CHAPTER VII.
THE INDIAN CHIEF.
The Count de Beaulieu was far from suspecting, as he carelesslyprepared to light a cigar, that the lucifer match he employed would atonce render him so important in the sight of the Indians. But, so soonas he recognized the power of the weapon chance placed in his hands,he resolved to employ it, and turn to his own profit the superstitiousignorance of the Redskins. Enjoying, in his heart, the triumph he hadobtained, the Count frowned, and employing the language and emphaticgestures of the Indians, when he saw they were sufficiently recoveredto listen to him, he addressed them with that commanding tone whichalways imposes on the masses.
"Let my brothers open their ears; the words my lips utter must beheard and understood by all. My brothers are simple men, prone toerror; truth must enter their hearts like an iron wedge. My goodnessis great, because I am powerful; instead of chastising them whenthey dared to lay hands on me, I am satisfied with displaying mypower before their eyes. I am a great physician of the pale faces; Ipossess all the secrets of the most famous medicines. If I pleased,the birds of the air and the fish of the river would come to do mehomage, because the Master of Life is within me, and has given me hismedicine rod. Listen to this, Redskins, and remember it: when the firstman was born, he walked on the banks of the Mecha-Chebe; there he metthe Master of Life: the Master of Life saluted him, and said to him,'Thou art my son.' 'No,' the first man made answer, 'thou art my son,and I will prove it to thee, if thou dost not believe me; we will sitdown and plant in the earth the medicine rod we hold in our hands; theone who rises first will be the younger, and the son of the other.'They sat down then, and looked at each other for a long time, until atlength the Master of Life turned pale, and the flesh left his bones; onwhich the first man exclaimed, joyfully, 'At length thou art assuredlydead.' And they regarded each other thus during ten times ten moons,and ten times more; and as at the end of that time the bones of theMaster of Life were completely bleached, the first man rose and said,'Yes, now there is no more doubt; he is certainly dead.' He then tookthe medicine stick of the Master of Life, and drew it from the earth.But then the Master of Life rose, and taking the stick from him, saidto him, 'Stop! here I am; I am thy father, and thou art my son.' Andthe first man recognized him as his father. But the Master of Lifethen added, 'Thou art my son, first man; thou can'st not die; take mymedicine staff; when I have to communicate with my Redskin sons, Iwill send thee.' This is the medicine staff. Are you ready to executemy orders?"
These words were uttered with so profound an accent of truth, thelegend related by the Count was so true and so well known by all, thatthe Indians, whom the miracle of the match had already disposed tocredulity, put complete faith in it, and answered respectfully--
"Let my father speak: what he wishes we wish. Are we not his children?"
"Hence," the Count continued, "I wish to speak with you, chief, alone."
Natah Otann had listened to the Count's discourse with the deepestattention: at times, an observer might have noticed a flash of joycross his features, immediately followed, however, by a feeling ofpleasure, which lit up his intelligent eyes: he applauded, like hiswarriors, perhaps more warmly than they, when the young man ceasedspeaking; on hearing him say that he would speak with the sachem alone,a smile played on his lips: he made the Indians a sign to retire, andwalked towards the Count with an ease and grace which the other couldnot refrain from noticing. There was a native nobility in this youngchief, which pleased at the first glance, and attracted sympathy.
After bowing respectfully, the Blackfeet warriors went down the hill,and collected about one hundred yards from the camping place.
There were two men whom the Count's eloquence had surprised quite asmuch as the Indian warriors. These were Bright-eye and Ivon; neitherof them understood a syllable, and the young man's Indian sciencecompletely threw them out; they awaited in the utmost anxiety thedenouement of this scene, whose meaning they could not decipher.
When left alone (for the hunter and Ivon soon also withdrew), theFrenchman and the Indian examined each other with extreme attention.But whatever efforts the white man made to read the sentiments of theman he had before him, he was obliged to allow that he had to dealwith one of those superior natives, on whose faces it is impossible toread anything, and who, under all circumstances, are ever masters oftheir impressions; furthermore, the fixity and metallic lustre of theIndian's eye caused him to feel a secret uneasiness, which he hastenedto remove by speaking, as if that would break the charm.
"Chief," he said, "now that your warriors have retired--"
Natah Otann interrupted him by a sign, and bowed courteously.
"Pardon me, Monsieur le Comte," he said, with an accent which a nativeof the banks of the Seine would have envied: "I think the slightpractice you have had in speaking our language is wearisome to you; ifyou would please to express yourself in French, I fancy I understandthat language well enough to follow you."
"Eh?" the Count exclaimed, with a start of surprise, "what is that yousay?"
Had a thunderbolt fallen at the Count's feet he would not have beenmore surprised and terrified than on hearing this savage, who wore thecomplete costume of the Blackfeet, and whose face was painted of fourdifferent colours, express himself so purely in French. Natah Otann didnot seem to notice his companion's agitation, but continued coldly--
"Deign to pardon me, Monsieur le Comte, for employing terms which mustcertainly have offended you by their triviality; but the few occasionsI have for speaking French in this desert must serve as an excuse."
M. de Beaulieu was a prey to one of those surprises which growgradually greater. He no longer knew were he awake, or sufferingfrom a nightmare; what he heard seemed to him so incredible andincomprehensible, that he could not find words to express his feelings.
"Who on earth are you?" he exclaimed, when sufficiently master ofhimself to speak.
"I!" Natah Otann remarked carelessly; "why, you see I am a poor Indian,and nothing more."
"'Tis impossible," the young man said.
"I assure you, sir, that I have told you the exact truth. Hang it,"he added with charming frankness, "if you find me a little less--whatshall I say?--coarse, you must not consider it a crime; that resultsfrom considerations entirely independent of my will, which I will tellyou some day, if you wish to hear them."
The Count, as we think we have said, was a man of great courage, whombut few things could disturb; the first impression passed, he bravelytook his part; perfectly master of himself henceforth, he franklyaccepted the position which accident had so singularly made for him.
"By Jove!" he said, with a laugh, "the meeting is a strange one, andmay reasonably surprise me; you will therefore pardon, my dear sir,that astonishment--in extreme bad taste, I grant--which I at firstevidenced on hearing you address me as you did. I was so far fromexpecting to meet, six hundred leagues from civilised countries, a manso well bred as yourself, that I confess I at first hardly knew whatSaint to invoke."
"You flatter me, sir; believe me that I feel highly grateful for thegood opinion you are good enough to have of me; now, if you permit, wewill go back to our business."
"On my faith, I am so staggered by all that has happened, that I reallydo not know what I am about."
"Nonsense, that is nothing; I will lead you back to the right track;after the charming address you made us, you seem to desire speech withme alone."
"Hum!" the Count said, with a smile, "I am afraid that I must haveappeared to you supremely ridiculous with my legend, especially myremarks, but then I could not suspect that I had an auditor of yourstamp."
Natah Otann shook his head sadly; a melancholy expression for a momentdarkened his face.
"No," he said, "you acted as you were bound to do; but while you werespeaking, I was thinking of those poor Indians sunk so deeply in error,and asking myself whether there was any hope of their regenerationbefore the white men succeed in utterly destroying them."
The chief u
ttered these words with such a marked accent of grief andhatred, that the Count was moved by the thought how this man, with asoul of fire, must suffer at the brutalization of his race.
"Courage!" he said, holding out his hand to him.
"Courage!" the Indian repeated, bitterly, though clasping the profferedhand; "after each defeat I experienced in the struggle I haveundertaken, the man who has served as my father, and unfortunately mademe what I am, never ceases to say that to me."
There was a moment of silence; each was busied with his own thoughts;at length Natah Otann proceeded:--
"Listen, Monsieur le Comte; between men of a certain stamp there is aspecies of undefinable feeling, which attaches them to each other inspite of themselves; for the six months your have been traversing thedesert in every direction, I have never once lost sight of you; youwould have been dead long ere this, but I spread a secret aegis overyou. Oh, do not thank me," he said, quickly, as the young man made asign, "I have acted rather in my own interest than yours. What I saysurprises you, I daresay, but it is so. Allow me to tell you, that Ihave views with reference to yourself, whose secrets I will unfold toyou in a few days, when we know each other better; as for the present,I will obey you in whatever you wish; in the eyes of my countrymen, Iwill keep up that miraculous halo which surrounds your brow. You wishthese American emigrants to be left at peace, very good; for your sakeI pardon this race of vipers; but I ask you one favour in return."
"Speak!"
"When you are certain the people you wish to save are in security,accompany me to my village,--that is all I desire. That will not costyou much, especially as my tribe is encamped not more than a day'smarch from the spot where you now are."
"I accept your proposition, chief. I will accompany you wherever youplease, though not till I am certain that my _proteges_ no longerrequire my aid."
"That is agreed. Stay, one word more."
"Say it."
"It is well understood that I am only an Indian like the rest, even tothe two white men who accompany you!"
"You demand it?"
"For our common welfare: a word spoken thoughtlessly, any indiscretion,how trifling soever, would destroy us both. Ah! you do not know theRedskins yet," he added, with that melancholy smile which had alreadygiven the Count so much subject for thought.
"Very good," he answered; "you may be easy; I am warned."
"Now, if you think proper, I will recall my warriors; a longerconference between us might arouse their jealousy."
"Do so; I trust entirely to you."
"You will have no reason to repent it," Natah Otann replied, graciously.
While the chief went to join his companions, the Count walked up to thetwo white men.
"Well?" Bright-eye asked him, "have you obtained what you wanted fromthat man?"
"Perfectly," he answered; "I only wished to say a few words to him."
The hunter looked at him cunningly.
"I did not think him so easy," he said.
"Why so, my friend?"
"His reputation is great in the desert; I have known him for a verylong period."
"Ah!" the young man said, not at all sorry to obtain some informationabout the man who perplexed him so greatly; "what reputation has hethen?"
Bright-eye seemed to hesitate for a moment.
"Are you afraid to explain yourself clearly on that head?" the Countasked.
"I have no reason for that; on the contrary, with the exception of thatday on which he wished to flay me alive--a slight mistake, which Ipardon with my whole heart,--our relations have always been excellent."
"The more so," the Count said, with a laugh, "because you never metagain, to my knowledge, till this day."
"That is what I meant to say. Look you--Natah Otann, between ourselves,is one of those Indians whom it is far more advantageous not to see: heis like the owl--his presence always forebodes evil."
"The deuce! You trouble me greatly by speaking so, Bright-eye."
"Suppose I had said nothing, then," he answered, quickly; "for my part,I should prefer to be silent."
"That is possible; but the little you have allowed to escape has, Iconfess, so awakened my curiosity, that I should not be sorry to learnmore."
"Unfortunately, I know nothing."
"Still you spoke of his reputation--is that bad?"
"I did not say so," Bright-eye answered, with reserve. "You know, Mr.Edward, that Indian manners are very different from ours: what is badto us is regarded very differently by Indians; and so--"
"So, I suppose," the Count interrupted, "Natah Otann has an execrablereputation."
"No, I assure you; that depends upon the way in which you look atmatters."
"Good; and what is your personal opinion?"
"Oh, I, as you are aware, am only a poor fellow; still it seems to meas if this demon of an Indian is more crafty than his whole tribe;between ourselves, he is regarded as a sorcerer by his countrymen, whoare frightfully afraid of him."
"Is that all?"
"Nearly."
"After that," the Count said, lightly, "as he has asked me to accompanyhim to his village, the few days we spend with him will enable us tostudy him at our ease."
The hunter gave a start of surprise.
"You will not do so, I trust, Sir?"
"I do not see what can prevent me."
"Yourself, Sir; who, I hope, will not walk, with your eyes open, intothe lion's jaws."
"Will you explain--yes, or no?" the Count exclaimed with risingimpatience.
"Oh, what is the use of explaining?--will what I say stop you? No, Iam persuaded of that. You see, therefore, it is useless for me to saymore; besides, it is too late--the chief is returning."
The Count made a movement of ill-humour, at once suppressed; but thismovement did not escape Natah Otann, who at this moment appeared on theplateau. The young man walked toward him.
"Well?" he asked eagerly.
"My young men consent to do what our Paleface father desires; if hewill mount his horse and follow us, he can convince himself that ourintentions are loyal."
"I follow you, chief," the Count replied, making Ivon a sign to bringup his horse.
The Blackfeet welcomed the three hunters with unequivocal signs of joy.
"Forward!" the young man said.
Natah Otann raised his arm. At this signal the warriors drove in theirknees, and the horses started like a hurricane. No one, who has notwitnessed it, can form an idea of an Indian chase: nothing stopsthe Redskins--no obstacle is powerful enough to make them deviatefrom their course; they go in a straight line, rolling like a humanwhirlwind across the prairie crossing gulleys, ravines, and rocks, withdizzy rapidity. Natah Otann, the Count, and his two companions, wereat the head of the cavalcade, closely followed by the warriors. All atonce the chief checked his horse, shouting at the top of his voice--
"Halt!"
All obeyed, as if by enchantment: the horses stopped dead, and remainedmotionless, as if their feet were planted in the ground.
"Why stop?" the Count asked; "we had better push on."
"It is useless," the chief said, calmly; "let my Pale brother lookbefore him."
The Count bent on his horse's neck.
"I can see nothing," he said.
"That is true," the Indian said; "I forgot that my brother has the eyesof the Palefaces; in a few minutes he will see."
The Blackfeet anxiously collected round their chief, whom theyquestioned with their glances. The latter, apparently impassive, lookedstraight ahead, distinguishing in the darkness objects invisible toall but himself. The Indians, however, had not long to wait, for somehorsemen soon came up at full speed. When they arrived near NatahOtann's party, they stopped.
"What has happened?" the chief asked, sternly; "why are my sons runningaway thus? They are not warriors I see, but timid women."
The Indians bowed their heads with humility at this reproach, butmade no answer. The chief continued--"Will no one inform us ofwhat has hap
pened--why my chosen warriors are flying like scatteredantelopes--where is Long Horn?"
A warrior emerged from the ranks.
"Long Horn is dead," he said, sorrowfully.
"He was a wise and renowned warrior; he has gone to the happy huntinggrounds to hunt with the upright warriors. As he is dead, why did notthe Blackbird take the totem in his hand in his place?"
"Because the Blackbird is dead," the warrior answered, in the same tone.
Natah Otann frowned, and his brow was contracted by the effort he madeto suppress his passion.
"Oh!" he said, bitterly, "the greathearts of the east have foughtwell; their rifles carry truly. The two best chiefs of the nation havefallen, but the Red Wolf still remained--why did he not avenge hisbrothers?"
"Because he has also fallen," the warrior said, in a mournful voice.
A shudder of anger ran through the ranks.
"Wah!" Natah Otann exclaimed, with grief, "what is he also dead?"
"No; but he is dangerously wounded."
After these words there was a silence. The chief looked around him, andthen said--
"So; four Palefaces have held at bay two hundred Blackfeet warriors;killed and wounded their bravest chiefs, and those warriors have nottaken their revenge. Ah! ah! what will the White Buffalo say when hehears that? He will give petticoats to my sons, and make them preparefood for the more courageous warriors, instead of sending them on thewarpath."
"The camp of the Long Knives was in our power," the Indian replied,who had hitherto spoken for his comrades, "we already had them downwith our knees on their chests, a portion of their cattle was carriedoff, and the scalps of the Palefaces were about to be attached to ourgirdles, when the Evil Genius suddenly appeared in their midst, and, byher mere appearance, changed the face of the combat."
The chief's face became still severer at this news, which his warriorsreceived with unequivocal marks of terror.
"The 'Evil Genius!'" he said; "of whom is my brother speaking?"
"Of whom else can I speak to my father, save the _Lying She-wolf of thePrairies?_?" the Indian said, in a low voice.
"Oh! oh!" Natah Otann answered, "did my brother see the She-wolf?"
"Yes; we assure our father," the Blackfeet shouted altogether, happy toclear themselves from the accusation of cowardice that weighed on them.
Natah Otann seemed to reflect for a moment.
"At what place are the cattle my brothers carried off from the LongKnives?" he asked.
"We have brought them with us," a warrior answered, "they are here."
"Good," Natah Otann continued, "let my brothers open their ears tohear the words the Great Spirit breathes unto me:--the Long Knives areprotected by the She-wolf: our efforts would be useless, and my sonswould not succeed in conquering them; I will make a great medicine tobreak the charm of the She-wolf when we return to our village, but tillthen we must be very cunning to deceive the She-wolf, and prevent herbeing on her guard. Will my sons follow the advice of an experiencedchief?"
"Let my father utter his thoughts," a warrior answered, in the name ofall, "he is very wise: we will do what he wishes: he will deceive theShe-wolf better than we can."
"Good; my sons have spoken well. This is what we will do:--We willreturn to the camp of the Palefaces, and will restore them theirbeasts; the Palefaces, deceived by this friendly conduct, will nolonger suspect us; when we have made the great medicine, we will thenseize their camp and all it contains, and the Lying She-wolf will beunable to defend them. I have spoken; what do my sons think?"
"My father is very crafty," the warrior replied; "what he has said isvery good, his sons will perform it."
Natah Otann cast a glance of triumph at the Count de Beaulieu, whoadmired the skill with which the chief, while appearing to reprimandthe Indians for the ill success of their enterprise, and evincing thegreatest wrath against the Americans, had succeeded in a few minutes ininducing them to carry out his secret wishes.
"Oh! oh!" the Count murmured, aside, "this Indian is no common man, hedeserves studying."
Still, a moment of tumult had followed the chief's words. TheBlackfeet, recovered from the panic and terror which had made them flywith the feet of gazelles, to escape speedily from the ruined camp,where they had experienced so rude a defeat, had got off their horses,and were engaged, some in laying on their wounds chewed leaves of theoregano, others in collecting the cattle and horses which they hadstolen from the Palefaces, and which were scattered about.
"Who is this Lying She-wolf of the Prairies, who inspires such horrorin these men?" the Count asked Bright-eye.
"No one knows her," the hunter answered, in a low voice, "she is awoman whose mysterious life has hitherto foiled the most carefulattempts at investigation: she does no harm to any but the Indians,whose implacable foe she appears to be: the Redskins affirm that she isinvulnerable, that bullets and arrows rebound from her without doingher any injury. I have often seen her, though I have had no opportunityof speaking with her. I believe her to be mad, for I have seen herperform some of the wildest freaks at some moments, though at othersshe appears in full possession of her senses: in a word, she is anincomprehensible being, who leads an extraordinary life in the heart ofthe prairies."
"Is she alone?"
"Always."
"You excite my curiosity to the highest degree," the Count said; "noone, I suppose, could give me any information about this woman?"
"One person could do so, if he cared to speak."
"Who's that?"
"Natah Otann," the hunter said, in a low voice.
"That is strange," the Count muttered; "what can there be in commonbetween him and this woman?"
Bright-eye only answered by a significant glance.
The conversation was broken off, and at the chief's order the Blackfeetremounted their horses.
"Forwards!" Natah Otann said, taking the head of the column again withthe Count and his companions.
The whole troop set out at a gallop in the direction of the Americancamp, taking the cattle in their midst.