That Girl Montana. Ryan Marah Ellis

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СКАЧАТЬ the child had been dragged to the surface, and the rescuer was holding herself up by the slow efforts of one arm, but could make no progress with her burden.

      “That’s no squaw!” commented the other man, who had been looking through the glass.

      “Why, Dan!”

      “It’s no squaw, I tell you,” insisted the other, with the superior knowledge of a native. “Thought so the minute I saw her drop the shoes and jacket that way. She didn’t make a single Indian move. It’s a white woman!”

      “Queer place for a white woman, isn’t it?”

      The man called Dan did not answer. The canoe had reached that figure in the water and the squaw in it lifted the now senseless child and laid him in the bottom of the light craft.

      A slight altercation seemed going on between the woman in the water and the one in the boat. The former was protesting against being helped on board – the men could see that by their gestures. She finally gained her point, for the squaw seized the paddle and sent the boat shoreward with all the strength of her brown arms, while the one in the water held on to the canoe and was thus towed back, where half the Indian village had now swarmed to receive them.

      “She’s got sand and sense,” and Dan nodded his appreciation of the towing process; “for, chilled as she must be, the canoe would more than likely have turned over if she had tried to climb into it. Look at the pow-wow they are kicking up! That little red devil must count for big stakes with them.”

      “But the woman who swam after him. See! they try to stand her on her feet, but she can’t walk. There! she’s on the ground again. I’d give half my supper to know if she has killed herself with that ice-bath.”

      “Maybe you can eat all your supper and find out, too,” observed the other, with a shrug of his shoulders, and a quizzical glance at his companion, “unless even the glimpse of a petticoat has chased away your appetite. You had better take some advice from an old man, Max, and swear off approaching females in this country, for the specimens you’ll find here aren’t things to make you proud they’re human.”

      “An old man!” repeated Mr. Lyster with a smile of derision. “You must be pretty near twenty-eight years old – aren’t you, Dan? and just about five years older than myself. And what airs you do assume in consequence! With all the weight of those years,” he added, slowly, “I doubt, Mr. Dan Overton, if you have really lived as much as I have.”

      One glance of the dark eyes was turned on the speaker for an instant, and then the old felt hat again shaded them as he continued watching the group on the far shore. The swimmer had been picked up by a stalwart Indian woman, and was carried bodily up to one of the lodges, while another squaw – evidently the mother – carried the little redskin who had caused all the commotion.

      “I suppose, by living, you mean the life of settlements – or, to condense the question still more, the life of cities,” continued Overton, stretching himself lazily on the bank. “You mean the life of a certain set in one certain city – New York, for instance,” and he grinned at the expression of impatience on the face of the other. “Yes, I reckon New York is about the one, and a certain part of the town to live in. A certain gang of partners, who have a certain man to make their clothes and boots and hats, and stamp his name on the inside of them, so that other folks can see, when you take off your coat, or your hat, or your gloves, that they were made at just the right place. This makes you a man worth knowing – isn’t that about the idea? And in the afternoon, at just about the right hour, you rig yourself out in a certain cut of coat, and stroll for an hour or so on a certain street! In the evening – if a man wants to understand just what it is to live – he must get into other clothes and drop into the theater, making a point of being introduced to any heavy swell within reach, so you can speak of it afterward, you know. Just as your chums like to say they had a supper with a pretty actress, after the curtain went down; but they don’t go into details, and own up that the ’actress’ maybe never did anything on a stage but walk on in armor and carry a banner. Oh, scowl if you want to! Of course it sounds shoddy when a trapper outlines it; but it doesn’t seem shoddy to the people who live like that. Then, about the time that all good girls are asleep, it is just the hour for a supper to be ordered, at just the right place for the wine to be good, and the dishes served in A1 shape, with a convenient waiter who knows how dim to make the lights, and how to efface himself, and let you wait on your ’lady’ with your own hands. And she’ll go home wearing a ring of yours – two, if you have them; and you’ll wake up at noon next day, and think what a jolly time you had, but with your head so muddled that you can’t remember where it was you were to meet her the next night, or whether it was the next night that her husband was to be home, and she couldn’t see you at all.” Overton rolled over on his face and grunted disdainfully, saying: “That’s about the style of thing you call living, don’t you, sonny?”

      “Great Scott, Dan!” and the “sonny” addressed stared at him in perplexity, “one never knows what to expect of you. Of course there is some truth in the sketch you make; but – but I thought you had never ranged to the East?”

      “Did you? Well, I don’t look as if I’d ever ranged beyond the timber, do I?” and he stretched out his long legs with their shabby coverings, and stuck his fingers through a hole in his hat. “This outfit doesn’t look as if the hands of a Broadway tailor had ever touched it. But, my boy, the sketch you speak of would be just as true to life among a certain set in any large city of the States; only in the West, or even in the South, those ambitious sports would know enough to buy a horse on their own judgment, if they wanted to ride. Or would bet on the races without hustling around to find some played-out jockey who would give them tips.”

      “Well, to say the least, your opinion is not very flattering to us,” remarked the young man, moodily. “You’ve got some grudge against the East, I guess.”

      “Grudge? Not any. And you’re all right, Max. You will find thousands willing to keep to your idea of life, so we won’t split on that wedge. My old stepdad would chime in with you if he were here. He prates about civilization and Eastern culture till I get weary sometimes. Culture! Wait till you see him. He’s all right in his way, of course; but as I cut loose from home when only fifteen, and never ran across the old man again until two years ago – well, you see, I can make my estimates in that direction without being biased by family feeling. And I reckon he does the same thing. I don’t know what to expect when I go back this time; but, from signs around camp when I left, I wouldn’t be surprised if he presented me with a stepmother on my return.”

      “A stepmother? Whew!” whistled the other. “Well, that shows there are some white women in your region, anyway.”

      “Oh, yes, we have several. This particular one is a Pennsylvania product; talks through her nose, and eats with her knife, and will maybe try to make eyes at you and keep you in practice. But she is a good, square woman; simply one of the many specimens that drift out here. Came up from Helena with the ’boom,’ and started a milliner store – a milliner store in the bush, mind you! But after the Indians had bought all the bright feathers and artificial flowers, she changed her sign, and keeps an eating-house now. It is the high-toned corner of the camp. She can cook some; and I reckon that’s what catches the old man.”

      “Any more interesting specimens like that?”

      “Not like that,” returned Overton; “but there are some more.”

      Then he arose, and stood listening to sounds back in the wild forests.

      “I hear the ’cayuse’ bell,” he remarked; “so the others are coming. We’ll go back up to the camp, and, after ’chuck,’ we’ll go over and give you a nearer view of the tribe on the other shore, if you СКАЧАТЬ