CHAPTER III.

CATS, TRAPS, AND INDIANS.

The steady life of a trapper had become regular diet to Jack, as day after day he visited old traps, set out new ones and explored territory farther away from the cabin. The Indians were daily visitors whether he was in camp or not, but they never molested anything, no matter how curious or hungry. They were seemingly good humored, even though there appeared an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The first episode to put him on his guard was when one of the Utes, Bennett, hid behind a tree near the camp fire outside the cabin. Yamanatz was there in his customary place, squatted upon the ground. A strange dog ran in and out of the place and Jack inquired of the old Ute how the dog happened to be there. Yamanatz, unconcerned, replied, "Me dunno." This puzzled Jack, but he went about his cooking, carefully watching the trees and rocks. He felt for the first time a species of alarm. Again he inquired, "Ute dog, mebbe so?"

"Me dunno."

Jack knew no white man would go along that trail at that time of year without stopping to say "How!" In fact, there was no white man within forty miles, except old Joe Riggs, and old Joe would be there with the dog if the dog was Joe's. The suspense had a sudden termination as the muzzle of a rifle "mirrored" in the sunlight, just the tip of the muzzle being thus accidentally disclosed. Quick as a flash Jack pulled his six shooter, cocked it and held it level at the tree where the bright steel was in full view. Yamanatz made neither sign nor comment, but Jack felt that the cunning old chief was fully aware of all that was going on. Very soon the edge of a woolen turban cap appeared opposite the rifle muzzle, then an ear, then a little of the chin and finally the eye of Bennett looked straight into Jack's six shooter. With a bound the joker jumped from behind the tree and, with a laugh which could have been heard a mile, and in which Yamanatz joined, came forward, palms outward, signifying peace, exclaiming, "White man no 'fraid; heap big joke, heap big joke."

But Jack began to feel that these jokes might end in something serious, especially if he showed the white feather in the least.

The next day he returned from the traps just as the last streaks of sunlight were tipping the tops of the canon where Rock Creek dashed by the cabin. Yamanatz sat by the cold camp fire in the same place and same position in which Jack had left him after breakfast, six hours before. Of course, Jack was surprised at this and wondered what it meant. As Jack swung into the open space Yamanatz immediately arose with hands outstretched, the palms well up towards the comer, accompanying the action with this eager outburst:

"Yamanatz heap glad to see white man Jack; Colorow come. White man gone. Colorow heap mad, want to see white man. Me tell 'em white man gone, Colorow follow white man; byme by Antelope come look for Colorow; Antelope go back Indian village by Pony Creek. Antelope tell Utes Colorow mean mischief; Colorow's boy come byme by look for Colorow; when Yamanatz tell Colorow's boy 'Colorow follow white man,' Colorow's boy heap 'fraid, say: 'Mebbe so Colorow meet 'em white man Jack.' Then Colorow's boy go Indian village. Sun low--Chiquita come, no find white man, go back Indian village, mebbe so white man see Colorow?"

Jack, of course, was nervous. Alone in a wild country that was alive with wild game, ravenous wolves, mountain lions, bears and hostile Indians, he realized what a novice, a tenderfoot, a fool he was, or would be, to put his ignorance of frontier life against the cunning of the old chiefs, but he answered quickly,

"Me no see Colorow." Then taking courage by the kindly look in Yamanatz's eyes, Jack said slowly, taking Yamanatz's hands in his own.

"Mebbe so Colorow want to kill white man Jack?"

Yamanatz shrugged his shoulders but made no answer and Jack continued.

"If Colorow meet white man, Colorow got no bullets--got knife--suppose white man kill Colorow, will Utes kill white man?"

Yamanatz evaded the question but made the reply: "Colorow heap bad Indian, mebbe so make heap trouble. Utes 'fraid Colorow--big chief 'fraid Colorow. White man mebbe so kill Colorow, no tell what 'em happen. Old Utes not much care. Antelope, Bennett, Douglas, Washington. Mebbe so heap mad, kill all white men if white man Jack kill Colorow."

In this honest avowal Jack found little comfort, but Yamanatz's next words gave him a hope that all might be well.

"Utes got no lead, no powder, no deer meat. Mebbe so Colorow take many ponies, go Sulphur Springs, get 'em bullets, bacon, flour, then be good Injun till all gone."

In this logic of plenty to eat lay the safety of the white trappers for that winter, so Jack prayed fervently for the early departure of the Indians for Sulphur Springs to the end of his own personal safety. He knew now that certain sign language the Utes had so often indulged in represented Agent Meeker in his attempts to teach the Indians how to plow; that bits of tragic, practical joking were tests of his own bravery, and that the uneasy red devils but waited opportunity and excuse for an uprising, after they should obtain the necessary munitions of war, of which they had none.

Chiquita grew more and more interested in the ways of the pale face with each visit, and Jack found her waiting for his return oftener, even following him portions of the route in his attentions to the traps. Her desire for knowledge seemed to him incomprehensible and old Yamanatz was equally at a loss to understand why his daughter should prefer to hear about her white sisters' habits and what they did, rather than matters of more moment. When she finally told Yamanatz her desire to do wonderful things, such as building a big "medicine tepee" with lots of Indian maidens in "medicine clothes" to care for the sick, the aged and infirm, the old chief's face gladdened and his actions spoke louder than words, so that Jack knew it was safe to humor them both in their dream.

Within a few days Yamanatz sprung a joke on Jack that left Bennett's fun hanging high and dry on the trees. Chiquita had arrayed herself in more gorgeous raiment than had been recorded of a society debutante in Indian stories--beaded cape, waist, shirt, leggings, and moccasins; medals of gold, silver and pewter; ornaments of brass, tin and iron; necklaces of elk teeth and grizzly claws; hair decorations of lion skin, beaver and otter fur, and in her hand a rawhide shield just dazzling with highly polished brass knobs. Her bright eyes fairly danced with joy as she posed before Jack in her "Sunday best." Yamanatz watched her with that same benevolent kindness which characterized him above other Utes. After the usual salutations, the old chief took a leather bag from the saddle and opened it, turning its contents upon Jack's best dish towel, which happened to be near. To say that Jack's heart jumped is drawing it very