Part 9 (2/2)
Norton Allan stepped eagerly forward, raised his cap, and holding out his hand shyly, said, ”May I have the pleasure of shaking hands with you, North Eagle?”
The Indian boy extended his own slim brown fingers, a quick smile swept across his face, and he said, ”_You_ not speak loud.” Then they all laughed together, and the Professor, who had been a silent but absorbed onlooker, was soon chatting away with the two boys, as if he, too, were but sixteen years old, with all the world before him.
That was a memorable day for Norton, for, of course, he met Chief Sleeping Thunder, who, however, could speak but little English; but so well did the friends.h.i.+p progress that at noon North Eagle approached the Professor with the request that Norton should ride with him over to his father's range, sleep in their tepee that night, and return the following morning before the train pulled out.
At North Eagle's shoulder stood Sleeping Thunder, nodding a.s.sent to all his son said.
Of course, Mrs. Allan was for politely refusing the invitation. She would not for a moment listen to such an idea. But the Professor took quite the opposite stand. ”We must let him go, mother--let him go, by all means. Tony can take care of himself, and it will be the chance of his life. Why he is nearing manhood now. Let him face the world; let him have this wonderful experience.”
”But they look so wild!” pleaded the poor mother. ”They _are_ wild.
Fancy letting our Tony go alone into the heart of the Blackfoot country!
Oh! I can't think of it!”
Fortunately for her peace of mind the train conductor overheard her words, and, smiling at her fears, said, rather dryly:
”Madam, if your boy is as safe from danger and harm and evil in the city of Toronto as he will be with North Eagle in the prairie country, why, I congratulate you.”
The words seemed to sting the good lady. She felt, rather than knew, the truth of them, and the next moment her consent was given.
The face of North Eagle seemed transformed when he got her promise to let Tony go. ”I bring him back safe, plenty time for train,” was all he said.
Then Sleeping Thunder spoke for the first time--spoke but the one word, ”Safe.” Then pointing across the prairie, he repeated, ”Safe.”
”That's enough, my dear,” said the Professor firmly. ”Tony is as safe as in a church.”
”Yes,” replied Mrs. Allan, ”the chief means that word 'safe.' And as for that boy, I believe he would die before he'd let Tony's little finger be harmed.”
And as events proved, she was almost right.
Within the hour they were off, North Eagle bareback on a wiry cayuse, Tony in a Mexican saddle, astride a beautiful little broncho that loped like a rocking-horse.
At the last minute, Sleeping Thunder was detained by cattlemen, who wanted to purchase some of his stock, so the two boys set out alone. The last good-bye was to the conductor, who, after charging them to return in ample time to catch the train, said seriously to Norton:
”Let nothing scare you, sonny. These Indians _look_ savage, in their paint and feathers, but King Edward of England has no better subjects; and I guess it is all the same to His Majesty whether a good subject dresses in buckskin or broadcloth.”
Then there was much waving of hats and handkerchiefs. The engineer caught the spirit of the occasion, and genially blew a series of frantic toots, and with the smile of his father and the face of his mother as the last things in his vision, and with North Eagle's scarlet blanket rocking at his elbow, young Norton Allan hit the trail for the heart of the Blackfoot country.
For miles they rode in silence. Twice North Eagle pointed ahead, without speech--first at a coyote, then at a small herd of antelope, and again at a band of Indian riders whose fleet ponies and gay trappings crossed the distant horizon like a meteor.
By some marvellous intuition North Eagle seemed to know just what would interest the white boy--all the romance of the trail, the animals, the game, the cactus beds, the vast areas of mushrooms growing wild, edible and luscious, the badger and gopher holes, and the long, winding, half obliterated buffalo trails that yet scarred the distant reaches. It was only when he pointed to these latter, that he really spoke his mind, breaking into an eloquence that filled Tony with envy. The young redskin seemed inspired; a perfect torrent of words rushed to his lips, then his voice saddened as he concluded: ”But they will never come again, the mighty buffalo my father and my grandfather used to chase. They have gone, gone to a far country, for they loved not the ways of the paleface. Sometimes at night I dream I hear their thousand hoofs beat up the trail, I see their tossing horns, like the prairie gra.s.s in the strong west winds, but they are only spirits now; they will never come to me, and I have waited so long, so many days, watching these trails, watching, watching, watching--but they never come; no, the buffalo never come.”
Tony did not speak. What was there to be said? He only shook his head comprehendingly, and bit his under lip hard to keep back--something, he scarcely knew what. But he, too, watched the buffalo runs with longing eyes, hoping, hoping that even _one_ glorious animal would gallop up out of the rim of gra.s.s and sky. But young North Eagle was right--the buffalo was no more.
Tony was just beginning to feel slightly sore in the saddle when the Indian pointed off to the south-west and said, ”There is my father's tepee,” and within five minutes they had slipped from their mounts, and stood on the Chief's domain. A woman, followed by three children, came to the door. She was very handsome, and wore the beautiful dress of her tribe. Her cheeks were painted a brilliant crimson, and the parting of her hair was stained a rich orange. North Eagle turned and spoke rapidly to her for a moment in the Blackfoot tongue. She replied briefly. ”Here is my mother,” said the boy simply. ”She speaks no English, but she says you are welcome and her heart is warm for you.”
Tony lifted his cap while he shook hands. The woman noiselessly put back the door of the tepee and motioned for him to enter. For a moment he thought he must be dreaming. The exterior of the tepee had been wonderful enough, with its painted designs of suns and planets and wolf heads and horses, but the inside betokened such a wealth of Indian possessions that the boy was fairly astounded. The tepee itself was quite thirty feet in diameter, and pitched above dry, brown, clean prairie sod, which, however, was completely concealed by skins of many animals--cinnamon bear, fox, prairie wolf, and badger. To the poles were suspended suit after suit of magnificent buckskin, leggings, s.h.i.+rts, moccasins, all beaded and embroidered in priceless richness, fire bags, tobacco pouches, beaded gun cases, and rabbit robes. Fully a dozen suits were fringed down the sleeves and leggings with numberless ermine tails.
At one side of the tepee lay piled quite a score of blankets in mixed colors, a heap of thick furs, pyramids of buffalo horns, and coils and coils of the famous ”gra.s.s and sinew” lariats for roping cattle and horses.
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