A brief silence followed. It was broken at last by the Agent again. 149
“Getting on with the logs?” he said.
“Yes. We’re fixin’ a big corral right round the farm.”
It was Rube who explained; and the old man glanced from Seth with a comprehensive survey of the proposed enclosure.
“By the way,” said Mr. Hargreaves, “I shouldn’t let Rosebud come to the Mission on Sunday. I shan’t be there, but Jackson from Pine Ridge will hold the service. You see, there’s—well——” The churchman broke off, and turned appealingly to the Agent.
“The fact is,” Parker said, in his quick, abrupt manner, “Jim Crow and some of the other boys have warned me that these red heathens are ‘making med’cine.’ I don’t know what it means—yet. I wish to goodness the troops were nearer.”
The Agent’s hard face was very set. His final wish was the key-note of his life. His was truly an unsmiling existence.
“So you’re jest goin’ in to sound the warnin’,” observed Seth. The other nodded.
“I’d like to cancel Little Black Fox’s pass on Monday,” Parker went on, “but it would be a bad policy. Anyway, if he goes out for a month the others will likely keep quiet until he comes back, unless of course this pass of his has another meaning. I shall have him tracked. But—well, we’d best get on. I should give some slight word of this to the Rankin people and old Joe Smith, north of you, and 150 any one else you have time to—I mean the men-folk. You know, the usual thing, pass it on.”
After a few more remarks the buckboard drove off and Rube and Seth returned to their work. The silence between them was broken at last by Rube.