Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 97: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Homesteaders whites. It had been a blood feud. Little Crow had told the Mdewakanton men that the medicine woman had done as a red man would do. The hand of a strong spirit had touched her head. She was as free to come and go in their villages as ever. But it was with great relief that the Sioux men realized she’ would seek no more vic- tims. No Indian would talk to the whites about the two killings, even to admit there had been any. Among themselves they praised One Ear’s bravery in knowingly gcing to his death. He had done great honor to his band. Twenty miles from the river Miss Martha came upon a camp-fire at sundown. She approached it, thinking it to bea red hunt- er’s camp. Her brows lifted in faint sur- prize as she beheld Papa Baptiste and Shanty Mose. The latter greeted her affa- bly. Baptiste bowed low and began edging away, his quick gaze darting to the blanket roll. Martha dismounted and told him in the Santee dialect: “T carry no bow and arrows. I look no more fcr Dakota or Chippewa. Stay by your fire, my friend, or I will go into the woods and camp alone.” “M’m’selle is most polite,’ muttered Baptiste with another low inclination. ‘‘But she may forget there is a bit of Chip- pewa on my grandmother’s side.” He spoke in English; she replied in the dialect: “All Chippewas are my friends. All Dakotas are my friends now. They say two Wahpekute men died by arrows. They say Man Who Crawls and One Ear have gone among the ghosts for what they did when I was a little child.” ‘“‘Name of a saint! You traced them down, m’m’selle? You followed back path through all the years? Nom de Dieul But there have been many times when old Baptiste was afraid m’m’selle would make a mistake.” “You knew and did not tell me,” she gently upbraided him. “Mais oui. But what would m’m’selle have? Papa Baptiste is an old man. He lives many years by holding his tongue. If the Dakota think he told m’m’selle his hair would be in the smoke.”” Then with a little shiver: “Even now the Dakota may think that. They know I knew.”’ 79 “Chetan Wakan Mani has heard my talk,” she rapidly assured him in dialect. “He knows a bottle of whisky told me. He says my medicine told me. It is all the same. Now I know you brought me away in your cart and saved me from the wolves. You will not run and hide again when the white medicine woman comes along.”’ ‘Alas, m’m’selle! All so sad. It was dark. Wolves were following each side of the trail. Papa did not fear them. When they can not run down game, yes; but not when the ground is bare. There comes the little cry of achild. Ah, that was very bad. Many times when I am awake in the woods I have heard it. All so sad. Now I will stay by the fire and cook and we will talk of tomorrow.” “Why in Tophet can’t you both jabber so’s I can understand?” peevishly com- plained Mose. “I’ve heard enough Injun talk to last me a lifetime. Got enough of it at Taylor’s Falls when the Chippewas would sneak down to tackle the Sioux. Got enough when the Winnebagoes would visit the camp and the squaws would wet their fingers and pinch out the candles and steal all the pork off the table before we could get lighted again. And always more’n enough from the Sioux. Made up my mind I’d never have anything todowith their cussed lingo.”’ “The Sioux would call you the Tall Talker,” Martha gravely informed him. “Tf you don’t like the Sioux why are you up here on the edge of their hunting grounds?” As she questioned him she opened her blanket roll and produced a large package of cooked meat and bread brought from Dickinson’s boarding house. “You were working for the Crays? Why did you leave them?”’ Mose’s face was gloomy as he tugged his side whiskers and explained: “Crays were all right. I like them a heap. But I couldn’t stand that mouthy Abner Page over to Fall’s. Every time I tried to talk he’d open his yap and just the same as call me a liar. And I don’t like open grass country anyway. “Baptiste is taking me to Robinson Jones’ place up in Acton Township. He thinks I can get work there. It’s a good timber country and small chance of me being pestered by darned fools like that Page feller. Where you bound for, Miss Martha?” CoMmiclhook< Wh) C© 5}