The Tall Indian
In those three days the norther had howled and screeched across the prairie till it blew itself out. Now the sun was warm and the wind was mild, but there was a feeling of autumn in the air.
Indians came riding on the path that passed so close to the house. They went by as though it were not there.
They were thin and brown and bare. They rode their little ponies without saddle or bridle. They sat up straight on the naked ponies and did not look to right or left. But their black eyes glittered.
Laura and Mary backed against the house and looked up at them. And they saw red-brown skin bright against the blue sky, and scalp-locks wound with colored string, and feathers quivering. The Indians’ faces were like the red-brown wood that Pa had carved to make a bracket for Ma.
“I thought that trail was an old one they didn’t use any more,” Pa said. “I wouldn’t have built the house so close to it if I’d known it’s a highroad.”
Jack hated Indians, and Ma said she didn’t blame him. She said, “I declare, Indians are getting so thick around here that I can’t look up without seeing one.”
As she spoke she looked up, and there stood an Indian. He stood in the doorway, looking at them, and they had not heard a sound.
“Goodness!” Ma gasped.
Silently Jack jumped at the Indian. Pa caught him by the collar, just in time. The Indian hadn’t moved; he stood as still as if Jack hadn’t been there at all.
“How!” he said to Pa.
Pa held on to Jack and replied, “How!” He dragged Jack to the bedpost and tied him there. While he was doing it, the Indian came in and squatted down by the fire.
Then Pa squatted down by the Indian, and they sat there, friendly but not saying a word, while
Ma finished cooking dinner.
Laura and Mary were close together and quiet on their bed in the corner. They couldn’t take their eyes from that Indian. He was so still that the beautiful eagle-feathers in his scalp-lock didn’t stir. Only his bare chest and the leanness under his ribs moved a little to his breathing. He wore fringed leather leggings, and his moccasins were covered with beads.
Ma gave Pa and the Indian their dinners on two tin plates, and they ate silently. Then Pa gave the Indian some tobacco for his pipe.
They filled their pipes, and they lighted the tobacco with coals from the fire, and they silently smoked until the pipes were empty.
All this time nobody had said anything. But now the Indian said something to Pa. Pa shook his head and said, “No speak.”
A while longer they all sat silent. Then the Indian rose up and went away without a sound.
“My goodness gracious!” Ma said.
Laura and Mary ran to the window. They saw the Indian’s straight back, riding away on a pony. He held a gun across his knees, its ends stuck out on either side of him.
Pa said that Indian was no common trash. He guessed by the scalp-lock that he was an Osage.
“Unless I miss my guess,” Pa said, “that was French he spoke. I wish I had picked up some of that lingo.”
“Let Indians keep themselves to themselves,” said Ma, “and we will do the same. I don’t like Indians around underfoot.”
Pa told her not to worry.
“That Indian was perfectly friendly,” he said. “And their camps down among the bluffs are peaceable enough. If we treat them well and watch Jack, we won’t have any trouble.”
The very next morning, when Pa opened the door to go to the stable, Laura saw Jack standing in the Indian trail. He stood stiff, his back bristled, and all his teeth showed. Before him in the path the tall Indian sat on his pony.
Indian and pony were still as still. Jack was telling them plainly that he would spring if they moved. Only the eagle feathers that stood up from the Indian’s scalp-lock were waving and spinning in the wind.
When the Indian saw Pa, he lifted his gun and pointed it straight at Jack.
Laura ran to the door, but Pa was quicker. He stepped between Jack and that gun, and he reached down and grabbed Jack by the collar. He dragged Jack out of the Indian’s way, and the Indian rode on, along the trail.