The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1916-02-03
CHAPTER XVI.
The Hanging of CuItus George.

The Hanging OF Cultus George.
VA R IDNIGHT had gone quarter
bA4H of an hour in the Annie
Nv u Mine. The main room was
comfortably crowded. while
roaring stoves, combined with lack of
ventilation. kept the big room insani-
tarily warm. The click of chips and
the boisterous play at the craps table
furnished monotonous background
Of sound to the equally monotonous
rumble of mems voices where they sat
and stood about and talked in groups
and tWos and ntilrees Thrausb the
open door tnlt TED TO rne uance iuom
came the rollicking strains Of Viz
ginia reel played by piano and fid-
die.
Cultus George, a big. strapping Cir
Gle City Indian, leaned distantly and
dourIy against the log wall. He was
civilized Indian. If living like a
white man connotes civilization, and
he was sorely offended, though the Of
fense was of long standing.
For years be had done white mans
work. had done it alongside of white
men and often had done it better than
they did. He wore the same pants
they wore, the same hearty woolens
and heavy shirts. He sported as good
Il watch as they, parted his short hair
on the side and ate the same food
bacon, beans and tlour-and yet he was
denied their greatest diversion and re-
ward-namely, whisky.
Cultus George was money Garner.
He had staked claims and bought and
sold claims He had been grubstaked,
and he had accorded grubstakes. Just
now he was a dog musher and freight
er, charging % cents a pound for the
winter haul from Sixty Mile to Muc-
Iuc, and for bacon 33 cents, as was the
custom. His poke was fat with dust.
He had the price of many drinks. Yet
no barkeeper would serve him. Whis-
Ky. the hottest, swiftest. completest
gratifier of civilization, was not for
him. And he resented this invidious
distinction. as he had resented it for
years, deeply. And he was especially
thirsty and resentful this night, while
the white men he had SO sedulously
emulated he hated more bitterly than
ever before.
The Virginia reel in the dance room
| wound to wild close. "All couples
| promenade to the bari" was the call
er's last cry as the music stopped. And
| the couples were so promenadlng
| through the wide doorway into the
main room-the men in furs and moe
| casins, the women In soft, fluffy
dresses, silk stockings and dancing
| slippers-when the double storm doors
were thrust open, and Smoke Beliew
staggered wearily in.
Eyes centered on him, and silence
began to fall. He tried to speak. pull
ed off his rnittens, which fell dangling
from their cords. and clawed at the
| frozen moisture of his breath which
had formed in fifty miles of running.
| Only the man at the craps table.
without turning his head, continued to
roll the dice and to cry: "Oh. you Joe!
| Come on, you Joel" The gamekeep-
| ers gaze, fixed on Smoke. caught the
| p,ayer's attention. and be. too. with
suspended dice. turned and looked.
whats up, Smoker" Matson, the
owner of the Annie Mine. demanded.
With last effort Smoke ciawed his
mouth free. Il got some dogs out
there-dead beat" he said huskily.
Somebody go and take care OF them
and I'll tell you what's the matter"
In a dozen brief sentences be outlin-
ed the situation. The craps player. his
money still lying on the table and bis
slippery Joe Cotton still uncaptuFed
had come over to Smoke and was now
the Erst to speak.
I'VE gotta do something. That's
straight. But what? You've had time
to think What's your plan? Spit II
0a'!"
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