"All the companies are doing it now. It's no risk for us. We'll get over two thousand dollars in commissions anyhow." But Hannah was not content. She went over every item and presently she came on Hartigan's five hundred, offered two to one.
"Humph!" she said, "does Belle know about this insurance business?"
"I don't know," said John uneasily.
"She ought to know."
"If she makes him withdraw, we lose our 5 per cent.," said John, knowing quite well that that would hit Hannah very hard.
"I don't care," said Hannah, "I'm going to tell her."
It gave Belle a decided shock. It also explained to her Jim's peculiar behaviour during the last two days. Here was where his horse mania was leading him. She was not deceived by the glib terms of "insurance," nor as to the certainty of scandal, but she did not know what to do. Her first impulse was to go direct to him; and yet, that would put her in the position of a spy with a charge of treachery. No, that would be stupid. It was such an assumption of mastery, and such an exposure of Hannah's business impropriety as well that she hesitated; then, in a flash, she said:
"Hannah, I have two hundred and fifty dollars of my chicken money in the bank; I was saving it for something very different. I'll take that 'insurance.' But not a word at present of who it was that took it. If you must give a name, say his insurance was taken up by 'Two Strikes.'" And in her heart she thought: "It is not my road; it is not a good road; but it is his road, and I'll take it till I bring him back."
CHAPTER XL
The Crow Band
Even far Montana heard the news, and, winding through the hills, there came one day a band of Crows from their reservation on the Big Horn. They came with only their light travelling tepees; and the intense dislike in which they are held by the Sioux and Cheyennes was shown in the fact that they camped far away in a group by themselves.
The Crows are noted for their beautiful lodges and their inveterate habit of horse stealing. They also have this unique fact on their record—that they have never been at war with the whites. They will steal a white man's horses fast enough, but they have never tried to take a white scalp. Their party consisted chiefly of men and a few surplus horses. But for the lodges and a few women, it might have passed for a war party.
The Crows are among the numerous claimants of the title "best horsemen in the world." If reckless riding in dangerous places without being thrown is good ground for the claim, then is the claim good; and it becomes yet stronger in view of the fact that most of their riding is barebacked. When they came to the Fort that day it was as though they were riding for their lives. They were but a score and were admitted without question. They paid their respects to Colonel Waller and then, after smoking, announced that they had money and goods to bet on the race. They were disappointed to find how much too late they were; everything was already up. So they rode away.
They did not go near the Sioux and Cheyenne camp; not that there was much danger of their suffering bodily harm, but they had been unmistakably informed that they were not welcome, though the action went no further than ignoring them. Next morning, when Blazing Star and Red Rover were doing their turn, there were no keener onlookers than the Crows. By look and grunted word they showed their appreciation of the noble brutes.
The Chief came to the Fort to find out if the Colonel would sell Blazing Star after the race.
"We give twenty horses," and he held up both hands twice.
"No."
"Three hands ponies," and they held up both hands spread three times.
"No, he is not for sale."
Late that day Red Cloud and Howling Bull came to Colonel Waller and, after preliminaries, conveyed the information and warning: "All Crows heap big thief. You watch him; he steal horse every time, heap no good."
The third of July came, and the plain looked like a city of tents. Many traders were there to open temporary stores; and it is doubtful if any single race in the Western world has attracted more people or created intenser interest. The Cheyennes gave a great dance in honour of the Sun. They invited all the Sioux to come, and the whites invited themselves. Belle and Jim were there and saw much to please and much to disgust them. The general impression was one of barbaric splendour, weird chanting, noisy tom-toms, and hypnotic pulsation. It was mostly repellent, but sometimes the rhythm stirred them, and provoked a response which showed that the wild musicians were playing on instincts and impulses that are as wide as humanity.
Most horsemen like to keep their training ground in some sort private; but the garrison had given up all attempts at that, so far as Blazing Star and Red Rover were concerned. Every one knew, every one was interested, and each day there was an eager crowd waiting to feast their eyes on the two splendid racers. And they were well worth it. Even Jim had to acknowledge that Blazing Star was looking better now than ever before.
"Look at that neck, Belle, see how it arches, see the clean limbs; isn't he trained to perfection? If I only—if——" then he stopped himself.
As he fondly watched the horse with glowing eyes, he said: "Of course, we don't know anything at all about where or how he was bred, but I should say that that is a blood Kentucky, nearly pure—Kentucky gold dust."
Among the spectators were the two Indian Chiefs in their warpaint—Red Cloud of the Sioux, and Howling Bull of the Cheyennes. They spoke little to each other, for neither knew the other's tongue; but they made little gestures of the sign language, and any keen observer knowing it could catch the ideo-signs: "Good, good; by and by; we see good race; brave, swift," and so on. Later: "Yes, after one sleep. Rain heap, yes."
Jim watched them closely. "See that, Belle? he says: 'To-morrow it rain heap,' I wonder how he knows. They call the Fourth of July the Big Wet Sunday, because it usually rains then. I wonder how it will affect the race."
"Jim, you said they had shod the buckskin cayuse in expectation of a wet track."
"Yes; that's a mystery; how can they tell? The air is full of rumours, anyway. Chamreau says that Red Cloud has been seeking everywhere for fast horses. He had a man go as far as Omaha and another to Denver. Some say he did pick up a racer, a half-blooded Kentucky—some that he had got a wonderful pinto cayuse from Cheyenne; this latter is the more persistent rumour, though Chamreau says he can't find any one who has actually seen one or the other. Anyhow, no one knows what their entry will be. We have a pretty good idea of ours"; and Hartigan smiled proudly.
The two chiefs, with their followers, conversed earnestly, and with much gesture. They looked and pointed at the Crow camp and the rain sign came in many times, and emphatically. The old feud between the Sioux and the Crows had broken out afresh in a trader's store. Two young men from the opposing camps had quarrelled. They had drawn their knives, and each had been wounded. These things were common talk, and Belle and Jim watched the two chiefs ride toward the Crow camp with an eager curiosity to know more about it. When the Red men were a mile away and within half a mile of the Crow village, they followed at a good pace and reached the tepees in the secluded corner in time to see the two visiting chiefs making an address mainly by signs, as they sat on their horses. Chamreau was there, and in answer to Jim's question translated Red Cloud's address to the Crows thus:
"You make bad medicine so we lose race, we kill you." Then, indicating Howling Bull, "He say, 'you make bad medicine, bring rain, I kill you.'"