The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1916-01-20
CHAPTER XIV.
The Call of the Wind.


The night lay thick yer the Siletz
country. High above, the pine tops
sang with a roar, soft-voiceu but far
reaching as thunder. Mystery and
loneliness pressed upon the wilder
ness like a finger. 1t quivered the
sharp ears of Black Bolt pricked for
ward, listening, it padded the feet of
Coosnah running ahead in the trail,
but upon SiletZ it's touch was lost.
She, too, was OF the forest on a night
like this; she, too, was free of its hid
den paths. Hour after hour they
threaded the familiar way, and pres
emily the forest l%ightened. fell away,
Siletz river, gurgling along in the
darkness, swift and shallow,
Fields and pastures lay here upon
right and left and cabins stood squat in
the shadows. This was the headquar.
ters of the reservation. Through the
small settlement, up a lane and across
a woods-lot went the trio, and pres
emily Siletz drew rein where a sorry
shack %crOuched forlornly beneath a
mammsth fir. The sound brought to
it's door a bent figure that came and
stood at Black Bolts head like a
shadow.
Siletz spoke in jargon, slid down,
trailed the reins on the earth and en-
tered the little house.
An hour later she stood against its
closed door, facing a dusky circle Of
squatting figures, her trim form
straight in the !amplight, her shirt
open a bit at the throat her slim
hands eloquent in quiet gestures.
Near the pine table that held the
ftfui light stood old Kolawmie, a
splendid Illustration OF the white
mans ways.
He might have been fifty years Of
age, he might have been a hundred.
Pure blood CT chiefs ran in his veins,
and lie had memories OF the time when
the Oregon country reached from the
northern sound to the valley Of the
Sacramento, but the burden OF prog
ress hung heavy on his shoulders, his
fingers trembled from much devotion
to the Spirit Of the Burning Water.
Broken n heart and soul and tribe,
he dreamed out the long last days in
the monotony Of the reservation, send
ing his sons to the red-roofed school
on the hill, turning them aimlessly
loose upon their lands when they
were throughput still throughout the
country where the sign of the SiletZ
was seen, there were known his Wise
precepts, there would his call bring
followers. About him gathered now a
silent circle, young men who could
speak good English and write essays
on the evolution of man, older ones
who accepted the modern modes with
reservations, and a few like himself Of
the ancient time
To them Siletz was speaking.
Trouble has fallen upon the Night
Winu,' she said sweetly, "and she
comes to her friends for help. Sandry
at the camp is deserted by his men.
The camp fails, the work is stopped,
the engines are silent at their posts,
and a big contract that means much
Is ready to be lost-and Hampden of
the Yellow Pines laughs in glee, for he
has done this thing. Men there are
not in the country-and to go to Port
land means locs of time on the great
contract. Therefore Sandry sits with
his head in his hands, thus"
With swift art she bent her dark
head forward upon her palms, dropped
her slim shoulders, and instantly De-
spair doomed before the dusky circle.
For which the heart Of Sletz sick
ems, for she is Sandryrs woman"
There was silence for a space The
girl "a an artist.
"She would help him. Therefore
she to her friends, whose hearts
are large with friendship. though their
hands are soft with leisure. The 81.
lafx need not work VIII thav ~'-~