will talk in vengeful tone, with deadly effect, upon the murderer.
Look behind you at the council fire. Eight Indians are there now, and the new-comers have familiar faces. They are _Bogus_ and _Boston_, just arrived from head-quarters. They are telling the others who are coming, that they are all unarmed.