Chapter III: Cats, Traps, and Indians

The steady life of a trapper had become regular diet to Jack, as day after day he visited old traps, set out new ones and explored territory farther away from the cabin. The Indians were daily visitors whether he was in camp or not, but they never molested anything, no matter how curious or hungry. They were seemingly good humored, even though there appeared an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The first episode to put him on his guard was when one of the Utes, Bennett, hid behind a tree near the camp fire outside the cabin. Yamanatz was there in his customary place, squatted upon the ground. A strange dog ran in and out of the place and Jack inquired of the old Ute how the dog happened to be there. Yamanatz, unconcerned, replied, "Me dunno." This puzzled Jack, but he went about his cooking, carefully watching the trees and rocks. He felt for the first time a species of alarm. Again he inquired, "Ute dog, mebbe so?"

"Me dunno."

Jack knew no white man would go along that trail at that time of year without stopping to say "How!" In fact, there was no white man within forty miles, except old Joe Riggs, and old Joe would be there with the dog if the dog was Joe's. The suspense had a sudden termination as the muzzle of a rifle "mirrored" in the sunlight, just the tip of the muzzle being thus accidentally disclosed. Quick as a flash Jack pulled his six shooter, cocked it and held it level at the tree where the bright steel was in full view. Yamanatz made neither sign nor comment, but Jack felt that the cunning old chief was fully aware of all that was going on. Very soon the edge of a woolen turban cap appeared opposite the rifle muzzle, then an ear, then a little of the chin and finally the eye of Bennett looked straight into Jack's six shooter. With a bound the joker jumped from behind the tree and, with a laugh which could have been heard a mile, and in which Yamanatz joined, came forward, palms outward, signifying peace, exclaiming, "White man no 'fraid; heap big joke, heap big joke."

But Jack began to feel that these jokes might end in something serious, especially if he showed the white feather in the least.

The next day he returned from the traps just as the last streaks of sunlight were tipping the tops of the canon where Rock Creek dashed by the cabin. Yamanatz sat by the cold camp fire in the same place and same position in which Jack had left him after breakfast, six hours before. Of course, Jack was surprised at this and wondered what it meant. As Jack swung into the open space Yamanatz immediately arose with hands outstretched, the palms well up towards the comer, accompanying the action with this eager outburst:

"Yamanatz heap glad to see white man Jack; Colorow come. White man gone. Colorow heap mad, want to see white man. Me tell 'em white man gone, Colorow follow white man; byme by Antelope come look for Colorow; Antelope go back Indian village by Pony Creek. Antelope tell Utes Colorow mean mischief; Colorow's boy come byme by look for Colorow; when Yamanatz tell Colorow's boy 'Colorow follow white man,' Colorow's boy heap 'fraid, say: 'Mebbe so Colorow meet 'em white man Jack.' Then Colorow's boy go Indian village. Sun low--Chiquita come, no find white man, go back Indian village, mebbe so white man see Colorow?"

Jack, of course, was nervous. Alone in a wild country that was alive with wild game, ravenous wolves, mountain lions, bears and hostile Indians, he realized what a novice, a tenderfoot, a fool he was, or would be, to put his ignorance of frontier life against the cunning of the old chiefs, but he answered quickly,

"Me no see Colorow." Then taking courage by the kindly look in Yamanatz's eyes, Jack said slowly, taking Yamanatz's hands in his own.

"Mebbe so Colorow want to kill white man Jack?"

Yamanatz shrugged his shoulders but made no answer and Jack continued.

"If Colorow meet white man, Colorow got no bullets--got knife--suppose white man kill Colorow, will Utes kill white man?"

Yamanatz evaded the question but made the reply: "Colorow heap bad Indian, mebbe so make heap trouble. Utes 'fraid Colorow--big chief 'fraid Colorow. White man mebbe so kill Colorow, no tell what 'em happen. Old Utes not much care. Antelope, Bennett, Douglas, Washington. Mebbe so heap mad, kill all white men if white man Jack kill Colorow."

In this honest avowal Jack found little comfort, but Yamanatz's next words gave him a hope that all might be well.

"Utes got no lead, no powder, no deer meat. Mebbe so Colorow take many ponies, go Sulphur Springs, get 'em bullets, bacon, flour, then be good Injun till all gone."

In this logic of plenty to eat lay the safety of the white trappers for that winter, so Jack prayed fervently for the early departure of the Indians for Sulphur Springs to the end of his own personal safety. He knew now that certain sign language the Utes had so often indulged in represented Agent Meeker in his attempts to teach the Indians how to plow; that bits of tragic, practical joking were tests of his own bravery, and that the uneasy red devils but waited opportunity and excuse for an uprising, after they should obtain the necessary munitions of war, of which they had none.

Chiquita grew more and more interested in the ways of the pale face with each visit, and Jack found her waiting for his return oftener, even following him portions of the route in his attentions to the traps. Her desire for knowledge seemed to him incomprehensible and old Yamanatz was equally at a loss to understand why his daughter should prefer to hear about her white sisters' habits and what they did, rather than matters of more moment. When she finally told Yamanatz her desire to do wonderful things, such as building a big "medicine tepee" with lots of Indian maidens in "medicine clothes" to care for the sick, the aged and infirm, the old chief's face gladdened and his actions spoke louder than words, so that Jack knew it was safe to humor them both in their dream.

Within a few days Yamanatz sprung a joke on Jack that left Bennett's fun hanging high and dry on the trees. Chiquita had arrayed herself in more gorgeous raiment than had been recorded of a society debutante in Indian stories--beaded cape, waist, shirt, leggings, and moccasins; medals of gold, silver and pewter; ornaments of brass, tin and iron; necklaces of elk teeth and grizzly claws; hair decorations of lion skin, beaver and otter fur, and in her hand a rawhide shield just dazzling with highly polished brass knobs. Her bright eyes fairly danced with joy as she posed before Jack in her "Sunday best." Yamanatz watched her with that same benevolent kindness which characterized him above other Utes. After the usual salutations, the old chief took a leather bag from the saddle and opened it, turning its contents upon Jack's best dish towel, which happened to be near. To say that Jack's heart jumped is drawing it very mild. The contents of the bag were gold nuggets from the size of a mustard seed to a navy bean and there was at least a quart.

Yamanatz saw the sparkle in Jack's eyes and laconically remarked, "Sabe?"

"Heap big gold mine somewhere?" asked Jack,

To which question Yamanatz made two replies--"Me dunno; mebbe so."

Jack waited for him to continue, wondering what reason the two Utes had for appearing as they did, one in royal raiment, the other with a good sized ransom, for Jack estimated that there was twenty pounds of pure gold worth twenty dollars an ounce, or in all nearly five thousand dollars.

"Does the white man sabe?" again inquired Yamanatz.

"Me no sabe, no sabe," Jack shook his head.

Chiquita now spoke up. "Does the white man sabe, what you call 'em when white sister learn A, B, C?"

"School?"

Chiquita shook her head.

"College?" asked Jack.

This time she nodded her head and pointed to the gold. "How much cost Chiquita in college?"

It dawned on him that Chiquita wanted to go to college and that Yamanatz would furnish the necessary money to defray the expenses. Visions of a red savage in full forest costume ascending the steps of a great university or college was too much for Jack and he had to laugh, much to the disgust of his friends, but he quickly restored good faith.

Yamanatz put his finger to his tongue, indicating that he did not lie. "Yamanatz's tongue not split, no lie. Yamanatz show white man Jack heap big pile gold, some for Jack, some for Chiquita. White man take Chiquita, do as Chiquita say."

Jack was puzzled; he thought they were bargaining in a matrimonial deal, and he saw a little brown-eyed girl back East peering through the camp fire at him.

Chiquita, however, came to his rescue. "Yamanatz has said it. White man take Chiquita college. Chiquita learn, heap study, make Chiquita like white sister. Yamanatz show Jack heap big mine, lots gold, some for Jack; some for Chiquita."

As he at last comprehended this great undertaking--the stupendous task of educating a blanket Indian girl in a modern college of refined Caucasians--Jack was dismayed, even more so than the matrimonial possibility had suggested, for he could get out of that, but here was a poser. Perhaps the colleges would draw the line on Indians as some institutions did on negroes. As he made no answer Chiquita continued.

"How many moons take Chiquita college?"

Jack answered slowly, "Take Chiquita four snows little A, B, C's, two snows big A, B, C's, four snows college."

Both Yamanatz and Chiquita understood, and Chiquita replied, "Ten snows Chiquita like white sister, know heap?"

Jack nodded "Yes," but in his heart he did not believe she would in a hundred years be any more than a half-educated savage, under the most rigid masters.

Yamanatz then spoke up. "How much gold Jack want make Chiquita like white sister?"

Jack made a rough estimate and ventured at a thousand dollars a year, "Twelve thousand dollars."

Yamanatz could not understand so much money in American coin, so he talked with Chiquita, then pointed at the pile of gold nuggets.

Jack held up three fingers, meaning three times as much to make sure. Yamanatz looked scornfully at the three fingers, then pointed at the big grain bag in which Jack had his sugar, saying, "Yamanatz show Jack where get a big bag full. Some for Jack and some for Chiquita, if Jack promise Yamanatz take Chiquita"--but Chiquita had to supply the word "college."

Jack pondered a long time while the would-be college girl and her father watched his ever varying expression as he thought, "How can it be done?" He finally agreed to make the attempt and replied: "Jack will take Chiquita to the A, B, C school, then a little bigger school, then college. He will see Chiquita become a great queen if Yamanatz so speaks."

"It shall be so. Yamanatz will show Jack a big cave of gold where the sun goes down. Blazing-Eye-By-The-Big-Water, heaps of gold, and Yamanatz will give it half to Jack, half to Chiquita and Chiquita shall be a big queen." Then they both smoked the pipe of tobacco pledging each in their mission.

Afterwards the more detailed plan was arranged. Yamanatz indicated that in the early spring they would start for the cave of gold, which he explained was in a great sun-burned valley where no life existed except snakes and scorpions; furthermore, that the trip to the cave was one of deadly peril and hardships.

"The Great Manitou gave to the Utes this cave of gold. Many big chief go to the land of the setting sun and bring back plenty gold. Yamanatz the last chief who can show Jack, and when Yamanatz go to the Happy Hunting Ground the big cave is all for Jack and Chiquita."

Solemnly he outlined all the details for the undertaking. As they finished, Yamanatz gathered up the gold nuggets and handed the bag to Jack, saying, "This is for white man--Yamanatz has more."

Jack hid the gold in his war bag, after the chief and his gorgeously arrayed daughter had gone, then he pondered long over the unexpected mission upon which he found himself launched and his dreams were full of colleges, gold mines and savages being educated.

It was nearing Christmas time and the snow was deep on the mountain side. The warm sun penetrated the canons but a few hours each day. Chiquita had become a daily visitor to the camp fire, near which she would sit and listen to Jack as he told of the wonders of the civilized world. Chiquita knew many English words of common usage and Jack knew as many Mexican, or rather a mixture of Spanish, Mexican and Indian, which, with the sign language, did service in these conversations. "Tell Chiquita how many sleeps Rock Creek to Denver City."

"Six sleeps," was the reply of Jack, meaning it was a six days' ride on horseback.

"Sabe usted the great white chief at Washington City?" was the next query, meaning the President of the United States.

"Me sabe."

"Tell Chiquita how many sleeps on the cars Washington City from Denver City."

"Five sleeps on the cars Denver City to Washington City."

Jack happened to have in his kit a railroad map of the United States and with this spread before them on a blanket, he would point out Rock Creek and then explain the distances from one place to another, telling of the great buildings, the industries, the immense amount of fuel used in the big shops and the number of men employed in making guns, wagons, saddles, harness, boots, blankets and the like, articles that appeared in the camp and which were in everyday use at the White River Agency. This was a very arduous but pleasing task, in that it required all of Jack's ingenuity to portray the information intelligently, and frequently Chiquita would be the instructor because of her better ability, as a child of the forest, to convey thought by means of signs and comparative objects. He taught her the alphabet, also words of one and two syllables, and she showed how wonderful is the Indian mind in its retention of the slightest impression when the will power to receive it is acquiescent.

"Tell Chiquita, does the white man's squaw carry the wood for the fire so the warrior can cook his venison?"

"No," said Jack, laughing, "the warrior of the white man is the soldier at the fort."

Chiquita interrupted quickly, a deep scowl causing her inky black eyebrows to meet over her flashing eyes, and with her head thrown back, displaying the full, rounded throat, her beautiful arm bared save for the wide beaded bracelets and amulets, she pointed to the sky, almost hissing through her marvelously white teeth, "Chiquita comprehends, the warrior of the white man is the hired pale face, sent by the Great White Chief at Washington City to slay my people; even now mebbe so the hired man rides to take Chiquita back to the White River; but her people are brave. Her people were as the stars above, as the drops that make the big river, but they are gone to the Great Spirit, where their ponies await their coming in the Happy Hunting Ground that the pale face knows not of, and to where the spirit of Chiquita will some day fly. Let the white man Jack beware. It is well for him that Yamanatz is his friend, and Chiquita will see that no harm comes to the friend of Yamanatz. Mebbe so Colorow is no friend of the white man Jack, but Colorow has no bullets. The gun of Colorow is empty, but the knife in the belt of Colorow is pointed. It is sharp and the arm of Colorow is as the young tree, and his step is as the step of the fawn when the dew is on the grass. Let the white man Jack beware. Colorow will come to tell the white man to go to the land which was taken from Colorow's people; that this is the Utes' land and that the Utes will no more let the white man hunt the deer and trap the wolf, which run by the tepee of the red man. So let the white man Jack be cunning and let not Colorow find the white man asleep under the big tree."

She was all excitement. The cords stood out upon her graceful throat, while her rounded cheeks crimsoned as the frosted leaf in the autumn time. Jack was spellbound as the words of that eloquent warning fell upon his ears, but at the last subdued, almost beseeching plea, he started as if the knife was already at his throat, for it was but yesterday, in the warm sunshine far beyond the snowy range, at noon time, he had taken a short nap under a big pine tree, where a bed of pine needles made an inviting spot, little dreaming that a living being, much less an Indian, was within five miles of him. Chiquita guessed his thoughts, and in that musical tone found only among the old blanket Indian tribes, told Jack how she followed him and Colorow from the camp on Rock Creek, fearing all the while that that cunning war chief would slay the young man from the east and upset all plans of Chiquita becoming a medicine tepee queen.

Chiquita knew that Colorow, of all the discontented Utes on Rock Creek, desired especially to be rid of Jack's presence. That the old warrior had a grudge against the trapper was evident, and the trapper's departure, leaving Jack alone to attend to the traps, was to her mind clear proof that Colorow had been instrumental in causing the departure.

She had heard the leaders of the renegade band denounce all trappers who sought the region contiguous to the White River reservation, and in particular the trapper who had built the cabin on Rock Creek. She knew that this trapper had the winter before wantonly killed seventy-six elk, which he had stumbled upon in a little willow grown park where the deep snow had stalled them, and that he did not kill any more because his ammunition had given out. She knew that the Utes, as well as the white settlers, had in unmeasured terms condemned this wanton slaying of so much game, but she did not think this episode was the cause of Colorow's animosity. There was but one reason that sufficed in her opinion. She believed Colorow had told the trapper to abandon the camp under penalty of death if he remained, and she reasoned that the trapper went alone because he had been ashamed to tell Jack the truth. Consequently Jack would be the next to go, and as she already knew that Colorow had openly declared his intention of driving the young paleface away, she determined to watch that cunning Ute every day and give him no opportunity for any hostile movement against Jack.

The gray dawn of the day referred to in her impassioned warning found Chiquita swiftly and silently making her way toward the Rock Creek cabin, where she took up a position commanding a view of the camp and the trails leading to it.

The first rays of the sun were just tipping the snow on the high mountain peaks when Jack came from the cabin and proceeded to get his breakfast over the camp fire. As Chiquita watched him she was tempted many times to make her presence known, for the savory viands made her "heap hungry," but at last Jack started up the gulch on his rounds to the traps. Chiquita knew that Colorow would put in an early appearance, expecting to find Jack at the cabin, so she waited patiently. It was not long before she heard the plaintive call of a camp bird mewing for something to eat, and she mimicked it, saying to herself, "camp bird and Colorow all same." She carefully screened herself in the willows and saw Colorow suddenly dart from one big tree to another, then creep to a big rock, wait a moment and glide along until he was close to the cabin. He waited some time, evidently reading by the signs of the smoldering fire that the object of his visit had made an early start. Seeing this, he boldly walked out and picked up the coffee pot. As it was empty he threw it spitefully down into the ashes and looked for a piece of bread. Being disappointed in this also he made a big fuss of brandishing his knife, executing a few steps as though he had discovered an enemy and in pantomime had slain and scalped him. During this time he kept up a continual jargon of curses and imprecations.

Finally he drew back the blanket which constituted the "door" of the cabin and peered in. Satisfied with his observations, he carefully scanned the trail leading up the gulch, and seeing the fresh made tracks, set out rapidly after Jack.

Chiquita followed, darting along from one side of the trail to the other or diverging obliquely across portions of the territory which she knew Jack had to traverse in order to examine the traps, knowing Colorow would ultimately appear.

The sun had reached the meridian when she noted the Indian standing under a big tree watching intently something not far distant from him. Pretty soon she saw a thin spiral of white smoke gradually becoming more dense as if from burning damp wood, and occasionally she could hear the crackle of the flames. She knew Jack was busy getting a little lunch. She scented the bacon as he toasted it before the fire and again she felt that ravenous gnawing which now was doubly aggravating.

The cooking evidently made Colorow furious, for he vanished into some brush and made noises as of a wolf growling with hunger just as he prepares to tear at a bone. Then the Indian disappeared down the ever handy gulch to watch Jack in his effort to find the wolf.

Jack proceeded to investigate, and, with gun ready, he entered the brush, but there were so many signs of wolf tracks, fresh ones, too, that he was at a loss to understand where they could so suddenly have disappeared.

As he slowly returned to his lunch camp--a spot free from snow in a little pine grove where the sun shone bright and warm--he passed very near where Chiquita was hiding, and then discovered a moccasin track, which he examined critically. He knew the track had been made since sunrise, but could not tell whether before or after he started to make his little camp fire. He carefully set his big boot alongside the footprint, making a deep impression in the earth. He also deposited the end of one of his rifle bullets in the moccasin track, feeling sure that the owner of the moccasin was sure to discover the significance thereof. Colorow saw the action from his hiding place, but well knew that a hunting knife was of little avail against a fearless man protected by a rifle, six-shooter and belt full of ammunition.

Jack looked at the sun, then at Rock Creek a long way off, and sat down to smoke a pipeful of tobacco. The pleasing, soothing narcotic made him drowsy and he fell asleep.

Colorow made a circle around the camp and in doing so discovered the trail which Jack had made on previous trips from the little grove. This led toward a big gulch which was divided at the lower portion by a steep ridge. Colorow took the one showing the most usage and ambushed himself in a thicket close to Pony Creek, at a point convenient to a spot where Jack would be obliged to pass within leap of the hidden foe. Here he waited.

Chiquita watched Colorow disappear down the gulch and divined his purpose, then returned to see Jack as he awakened and witness his surprise at having so forgotten his prudence.

Picking up his rifle and skins Jack started swiftly down the gulch, intending to follow the one selected by Colorow, as he had some venison protected by two big traps and was certain to get at least a bobcat there.

But at the last moment he changed his mind or neglected to watch the trail and entered the left-hand gulch.

It was getting late when he discovered his error, but decided not to retrace his steps, and the ridge was too precipitous to climb at that point.

Chiquita followed Jack to Pony Creek and on down to where it joined Rock Creek. Then Jack went to his cabin and Chiquita to the Indian village, where she later saw Colorow come in, baffled in his mission, at least for the time being.

Jack now thoroughly realized the dangerous position in which he was placed and made up his mind to protect himself very carefully against any mishap. He knew that Colorow would not dare to attack him openly, and that safety depended on constantly guarding against all chance of surprise.

"Jack is heap glad to hear Chiquita tell of how she watches for the white man's safety. Does Chiquita sabe?" said Jack in a half apologetic manner, speaking abstractedly and not knowing what was best to say under the circumstances. His mind was taken up with the uncertainties of "good Indians." He wanted to trust Yamanatz and Chiquita, but did not know how far either one would dare to go in their evident desire to protect him. His recent talk with Yamanatz, of less than a week before, was pictured vividly in Chiquita's story of her long day's tramp and vigil over him, and he knew that if Colorow made any attempt at his life in the presence of either Chiquita or Yamanatz, they might resist, but even their resistance would possibly be unavailing.

Making an early start on the day following to go the reversed route of the trip during which he had taken the nap Chiquita had so graphically described, Jack found himself in the gulch where the venison lay and a couple of bobcats in the traps near the carcasses. Killing and skinning these took some time, and with the heavy pelts added to a haunch of deer meat, Jack found it no easy task to climb to the top of the snowy ridge, down which he must go in order to reach camp. The frozen, well-worn trail he must reach before darkness set in, but despite his most desperate exertion it was some time after daylight had departed that he reached the long stretch of white covered slope. Not a trail could he find--not a welcome footprint to guide him over the deep ravines filled with snow, or away from precipitous rocks where a misstep would land him far below. There was but one course to take--straight down the mountain side. Throwing away caution, he started on a swift swinging trot, each foot breaking the crust of snow beneath him. Arriving at the edge of a ravine, which appeared only smooth snow, he went into it up to his waist; then, thoroughly alarmed, he struggled deeper into the ravine until the snow was up to his armpits. His revolver was lost and wolves were already giving tongue to dismal howls as the air carried to their nostrils the scent of the venison to which Jack clung.

His unequal combat with the yielding snow gradually exhausted his strength and, growing each moment weaker, tired nature finally succumbed, and he fell unconscious. But the cold air quickly revived him. Nearer and nearer came those dreadful deep-mouthed tongue signals, augmented by additional ones from new directions and made still more heartbreaking by the yippy-yappy of a bunch of coyotes which also joined the big timber wolves. The six-shooter was found first, then Jack used a little reason. Taking off his coat and placing the furs and coat as a support on the snow, he rolled over and over until his foot struck solid earth. Then gathering his furs and leg of venison, he more carefully descended, his enemies keeping at a safe distance, for in America wild animals of any sort rarely attack man when not molested, even in the dead of winter.

Slipping and sliding, he at last reached camp, only to find both feet badly frozen at the heels and toes. As he cut his boots off and plunged his extremities into the cold water a whole lot of adventure went out of his heart with the frost.