Part 8 (1/2)
Just as if we'd let 'em go for a song, when they're cram full of a.s.sociations for us.”
”You're not on to it yet, boys;” remarked Thad, quietly; ”it's the head of the fox which we had painted so cleverly on each tent that's caught his eye; and he just can't help hanging around, to keep on gazing at it, for some reason or other.”
For the first time they saw a sign of emotion flit across the face of the young Indian brave. He struck himself violently on the chest.
”Me Fox!” he exclaimed, proudly. ”Soon me must have teepee for self.
See picture fox on same, think can buy. Give much pelt for same. Ugh!
what white boy say?”
”Well, just to think of it, here's another Fox, all right?” called out Giraffe. ”We're treading on his heels, so to speak, boys, when we take that name for our patrol. Glad to meet up with you; and by the way are you Silver Fox, Red Fox, or Black Fox; though to be sure they all belong to one family?”
”I thought I ought to know him,” burst out Aleck Rawson, pus.h.i.+ng forward, ”and now I'm dead sure of it. h.e.l.lo! Fox, you sure must remember me, Aleck; and the good times we used to have, when I lived close to the Reservation?”
The young Indian extended his hand without hesitation.
”No forget Aleck, not much. But him not with other white boys down in big timber. Where come by? How do? Much glad see again. My coyote pony, Flicker, yet in the run. Ugh! Shake!”
”He means a pony I gave him when we came away from that place,”
explained Aleck, turning to Thad after gravely shaking hands with the Indian. ”The Fox is a Crow, and one of the smartest boys you ever saw.
He can do everything that a grown warrior could; and some day they say he will be a chief in his tribe. We used to have great times racing our ponies, and chasing coyotes over the prairie. And I'm right glad to see him once more; though it puzzles me to know why he is up here, so far away from the homes of his people; and armed, too.”
”Well, if he's an old friend of yours, Aleck, and you can vouch for him, why, of course he's going to be welcome at our fire. And it tickles me to think that the bright painting of the fox head on each of our tents was what attracted his eye, so that he just _couldn't_ keep from hanging around at that other time. But surely that didn't draw him away up here; he's got some other business in his head; for he only discovered our camp just now, and was coming in to see us, I reckon, when Step Hen mounted his back, and then called to us to help him.”
”Anyway, I had him gripped good and tight, you all saw,” grumbled Step Hen. ”When these good husky arms of mine get locked around anything, it takes a heap to break me away. If he had been a hostile Injun I'd a hung on like grim death, believe me.”
No one ventured to try and take away any of his laurels. He had certainly yelled for help in a way that could not easily be excelled, they all thought.
Thad led the way to the fire, after inviting the Indian to join them.
He confessed to having just a little curiosity himself as to what had caused the Fox to desert the teepees of his tribe, and wander so far away from the reservation; but of course Thad knew better than to ask about the personal affairs of the other. If the Fox chose, later on, to take them into his confidence, well and good. He might only stay with them for a night, and then slip away; but since he was Aleck's friend, and seemed to be connected with the great family of Foxes, of which they were a Boy Scout branch, why, he would be welcome.
As the Indian confessed that he had not broken his fast since noon, when he had munched a handful of dried deer meat, known as pemmican, some of the boys took it upon themselves to cook something for him. He appeared to be very grateful, and could be seen to sniff the air eagerly while the coffee was boiling; showing that he appreciated the white man's drink at its true value; for his people on the reservation enjoyed many of the comforts of civilization, and some of the luxuries, too, even to pianos that played themselves, and boxes that sang songs, and played the violin, and gave all sorts of orchestral music, so Aleck observed.
And while the boys talked on various subjects, as they sat around, Thad happened to be watching the face of the Fox when one of the scouts casually mentioned the name of Colonel Kracker. He actually saw the dark face grow stern, and that the Indian ground his teeth together, as if in anger.
Seeing which Thad put things together, and came to a conclusion, whether right or wrong, of course he could not yet say.
”He knows Kracker, for he started when Davy mentioned the name,” Thad was saying to himself. ”And the chances are that the prospector has done something to injure the Fox, or some member of his family. These Indians hate savagely; and perhaps this young fellow, hardly more than a boy, has taken to the warpath, bent on having a settlement with the big bully. Well, it isn't any of our business; but I know I'd hate to have the Fox camping on _my_ trail, with hatred burning in his heart.”
CHAPTER VIII.
PLANNING WOE TO THE BIG HORNS.
”If we get along in this way,” Giraffe was saying, as he sat there watching the young Indian eat what had been set before him; ”two at a pop, not that they're just as welcome as the showers in April, though, we'll have to hustle some lively so's to provide grub.”
”Keepin' open house, Giraffe!” sang out Davy Jones, looking up from his job of placing another new film in his snapshot camera.