Reel Life (Sep 1913 - Mar 1914)

8 Rml Life room, sir." "Where in thunder — '' The orderly held out his hand. "Cartridges ! Hunting again — against my orders ! The young scamp must have got over the stockade." The colonel took his hat and stalked out to the parade ground. Sheriff Blake met him, saluting. "I told you how it would be, Colonel. The Indian hasn't shown up." They went up on the wall of the fort, and scanned the northwest through a spy glass. The figure of Tall Pine was nowhere discernible. A gnawing fear grew in the colonel's heart — neither did the glass reveal any trace of the boy, Cyril. Meanwhile, the colonel's son was bracing every ounce of resistance in his wiry little body against the door of a deserted cabin in the chaparral. A bear — whose mate lay dead of the youngster's rifle — was scratching and pawing at the other side of the door. In a moment of failing strength, the door opened a broad crack — and a great, hairy member was thrust in. It came within three inches of ihis shoulder — Cyril screamed with fright — and at the same instant lost hold. ,The door swung back — the next moment, he was cornered — at bay — fighting desparately — Then — a tall Indian sprang over the door sill, swinging his club. A resounding blow — and the great, dark mass, crushing down upon the boy, staggered backward — and fell. The cabin reeled about him — as Cyril dropped, senseless, to the floor. A gentle shake brought him to. Tall Pine knew a word or two of the white man's tongue. "Your tepee, Yellow Eyes?" "Fort Ogden — the colonel — my father" — and he swooned again. Tall Pine lifted him on his shoulder, and strode out of the hut. An hour later — in the hospital at the fort — Colonel Bruce was kneeling, with the doctor, by the cot where his son lay. Tall Pine was standing outside, in the custody of the sheriff. "They're bear scratches," said the doctor, "luckily, not deep. I reckon, he's learned a lesson." He chuckled softly. "Where is Tall Pine?" Cyril spoke feebly. "He thinks you are going to shoot him, Dad. Wihy, you can't do that — I'd have been killed, if he hadn't come." "Sheriff! — Yes, leave him there — and come over here, won't you?" Blake came — the colonel pointed dumbly to the boy. "He killed a worthless cuss — but — but — " "He saved your son's life." The rest was spoken in a strong grip of hands. The Colonel strode to the door. "Tall Pine!" The Indian followed him in. The doctor had finished his bathing and bandaging. Cyril lay, rather weak — a little shamefaced — trying to swagger it off like a soldier and a gen'Jeman. The sheriff spoke: "Tall Pine — that shooting yesterday was done in self defence. The law finds you a free man." Free! — the Navajo knew that word. His sombre face flooded with swift thanksgiving. The colonel and the sheriff grasped him by the hand. Then the boy reached out a rather shaky paw — though he strove to speak lustily. "I say — what rot that was about my father shooting you ! A fellow what can handle a bear the way you can — " It was high noon when Tall Pine entered the village. They hailed him as one restored from the dead. It was marvelous — the medicine of Tall Pine! He had. won a victory greater than over the Moqui — that selfsame hour he was made chieftain. Today he sits at the head of his tribesmen, for H?art-of-the-Storm has gone to the Land of the Shadows — and on the midnight of his going, he laid his robe of grey wolf-skin on the knees of Tall Pine. The Junior Partner Thanhoiiser