Читать книгу Thunder Moon Strikes - Frederick Schiller Faust - Страница 11

Table of Contents

Never had such a person appeared at the door of Keene House!

Gone were the clothes in which Thunder Moon had startled the neighbors that morning. Now he was clad in one style only, and that was the style in which he had been raised for twenty years.

Over his head towered lofty eagle feathers, which hung in a double row down his back and to his heels, well-nigh. Around his forehead was a narrow band of doeskin, set with a complicated pattern of colored beads worked by the masterly hands of White Crow herself. But the rest of his outfit was not the product of Cheyenne craft. He had drawn upon half the tribes of the plains to gain his wardrobe, and he had paid for it by heroic daring, and not in gold. His beaded shirt, heavy as mail, was taken from the body of a Sioux chief who had fallen in battle under the bullets of Thunder Moon. His trousers, of softest leather, intricately fringed, were decorated with beadwork of another kind, laboriously sewn on by Crow women; and lost when one of their warriors lost his life in war. Upon his left arm he carried that dream shield, which, as he thought, had so often brought him safely through the dangers of battle. Some few deep scars were upon its face, showing where bullet had glanced or lance head failed from the front of the thickened buffalo hide. The shield wore its mysterious paint; but the face of Thunder Moon was without that adornment.

The servant who opened the front door to this apparition grinned at first, feeling that there must be a game behind such a festival appearance. Then he almost fainted as he realized that this was not a sham or a mask.

The next moment, the judge himself confronted the tall young man.

The right hand of Thunder Moon was ceremoniously raised. From the wrist dangled the long canine tooth of a grizzly bear, slain valorously in single combat, a prize not less in the eyes of an Indian than the scalp of a chief.

“How!” said Thunder Moon.

“How!” said the judge, answering dignity with dignity, in spite of his irritation. “Will you come in—William?”

Thunder Moon pointed to the sky.

“I have to speak a great word,” said he. “In your lodge that word might be lost, for the eye of the judge chief will look on many things that are big medicine and that are his already, and so he will not regard the medicine I offer him. But there is a place where we may stand and talk!”

He pointed to the lawn in front of the house.

“Very well! Very well!” said the judge, and he walked uneasily down the steps behind the tall visitor.

He felt that he made a very poor second to such a lofty fellow. And he was all the more annoyed by this consideration because he knew that from some window nearby his daughter must be spying upon them with a curious eye. He would have liked to tell himself that she was above such childish eavesdropping, but in his heart of hearts he knew that she was not. The judge knew not whether to sigh or to swear.

Upon the plot of grass, Thunder Moon took his stand. Nearby Standing Antelope sat upon his pony, the butt of his war lance resting on the ground, his hand grasping it near the head, both man and horse apparently turned to stone. Only, from time to time, a touch of wind fluttered the single feather that adorned his hair.

The great stallion, Sailing Hawk, followed his master upon the lawn, and the judge was about to make a pettish remark as he saw the hoofs digging into his favorite bit of grass, but he felt in this situation an element of almost tragic dignity and importance that kept him from speaking of smaller things.

Thunder Moon struck instantly into the main current of his message.

“You are my father’s friend,” said he, “therefore you are my friend. My father is your friend, and therefore I am your friend. This must be true. The blood of man is not as cheap as the blood of buffaloes in the spring hunting, and such friendships do not come and go lightly.”

The judge could have said something very much to the point about this matter, but he restrained the desire to speak, and listened, merely nodding a little in polite assent.

“This day,” said Thunder Moon, “I looked out from the lodge of my father and I saw the woman who lives in your tepee. I was troubled. In my home I have no woman. I never have looked after them. But we are in the hands of Tarawa. He guides us where he will, and what he wishes, he puts into our minds to do and to speak. I felt him touch me when I saw the maiden. He touched my heart and put words on my tongue. I said to my father, ‘There is the squaw of Thunder Moon.’ After that, I took ten horses and I brought them to the lodge of my father’s friend. For I said to myself that sometimes between friends a woman is given out of mere friendship, but never such a woman as this maiden. I left the horses at the lodge of my father’s friend. I hoped that he would accept them, and that he would come again leading the maiden and leave her at the entrance to my father’s tepee.

“But I was a fool, and a great fool, for I did not understand that what is greatly desired by the heart must be paid for from the heart. He who desires glory must risk his life for it. He who desires love must pay for it with sorrow.

“For a long time, I did not know what to do. That which we love is like a part of the flesh. We cannot think of doing without it. So I did not know what to do, but at last I had a great thought. It made me very sad, but also I saw that it must be accomplished before I could have the maiden. My friend, behold!”

Thunder Moon stepped back a little and threw out his hand with a gesture of much dignity, pointing to the stallion.

And Sailing Hawk, unmindful of the solemn occasion in which he had been included, playfully pricked his ears, and nibbled fearlessly at the hand of his master.

Now the judge looked more earnestly at the stallion. Hitherto, he had been wishing only one thing, which was that the strong voice of this young warrior might be lowered so that it would not reach the girl who, somewhere, surely was listening and drinking it all in. What devil had prompted this reclaimed Suhtai to act his play upon such an open stage?

But a sense of courtesy chained the judge. Much, he felt, was due to his own dignity, but still more was due to the conventions in which he had been raised.

He regarded the stallion now, more intently.

The animal was, in truth, the most glorious bit of horseflesh that the judge—an expert in such matters—ever had looked upon. He himself had bought beautiful horses, and he had raised them. But never before had he seen such an animal as this.

So the judge looked and looked again, and for a moment he forgot the foolish situation in which he stood; he forgot his anger at the colonel; he forgot the watching girl who was drinking in all these happenings.

“What a king of horses!” cried the judge. “What a grand fellow he is!”

“In all his life, he never has failed me,” said Thunder Moon solemnly. “When his mother foaled him I, Thunder Moon, riding the plains and watching, saw the colt and knew that he was great. It was known by the white star in his forehead and by the bigness of his bone and the goodness of his legs. And from his back to his belly there was also room for a good heart and strong lungs.

“Now this foal grew into a colt, and when the herd galloped, he ran in the lead, until the old mares threw their heels at him. And from a colt he grew into a horse. He was so filled with fire that when he was only two years old he met the greatest stallion in the herd and beat him, and he became the king of the herd from that day.

“I watched him. When he was three, Big Hard Face said, ‘Let him be ridden!’ But I watched and waited. I said that no man should ride him save me. I watched him, and when his fourth year was almost ended, one day I saw the herd running at full speed, and all the fastest stallions and the swiftest mares were working with their heads stretched straight before them and their tails whipped straight behind by the wind of their going. But in front of them ran this great horse. His tail was arched, and his head was high, and he looked carelessly from side to side as he galloped, and yet for all their straining they could not gain upon him. It seemed that the wind blew him forward.

“Have you seen a hawk with broad, still wings sail swiftly, even against the wind? So it was with him, and at that moment I shouted with all my might. He ran on as though he did not hear me, but I knew him, and I would not call again. Yet I began to grow a little angry, and to fear that he had become too proud from running unmastered so many years. However, all was well. He presently threw up his head, and came heading back for me. Then he ran indeed. The herd could not stay with him! He leaped away from them! They disappeared in his dust! So he rushed up to me. He stopped and put down his head and began to pretend to crop the grass carelessly, but all the time he was watching me from the corner of his eye to make sure that I had noticed his greatness.

“Truly, I was not blind. I stretched up my hands to Tarawa, and I gave him thanks for the horse and the friend he had sent to me!”

When Thunder Moon had said this, he made a pause and gathered himself in great composure for a moment, for his eye had begun to shine wildly. And even though he commanded himself with some difficulty, he could not wholly master his enthusiasm as he went on, “Since that day, I have hovered over all the prairies like a sailing hawk dropping from the sky on a victim, and then sweeping away again out of sight when pursuit was attempted. The warriors have praised me many times when the glory should have been to Sailing Hawk. For with a sound of the voice or a pressure of the knee he can be made to swerve, to turn, to halt, to leap onward again. With him beneath you, you think your way through danger. Where you would be, there you already are in an instant.

“I have said many things, O my friend, though I know that he who praises his horse is praising himself. But look on him for yourself, and you will see that all I have said is true!”

The judge stared enviously and hungrily upon the stallion. He was a round man, built to fill a most comfortable chair, and his weight staggered the beam of the scales to an amazing figure. When the rest of his neighbors, and even the ponderous Colonel Sutton, floated across the fences on their thoroughbreds, the poor judge was forced to labor in the rear upon some stiff-shouldered nag whose hot blood had grown cold. As a rule, therefore, he broke down more fences than he cleared, and he could not help knowing that he was more or less of a joke in the hunt.

Now, when he looked on the tall horse from the prairies, he had a dazzling mental image of his stalwart form blown forward against the wind and leading the hunt at a terrific pace, with a good double wrap taken upon the pulling jaw of the stallion.

To the judge it seemed, at the moment, that there was nothing in the world comparable with the beauty of this thought.

He turned to Thunder Moon with a sigh.

And the young man went on, “You have heard and you have seen, and I see that you believe what I have said. Now, O my friend, I give you this great horse. I separate myself from him. I thrust his spirit away from me—”

He was slightly interrupted in the midst of a dignified gesture, for the stallion caught at his beaded sleeve and held it mischievously in his teeth.

“I give him to you,” said Thunder Moon, increasing the volume of his voice as it became suddenly a little husky. “I give him to you,” he went on, his arm under the head of the big horse, “and in exchange, I ask you to remember that if your daughter comes to my lodge, she does not come to be the common squaw of a common warrior. The fleshing knife need not strain her hands, and the back of my woman shall not bend under heavy loads. I go, my friend. Take my horse and this thought into your heart and consider well!”

He laid the reins in the hand of the petrified judge, looked once full into the eyes of the horse and then turned and hurried away.

Behind him, as he walked down the drive, Standing Antelope turned his pony and followed his chief respectfully.

“Wait!” called the judge.

But his voice did not carry far.

“Wait!” cried the judge again, but this time Thunder Moon had turned the curve of the driveway, and a rising breeze drowned the call.

Mr. Keene looked helplessly around him, and now he saw in a lower window of the house the grave face of his daughter, who said, “It seems to be settled, father.”

“Settled? What is settled?” asked the judge, growing crimson.

“The exchange seems to be made,” said the girl.

“Hang it!” exclaimed the judge. “What exchange do you mean?”

“I don’t think you’ve done badly,” said Charlotte. “After all, I was bound to marry before very long. And, ordinarily, you wouldn’t have such a horse as that to fill my place in the house—in the stable—or at the hunt, you know.”

“Charlotte,” declared her father, “the fool of an Indian—”

“Indian?”

“He is. An infernal, wild, red Indian. My dear, what am I to do? Tom! George!”

Two grooms instantly appeared.

“Take this horse,” said the judge, “and get him back to the Sutton place as fast as you can. George, jump on his back and take him over. You can walk back across the fields. Hurry!”

Into the saddle went George.

The stallion did not seem to move violently; but though George was an expert rider, out of the saddle he sailed far more gracefully than he had swung into place. Out of the saddle he went and reached the lawn in a sitting posture with an audible thud.

“You ride like a fool,” said the judge. “You, there, Tom, get into the saddle and ride that horse home!”

Tom, setting his teeth, cautiously got into place. The same swift, soft move of the stallion followed, and Tom rose into the air with a screech like a skyrocket and landed with a louder yell.

The judge looked on in amazement. These two grooms rode as well as any men in the district.

“How did it happen?” he gasped.

“Big medicine,” suggested his daughter.

“I would have been murdered!” breathed the judge. “That last fall—it would have broken my back! Tom, if you can walk, you and George take the head of that ugly brute and lead him back.”

He turned his back resolutely on the stallion and stamped into the house, where he found his daughter.

“You were in here listening?” he asked savagely.

“Of course,” said smiling Charlotte.

“A lady—” began the judge hotly.

“Is always human,” said Charlotte. “And when one is being sold—”

“Charlotte! The ignorant, bland-faced ruffian!”

“I thought he was a glorious figure!” said she.

“Glorious, child? Glorious? A man who is fool enough to think that I would exchange my daughter for a horse and—”

“Not a horse,” interrupted Charlotte, shaking her head. “Not just a horse. He was offering you a part of his greatness. He was offering you half his glory. And, besides, I’ve an idea that he loves that horse about as well as most men love their wives. And—why shouldn’t there be some exchange?”

“Do you think I want a horse to help me take scalps?”

“Look at it from Thunder Moon’s viewpoint, not the viewpoint of a Keene or a Sutton.”

“Charlotte,” cried the judge, “I think that you want me to marry you to that man!”

“I don’t know,” said she. “But certainly it’s true that I’ve never seen a man before that I could think of marrying so easily!”

The judge recoiled in horror.

“Little fool!” he shouted. “Go to your room! Go to your room at once!”

Charlotte went. But even before she was upstairs, she was singing most cheerfully, and the judge, agape, listened to that cheerful voice as to a voice of doom.