The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine
man, it would bury them out of sight where its blast proved powerless to destroy them. Christmas and New Year were past, that time of peace and festivity which is kept up wherever man sojourns, be it in city or on the plains.
Through these dark months Seth and Rube worked steadily on building their stockade, hauling the logs, cutting, splitting, joining. The weather made no difference to them. The fiercest storm disturbed them no further than to cause them to set a life-line from house to barn, or to their work, wherever that might be. No blizzard could drive them within doors when work was to be done. This was the life they knew, they had always lived, and they accepted it uncomplainingly, just as they accepted the fruits of the earth in their season.
No warning sound came from the Indians. The settlers forgot the recent episode, forgot the past, which is the way of human nature, and lived in the present only, and looked forward happily to the future.
Seth and Rube minded their own affairs. They were never the ones to croak. But their vigilance never relaxed. Seth resumed his visits to the Reservation as unconcernedly as though no trouble had ever occurred. He went on with his Sunday work at the Mission, never altering his tactics by one iota. And in his silent way he learned all that interested him.
He learned of Little Black Fox's protracted recovery, his lately developed moroseness. He knew whenever a council of chiefs took place, and much of what passed on these occasions. The presence of Nevil Steyne at such meetings was a matter which never failed to interest him. He was rarely seen in the company of the Agent, yet a quiet understanding existed between them, and he frequently possessed news which only Parker could have imparted.
So it was clearly shown that whatever the general opinion of the settlers, Seth, and doubtless Rube also, had their own ideas on the calm of those winter months, and lost no opportunity of verifying them.
New Year found the ponderous stockade round the farm only a little more than half finished in spite of the greatest efforts. Rube had hoped for better results, but the logs had been slow in forthcoming. The few Indians who would work in the winter had been scarcer this year, and, in spite of the Agent, whose duty it was to encourage his charges in accepting and carrying out remunerative labor, the work had been very slow.
At Rube's suggestion it was finally decided to seek white labor in Beacon Crossing. It was more expensive, but it was more reliable. When once the new project had been put into full working order it was decided to abandon the Indian labor altogether.
With this object in view Seth went across to the Reservation to consult Parker. He was met by the Agent's sister. Her brother was out, but she expected him home to dinner, which would be in the course of half an hour.
"He went off with Jim Crow," the amiable spinster told her visitor. "Went off this morning early. He said he was going over to the Pine Ridge Agency. But he took Jim Crow with him, and hadn't any idea of going until the scout came."
Seth ensconsed himself in an armchair and propped his feet up on the steel bars of a huge wood stove.
"Ah," he said easily. "Guess there's a deal for him to do, come winter. With your permission I'll wait."
Miss Parker was all cordiality. No man, in her somewhat elderly eyes, was more welcome than Seth. The Agent's sister had once been heard to say, if there was a man to be compared with her brother in the whole country it was Seth. She only wondered he'd escaped being married out of hand by one of the town girls, as she characterized the women of Beacon Crossing. But then she was far more prejudiced in favor of Seth than her own sex.
"He'll be glad, Seth," she said at once; "James is always partial to a chat with you. You just make yourself comfortable right there. I've got a boil of beef and dumplings on, which I know you like. You'll stay and have food?"
"I take that real friendly," said Seth, smiling up into the plain, honest face before him. "Guess I'll have a pipe and a warm while you're fixin' things."
Somehow Miss Parker found herself retiring to her kitchen again before she had intended it.
During the next half hour the hostess found various excuses for invading the parlor where Seth was engaged in his promised occupation. She generally had some cheery, inconsequent remark to pass. Seth gave her little encouragement, but he was always polite. At last the dinner was served, and, sharp to time, Jimmy Parker returned. He came by himself, and blustered into the warm room bringing with him that brisk atmosphere of the outside cold which, in winter, always makes the inside of a house on the prairie strike one as a perfect haven of comfort. He greeted Seth cordially as he shook the frost from his fur-coat collar, and gently released his moustache from its coating of ice.
Seth deferred his business until after dinner. He never liked talking business before womenfolk. And Miss Parker, like most of her sex in the district, was likely to exaggerate the importance of any chance hint about the Indians dropped in her presence. So the boil of silverside and dumplings was discussed to the accompaniment of a casual conversation which was chiefly carried on by the Agent's sister. At length the two men found themselves alone, and their understanding of each other was exampled by the prompt inquiry of Parker.
"Well?" he questioned. Seth settled himself in his chair and, from force of habit, spread his hands out to the fire.
"We're finishing our job with white labor," he said. Then as an afterthought, "Y' see we want to git things fixed 'fore spring opens."
The Agent nodded.
"Just so," he said.
The beads on his moccasins had much interest for Seth at the moment.
"I'd never gamble a pile on Injuns' labor," he remarked indifferently. Parker laughed.
"No. It would be a dead loss--just now."
Seth looked round inquiringly.
"I was wondering when you would give them up," the Agent went on. "I've had a great deal of difficulty keeping them at it. And we're liable, I think, to have more."
The last was said very gravely.
"Kind o' how we've figgered right along?" Seth asked.
"Yes."
The two men relapsed into silence for a while, and smoked on. At last Seth spoke with the air of a man who has just finished reviewing matters of importance in his mind.
"We've taken in the well in fixin' that corral."
"Good. We've got no well here."
"No."
"I was over at Pine Ridge to-day."
"That's what your sister said."
"I went for two reasons. Jim Crow has smelt out preparations for Sun-dances. We can't locate where they are going to be held, or when. I went over to consult Jackson, and also to see how he's getting on over there. He's having the same trouble getting the Indians to look at any work. Little Black Fox is about again. Also he sees a heap too much of that white familiar of his, Nevil Steyne. By Jove, I wish we could fix something on that man and get the government to deport him. He's got a great sway over the chief. What the devil is his object?" Jimmy Parker's face flushed under his exasperation.
"I'd give a heap to git a cinch on him," Seth replied thoughtfully. "He's smart. His tracks are covered every time. Howsum, if things git doin' this spring, I've a notion we'll run him down mebbe--later."
The Agent was all interest.
"Have you discovered anything?"
"Wal--nothin' that counts your way. It's jest personal, 'tween him an' me."
The other laughed cheerfully.
"Couldn't be better," he exclaimed. "I'd sooner it depended on you than on the government."
Seth let the tribute pass.
"We must locate them Sun-dances," he said.
"Yes. We've got troops enough to stop them."
"Troops?--pshaw!"
Seth rose. Parker understood his last remark. The presence