“Jim,” Cogewea whispered as her hand slipped to the hilt of his weapon, “I’m scared! when I see you near this Shoyahpee with gun so handy. I wish you would let me have it. Let me keep it for you, won’t you?”
Jim’s own strong hand closed about the tapering, brown fingers clasping his pistol’s grip, as he answered feelingly:
“Little Injun chum, I love you and I’ll try always to please you, but I can’t give this here request. I couldn’t walk level without no side ballast. No, Sis! I’m holdin’ on to my old pardner, and it may all rest with you whether there’ll be some funeral-trouble, ’stead of a weddin’-dance. You’re a breed, same as myself. You know the callin’ of the blood! A man will sometimes fight for what he wants.”
“Oh! Jim!” and the girl’s voice was tremulous with agitation. “Promise me not to make trouble with this white man.”
The Westerner’s words were low, measured, and deadly even:
“The best rider of the Flathead hunts no trouble. Neither does he run should it hunt him. A brother is sometimes more dangerous than a lover. As a brother, I’d be a howlin’ bad actor if feelin’ called on to protect my dependent sister from a low crawlin’ puch-qeeh.42 Ol’ Jim would sure be locoed.”
Cogewea laughed nervously. While the half-blood was all kindness to her, she well knew his fierce temperament and how best to placate it. It was with something of her old-time banter and spirit of coquetry, that she spoke; falling into the easy range vernacular:
“I b’lieve yo’ would! Some time, if yo’ don’t look out, maybe I’ll disown yo’ as a brother. Do yo’ savey? Now run ’long an’ hit th’ hay! I’m a goin’ tumble in an’ harvest a good crop of sleep. Goin’ give yo’ th’ first dance tomorrow night!”
With this, the girl of moods sprang up and dashed into the house, leaving her dusky lover pondering in doubt.
XXIII
The Basket Social
Yet, pardner, we are dull and old,
Badger Clark
With paltry hopes and fears,
Beside those rangers gay and bold,
Far riding down the years!
“Why, Cogewea!” exclaimed Mary, as they hurriedly prepared for the longed-for social the following evening. “Are you taking two baskets—the canoe and that other fancy—”
Cogewea spoke in an undertone to her sister, who laughed musically, but said nothing. Soon everything was packed and the girls were helping Julia with the children. Cogewea, understanding the nature of man, that he should not, under any circumstances, be kept waiting, lest he become grouchy, was hurrying her sisters, that they might meet Silent Bob as soon as he drove to the gate. They heard the rattle of the heavy hack and the driver’s unnecessarily loud:
“Who! thar’ Prince! Whoa, Jerry! I hater have yo’ a stan’in’ here so long! I hater hav yo’ a eatin’ stake-oats all the time.”
Snatching up the children and the baskets, they hastened out. Cogewea helped the fledglings to the rear seat with their mother and Mary, then clambered to her place at Bob’s side. That worthy had held the “ribbons of four” over a stage route in the Rockies, and to display his proud skill, flourished his long lash—which he ever carried—with a report like the shot of a pistol. The fiery bays leaping forward, went spinning around the road-curve at a speed to frighten an inexperienced out of his wits. The mad pace was kept until the upper grade through the coulee was reached. As the team quieted down, Cogewea spoke:
“Now Bob, own up that a man does not like to wait for a woman!”
The Jehu turned his head to eject a quid of tobacco before answering:
“Ev’ry man hates ter wait for anybody.”
“Yes, I know! But it’s women they hate most to wait for; and yet they seem to think that woman was made to wait for them. They do not consider the daily heartaches of a waiting woman, most of whom spend their best days loitering on the trail—waiting on the slow movements of some man—not all of them married women either. A few are out here on this flat.”
The pun was entirely lost on Silent Bob, who manifested great interest in his bays. Cogewea was lighthearted and did most of the talking. She joked Mary about Frenchy, whom she had observed silently admiring the shy girl as she came out on the veranda, dressed for the trip. Her light suit brought out the beauty of a rich complexion to the best advantage; while her clear blue eyes shaded by long dark lashes, were brilliant with the joy of anticipation. Her stately form and graceful movements would have been as much in keeping at a court of fashion, as with the picturesque surroundings of a western cattle ranch. Cogewea had covertly designated Mary’s basket to the Parisian, with the hope that he would be a successful bidder for it at the coming auction. Jim, too, had remarked this courtly scion of France gazing enraptured after the girl as the hack dashed through the gate; and smiling, muttered under his breath:
“The poor frog-eatin’ fool! Makin’ eyes at that there breed-gal who ain’t got no more heart than her witch-sister!”
The instant the hack had disappeared at the bend, Slim of the Foot Hills, approaching Frenchy very confidentially, inquired:
“Yo’ goin’ with me to th’ big doin’s, ain’ yo’?”
Displaying a roll of bills, which Slim afterwards declared to be “ ’nough to stumble a bronc,” the Parisian exclaimed:
“I go zee zonzibél! I pay ze baz-ze-keét; zee Frenchee genzemon. Zee lee-teel von, zee zeneder voot. Zee biget loff!”
“Then come on quick!” urged Slim, as he led the way to the corral. “Le’s saddle up!
