John Ermine of the Yellowstone (22 page)

“Miss Searles, please!” she said, turning to him, and the little gem of a nose asserted itself.

“Oh, dear me! What have I done? You permitted me to call you Katherine only last night.”

“Yes, but I do not propose to divide my friendship with a nasty little gray wolf which has been eaten up alive.”

The officer ran his gauntlet over his eyes.

“I am such a booby. I see my mistake, Miss Searles, but the idea you advance seems so ridiculous—to compare yourself with a wolf.”

“Oh, I say, Miss Searles,” said Shockley, riding up, “may I offer you one of my gauntlets? The sun, I fear, will blister your bare hand.”

“No, indeed.” And Butler tore off a glove, forcing it into her hand. She could not deny him, and pulled it on. “Thank you; I lost one of mine this morning.”

Then she turned her eyes on Mr. Shockley with a hard little expression, which sealed him up. He was prompt to feel that the challenge meant war, and war with this girl was the far-away swing of
that gallant strategic pendulum.

“Yes,” Shockley added, “one is apt to drop things without noting them, in a fast rush. I dropped something myself this morning.”

“Pray what was it, Mr. Shockley?”

“It was an idea,” he replied with a shrug of the shoulders.

“An idea?” laughed she, appreciating Shockley’s discretion. “I hope you have more of them than I have gloves.”

“I have only one,” he sighed.

“Are all soldiers as stupid as you are, my dear sir?”

“All under thirty, I am sorry to say,” and this from Shockley too. Miss Searles applied the whip; but go as she would, the two officers did not lose again the idea, but kept their
places beside her.

“You are not very steady under fire,” laughed Shockley.

“You are such an absurd person.”

“I may be a blessing in disguise.”

“You may be; I am unable to identify you.”

“The chaperon is waving her whip at us, Miss Searles,” cautioned Butler.

“Private O’Dowd is my chaperon, and he can stand the pace,” she replied.

The young woman drove on, leaving a pall of dust behind, until the little party made the cantonment and drew rein in front of the Searleses’ quarters. Giving her hand to the orderly, she
dismissed her escort and disappeared.

“Well, Katherine,” said Mrs. Searles, “did you enjoy your ride?”

“Yes, mother, but my horse is such an old poke I was nowhere in the race.”

“The Major says he is a safe horse; one which can be relied on, and that is more important than speed. I do not want your neck broken, my dear.”

“Neither do I want my neck broken, but I should like to be somewhere in sight during a run. The young officers desert me once a wolf is sighted; they forget their manners at the first
flash of a greyhound.”

“I know, daughter, but what can you expect? They go out for that purpose.”

“Mr. Ermine doesn’t, or at least he is polite enough to say that he goes out to see me run, and not the wolf. If he is not sophisticated, he seems to have the primitive instincts of
a gentleman.”

“Mr. Ermine, forsooth!” And Madam Searles betrayed some asperity. “Is he presumptuous enough to present you with compliments? You had better maintain your distance.”

“He is a perfectly delightful man, mother; so thoughtful and so handsome.”

“Tut tut, Katherine; he is only an ordinary scout—a wild man.”

“I don’t care; I like him.”

“Katherine, what are you thinking of?”

“Oh, I don’t know, mother; I am thinking what an absurd lot men are. They insist on talking nonsense at me. They do not seem to preserve their reserve; they are not a bit like the
men back in the States.”

“Well, my daughter, you must be careful not to provoke familiarity. Young women are rather scarce out here, and you are not without your charms. I believe you use your eyes more than you
should. Have a care; do not forget that quiet modesty is the most becoming thing in the world for a woman.”

“I am sure I do nothing; in fact, I have to be constantly menacing these military youths to keep them from coming too near, especially Mr. Shockley and Mr. Butler. I am in distress every
minute for fear Mr. Butler will say more than I am ready to hear.”

Mrs. Searles was by no means averse to Butler’s attentions to her daughter. “A very fine young man,” was her comment when she thought of him. Both women knew that the
Lieutenant was ready to draw his sabre in Katherine’s behalf.

Katherine had met Butler while visiting St. Louis the year before, had come to know him well, and didn’t pretend to dislike him. His father and mother were dead, but his people were of
consequence.

Mrs. Searles determined to ask the Major to make some inquiries about her daughter’s suitor, and meanwhile dismissed Katherine with the caution not to tempt this midday sun overmuch;
“It will soon turn your peach-blow into russet apples,” she told her, “and men, you know, like the peach-blow. Without it you might be less troubled by the young
officers.”

The sun was about to depart. The families of the officers were sitting under their
ramadas
enjoying the cool. Butler and Shockley with two or three other men were
seated with the Searleses when their attention was attracted by a commotion down by the quarters.

“What’s the circus?”

“Don’t make out; seems to be coming this way. It is—why, it is the scout Ermine!”

The group sat expectantly and witnessed the approach of John Ermine on his horse. At some distance to one side rode Wolf-Voice, and gradually through the dusk they made out some small animal
between them—a dog-like thing.

The riders drew up before the Searleses’ hut, and every one rose. The object was a scared and demoralized wolf with his tail between his legs. His neck was encircled by two rawhide lariats
which ran to the pommels of the riders.

Touching his hat, Ermine said, “Miss Searles, I have brought you the wolf.”

“Goodness gracious, Mr. Ermine! I only said that in fun. What can I possibly do with a wolf?”

“I don’t know. You said you wanted one, so here he is.”

“Yaes,” said Wolf-Voice, with an oath, “she was bite my harm hoff; you no want heem; I skin her alive.” He had previously warned Ermine that no one but a d——
fool would want a live wolf.

“Well, daughter, what are you going to do with it? Start a Zoo? I don’t know where we can put him,” spoke Major Searles, in perplexity.

“He will have to roost high if the dogs find out about this visitation,” observed Shockley.

“How did you get him, Ermine?”

“Dug him out of his den, and before we got him roped he pinched Wolf-Voice, and I had a hard time to keep him from killing the beast.”

“Yaes; no want him, an’ we dig a hole mile deep mabeso—dig ever since sun she so high, ten-as tol-a-pas.” And in his disgust Wolf-Voice was about to slacken his rope.

“Hold up there; don’t turn that animal loose near here! Take him down to the corral and lock him up. We’ll see tomorrow what can be done with him,” spoke Searles.

Ermine and Wolf-Voice turned and drifted out into the gathering darkness with their forlorn tow, while a few soldiers with clubs fought the dogs off as they gradually began to gather around
their natural enemy.

“Why, I only asked for a wolf in the most casual way—in a joking way; you heard me, Mr. Shockley.”

“Yes, I did hear you, but I also heard him say you should have one, and I thought at the time he looked serious about it.”

“I was so astonished that I did not properly thank him,” she added; “and the Indian was in a lovely humor over the whole episode; his disgust was most apparent. I must be more
careful what I say to Mr. Ermine.”

“I have it,” cried the Major; “we’ll make up a purse, buy the wolf, and run him so soon as he gets over the effects of his capture.”

“No, no, papa, you must not offend Ermine with money. He would be awfully offended; that would be the very last thing to do to him.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A H
UNT

A
TROOP OF CAVALRY TROTTED ALONG
through the early morning dust, and Lieutenant Butler drew out at the Searleses’ quarters, tying his horse for a
moment in front, while he went inside. It was early for casual people. He did not stay long, but the sergeant in the rear thought he saw a girl come to the door and kiss him goodbye. As the officer
dashed to the head of the troop, the old sergeant dipped a smiling countenance deep into a plug of tobacco.

“Hello! There goes Butler with his troop,” said Mr. Harding to Captain Lewis, as they basked in the morning sun before that officer’s quarters.

“Yes, he goes to escort some wagons; but the fact is, internecine war has broken out in the post, and he goes for the good of the service. It’s all about a damn little yellow
dog.”

“A dog make a war! How, pray?”

“Oh gee! Yes! Dogs and rum and women make all the trouble there is in the army, and particularly dogs. That sounds odd, doesn’t it? Nevertheless, it’s a hard, dry fact.
Soldiers take to dogs, and it’s always ‘kick my dog kick me’ with these bucks. That troop has a miserable runt of a
fice,
and he’s smart the same as such pups often
are. The cavalrymen have taught him to nip at infantrymen, which they think is great fun. Some of the infantrymen got tired of sewing up three-cornered tears in their galligaskins and allowed they
would assassinate said
fice.
Here is where these baby cavalrymen lose their temper and threaten to fire on the company-quarters of any outfit which bags Fido—and that’s war. It
has been fixed up. Some officer has arranged an armistice, and meanwhile the troop gets a few miles in the sagebrush, which, it is hoped, will be credited to the pup, whereat he won’t be so
popular.”

“Ah, a very sad case for the doggie,” added Harding; “he was taught to take wrong views of the service.”

“Let us go down and take a look at Ermine’s wolf,” said Lewis, and the two proceeded to the quartermaster’s corral, where they found a group standing about the wolf.

It was held by a stout chain and lay flat on the ground, displaying an entire apathy concerning the surroundings, except that it looked “Injuny,” as a passing mule-skinner
observed.

“When I see one of those boys, it makes my back come up like a cat’s,” said Lewis. “A bunch of them nearly pulled me down two years ago on the Canadian. I fired all my
ammunition at them and got into camp just about the right time; a half a mile more and I would have got my ‘final statement.’”

“Yes, I have hunted them in Poland, on moonlight nights. A wolf in the deep forests on a moonlight night harmonizes better than one tied by a chain, with twenty men staring at him in broad
daylight.”

An irrepressible private shoved his nose into the circle, looked at the captive, and departed saying:

Poor wolf! He possessed too many attributes of man to ingratiate himself. He did not admit their superiority, and lay stoically under the heel of the conqueror; all thumbs were down for him.