That Girl Montana
man? While, if I'd been the right sort of a guardian, she would have been
given a moral lecture on the sinfulness of revenge. I guess we'd better
begin to talk school right away."
"I imagine she'll object at first, through force of habit, and protest
that she knows enough for one girl."
But she did not. She listened with wonder in her eyes, and something of
shamed contrition in her face, and knew so well--so very well that she did
not deserve it. She had wanted--really wanted to vex him when she played
the cards, when she had danced past, and never let on she saw him looking
somberly in at the window the night before. But in the light of morning
and with the knowledge of his wounded arm, all her resentment was gone.
She could scarcely speak even the words she meant to say.
"I can't do that--go, I mean. It will cost so much, and I have no money.
I can't make any here, and--and you are not rich enough to lend it to me,
even if I could pay it back some day, so--"
"Never mind about the money; it will be got. I'm to start up north of this
soon, and this doesn't seem a good place to school you in, anyway. So, for
a year or so, you go to that school down in Helena. Max knows the name of
it; I forget. When you get all rigged out with an education, and have a
capital of knowledge, you can talk then about the money and paying it, if
it makes you feel more comfortable. But just now you be a good little
girl; go down there with Max to the school, study hard, so that if I drop
into a chasm some night, or am picked off by a bullet, you'll have
learned, anyway, how to look after yourself in the right way."
"Oh, it's Mr. Max, then, that's planning this, is it?" she asked suddenly,
and her face flushed a little--he must have thought in anger, for he
said:
"Why--yes; that is--mostly. You see, 'Tana, I've drifted out from the ways
of the world while Max has kept up with them. So he proposed--well, no
matter about the plan. I'm to suggest it to you, and as it's no loss and
all gain to you, I reckon you'll be sensible enough to say yes."
"I will," she answered, quietly; "it is very kind of you both to be so
good to me, for I haven't been good to you--to either of you, I'm
sorry--I--maybe I'll be better when I come back--and--maybe I can pay you
some day."
"Me? Oh, you won't owe me anything, and I reckon you'd better not make
plans about coming back here! The books and things you learn will likely
turn you toward other places--finer places. This is all right for men
who have money to make; but you--"
"I'm coming back here," she said, nodding her head emphatically. "Maybe
not for always--but I'll come back some time--I will."
She was twisting her fingers in a nervous way, and, as he watched her, he
noticed that her little brown hands were devoid of all ornament.
"Where is the ring?" he asked. "Have you lost it already?"
"No, it's here--in my pocket," and she drew it out that he might see.
"I--I took it off this morning when I saw you were shot. You'll laugh, I
suppose; but I thought the snakes brought bad luck."
"So you are superstitious?"
"Oh, I don't know! I'm not afraid very often; but sometimes I think there
are signs that are true. I've heard old folks say so, and talk of things
unlucky. I took the ring off when I saw your arm."
"But the arm was only scratched--not worth a thought from a little girl
like you," he said; "and surely not worth throwing off your jewelry for.
But some day--some day of good luck, I may find you a prettier ring--one
more like a girl's ring, you know; one you can wear and not be afraid."
"If I'm afraid, it isn't for myself," she said, with that old, unchildlike
look he had not seen in her eyes of late. "But I'll tell you what I'm
afraid of. Have you ever heard of people who were 'hoodoos'? I guess you
have. Well, sometimes I'm afraid I'm just that--like the snakes in that
ring. I'm afraid I bring bad luck to people--people I like. It isn't the
harm to me that ever frightens me. I guess I can fight that; but no one
can fight a 'hoodoo,' I guess; and your arm--"
"Oh, see here! Wake up, 'Tana, you're dreaming! Who put that cussed
nonsense into your head? 'Hoodoo!' Pshaw! I will have patience with you in
anything but that. Did any one look at you last night as if you were a
'hoodoo'? Here comes Max; we'll ask him."
But she did not smile at their badinage.
"I was in earnest, and you think it only funny," she said. "Well, maybe
you won't always laugh at it. Men who know a heap believe in 'hoodoos.'"
"But not 'hoodoos' possessed of the _tout ensemble_ of Miss Rivers,"
objected Lyster. "You are simply trying to scare us--me, out of the
journey I hoped to make with you to Helena. You are trying to evade a year
of scholastic training we have planned for you, and you would like to
prophesy that the boat will blow up or the cars run off the track if you
embark. But it won't. You will say good-by to your ogre of a guardian
to-morrow. You will be guarded by no less a personage than my immaculate
self to the door of your academy; from which you will emerge, later on,
with never a memory of 'hoodoos' in your wise brain; and you will live to
a green old age and make clay busts of us both when we are gray haired.
There! I think I'm a good healthy sort of a prophet; and as a reward will
you go with me to-morrow?"
"With you? Then it is you who--"
"Who has planned the whole brilliant scheme? Exactly--the journey part of
it at all events; and I'm not so modest as our friend here. I'll take the
blame of my share, and his, too, if he doesn't speak up for himself.
Here comes your new friend, Dan. Where did you pick him up?"
It was the man Harris, and beside him was the captain. They were talking
with some animation of late Indian raids to the westward.
"I doubt if it was Indians at all who did the thieving," remarked Harris;
"there are always a lot of scrub whites ready to take advantage of war
signals, and do devilment of that sort, made up as reds."
"Oh, yes--some say so! That man Holly used to get the credit of that sort
of renegade work. Handsome Holly he was called once. But now that he's
dead, maybe we'll see he was not the only one to work mischief between the
whites and reds."
"Holly? Lee Holly?" asked Lyster. "Why, didn't we hear a rumor that he
wasn't dead at all, but had been seen somewhere near Butte?"
"I didn't," returned Overton, who was the one addressed, "though it may be
so. He's a very slippery specimen and full of schemes, from what I hear.
But he doesn't seem to range over this territory, so I've never run across
him. It would be like him, though, to play dead when the Government men
grew warm on his trail, and he'd no doubt get plenty of help from his
Indian allies."
Harris was watching him keenly, and the careless honesty of the speaker's
face and tone evidently perplexed him, for he turned with a baffled look
to the girl, who stood with down-dropped eyes, and twisted a spray of
leaves nervously around her fingers. He noticed one quick, troubled glance
she gave Overton, but even to his suspicious eyes it did not seem a regard
given a fellow-conspirator.
"I believe it was the doctor I heard speak of the rumor that Holly was yet
above ground," said Lyster. "The mail came up yesterday, and perhaps he
found it in the papers. Don't think I had heard of the man before. Is he
one of the important people up here?"
"Rather," remarked Overton, "an accomplished crook who has dabbled in
several trades in the Columbia River region. The latest was a wholesale
horse steal from a ranch over in Washington--Indian work, with him as
leader. The regulars from the fort got after them, there was an ugly
fight, and the reds reported Holly as killed. That is the last I heard of
him. You were asking me yesterday if he ever prospected in our valley,
didn't you?" he asked, turning to Harris.
"A man made undue importance of by the stupid Indians," declared Captain
Leek. "He humored their superstitions and played medicine man with them,
I've heard; and he had a boy for a partner--a young slip the gamblers
called 'Monte' down in Coeur d'Alene. Some said it was his son."
"A fine instructor for youth," observed Lyster. "Who could expect anything
but vice from a man who had such a boyhood?"
"But you would," said 'Tana, suddenly, "if you knew that boy when he grew
to be a man. If he was bad, you'd want him to get off the earth where you
walked; and you never once would stop to ask if he was brought up right or
not--you know you wouldn't--nobody does, I guess. I don't know why it is,
but it seems all wrong to me. Maybe, though, when I go to school, and
learn things, I will think like the rest, and not care."
Lyster shrugged his shoulders and looked after her as she vanished into
the regions where Mrs. Huzzard was concocting dishes for the mid-day
meal.
"I doubt if she thinks like the rest," he remarked. "How fiery she is, and
how independent in her views of things."
But Overton smiled at her curt speech.
"Poor 'Tana has lived among rough scenes until she learns to judge
quickly, and for herself," he said. "Her words are true enough, too; she
may have known just such boys as Holly's clever little partner and seen
how hard it was for them to be any good. I wonder now what has become of
young 'Monte' since Holly disappeared. He would be a good one to follow,
if there is doubt as to Holly's death being a fact. I believe there was a
reward out for him some time ago, to stimulate lagging justice. Don't know
if it's withdrawn or not."
"Square," decided Harris, in silent communion with himself, as he surveyed
Overton; "dead square, and don't scent the trail. I'd like to know what
their little game is with him. Some devilment, sure."
On one pretext and another he kept close to Overton. He was studying the
stalwart, easy-going keeper of the peace, and Dan, who had a sort of
compassion for all who were halt, or blind, or homeless, took kindly
enough to the semi-paralyzed stranger. Harris seemed to belong nowhere in
particular, yet knew each trail of the Kootenai and Columbia country, knew
each drift where the yellow sands were found--each mine where the silver
hunt paid best returns.
"You've prospected some, I see, even if you don't get over the ground very
fast," Dan remarked; "and with it all, I reckon you've staked out some pay
claims for yourself?"
The face of Harris contracted in a swift frown; he drew a long breath, and
his clasped hands tightened on each other.
"I did," he said, in a choked, nervous sort of way; "I did. If I could
tell you of it, I would. You're the sort of man I'd--But never mind. I'm
not well yet--not strong enough to get excited over it. I've got to take
things easy for a spell, or another stroke of this paralysis will come as
my share. That handicaps me considerable. I was--was upset by something
unexpected last night, and I've had a queer, shaky feeling ever since;
can't articulate clear. Did you notice? The--the only thing under God's
heaven I'm afraid of is that paralysis--that it will catch me again before
I get my work done; and to-day--"
"Don't talk of it," advised Overton, as he noticed how the man's voice
hesitated and trembled, how excitable he was over the subject of his
mineral finds and his threatened helplessness. "Don't think of it, and
you'll come out all right yet. If I can do anything for you--"
The other man laughed in a spasmodic, contemptuous fashion.
"For me?" he said. "You can't. I thought you could, but I was on a blind
trail--you can't. I can give you a lift, though--yes, I can. It's
about--about that girl. You--you tried to guard her last night, as if she
was a flower the rough wind must not blow on. I know--I watched you. I've
been there, and know."