Part 18 (2/2)
”I figure that there Chinook an' me an' th' bear must have been all travellin' 'bout th' same line of speed--kind of swift. After a mile or two of it, th' bear--he got fed up an' quit cold,” he ended gravely.
”Why--what's your hurry, Fred?”
But that individual, feebly raising both arms with a sort of hopeless gesture, suddenly grabbed up his mail and beat a hasty retreat to his horse.
The hoof-beats died away and MacDavid turned to the grinning policemen.
”Fred Storey,” he said, in answer to their looks of silent enquiry.
”Runs th' R.U. Ranch, out south here. Not a bad head, but”--he sighed deeply--”he's such an unG.o.dly liar. I can't resist gettin' back at him now an' again--just for luck. He's up here on a visit--stayin' with th'
Sawyers.”
”H-mm!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Yorke, ”seems to me I've got a hazy recollection of meeting up with that fellow before--somewhere. In a hotel in High River, I think it was. Beggar was yarning about Cuba, I remember.”
”Bet it was hazy all right,” was Redmond's sarcastic rejoiner, ”like most of your bar-room recollections, Yorkey.” He gave vent to a snorting chuckle. ”That 'D'you know? Ya! ya!' accent of his reminds me of that curate in 'The Private Secretary.' I saw it played to Toronto, once.”
At this juncture the door opened, and a trio of Indians padded softly into the store with gaily-beaded, moccasined feet. Two elderly bucks and a young squaw. The latter flashed a shy, roguish grin at the white men, and then with the customary effacement of Indian women withdrew to the rear of the store. Squatting down, all huddled-up in her blanket, she peered at them with the incurious, but all-seeing stare of her tribe.
George got an impression of beady black eyes and a brown, rounded, child-like face framed in a dazzling yellow kerchief.
The two bucks, with a momentary gleam of welcome wrinkling their ruthless, impa.s.sive features, exchanged a salutation with MacDavid in guttural Cree, which language the latter spoke fluently. They were clothed in the customary fas.h.i.+on of their tribe--with a sort of blanket-capote garment reaching below the knee, their lower limbs swathed in strips of blanket, wound puttee-wise. Battered old felt hats comprised their head-gear, below which escaped two plaited pig-tails of coa.r.s.e, mane-like, black hair, the latter parted at the nape of the neck and dangling forward down their broad chests.
Slavin and Yorke hailed them familiarly. The elder buck rejoiced in the sonorous t.i.tle of ”Minne-tronk-ske-wan,” but divers convictions for insobriety under the Indian Liquor Act, and the facetious tongue of Yorke, had contorted this into the somewhat opprobrious nickname of ”Many Drunks.” His companion was known as ”Sun Dog.”
They now proceeded to shake hands all around. ”How! Many Drunks!”
shouted Yorke. Pointing to Redmond, he added ”oweski skemoganish” (new policeman). With a ferocious grin, intended for an ingratiating smile of welcome, Many Drunks advanced upon George, with outstretched hand. In a rapid aside Yorke said: ”Listen, Reddy, to what he says, he only knows six or seven words of English, but he's as proud as Punch of 'em--always likes to get 'em off on a stranger. Don't laugh!”
Within a pace of Redmond that gentleman halted. ”How!” he grunted, and, pausing impressively drew himself up and tapped his inflated chest, ”Minne-tronk-ske-wan! . . . great man!--me--”
And then Redmond nearly choked, as Many Drunks, with intense gravity, proudly conferred upon himself the most objectionable t.i.tle that exists in four words of the English language--rounding that same off with a majestic ”Wah! wah!”
Turning, George beheld himself the target of covert grins from the others, who evidently were familiar with Many Drunks' linguistic attainments. Sun Dog merely uttered ”How! Shemoganish.” He did not profess ability to rise to the occasion like his companion.
Yorke, who was evidently in one of his reckless, rollicking moods, proceeded to make certain teasing overtures to Many Drunks. His knowledge of Cree being nearly as limited as that worthy's knowledge of English, he enlisted the aid of MacDavid as interpreter. The dialogue that ensued was something as follows:
”Tell him I'm fed up with the Force and am thinking seriously of going to live on the reserve--_monial nayanok-a-weget_--turn 'squaw-man'--'take the blanket.'”
MacDavid translated swiftly, received the answer, and turned to Yorke.
”He says '_Aie-ha_! (yes) You make good squaw-man.'”
”Ask him--if I do--if he'll _muskkatonamwat_ (trade) me the young lady over in the corner there, for two bottles of _skutiawpwe_ (whiskey).”
”He says '_Nemoyah_!' (no)--if he does that, you'll turn around and _kojipyhok_ (arrest) him for having liquor in his possession.”
”Tell him--_Nemoyah_! I won't.”
”He says _Aie-hat ekwece_! (Yes, all right) you can have her. Says she's his brother's wife's niece. But he says you must give him the two bottles of _skutiawpwe_ first, though.”
The object of these frivolous negotiations had meanwhile covered her head with the blanket, from the folds of which issued shrill giggles. Sun Dog, who had been listening intently with hand scooped to ear (he was somewhat deaf), now precipitated himself into the discussion. Violently thrusting his elder companion aside he commenced to harangue MacDavid in an excited voice and with vehement gestures of disapprobation of the whole proceedings. The trader translated swiftly:
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