The Outcasts | Page 3

the long-fasting of the Wolf, and the toughness of the Wolf, into the kind of his Train-Dogs. And because of all this, I, who am a Dog, am outcasted."
"Well, we'll soon all be gone," sighed the Bull, plaintively; "when I was a Smooth Horn, and in the full glory of my strength--"
"Thou must have been of a great strength, Shag, for thou art the biggest Bull from Belly Buttes to Old Man River--Waugh! Waugh! that I can swear to."
"In those days," continued Shag, taking a swinging lick at his scraggy hide with his rough tongue, "in those days, when I was a Smooth Horn, I led a Herd that caused the sweet-grass plain to tremble like water when we galloped over it. We were as locusts--that many; and when crossing a coulee I've turned with pride on the opposite bank--I always went first--and, looking back, saw the whole hollow just a waving mass of life. Such life, too, Lone Dog; silk-coated Cows with Calf at knee; and Bulls there were full many--because I tolerated them, of course--and all strong and fat, and troubled by nothing but, perchance, in the Cold Time a few days of the White Storm which covered our food. But that did not matter much; we just drifted head on to the harsh-edged blizzard, and lived on the thick fat of our kidneys."
"But the Redmen--the hairless-faced ones," interrupted Dog-Wolf; "they killed many a Buffalo in the old days."
"We could spare them," replied Shag; "their Deathshafts of wood slew but a few. Like yourself, A'tim, they killed only when they were hungry. It's the many-breathed Fire-stick of the Paleface that has destroyed us, A'tim; but like you, Brother, I, who am but an Outcast because of my great age, and because my horns have become stubs, care not overmuch. Why should I lament over my own people who have driven me forth--made of me an Outcast?"
"There is to be a big Run to-morrow--a mighty Kill," said A'tim, growing tired of the old Bull's reminiscent wail.
"Where?" queried the other.
"At Stone Hill Corral. Eagle Shoe says they will kill five hundred head."
"I know," sighed Shag--"at the Pound; I know that death-trap. Half a Herd I lost there once through the conceit of a young Bull hardly out of the Spike Horn age. Well I know the Pound--even the old Indian of deep cunning who made it, Chief Poundmaker--that's how he came by his name, A'tim. But, as I was saying, when I tried to turn the Herd, knowing what was meant, this Calf Bull led a part of them straight into the very trap. Served him right, too; but the Cows! Ah, me! My poor people! Slaughtered, every one of them; and so it will be again to-morrow--eh, A'tim? It's the big Herd down in the good feeding they're after, I suppose."
"Yes," answered A'tim; "to-morrow the whole Blood tribe, and Camous the Paleface, who is but a squaw man, living in their lodges, will make the Run."
"I wish I could stampede the Buffalo to save them," sighed Shag; "but my sides are sore from the insulting prods of the Spike Horns. Not a Bull in the whole Herd, from Smooth Horns, who are wise, down to Spike Horns, who are fools because of their youth, but thinks it fair sport to drive at me if I go near. Surely I am an Outcast--which seems to me a strange thing. When we come to the knowledge age, having gained wisdom, we are driven forth."
"No; you'd only get into trouble," declared A'tim decisively. "We, who are Brothers because of our condition, will watch this Run from afar. To-morrow, for once in my life, I shall have a full stomach."
"I am going back to the Buttes to sleep," declared Shag.
"I will go also," said A'tim; "while you rest, I, who sleep with one eye open, after the manner of my Wolf Brothers, will watch."
In a little valley driven into the Buttes' side, where the grass grew long because of deep snow in winter time, the big Buffalo stopped, prospected the ground with his nose, flipped a sharp stone from the couch with nimble lip, and knelt down gingerly, for rheumatism had crept into his old bones; then with a tired grunt of relaxation he rolled on his side, and blew a great breath of sweet content through his nostrils.
"A good bed," quoth A'tim. "I will share it with you, Brother; close against your stomach for warmth."
He took the three turns that had come to him of his Dog heritage, and curled up contentedly against the great paunch of the scarred Bull.
"I can't sleep for thinking of the big Kill," murmured Shag. "My poor Brothers and Sisters, also some of my own children, are in that Herd, though they, too, have disowned and driven