“What was that, old friend?”
“I don’t like to talk about it; but I married and settled down once, when beaver was high, and I had made a good pile by trappin’. My wife was a Delewar’ woman, and what ye mought call handsome. People didn’t call me Old Blaze then; but I was known as Ben Farrar—Mister Ben Farrar. Thar come along a tradin’ chap named Bob Riley, and he run off with my squaw afore I’d well got to know who he was. I mought hev got along well enough without the woman; but she kerried off my boy with her, and he was a powerful pert little chap. It went hard with me to lose him, and I follered up thar trail right sharp; but they went into the settlements, and I had to give it up. That busted up my settlin’, and I’ve been a tol’abul wild crittur ever sence.”
“Do you say that the trader reminds you of that man?”
“Kinder. The more I think of it, the more I see the favor. Ef he don’t keep out of my way, his looks may kill him yit. Wal, I must be gittin’ down to the village.”
CHAPTER XI.
NOT UNWHIPT OF JUSTICE.
Silas Wormley was as much astonished at his release as Old Blaze had been at receiving a similar favor. He had fully expected that the Indians would mete out to him the same fate that would have awaited Dove-eye if he had succeeded in exposing her imposture, and he saw no way to extricate himself from the dilemma.
When he was informed that he was released by the order of the Big Medicine, he had his guess at the truth of the matter, as the hunter had had his. He perceived that Dove-eye had outwitted him, and he felt a strong desire to “get even” with her. This desire was intensified when he was further informed that the Arapahoes, in accordance with the direction of the Big Medicine, had determined not to pay what they were owing him, considering his false accusations, a receipt in full for all indebtedness. This was touching him in the pocket; it was ruining him in business, and he resolved that the matter should not rest as Dove-eye had left it.
Making inquiries in the village, he learned all the particulars of the visit to the lodge of the Big Medicine. He wondered at the shrewdness of Dove-eye, no less than at the credulity of the Indians. He had received a practical, matter-of-fact education, and had been brought up with a contempt for witchcraft, ghost-seers, prophecies, and all that savored of the supernatural. It would have been as impossible to make him believe that the Big Medicine had been to the spirit-land and returned, as to convince him that the Arapahoes had cut his head off. He knew that Dove-eye had been deceiving the people, and he felt that both principal and interest (of the debts the Arapahoes owed him) required him to expose the imposture. He knew, also, that it would never do for him to make a second failure, as death would surely be the penalty for another unsuccessful attempt. Nevertheless, he was willing to run some risk. Although he would not wet his feet to save the life of a fellow-man, he would dive to recover his pocket-book.
Had the old medicine-man been alive and concealed all this time, and had the girl been acting only as his instrument in the deception, or had she some other confederate, who had personated the Big Medicine? It could not be that the old man was alive, for he had seen him lying in his grave. The trader had no doubt of this, although the body had been so cunningly spirited away, he had never seen the old man in life; but Bull-tail could not have wished to deceive him. The hair, the features and the dress of the body corresponded exactly with the descriptions of the Big Medicine, and he had noticed a medal lying on his breast, which he had frequently heard mentioned and described. Besides, if the body had not been that of the Big Medicine, Dove-eye would not have taken the trouble to remove it and put another in its place. She had another confederate, and who was he?