The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop Part 31

Curtis was at lunch on Wednesday when Wilson came to the door and said, "Major, Streeter and a man named Jenks are here and want to see you."

"More stolen cattle to be charged up to the Indians, I suppose."

"I reckon some such complaint--they didn't say."

"Well, tell them to wait--or no--ask them to come over and lunch with me."

Wilson soon returned. "They are very glum, and say they'll wait at the office till you come."

"As they prefer. I will have finished in a few moments."

He concluded not to hasten, however, and the ranchers had plenty of time to become impatient. They met him darkly.

"We want a word in private, Major," said Jenks, a tall, long-bearded man of most portentous gravity.

Curtis led the way to an inner office and offered them seats, which they took in the same oppressive silence.

The agent briskly opened the hearing. "What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

Jenks looked at Streeter--Streeter nodded. "Go ahead, Hank."

Jenks leaned over aggressively. "Your d.a.m.ned Injuns have murdered one o'

my herders."

Curtis hardened. "What makes you think so?" he sharply asked.

"He disappeared more than a week ago, and no one has heard of him since.

I know he has been killed, and your Injuns done it. No one--"

"Wait a moment," interrupted Curtis. "Who was he?"

"His name is Cole--he was herdin' my sheep."

"Are you a sheep-man?"

"I am."

"Where do you live?"

"My sheep ranch is over on Horned Toad Creek."

"Where was this man when he disappeared?"

Jenks grew a little uneasy. "He was camped by the Mud Spring."

Curtis rose and called Wilson in. "Wilson, where is the Mud Spring?"

"Just inside our south line, about four miles from the school."

"I thought so," replied Curtis. "Your sheep were on the reservation. Are you sure this man was murdered?"

"Him and the dog disappeared together, and hain't neither of 'em been seen since."

"How long ago was this?"

"Just a week to-morrow."

"Have you made a search for him? Have you studied the ground closely?"

Streeter interposed. "We've done all that could be done in that line. I _know_ he's killed. He told Cal about two weeks ago that he had been shot at twice and expected to get wiped out before the summer was over.

There isn't a particle of doubt in my mind about it. The thing for you to do is to make a demand--"

"I am not in need of instructions as to my duty," interrupted Curtis.

"Wilson, who is over from the Willow Creek?"

"Old Elk himself."

"Send him in. I shall take all means to help you find this herder,"

Curtis said to the ranchers, "but I cannot allow you to charge my people with his death without greater reason than at present. We must move calmly and without heat in this matter. Murder is a serious charge to make without ample proof."

The Elk, smiling and serene, entered the door and stood for a moment searching the countenances of the white men. His face grew grave as the swift signs of his agent filled his mind with the story of the disappearance of the herder.

"I am sorry; it is bad business," he said.

"Now, Crawling Elk, I want you to call together five or six of your best trailers and go with these men to the place where the herder was last seen and see if you can find any trace of him;" then, turning to Streeter, he said: "You know Crawling Elk; he is the one chief against whom you have no enmity. If Cole was murdered, his body will be found.

Until you have more proof of his death I must ask you to give my people the benefit of the doubt. Good-day, gentlemen."

As they turned to go, two young reds were seen leaving the window. They had watched Curtis as he signed the story to Crawling Elk. As the white men emerged these young fellows were leaning lazily on the fence, betraying no interest and very little animation, but a few minutes later they were mounted and riding up the valley at full gallop, heavy with news of the herder's death and Streeter's threats.

"Now, Elk," signed Curtis, "say nothing to any one but your young men and the captain of police, whom I will send with you to bring me word."

After they had all ridden away, Curtis turned to Wilson and said, "I didn't suppose I should live to see a sheep-man and a cattleman riding side by side in this amicable fas.h.i.+on."

"Oh, they'll get together against the Indian, all right. They're mighty glad of a chance to make any kind of common cause. That lazy herder has jumped the country. He told me he was sick of his job."

"But the dog?"

"Oh, he killed the dog to keep him from being traced. There isn't a thing in it, Major."

"I'm inclined to think you're right, but we must make careful investigation; the people are very censorious of my policy."

Next morning Crawling Elk brought word that no trace of the man could be found. "The gra.s.s is very dry," he explained, "and the trail is old. We discovered nothing except some horses' hoof-marks."

"Keep searching till every foot of land is covered," commanded Curtis.

"Otherwise the white man will complain."

On Friday, just after the bell had called the people to resume work at one o'clock, Crow, the police captain, rode into the yard on a pony covered with ridges of dried sweat. His face was impa.s.sive, but his eyes glittered as he lifted his hand and signed: