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Show tm? 0$ JjV" iHAR.OLDCHANNINGWIR ht . LEW Bl'RNET hai been encased by TOM ARNOLD, owner ol the Crosi T, to act ai trail boss on the drive Irom oulhern Texas to Ogallala in the spring of 1873. Tom, with his son and daughter, daugh-ter, STEVE and JOY, are moving to Wyoming. Tom must deliver 3,000 long-horns long-horns to the Indian agent by Sept. 1 or lose a valuable contract Lew suspects that the Indian Supply Co. is trying to delay the Cross T. Tom Arnold is killed during a stampede. CLAY MANNING and ED SFLANN dispute Lew's authority, and Lew discharges Splann. They cross the river and enter Indian territory. Later, Lew sees two men, one of them Ed Splann, skulking nearby. Steve tells Lew, "I'm not tying myself down to a ranch." CHAPTER XII Steve Arnold, puffed up by his -newly acquired wealth and importance, impor-tance, swaggered about like many ether idle rich young men, who think themselves above common work. They flashed in a big way for a little while, those riders of the wild bunch. You couldn't blame a boy who'd been held down so long. If he didn't know Steve better he could let it go at that. But Steve talked the loudest when he was scared. He always had. The slow grazing pace with time dragging let him think it out in circles, cir-cles, which brought him back in the end to where he had started. Steve was a rattlehead, maybe, but no fool. It was hard to put two things together, his exaggerated Importance Impor-tance of owning the Cross 7 and this talk of being through with cows, without getting only one answer. You can't make any good plan for the future If you're scared of your past. lo saw Steve ride with Clay much of that afternoon and knew the showdown wasn't settled. Early in the evening they crossed small creek and watered there, trailing on a mile afterward to camp on open ground. He bedded the long-horns long-horns in close, hobbled some of the horses so the herd wouldn't stray and swung a rope corral between the wagons for the night-guard mounts. Horses were like scented bait to Indians. There had been no Indian sign either along the creek or over against the black Wichita range. It was as lonely a country as he had aver seen. With Moonlight Bailey and Jim Hope riding guard until the first watch went out, all the other men were in camp, washing up at Owl-Head's Owl-Head's water keg. It was not quite dark, that moment of shadow like a thick layer across the land with the sky still blue. He finished at the keg himself, picked up a flour-sack towel and turned to look south. Ten or fifteen vague mounted figures were coming from the creek. He swung back and spoke quickly to Joy near the campflre. "Get inside," in-side," he said. "Pull down the Baps." "What's the matter?" He nodded south. She saw then. Her face went white. Around the water keg the men were hurriedly drying their hands. Someone joked, "Guess the party opens. Boys, watch your hair!" They pulled their Springfleld-Allins from saddle scabbards propped against their bedrolls. But then, watching the riders take shape, he knew it was not a war party. Indians out for trouble would not come on like this, bunched and at a slow walk. They'd spread end make a running charge and haul up short Just before hitting camp. That would be to show their strength and see how the white men took it He could count them now, fourteen, four-teen, and the men around him had started to grin at the way these Indians In-dians were dressed. Some wore pants but were naked from the waist up. Others wore brown reservation shirts with only a loincloth under the long tails. A few had on old felt hats with the tops of the crowns cut out. But mostly they were bareheaded, bare-headed, their black hair hanging in double braids. He had missed one of the group who wore both shirt and pants. When the little party halted off fifty yards from camp a black-and-white patched pinto came on, carrying this broad, heavy shape of a man, old and fat Halfway In, he reached the firelight's brighter circle, stopped and lifted his left hand. He was unarmed. Lew gave his rifle to Rebel John, saying, "I'll go." He walked slowly forward, halved the distance that remained and halted. He said briefly, brief-ly, "Friend!" and stretched both arms in front of him, palms up. For his age and weight the Indian came to the ground with surprising case. He, too, exactly halved the little distance still left, waiting then for the white man to finish the approach. ap-proach. It was a ritual that Lew understood. under-stood. He might stand rooted and make the Indian come to him. It showed in a way one's supremacy I over the other. That didn't matter now. He closed the gap and saw the black eyes faintly indicate that knowledge. He waited, saying nothing, while the black ryes, deep In their folds of dark skin, gave him a long appraisal. ap-praisal. Then In perfect school English Eng-lish the old man said. "I am looking look-ing for Lew Burnet. Tell him Spotted Spot-ted Horse is here." "I'm Burnet." he raid and had a sudden queer feeling. Spotted Horse. Here on Ir-et plains and far south ; into Texas men oiled their guns when they heard that Spotted Horse was leading his Comanches again. Now he faced that dreaded chief, a fat old man with a quiet, kindly voice. Spotted Horse nodded. "Good. I have come to talk. Your friend, Long Rifle, is my friend. Man-Who-Walks-Alone," he added, giving both of Willy Nickle's Indian names. It was about time he knew where old Willy was. "I am glad to hear you speak of my friend," he said. "We have meat in camp. You and ypur men are welcome." He turned and saw his crew grouped clearly in the firelight, standing in front of the shut flaps of Joy's wagon. But Spotted Horse shook his head. "No. Talk is better here. I will have one man come to us, you have one, to keep us even." "All right," Lew said and turned again and tried to point at Quarter-night, Quarter-night, beckoning. But it was Clay Manning who came out. Spotted Horse had likewise made a signal. The one who rode forward, he saw instantly, was not the same sort as this old Comanche chief. He was a young buck, thoroughly savage, with the thin sharp face and long bony nose, humped in the middle, mid-dle, of the northern Cheyenne. He kicked free of the rawhide loops, dropped lightly to the ground and stood there with his roached head up high, looking at no one. "Howdy," Lew said and got no answer. Two vermilion spots of sumach su-mach juice were smeared on the sharp cheekbones. A yellow cres- Spotted Horse nodded. "Good. I have come to talk." cent curved around the ball of his chin. "He cannot talk English," Spotted Spot-ted Horse explained. "I will talk for him. He is Crazy Bear, Dakota Cheyenne." "I see." Crazy Bear must be one of the younger chiefs then, stirring up the reservation Cheyennes now that their wiser head, Red Cload, had gone to Washington. Clay Manning had come to his side. "What's up?" He turned a little with a low warn- ing. "Talk. And I'll do it" As an opener he said, "Spotted Horse, how is it with our friend, Long Rifle?" "His camp is good," said Spotted Horse. "He has plenty." He spoke to the stolid figure beside him in a clacking tongue. They bent their legs and squatted on the ground. Lew touched Clay, drawing him down, and squatted, facing them. No one spoke. Time meant nothing to an Indian. Their talk must run In many circles before they came to the point. Spotted Horse lowered his head, his face heavy and sad. He sat like that, silently, with the Immovable quiet of a huge dark rock, and spoke at last without looking up. "My people," he said, "have been driven from their lands by your people. You hove killed our buffalo and give us meat that smells bad Instead." "I know," Lew said. "It's a bum trade, Spotted Horse. I admit It. But my people are many. Like the grasshoppers that breed too fast and swarm as the sun moves we had to move west. It had to be, Spotted Horse, and I am sorry." "Yes. That is it." The old Co-manche Co-manche tapped his chest. "My heart is not bad now. But the Cheyennes' hearts are black toward you." He moved his head a little to Crazy I Bear. "This Is Cheyenne beef you are taking north." "That's right" Lew said. "For the reservation beyond Ogallala." Spotted Horse stared at him a moment, turned and pointed his chin toward the Wichitas. "Six hundred Cheyenne are over there. They are hungry. They hunt the antelope and the antelope ore gone. This is Cheyenne Chey-enne beef, they say. They want what is theirs now." "How much?" "Half." said Spotted liuite. "Half of this herd." "You know the answer to that," Lew said. He felt Clay move on his heels beside him and started to look around when the old warrior's next words stopped the turn of his head. "I know. You are a Texas man. You can fight. But your friend. Long Rifle, asks you to listen when I say the Cheyennes have whisky. Many are drunk." With his head turned a little he saw Clay's fixed interest in something some-thing on the ground, and then Spotted Spot-ted Horse was saying, "Two white men came with four horses loaded. They gave whisky to the Cheyennes and put this talk of beef in their ears." Lew brought his eyes all the way around to Clay then. But if there had been any foreknowledge of this j in him it didn't show on the unchanging un-changing ruddy cheeks. So there it was. A neat trick now that he saw it clearly fire the Cheyennes up on i liquor, send them against the Cross j T herd. If they got their bellies j full of Cross T beef they'd let the j Open A pass without trouble. But . . . drunk . . . You might as well touch fire to the prairie grass. No man could tell where it would stop. Quietly Spotted Horse said, "My people want peace. This is our country. coun-try. We live here and will not go with the Cheyennes against you. But if there is fighting and the army comes we will be blamed with the others. They will not give us beef for many months and make us live on flour and water. Our women and children will go hungry. That is why I talk." It was an earnest plea, yet given in the old Comanche's low, unplead-ing unplead-ing tone. Lew felt it strongly and hesitated and saw no other way. "The answer," he said, "is still the same. This is net Cheyenne beef till it reaches Ogallala." "Lew." Clay touched his arm. "This is bad. I say you'd better give in something." He shook his head. "No use. You can't bargain with drunk Indians." "No hurt to try." Clay's voice came with a sharper edge. "You better." His blue eyes were still fixed upon the ground. "We got more than cows to think about. You go ahead and make a deal!" "Clay," he warned, "watch out." For he saw Crazy Bear's quick attention at-tention to this talk. It was too plain a show of trouble in the white man's camp and bad to be known. To Spotted Horse he said, "Tell Crazy Bear we have refused. What does he say then?" The old chief signed rapidly and spoke in a clacking tongue. The young buck's haughty face showed no change. He grunted, opened and closed his hands many times, dropped them and sat stiffly, looking look-ing off toward the camp. Spotted Horse said nothing. He shut his eyes. Clay moved, suddenly irritable. "Well?" he asked. The old eyes opened and looktd at him. Spotted Horse took his time before he said, "Six hundred cows. One for each Cheyenne." "All right," Clay agreed. "Lew, there's your deal!" "Clay," he said, "you show you've never handled Indians. That six hundred hun-dred is only an opening wedge. Listen. Lis-ten. Spotted Horse, your heart Is white. There is no lie in it If wc give this much to the Cheyennes can you say they'll not take all we've got? We have horses, wagons. II we give six hundred cows we are weak in their eyes. Can you say they'll not come back for more?" Gravely the old man said, "They are not my people. I cannot tell them what to do." "Satisfied?" Lew asked and got no answer. He turned from Clay and looked past Spotted Horse, his glance held suddenly by a fixed attention at-tention In Crazy Bear's jet eyes. He followed that look back toward camp. Joy had come from her wagon to stand with the group of men at the fire. Its light showed Crazy Bear all that she was. Spotted Horse had seen her now. His head lifted. "You have women?" wom-en?" "One," Lew said. "She has het man along." A hopeless anger filled him. Trust a woman's curiosity to do that! He nodded sldewise and saw the old Comanche give Gay a measuring look. "She is young," said Spotted Horse. "That is not good." Crazy Bear stood up. He made a sign and walked back to the mounted mount-ed group. For a moment longei Spotted Horse sat with his head bowed again. Then he too rose. He held out his right hand, palm ud. Rising, Lew touched it lightly with his own. "Spotted Horse," he said, "your name is written on this land in great letters. You have come tc warn me and I am glad. But the white man and the red man nevei could talk with words. Tell my frler.d, Long Rifle, I am not asleep." Clay had started back to cnmr ahead of him He caught up and gave him a questioning glance. The full ruddy face was set. Some do ttrminatlon of his own held Cla) grimly silent. He couldn't bring himself to be lieve at first that Clay's talk woult . r,et anywhere with Joy. The gir 1 had hrr f ilhrr's common sense. Olc ' Tom wouldn't have listened to on I word of rebellion at a lime like this I (TO UE CONTINUED! |