The outfit was soon under way, moving across the great flats to the range hills reaching far up into the higher mountains. Densmore, now fully recovered, was left with a helper in charge of the ranch. He was not at all averse to this arrangement. With Jim eliminated for so long a time, he felt confident of his ability to win Cogewea to his deep set plans. He was sure that the aged grandmother was against him, which was of no small moment, since the girl was devoted to her and often sought her counsel. But he determined to bend all energies to winning the old squaw’s favor, and to this end he employed commendable zeal, had it been more honorably directed.
But the Easterner had not reckoned with the Indian character!
XVIII
Swa-lah-kin
The Frog Woman
With her moods of shade and sunshine
Hiawatha
Eyes that smiled and frowned alternate,
Feet as rapid as the river,
Tresses flowing like the water,
And as musical a laughter;
A week had passed since the roundup outfit left the ranch. The lengthening days brought with them the indubitable evidence of an early and short lived autumn. The deep green leaves were transforming to mellow golden and the blaze of crimson glory. The grass was sere, with no indications of the usually short, velvety after-crop so peculiar to the arid range. The song birds no longer trilled among the pines of the Pend d’Oreille. Flown to the South land, their notes were supplanted by the discordant honk and scream of the migratory waterfowl, echoing along the winding shore.
Densmore often went shooting on the big flats where numerous small lakes were in evidence. To the surprise of all, he proved a successful hunter and bagged a goodly number of both ducks and prairie chickens along with an occasional goose. Badger, a noted wolfhound, and Bringo were his constant companions on these excursions, ofttimes chasing down the wily coyote and the fleet footed jack rabbit. Densmore had also become handy with the rod, bringing home fine strings of fish. Stemteemä was kept bountifully supplied with these delicacies, nor did the sportsman forego an opportunity of ingratiating himself in her favor. But the ancient woman received the gifts with stoic indifference and with doubtful gratitude. Perhaps it was more to please Cogewea, that she accepted the offerings, regarding them as a part of her daily food supply. The girl sometimes accompanied the donor in these presentation visits, acting as interpreter. The keen witted grandmother discerned that her grandchild was growing more fond of the hated Shoyahpee; and that she was also endeavoring to win her to regard him with greater favor. These symptoms she noticed with increased perturbation and had spoken to Julia on the subject. But the older sister, who had given the situation but scant or no thought during the press of summer work, was inclined to regard the possible alliance in a different light. She, herself, had married a white man who was good and kind to her, and consequently her racial prejudices were not so strongly pronounced.
Cogewea, in walking habit, stood gazing pensively from the window. She saw Julia, leading little Denny, enter the low doorway of the smoke-browned teepee just as the well proportioned form of Densmore emerged from the bunkhouse. He carried two fishing rods and had a trap slung over his shoulder. Coming up the path, he stopped at the gate, turning towards the house. Mary, the shy girl, sitting on the blanketed floor of the veranda beading a pair of moccasins, paused in her work to glance at her sister as she passed down the steps to join him. Mary could not like this Shoyahpee, with his smooth tongue and beguiling smile. She and the Stemteemä had many times counselled concerning him and Cogewea, but she had never revealed to the old grandmother how much the two were together. Resuming her task, the girl frowned with evident vexation as the couple strolled towards the river.
Densmore was discoursing on the charms of city life as they passed the teepee door. Inside, Stemteemä was crooning an Indian lullaby, which intoned musically with the sleepy baby prattle of Denny. The song was hushed suddenly. No bird carols greeted them as they approached the stream, and the squirrels and chipmunks appeared too busy storing their winter hoards to notice the intrusion. Following the bank for a mile or so, they came to a promising pool, deep and clear, at the base of an overhanging cliff. Here they prepared to cast.
“The kale that I land the first one,” challenged Cogewea as the two flies struck the water simultaneously.
“Taken!” was the quick acceptance.
Scarcely had Densmore spoken when his line cut the water in a straight drive, the reel spinning yard after yard of singing cord. Far out in the stream a silvery form leaped, scintillating in a radiant curve, sending up a shower of sparkling spray as the fish clove the water. The played out line slacked and the fisherman reeled in, minus hook and fly.
“King of the Pend d’Oreille!” exclaimed Cogewea. “How gamy! You—”
Her own line spun with a musical purr, and deftly handling the reel, she slowly brought the stampeding salmonoid too, in a wide, sweeping circle. The battle was on, but with a skill attained only through experience she finally landed a shimmering beauty of rare size.
“Lost! Shoyahpee!” she taunted. “Lost two ways; your trout and your wager.”
“I will lay an even five thousand against your hand that the next is mine,” bantered the Easterner as he adjusted a new fly.
“I fade you!” was the prompt acceptance.
Again they cast and again she won.
“Please ante!” laughed the girl, as with a dexterous movement of thumb and fingers, the catch was rendered unconscious before removed from the hook.
“Would you have
