It was well they did so, for an hour later nothing remained of the ranch but a heap of smoking embers. A hundred angry red men had swept back over the hill—swift to avenge the madness of old Medicine Crow.
The old man was not killed, he lived for more than a year after the wound, but he was never quite himself and when he died Howling Wolf made a solemn declaration of war against the white cattlemen and could not be convinced that the cowboys meant merely to frighten and not to kill his brother. He lived in the hope of some time meeting those men. No one had seen them but David Big Nose, who had been to the white settlement that day, had met the fugitives, and was able to describe them very well and every word of his description burned itself into Howling Wolf’s memory. Thereafter on all his excursions among the whites his eyes were ever seeking, his ears ever listening. He never for an instant lost hope of revenge.
He withdrew from all friendly association with the whites. He was sullen, difficult to deal with and in the end became a powerful influence in checking the progress of the Shi-an-nay along the white man’s road. The agent took little pains to help him clear away his doubts and hates, and so it was that Claude, the interpreter, ended by saying, “and so Howling Wolf no send children to school—no take it rations, and never comes to agency—never.”
Captain Cook sat down and wrote a telegram to the agent of the Sho-sho-nee, saying, “Fifteen of my people are gone without leave to visit the Messiah. If they come into your reservation arrest them and send them back at once.”
Some days later the Wind River agent replied: “Eleven of your Indians came in here—I’ve sent them home. Four went round me to the west. Probably they have gone into the Twin Lake Country, where the Messiah is said to be.”
Some weeks later Big Bear, the policeman, came in with the second announcement, “Howling Wolf come.”
“You tell Howling Wolf I want to see him,” said Cook. “Tell him I want to talk with him, say to him I am his friend and that I want to talk things over.”
Two days later, as he sat at his desk in his inner office, the captain heard the door open and close, and when he looked up, a tall, handsome but very sullen red man was looking down upon him.
“How!” called Cook, pleasantly, extending his hand.
The visitor remained as motionless as a bronze statue of hate, his arms folded, his figure menacing. His eyes seemed to search the soul of the man before him.