CHAPTER XVIII

BILL RETURNS FROM HIS SCOUT

During the time I had been at work on Lieutenant Lang's papers there had been another heavy snow, but it had soon passed off. Tom had come over to the fort once or twice, reporting all serene at Camp Coyotelope; and about the time I had finished my job and was preparing to return to wolf skinning, Wild Bill and John Adkins came into the post, returning from the main Kiowa camp by way of old To hausen's village on Walnut Creek.

"When are you going over to Camp Coyotelope?" asked Bill after first greetings.

"To-morrow morning," I replied.

"Well, I've got to make my report to the commanding officer an' turn in my pack-mule," said the scout, "an' if there's nothing special for me to do here right away I reckon I'll ride over with you an' take a few square meals with the boys."

"All right," I replied. "I'll be glad to have you go along with me. Will Adkins come, too?"

"No. He says he's got to go back to Rath's ranch in the morning, soon as he can get his voucher from the quartermaster for this trip an' get it cashed at Weisselbaum's."

"So this new quartermaster is short of greenbacks and has to pay off in vouchers, hey?"

"Yes, an' Weisselbaum only discounts 'em twenty-five cents on the dollar. But I won't sell my voucher at any such robbery figures. I don't need the money very bad here, an' so I'll just let it stand till the quartermaster gets the funds, or if he don't get the truck by spring I'll take my vouchers to Fort Leavenworth where I can get all they call for."

Finding nothing requiring his immediate attendance at the post, Bill easily obtained permission to go over to our camp, notifying the quartermaster where he could be found in case he was needed.

As we rode along he told me about his trip to Satank's village.

"As I expected, we picked up the Kiowas' trail over on the Smoky Hill, followed it up, an' found 'em in a snug-timbered camp over on the Solomon. They'd moved to this camp from another one a few miles up the river since the blizzard, because while that big snow was on the ground they'd had to chop down all the cottonwood-trees about that camp to furnish feed for their ponies and in case of another big snow catching 'em in the same camp, the feed there would have been pretty scarce. An' they'd just about got settled down in the new camp when this last snow come on. Me and Adkins were in luck, too, for this last snow come next day after we reached the Injun camp; an' during all the time it lay on the ground me and John were making ourselves as agreeable an' comfortable as possible in ol' Satank's lodge. I knew what a sour ol' cuss he is, an' the best way to get on the good side of him an' find out what he is up to was to go right to his tepee, an' let on that we'd come to pay him a special visit.

"We found that the Injuns didn't have much of anything to eat but meat, so we brought out our sugar an' coffee an' hardtack an' bacon an' treated the ol' man an' his family to some extra good grub--for them; an' I'd took along some beads an' colored handkerchiefs an' trinkets for the women an' youngsters. But, sir, that durned old rascal would eat my chuck an' take presents, all right, but when I'd try to pump him he was the most ignorant Injun you ever saw--I couldn't get a thing out of him. But then I didn't expect to find out much from Satank himself, for I know him of old.

"I made friends with Satanta and Big Tree, too, an' gave them some presents, an' now an' then invited 'em over to headquarters to smoke an' eat an' drink coffee with us, but they were pretty foxy, too, and didn't seem to know anything when I tried the pump on them. So when I found the head men were so close-mouthed I dropped them an' let on as though I wasn't seeking for information; but I made myself solid with the women by making them presents of a lot of little trinkets, an' I knew if I went about it in an offhand way they'd tell me all they knew, for, you know, I can talk their language just like a Kiowa.

"It pleases them women for a white man to take notice of 'em an' talk to 'em an' be sociable like, for their own men don't pay 'em much attention.

"I soon found out about all the women knew, which wasn't much, however; but from what I picked up amongst 'em, an' from the general signs, the head men ain't a-feeling very friendly toward the whites, an' as soon as grass comes in the spring I suspect we'll have trouble with 'em."

"Do you think they'll go on the war-path, Bill?" I asked.

"No, I don't think they'll go to war openly or in a body, but they'll probably scout around in little bands, watchin' their chances an' doing a little mischief here an' there on the sly, whenever they see a good chance to dodge in, hit a lick, an' dodge out again without making an open rupture. But they promised to come down to Fort Larned, as soon as the grass begins to come in the spring, to have a powwow with the officers an' Injun agent, 'cause there's a chance of some presents in that, an' they're always ready to take all they can get an' more, too."

"What seems to be their principal grievance against the white men?" I asked.

"Well, it's the old song about the white men killing off their game. But, then, we all know that's just an excuse, for the game on the plains is plenty enough for all an' what little the whites get away with ain't missed. Of course, if they were to come around here an' see how many buffalo bones you fellows are leaving on the prairie they might think you were getting more than your share. But you've got just as much right to kill buffalo an' wolves, or any other game, as the Injuns have. Anyway, it ain't likely they'll get down this way before grass comes, an' you fellows'll be done skinning wolves an' gone before that time."

"I hope so," I replied. "I have no desire to renew my acquaintance with Satank. How about old To hausen, Bill; is he still camped at the same place?"

"Yes, his band was still camped about twenty or twenty-five miles down Walnut Creek from your camp; but To hausen was getting ready to move up your way, too, an' I reckon by this time he's moved. I told him about you fellows a-poisoning wolves and that you were particular friends of mine, an' asked him not to move up close enough to you to bother your work, an' he promised me he would keep far enough away so's not to trouble you. He's a pretty good ol' Injun, To hausen is, an' he's always been a good friend of mine, an' I'm sure he'll not let any of his people interfere with you. Some of his outfit'll be apt to look you up in a few days, an' if they come to see you you must treat 'em well."

"Of course we will," I replied, "for we want to keep on good terms with them."

At Camp Coyotelope, which we reached in time for dinner, Bill had to repeat to Tom and Jack all he had told me about his trip to the Kiowa village. During the afternoon we lounged about camp and at the approach of evening Jack and I saddled up and made the round of the wolf baits, putting out fresh strychnine for the night, and returned to camp in time to help demolish an excellent supper.

That evening Tom suggested to the scout:

"Bill, while you're here, suppose you an' me ride down to ol' To hausen's camp to-morrow to see where he is an' make sure that he ain't a-crowding on our huntin'-ground--what do you say?"

"It's a whack, Tom; I'll go you!" replied Bill, "an' we'll have a fair understanding with the ol' man about how far he's to allow his people to range up this way."

In the morning they saddled up and started to go to the Indian camp, but to our surprise Bill and Tom were back at camp by noon, just as Jack and I were getting ready for dinner.

"Why, what brought you back so soon?" I asked as they rode up and dismounted.

"Well," replied Tom, as they began unsaddling, "we found their camp only about eight miles down the creek--a little closer than I like to have 'em, but the Injuns promised that they wouldn't hunt up this way any farther or do anything to drive off the game in our range; but what brought us back so soon was that when we got there we found ol' To hausen sick in bed, an' I think he's threatened with a severe spell of pneumonia; an' after having a friendly talk with his people and watching the ol' man's symptoms, I made up my mind what was the matter with him, and I concluded that I'd hurry right back to camp and get some medicine for him and then go back and try to fetch the old man out of it. I'm sure he's got a serious case of lung fever, and if something ain't done to head it off pretty _pronto_ he'll go up the spout. I learned a good deal about doctoring when I was hospital steward, an' I think I've got everything except one that I need for the treatment of this case in my little medicine-chest. Bill's going back to Fort Larned after dinner, and I want you to go with him and bring out the medicine that I'm lacking. You can go over to the fort this afternoon and get the stuff an' come back to-morrow forenoon and then bring it down to the Injun camp to me in the afternoon; for I'll go right back after dinner and go to work on the old man and try to head off that fever before it gets too strong a hold on him."

As we entered the dugout and sat down to dinner I thought to ask:

"What medicine is it that you want me to get, Tom? You forgot to tell me the name of it."

With a mysterious wink at me when Jack was not looking, he answered:

"I'll write the name of it down on a piece of paper after dinner. You'd forget it if I told you."

When we went out to saddle up after dinner, leaving Jack to clean up the dishes, Tom said:

"The medicine I want you to get at the fort is nothing but a pint of commissary whiskey, but I didn't want to mention it before Jack. The doctors use it in pneumonia as a stimulant, diluted, an' given in tablespoonful doses. I've got everything else I need, and I'll take my little medicine-chest along with me down to the Injun camp in case there should be other sick ones that I'd want something for." Then he added: "You'd better take Prince to ride over to the fort and back. I rode him down to the camp, but he'll be good for your trip. I'll ride ol' Vinegar down to the camp this time; an' when you get back here to-morrow you can leave Prince here an' ride the gray mare or one of the mules down to the camp. By the way, while I think of it, I must take along a couple of candles an' a few more matches; for I'll have to be getting up in the night 'tendin' to the old man, an' there's no such thing as a light to be had in an Injun lodge without a body goes to the trouble of starting up a blaze in the fire.

"I've got to keep on the right side of that old medicine-man that's doctoring the old chief now," said Tom; "and I'd like to teach him something if I could."

Soon we were ready and started, Bill and I cantering off on the trail while Tom struck out down the creek.

On arriving at Fort Larned, knowing that Lieutenant Lang always kept a demijohn of whiskey in his quarters, I procured a pint bottle of the "medicine" Tom desired and spent the night at his quarters.

Just before going to the officers' mess for supper with Lieutenant Lang that evening, thinking that it would be an interesting trip for him, I had suggested to him that he go out to our camp and see something of the Kiowas with whom later he might have some dealings. He declined to go on the ground that the weather was wintry and the ride a long one.

Captain Saunders, who was present, expressed surprise that Lieutenant Lang did not jump at the chance and said to me:

"Mr. Peck, if I can get leave of absence from the major, may I accompany you on this trip to the Indian camp?"

"Certainly, captain," I replied. "I'll be delighted to have you go along."

The captain joined us later and told me that he had easily obtained the desired permission, but asked me to say nothing about it to other company officers, lest more of them should wish to go, for the major didn't think it best to spare more than one on such an errand.

The next morning we set out and, after a long, cold ride, reached Camp Coyotelope. During the whole ride the captain kept plying me with questions about our past frontier service, evidently wishing to gain all the information he could about his new line of duty. He was a very pleasant and gentlemanly, young man, and although ignorant of military usage, he evinced a commendable eagerness to inform and qualify himself for his position.