CHAPTER XII. More Couriers.

“If Tuttle was here now he would play smash with you for serving his woman in that way,” said Harding, laying a heavy hand upon Carl’s arm and jerking him toward the tepee. “Get inside, where you belong.”

Carl went because he could not help himself, and the door was closed behind him. He was alone in the tepee, the squawman and the women having stayed outside to see what was going to happen. Carl wanted to see, too, and by looking around the tepee he found a place where the skins of which it was formed had not been stitched as closely together as they ought to have been, or, if they had been, the constant moving of the tepee had drawn them apart. It did not take him long to make this hole larger than it was, and by placing his eyes close to it he found that he could see everything that happened on the Page 143 dancing-ground. The braves were still huddled together awaiting the approach of the three horsemen, and finally they began shouting at them and waving their guns; but the police did not stop. They were under orders which must be obeyed. When they came up with the braves the spokesman of the three began a speech to which the Indians paid no attention. They began yelling as soon as he began speaking, and for a few moments a great hubbub arose. In all his life on the plains Carl had never heard such a commotion before. Six or eight hundred Indians could easily drown out three men, and Carl could not hear a word they said. He expected every minute that some excitable young braves would shoot the policemen, but finally the latter gave it up and turned their horses toward the fort. Carl was greatly disappointed. He left the side of the tepee and seated himself on the bed, and a moment later the door opened and the squawman came in.

“That was one time they did not make it,” said he, giving one of his hideous grins.

“What did they want?” said Carl.

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“They wanted to know if Kicking Bull had gone home yet, and when somebody told them that he had, they gave us the agent’s order to stop the Ghost Dance.”

“Well, are the Indians going to do it?”

“Not much, they ain’t. We did not come up here thirty-five miles for nothing. We have got the ground right here, we are away from everybody so that we can’t disturb them, and we intend to go on with it.”

“The next time the agent sends men here to tell you to stop the dance he will send an army with them.”

“Let him. He will see some of the biggest fighting that he has ever seen yet. We shall be fighting for our religion, our homes, and all that is dear to us; and when men get that way, they generally stay until all are killed. Now I will lay down and have my sleep out.”

“Are you not going in the dance?”

“I shall go in about the third day. By that time some of the men will grow tired and drop out, and I will take their place and stay till it ends.”

“Must I stay in here all the time?”

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“Oh, no. You can go out and sit down where you were before, but you had better take this blanket along with you and wrap it around your head so that you will be taken for an Indian. Now mind you, don’t attempt any more nonsense. These women know when you ought to come in, and the next time one of them takes you by the arm and motions toward the tepee you had better start. If you don’t, I’ll be after you.”

Carl took the blanket and went out; and for five long days, except the time he took to eat his meals and to sleep, he sat there with his blanket wrapped around his head and watching the Ghost Dance. To his surprise he could see nothing about it to excite so much admiration in the Sioux. When the braves got ready to begin the dance, a neatly-dressed young squaw walked up to the pole with a bow and four arrows in her hand. The arrows she shot to four different points of the compass—north, south, east and west. The warriors then separated and hunted up the arrows, which were bound into a bundle and tied to the pole. After that a medicine Page 146 man made his appearance, and surrounded by the warriors, of whom there were a dozen in all, began making a speech to them. This was called the small circle, the other Indians not having completed their “purification,” which they did by going through the sweat-box.

The medicine man occupied nearly an hour in making his speech—they were at so great a distance from Carl that he could not understand what was said—and then somebody else took his place. It was a brave who had passed into a trance during their last dance. He must have seen some wonderful things while he was in the spirit world, for he occupied their attention for another hour, and then he, too, gave way to another. There was no yelling, except what the speakers made themselves, but all seemed to be deeply interested.

Finally the braves who had been in the sweat-box began to come out and join those about the pole, and at last the large circle was formed, and then began the dancing. They took hold of hands and began moving Page 147 around the circle from right to left, and this thing was kept up until the people grew so tired that they could scarcely walk. The old Indians, knowing that this was to be a dance of endurance, barely lifted their feet, while the young braves bounded into the air and tried in various ways to show their enthusiasm. In a short time the dust raised by the feet of the dancers arose in clouds so thick that Carl could hardly see the circle at all. When one showed signs of giving out the others would jerk him around the circle, until at last he sank down from utter exhaustion.

“Well, if this is all there is of the Ghost Dance I am going to bed,” said Carl about twelve o’clock that night. “It makes me tired to look at them.”

Carl had not neglected to keep his eye on the women, who had sat all that day watching the Ghost Dance, and he saw that they were watching him too. When he arose and went into the tepee they got up and followed him. The squawman was still stretched out on his bed slumbering heavily, and Carl wondered if he were trying to make up for the sleep he Page 148 would lose during the two days that he expected to pass in the dance.

The next morning, when Carl got up, he went to the door and looked out. The circle was there, larger than it was before, and some of the braves seemed to be pretty nearly exhausted. He noticed that there was not so much bounding into the air as he had observed the day before, the young braves who had indulged in that practice having got weary and given the dance up to somebody else.

“It is the same old dance,” said Carl, going outside and seating himself on his favorite hillock. “The old men are in there yet, but the young ones have gone out. What a dust they raise! It is no wonder that the squawman called it the ‘dragging dance.’”

He was getting tired of the Ghost Dance. He had nothing to do but sit there and look on. He thought that if some of the officers at the fort could have seen it they would not be so anxious to stop it, for the thing would die out of itself as soon as cold weather came. But then an Indian was long-winded. If his Page 149 medicine man had told him that the dance was to be continued for ten days, he would have found some way to get through with it. He heard a rustling in the tepee, and the squawman came out and stood beside him.

“Have you got a pair of moccasins that you can let me have?” asked Carl, remembering that he needed one thing more to complete his disguise. “This boot hurts my foot so that I can scarcely step on it.”

“I reckon,” said Harding, who turned about and went into the tepee again. He fumbled around there for awhile, and then came out with a pair of moccasins in his hand which he threw down beside Carl. “There is some foot-gear which my old woman made for herself to go into the Ghost Dance with. You may find them pretty large, but if you strap them up tight around the ankles I guess they will stay on. What do you think of the Ghost Dance?”

“Is that all there is to it?” asked Carl in reply.

“Why of course it is,” said the squawman in surprise. “I think that if you kept up Page 150 that motion for five days you would think there was something to it.”

“Do you want that I should tell you the truth?”

“Of course. I don’t want you to lie to me.”

“Well, I think it is the biggest fake that ever a party of men indulged in,” said Carl, who did not expect that the squawman would take kindly to this criticism.

“You do? I have a good notion to choke you for saying as much.”

“You wanted the truth, and now you have it. I would like to make you a bet. In less than a year you won’t hear a thing of the Ghost Dance. Your religion will die out entirely.”

“What makes you think so?” said the squawman, who seemed surprised to hear this.

“Because the Messiah won’t come. The soldiers will come in here——”

“Oh, shut your mouth. The soldiers won’t have a thing to do with it. If they come on us, we’ll whip them in a way that will do their hearts good.”

“You will see. If I see you at the end of a year——”

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“You will not see me, unless that letter you write to the general brings my partners back to me.”

“When do you want me to write that letter?”

“Just as soon as the Ghost Dance is over. You haven’t got any paper with you?”

Carl replied that he had not.

“There is one man now in the dance who has got a lot of paper by him. As soon as he gets through I will go to him for some.”

“That’s all right,” said Carl to himself. “Now I will tell you one thing, and that ain’t two—you won’t see me when this dance is over. I will be miles on my way toward Fort Scott. That is better,” he added aloud. “These moccasins feel as though I had nothing on my feet.”

Carl put his boots aside, filled his pipe, and once more turned his attention to the Ghost Dance. Harding also filled his pipe, but he did not sit down.

“You are going to see more of it, are you?” said Carl, as the squawman moved toward the dancing-ground. “Now, what is the reason I cannot go down there with you?”

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“Your face is pretty brown, that is a fact, but it will hardly pass for an Indian’s face,” said Harding. “You will be safer where you are. Those bucks don’t like to have white folks see their dance.”

“That’s all right,” said Carl, as he stretched his moccasined feet before him and wondered how fast he could run if the Sioux got after him. “I’ll stay here till the women go away.”

That was a long time to wait, and Carl was so impatient to be doing something that it was all he could do to contain himself. He had his full disguise now, his moccasins and his blanket, and if he only had in his hand that Winchester rifle which the squawman had covered up in his bed before he left the tepee, and the shades of night were closing around him, he would not be caught as easily as he was before. The evening of the third day came around at last, and Harding began to strip himself for the dance. He had nothing on when he came out of the tepee except a colored woolen shirt, moccasins, and a pair of leggings which came up over his trousers.

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“Now, Carl, I am off,” said he. “Do you think I can stand it for two days?”

“I should think you might stand it as long as anybody,” said Carl.

“I want to warn you that you must not think of running off while these women are here to watch you,” said Harding earnestly. “You heard what a yell one of them could give. Well, if these two set up a yelp it will reach everybody. They will keep good watch on you while I am gone.”

Carl made no reply, but sat there on his mound and saw the squawman and his wife go down to the dancing-ground; but he was all awake now, and ready to improve the first chance to seek safety in flight. But the trouble was, the two women were as watchful as ever. When he went into the tepee to get his meals or to go to sleep, his keepers were close at his heels. To save his life he could not get an opportunity to escape one moment from their vigilant eyes. The days wore on and at last the dance was completed, and with a long-drawn whoop the braves separated and all of them started for their tepees, some of them so Page 154 nearly overcome with exhaustion that they crawled on their hands and knees. The squawman came also, and he had to be helped by his wife. He went into the tepee and laid down, and Carl, feeling somewhat discouraged, followed him.

“That is one chance gone,” said he, looking daggers at the two women who had watched him so closely. “Now, when will I get another?”

An hour passed in this way and the camp was fast asleep—all except the woman who sat by the door, and who, save when she was relieved by the other woman, kept watch over him while he slept. Suddenly there was a commotion in the camp, and no one knew what had occasioned it. A wild whoop, followed by others at shorter intervals, rang out on the still air, bringing the squawman to his feet and sending him out at the door to listen. It turned out to be a courier of some kind, and he was detailing some news to the camp. The squawman listened intently, and then came back with the face of a demon.