Frank Merriwell's Athletes Part 37

"I did," said Merry, "but I know very little of him. Physically, he is a marvel, which is rather strange, as he is a Pueblo Indian, and they are not remarkable for their physical development. But I must confess that Carver's opinion of all Indians seems to be the general belief of those who a.s.sociate with them, and know them best."

"I don't want to believe it, and I am not going to believe it!"

Swiftwing could hear no more. He had heard quite enough.

"She is a fair white dove!" came from his lips in a murmur that was like liquid music. "She believes there may be some good in an Indian."

Then he bowed his head, and for a long time he stood there motionless as an image of stone. The beating of the drums at the Pueblo aroused him.

His face was heavy with something that seemed a sullen look of despair.

"The white men say all Indians are bad. Carver says all the education I may receive will not change my nature-I shall be an Indian still. I believe he is right! It is useless for the red man to try to be like the white man. G.o.d made them in different molds. He spoke truly when he said the heart remained the same for all of any outward change. Once more I am back here with my people, and I feel that I am like them. What is all my education? What does it amount to? The white man looks on me with scorn. But for the White Dove there would be no more courage left in my heart. I would give it all up, and go back to live with my people. After all, when I have finished at school, that is what I will do."

He turned his face toward the Pueblo, on the topmost terrace of which the lone drummer could be seen.

"I have seen the great stone cities of the white men," he said. "The home of my people is but a shadow beside the monster buildings that tower into the air. The white men do many wonderful things. They have the railroad, the telegraph, the telephone, and soon all the secrets of electricity will be theirs. What can my people do? Nothing! It is fate!

G.o.d willed it so, and we cannot change it."

His heart was heavy as he moved toward the Pueblo.

In the meantime Frank had left Inza at the tent of the rancher, while he had gone to see what arrangement could be made about getting a chance to take part in the Indian sports and games that day. He hoped he and his friends would be permitted to compete in some of the contests.

Frank was gone more than half an hour.

When he returned he found Inza standing near the tent, chatting to Swiftwing, who was listening with quiet dignity.

Merry scowled a bit.

"I must caution her," he said. "She should be careful."

He came up and offered his hand to the young Indian.

"Good-morning, Swiftwing," he said, heartily in his pleasant manner. "I am glad to see you."

The Carlisle student took the proffered hand and shook it warmly.

"Thank you, Mr. Merriwell," he said, simply.

"Oh, Frank!" cried Inza; "what do you think?"

"I think a number of things," laughed Merry. "What do you mean?"

"Why, that Indian who grasped me in his arms at the station is here-I saw him!"

"What!"

"It is true! I saw him watching me, but he put off quickly enough when Mr. Swiftwing came up."

"It is Whirling Bear, the great wrestler of our people," said Swiftwing.

"He was drunk when he molested you yesterday, else he would not have done it. He was drunk on rum, which he obtained from some conscienceless white man."

"White men should be ashamed to sell such stuff to the poor Indians!"

cried Inza.

"They make money by selling it," Swiftwing observed, with a touch of scorn in his voice.

"And some white men will do anything for money," said Inza.

"That is true," confessed Frank. "There are plenty of scoundrels among the white men, and not a few of them are Indian agents. But I have something of which I wish to speak to you, Swiftwing."

"I am listening, Mr. Merriwell."

"If possible, I wish to find an opportunity for my friends and myself to take part in some of the sports and games to-day. Can it be arranged?"

The Indian looked doubtful.

"I do not know, but I will see. It is certain you will not be permitted to take part in the religious ceremonies."

"We do not care for that, but I have heard you have a kind of queer ball game."

"Yes."

"We'd like to try you at your own game."

A faint smile came to the Indian's face.

"You have never seen one of our ball games?"

"No."

"Then you know very little about it?"

"Only what I have heard of it."

"How many in your party?"

"Nine."

"It can be played with nine on a side, but it is better with fifty on a side."

"Whew! Fifty? Why, that's a small army!"

"The game does not resemble a game of ball in the least."

"I have heard so."

"You will be defeated."