When any one came to the door he motioned them away; even his daughter dared not enter, for she saw him in meditation. As he smoked he made offering to the Great Spirit, and prayed that he might be shown the right way, and his heart was greatly troubled.
Crawling Elk, with a half-dozen of his head men, was seated in his tepee, calmly discussing the same question. The canvas of his lodge was raised, as much to insure privacy as to let the wind sweep through. It was not easy to accuse any man of this crime, or even to suggest the name of any one as capable of such a foolish deed of blood. For relationships were close; therefore it was that he, too, narrowed the investigation down to Cut Finger. It is easier to accuse the son of a neighbor than your own son, especially if that other is already a marked man among reckless youths.
At five o"clock Grayman called his daughter and said, "Send my sister, Standing Cloud, to me."
Standing Cloud came and took a seat on the outside of the tepee--on the side where the canvas was fastened up--and there sat with bent head, her fingers busy with blades of gra.s.s, while her brother questioned her. She was a large and comely woman of middle age. Her expression was still youthful, and her voice had girlish lightness. She was at once deeply moved by her brother"s questions. She did not know where her son was; he had not been to see her for several days. She understood whereto the questioning tended, and stoutly denied that her son would do so evil a deed. Nevertheless, Grayman was compelled to say:
"You know he has a bad head," and he made the confused, wavering sign of the hand which signifies crazy or foolish, and the mother rose and went away sobbing.
Then Grayman recalled the words of the Little Father. "If my own brother should do wrong, I would give him up to the war chief," he therefore said. "If my son and my sister"s son are guilty, I will give them up,"
and he rose and sought out Crawling Elk and told him of his fears, and repeated his resolution as they sat together while the sun was going down and the crier was calling the second council.
"It is right," said Elk. "Those who are guilty must be punished; but we do not know who fired the shot."
The people were slow in coming together this second time, and darkness was falling as the head men again took their seats. A small fire was being built in the centre of the circle, and towards this at last, like nocturnal insects, the larger number of the people in the two camps slowly concentrated.
The wind had gone down and the night was dark and still and warm. The people gathered in comparative silence, though the laugh of a girl occasionally broke from the cl.u.s.tering ma.s.ses of the women, to be followed by a mutter of jests from the young men who stood close packed behind the older members of the bands. Excitement had deepened since the morning, for in some way the news had pa.s.sed from lip to lip that Grayman had discovered the evil-doer.
On their part the chieftains were slow to begin their painful task. They smoked in silence till the fire was twice replenished, then began talking in low tones among themselves. At last Crawling Elk arose and made a speech similar to that of the morning. He recounted the tale of the murdered white man, and the details of finding the body, and ended by saying: "We are commanded by the agent to find the ones who have done this evil deed. If any one knows anything about this, let him come forward and speak. It is not right that we should all suffer for the wrong-doing of some reckless young warriors."
"Come forth and speak, any one who knows," called the head men, looking round the circle. "He who remains silent does wrong."
Two Horns rose. "We mean you, young men--you too," he said, turning to the women. "If any of you have heard anything of this matter, speak!"
Then the silence fell again on the circle of old men, and they bent their heads in meditation. Crawling Elk was just handing the pipe to Grayman, in order to rise, when a low mutter and a jostling caused every glance to centre upon one side of the circle, and then, decked in war-paint, gay with beads and feathers, and carrying a rifle, Cut Finger stepped silently and haughtily into the circle and stood motionless as a statue, his tall figure erect and rigid as an oak.
A moaning sound swept over the a.s.sembly, and every eye was fixed on the young man. "Ahee! Ahee!" the women wailed, in astonishment and fear; two or three began a low, sad chant, and death seemed to stretch a black wing over the council. By his weapons, by his war-paint, by his bared head decked with eagle-plumes, and by the haughty lift of his face, Cut Finger proclaimed louder than words:
"I am the man who killed the herder."
Standing so, he began to sing a stern song:
"I alone killed him--the white man.
He was a thief and I killed him.
No one helped me; I alone fired the shot.
He will drive his sheep no more on Tetong lands.
This dog of a herder.
He lies there in the short gra.s.s.
It was I, Cut Finger, who did it."
As his chant died away he turned: "I go to the hills to fight and die like a man." And before the old men could stay him he had vanished among the young hors.e.m.e.n of the outer circle, and a moment later the loud drumming of his pony"s hoofs could be heard as he rode away.
Curtis was sitting alone in the library when a tap at his window announced the presence of Grayman.
Following a gesture, the chieftain came in, and, with a look on his face which expressed high resolution and keen sorrow, he said:
"The man who killed the herder is found. He has proclaimed himself at our council, and he has ridden away into the hills."
"Who was he?"
"Cut Finger."
"Ah! So? Well, you have done your duty. I will not ask you to arrest him. Crow will do that. I hope"--he hesitated--"I hope your son was not with him?"
""I alone did it," he says. My son is innocent."
"I am very glad," replied Curtis, looking into the old man"s tremulous face. "Go home and sleep in peace."
With a clasp of the hand Grayman said good-night and vanished.
There was nothing to be done till morning, and Curtis knew the habits of the Indians too well to be anxious about the criminal. Calling his faithful Crane"s Voice, he said:
"Crane, will you go to Pinon City?"
Crane"s Voice straightened. "To-night?"
"Yes, to-night."
"If you will let me wear a blue coat I will go."
Curtis smiled. "You are a brave boy. I will give you a coat. That will protect you if you are caught by the white men. Saddle your pony."
With a smile he turned on his heel and went out as cheerfully as though he were going on an errand to the issue-house.
In his letter to the sheriff Curtis said: "I have found the murderer. He is a half-crazy boy called Cut Finger. Make out a warrant for him and I will deliver him to you. You will need no deputies. No one but yourself will be permitted to cross the line for the present."
After Crane had galloped off, Curtis laid down his pen and sat for a long time recalling the events of the evening. He remembered that Lawson and Elsie went away together, and a pang of jealous pain took hold upon him. "I never had the privilege of taking her arm," he thought, unreasonably.
XXVII
BRISBANE COMES FOR ELSIE
Among other perplexities which now a.s.sailed the agent was the question of how to secure Cut Finger without inciting further violence. He confidently expected the police to locate the fugitive during the day, probably in the camp of Red Wolf, on the head-waters of the Elk.
"He cannot escape. There is no place for him to go."
"He may have committed suicide," said Wilson, discussing the matter with his chief the following morning.
"He may, but his death will not satisfy the ranchers unless they are made the instrument of vengeance. They would feel cheated and bitterer than ever," replied Curtis, sombrely. "He must be taken and delivered up to the law."
On his return to the office after breakfast Curtis stopped at the door of Elsie"s studio, his brain yet tingling with the consciousness that no other man"s claim stood between them now.