And yet the Boy Chief was not entirely happy. Indeed, at times he
seriously thought of accepting the invitation extended by the Great
Chief at Washington, immediately after the massacre of the soldiers,
and once more revisiting the haunts of civilization. His soul sickened
in feverish inactivity; schoolmasters palled on his taste; he had
introduced base ball, blind hooky, marbles, and peg-top among his
Indian subjects, but only with indifferent success. The squaws insisted
in boring holes through the china alleys and wearing them as necklaces;
his warriors stuck spikes in their base ball bats and made war clubs of
them. He could not but feel, too, that the gentle Mushymush, although
devoted to her pale-faced brother, was deficient in culinary education.
Her mince pies were abominable; her jam far inferior to that made by
his Aunt Sally of Doemville. Only an unexpected incident kept him
equally from the extreme of listless Sybaritic indulgence, or of morbid
cynicism. Indeed, at the age of twelve, he already had become disgusted
with existence.
He had returned to his wigwam after an exhausting buffalo hunt in which
he had slain two hundred and seventy-five buffalos with his own hand,
not counting the individual buffalo on which he had leaped so as to
join the herd, and which he afterward led into the camp a captive and a
present to the lovely Mushymush. He had scalped two express riders and
a correspondent of the "New York Herald"; had despoiled the Overland
Mail Stage of a quantity of vouchers which enabled him to draw double
rations from the government, and was reclining on a bear skin, smoking
and thinking of the vanity of human endeavor, when a scout entered,
saying that a pale-face youth had demanded access to his person.
"Is he a commissioner? If so, say that the red man is rapidly passing
to the happy hunting-grounds of his fathers, and now desires only
peace, blankets, and ammunition; obtain the latter and then scalp the
commissioner."
"But it is only a youth who asks an interview."
"Does he look like an insurance agent? If so, say that I have already
policies in three Hartford companies. Meanwhile prepare the stake, and
see that the squaws are ready with their implements of torture."
The youth was admitted; he was evidently only half the age of the Boy
Chief. As he entered the wigwam and stood revealed to his host they
both started. In another moment they were locked in each other's arms.
"Jenky, old boy!"
"Bromley, old fel!"
B. F. Jenkins, for such was the name of the Boy Chief, was the first to
recover his calmness. Turning to his warriors he said, proudly—
"Let my children retire while I speak to the agent of our Great Father
in Washington. Hereafter no latch keys will be provided for the
wigwams of the warriors. The practice of late hours must be
discouraged."
"How!" said the warriors, and instantly retired.
"Whisper," said Jenkins, drawing his friend aside; "I am known here
only as the Boy Chief of the 'Pigeon toes.'"
"And I," said Bromley Chitterlings, proudly, "am known everywhere as
the Pirate Prodigy—the Boy Avenger of the Patagonian Coast."
"But how came you here?"
"Listen! My pirate brig, the 'Lively Mermaid,' now lies at Meiggs's
Wharf in San Francisco, disguised as a Mendocino lumber vessel. My
pirate crew accompanied me here in a palace car from San Francisco."
"It must have been expensive," said the prudent Jenkins.
"It was, but they defrayed it by a collection from the other
passengers—you understand, an enforced collection. The papers will be
full of it to-morrow. Do you take the 'New York Sun'?"
"No; I dislike their Indian policy. But why are you here?"
"Hear me, Jenk! 'Tis a long and a sad story. The lovely Eliza J.
Sniffen, who fled with me from Doemville, was seized by her parents and
torn from my arms at New Rochelle. Reduced to poverty by the breaking
of the savings bank of which he was president,—a failure to which I
largely contributed, and the profits of which I enjoyed,—I have since
ascertained that Eliza Jane Sniffen was forced to become a
schoolmistress, departed to take charge of a seminary in Colorado, and
since then has never been heard from."
Why did the Boy Chief turn pale, and clutch at the tent-pole for
support? Why, indeed!
"Eliza J. Sniffen," gasped Jenkins, "aged fourteen, red-haired, with a
slight tendency to strabismus?"
"The same."
"Heaven help me! She died by my mandate!"
"Traitor!" shrieked Chitterlings, rushing at Jenkins with a drawn
poniard.
But a figure interposed. The slight girlish form of Mushymush with
outstretched hands stood between the exasperated Pirate Prodigy and the
Boy Chief.
"Forbear," she said sternly to Chitterlings; "you know not what you do."
The two youths paused.
"Hear me," she said rapidly. "When captured in a confectioner's shop
at New Rochelle, E. J. Sniffen was taken back to poverty. She resolved
to become a schoolmistress. Hearing of an opening in the West, she
proceeded to Colorado to take exclusive charge of the pensionnat of
Mad. Choflie, late of Paris. On the way thither she was captured by
the emissaries of the Boy Chief—"
"In consummation of a fatal vow I made never to spare educational
instructors," interrupted Jenkins.
"But in her captivity," continued Mushymush, "she managed to stain her
face with poke-berry juice, and mingling with the Indian maidens was
enabled to pass for one of the tribe. Once undetected, she boldly
ingratiated herself with the Boy Chief,—how honestly and devotedly he
best can tell,—for I, Mushymush, the little sister of the Boy Chief,
am Eliza Jane Sniffen."
The Pirate Prodigy clasped her in his arms. The Boy Chief, raising his
hand, ejaculated:—
"Bless you, my children!"
"There is but one thing wanting to complete this reunion," said
Chitterlings, after a pause, but the hurried entrance of a scout
stopped his utterance.
"A commissioner from the Great Father in Washington."
"Scalp him!" shrieked the Boy Chief; "this is no time for diplomatic
trifling."
"We have, but he still insists upon seeing you, and has sent in his
card."
The Boy Chief took it, and read aloud, in agonized accents:—
"Charles F. Hall Golightly, late Page in United States Senate, and
Acting Commissioner of United States."
In another moment, Golightly, pale, bleeding, and, as it were,
prematurely bald, but still cold and intellectual, entered the wigwam.
They fell upon his neck and begged his forgiveness.
"Don't mention it," he said, quietly; "these things must and will
happen under our present system of government. My story is brief.
Obtaining political influence through caucuses, I became at last Page
in the Senate. Through the exertions of political friends I was
appointed clerk to the commissioner whose functions I now represent.
Knowing through political spies in your own camp who you were, I acted
upon the physical fears of the commissioner, who was an ex-clergyman,
and easily induced him to deputize me to consult with you. In doing
so, I have lost my scalp, but as the hirsute signs of juvenility have
worked against my political progress I do not regret it. As a
partially bald young man I shall have more power. The terms that I
have to offer are simply this: you can do everything you want, go
anywhere you choose, if you will only leave this place. I have a
hundred thousand-dollar draft on the United States Treasury in my
pocket at your immediate disposal."
"But what's to become of me?" asked Chitterlings.
"Your case has already been under advisement. The Secretary of State,
who is an intelligent man, is determined to recognize you as de jure
and de facto the only loyal representative of the Patagonian
government. You may safely proceed to Washington as its envoy
extraordinary. I dine with the secretary next week."
"And yourself, old fellow?"
"I only wish that twenty years from now you will recognize by your
influence and votes the rights of C. F. H. Golightly to the presidency."
And here ends our story. Trusting that my dear young friends may take
whatever example or moral their respective parents and guardians may
deem fittest from these pages, I hope in future years to portray
further the career of those three young heroes I have already
introduced in the spring-time of life to their charitable consideration.
