CHAPTER V.
CONVERSATIONS AND PLANS.
The disappearance of the canoe, although singular in itself, hadnothing supernatural about it. The shrubbery, which overhung the wateron either shore, offered a secure and impenetrable hiding-place, and afew dexterous, vigorous strokes of the paddles were all that wasneeded to send it beneath their shadows. That this had been done, wasplainly evident. Yet why had it been done? What motive was there forconcealment? And why, if apprehensive of danger, had the Indianswaited till they were in its vicinity?
These and numerous questions, I asked myself, as I carefully retracedmy steps down-stream again. The whole proceeding was mysterious to me.I had, doubtless, exposed myself while watching the canoe and itsoccupants, and thus betrayed to an enemy our presence in theircountry. What would result from this, I could not conjecture, anddetermined to make everything known to the trapper. But then I feltsomewhat fearful of this. He would, doubtless, be incensed at myimprudent thoughtlessness, which might compel him to leave a countryoffering such inducements to the trapper and fur-trade; and I arguedit was not certain that I had really been seen by the Indians inquestion. If they meditated hostility, Biddon would be warned soonenough for all purposes--and so I decided to keep my own secret forthe present.
But the question which occupied my thoughts, almost to the exclusionof everything else, was the identity of the female in the canoe. Whatcould bring a white maiden to these wild regions of the northwest?What meant her appearance in the canoe with two savage Indianwarriors? What if she was the child which Biddon had referred to, asbeing captured upon the night of the massacre? This thoughtintensified the interest I already felt in her. I believed _she_ hadseen me; and her silent look toward the shore had something more thancuriosity in it. I imagined there was a mute, eloquent appeal in thosedark eyes.
Still ruminating upon this all-absorbing theme, I reached the tree,and, stooping upon my hands and knees, crawled within it. The movementhad well-nigh cost me my life. As my head entered, I encountered thealarmed visages of Nat and Biddon--the latter with his knife drawn,and just preparing to spring upon me.
"You liked to got rubbed out that time!" he exclaimed, replacing hisweapon. "What made you forgit the sign?"
"It must have been because it did not occur to me," I laughed; "I havehad no occasion to use it before, and forgot it altogether; but I willremember it, you may be assured, in future."
"You'd better, for I was just going to shoot, too," added Nat, risingto his feet, and then seating himself again.
"You shoot!" repeated Biddon, contemptuously, "You're shooter ain'tloaded!"
"I forgot that. I wonder if I couldn't load it, say?" he indignantlydemanded.
"Yes, in course, if the reds waited fur yer."
Nat made no reply to this, except that of instantly proceeding to loadhis piece. As it was near noon, the meal was prepared--this time fromthe beaver's body. The hair was singed off from a piece, which wasthen cooked in the usual manner. This, although very palatable, wasnot equal to the tail of the animal, the meat being more tough andoily.
Shortly after, the trapper departed for the purpose of visiting histraps, and setting new ones. When alone with Nat, I determined toimpart to him my morning's experience.
"Nat, I have seen Indians," I remarked, in a quiet tone.
"You hain't!" he exclaimed, starting up from his bed of skins withsuch suddenness as to break the remains of his pipe.
"I have; and, what is considerably more, they have seen me."
"I should think it was considerably more, umph! What did you do tothem? I didn't hear you shoot. Why didn't you tell me before? Whydidn't you--why, it seems to me you're very cool about it."
"There is no occasion for excitement at all. Just remain quiet, and Iwill tell you how it all happened."
And thereupon I related the particulars of the incident already knownto the reader. Nat's wonder, excitement, and apprehension were rousedto the highest pitch at the narration. Springing to his feet, hepulled his flattened hat violently over his forehead, and stridingabout a moment, demanded:
"Why didn't you tell Bill? Like as not he'll be shot and scalpedbefore he gets back."
"I did not think it best," I returned. "Biddon is not the man to walkinto danger with his eyes shut, and if there is any cause for fear,he will discover it soon enough."
"Suppose he will; but ain't it terrible?"
"Isn't what terrible?"
"Why, that we're surrounded by Injins, thirsting for our blood!"
"We are not surrounded by Indians, Nat," I returned, reprovingly.
"I know; but then they are all around us. It won't do to stick ourheads out, except at night, and then, like as not, we'll be shot forour trouble."
"You are not afraid, I hope."
"Oh, no! not a bit; but then you know it's rather _unpleasant_ to feelthat those infarnal Blackfeet (because this is the country of theBlackfeet Injins) are all about you, and waiting for a chance to shootyou from behind every bush."
"Nat," I commenced, earnestly, "you say you are not afraid of Indians,and yet you show it in every word, look, and action. There is noexcuse for this. I saw only two savages, and a girl, evidently acaptive; no words or actions were exchanged between us. Theydisappeared very suddenly and were, more probably, frightened at mypresence. I see nothing in this to excuse the excitement and terroryou have exhibited."
"I wonder what that girl is?"
"I am afraid you will have to wonder a long time, as I can see nooccasion for satisfying your curiosity."
"Is she good looking?" asked my companion, seriously.
"Very! What makes you ask that question?"
"I declare, if I don't marry her, just to spite Alminy, and make BillHawkins mad," he exclaimed, joyously.
At this point I could restrain my mirth no longer; but, as I indulgedit, I was considerably surprised to feel a slight twinge of jealousyat his words. This discovery was painful.
"I am afraid you will meet with several formidable obstacles, beforeyou can accomplish that; the most difficult of which will be to obtainan audience with the fair one herself."
"Don't suppose she'd be very anxious to see me; and I wouldn't care ifI only had my pipe and jack-knife to pass away time with."
"I think it would be as well not to mention this affair to Biddon."
"Why not?"
"It can do no good, and he would be displeased at the thoughtlessnessI have evidenced. I do not think there are savages enough in thevicinity to render us fearful of our safety. The canoe, I am disposedto believe, belongs to some tribe quite distant from here."
"But what are they here for?"
"I can only conjecture. Biddon has never seen savages in thisparticular section, and these may be returning from some journey totheir tribe."
"Perhaps so, and may be not. These plagued Injins sometimes live inone place and sometimes in another, you know, and it may be that anotion has just entered their heads to come and live in these parts."
"There is reason in what you say, but, as I stated, if dangerthreatens, Biddon will undoubtedly detect its signs himself in time."
"I think he will, though I shall feel a little flustered every time hegoes out. You remember when he was after the antelope, he walked rightamong the Injins, without knowing it till it was too late to stop."
"He did, it is true, but how nicely he walked out again. I tell you,Nat, that fellow has nerve equal to any emergency. What man, whenconscious of an overwhelming foe being concealed within a few feet ofhim, could have repressed every sign of trepidation or fear, as hedid, and bring the antelope through the same fearful ordeal, with thesame coolness and deliberation?"
"That was a clever thing, I allow."
"Biddon told me he felt a little nervous when he saw us start to comeup to him, for, if we had reached him, it would have been all up withus. He called out to us, though we did not hear him, that there weremore animals in the grove, and our approach would frighten them. Theimpatient
Indians were thus held at bay, in the hope of being offereda better opportunity to accomplish our ruin, until it was too late toaccomplish anything save the loss of two or three of their number.Such a man, I repeat, will scent danger soon enough without the helpof others."
"He will, and I hope he'll find out who that white girl is."
"Nat, do you remember the account Biddon gave some time ago of ahorrible massacre, upon the sandy island near where we encamped onenight?"
"I don't think there is much likelihood of my ever forgetting it."
"You will also recall his account of the capture of a small child bythe savages? Now, it has occurred to me that this is that child grownto womanhood."
"I _know_ it is!" exclaimed Nat, joyously.
"It is true there is much against it. It was a great distance fromhere, but as these savages wander hundreds of miles at times, it isnot improbable, upon that ground. Instances are only too common ofpersons spending their lives in captivity among these Indian tribes.She is a captive, beyond a doubt, and must long for restoration to herhome and friends. If possible, I am bound to know more of her."
"So am I!" exclaimed my excitable companion.
"As I said, we will say nothing of this to Biddon, until he discoverssigns of Indians himself. To-morrow, we will go forth together, andspend the day in endeavoring to gain traces of the canoe and itsinmates; and if anything is discovered which is alarming, we willimpart it to him."
This Nat agreed to, and shortly after we heard three raps upon theoutside of the tree--the trapper's signal of his presence. A momentafter, he made his appearance. He was considerably elated at hisprospect for a goodly quantity of furs; had set a number of traps; wassure of half a dozen next day; had seen no signs of Indians, and wasconvinced there were none in the vicinity. None of us passed out againthat day, but remained indulging in our pipes and conversation asusual, until a late hour.
The next morning the trapper proposed that I should accompany him uponhis daily round. I complied, while Nat remained behind.
The day was as warm and pleasant as the preceding one, and the forestand stream as delightful. Biddon paddled slowly up the unrippledsurface, and in a short time reached the first trap; it had not beendisturbed. Still hopeful, he passed on to the second and third and allthe others. But there were no signs of beaver in any.
"Shoot me, that's quar'!" he exclaimed, thoughtfully, as he saw thelast one. "I don't understand it; I must git out and take a lookround."
He sprang ashore, and minutely examined the ground around. A fewseconds sufficed. He looked up with a gleam of deep meaning, and said:
"Here's the track of a thunderin' moccasin. The reds have found usout."
He stepped into the canoe, and taking the paddle moved it carefullyback again. He touched at each trap on the way. The footprints of astranger were visible at each.
"Thar's been a beaver taken out of that one!" he remarked, as the lastone was reached. "It's lucky for the sneakin' coward that I didn't seehim. He wouldn't 'sturbed any more gentlemen's traps."
"Are you sure it is an Indian who has been annoying you?"
"Wogh! Don't you s'pose I could tell a red's track from a grizzly's?"
"But it might have been a white man--some hunter or trapper?" Isuggested.
"A white man wouldn't be mean 'nough to do sich a thing, 'less it warsome of those Hudson Bay fellers. They try them tricks sometimes, butthey git come up to. I catched a feller once from Fort Hall at mine,and the way I walked into him war a caution; but this ar' an Injin'strack, sure."
"Do you suspect there could be a number in the vicinity?"
"Ef there war, I'd've heard of 'em afore. This is some varmint,sneakin' round yer, and he's got to be rubbed out afore he makes moretrouble."
"I fear that will be a difficult and dangerous job."
"Let me be for that."
Shortly after we reached our home, and running the canoe beneath thebushes, entered it. We were somewhat surprised to find Nat absent. Hereturned, however, in a short time, and I saw at once by his nervous,flustered manner that something unusual had occurred. Biddonquestioned him rather closely, as he suspected something, but Natevaded his inquiries, and would not admit that he had seen anythingto excite alarm or apprehension.
"I'm goin' out, and when I come back I'll tell you what's the matterwith them traps," said Biddon, seizing his rifle and departing.
I waited until he was beyond hearing, and then turning to mycompanion, asked,
"What is the matter with you, Nat?"
"Why?" he asked, in turn, with a start.
"Because you show plainly that something has occurred to alarm you."
He remained silent a moment, and then seizing his hat, jerked it offhis head, and threw it spitefully down, where he gazed at it a second,and exclaimed,
"I'm sick of this."
"Sick of what?"
"Why, of being in this fix."
"I don't understand you. Please explain what you mean."
"I should think you ought to know."
"But I do not."
"Why, this wood is full of Injins; they're behind every tree andstump, and in every bush, and you can hardly step without pitchingover some painted heathen."
"I am afraid you are exaggerating," I answered, suppressing a smilewhich was struggling at the corners of my mouth.
"No, I ain't. I swow there are ten thousand Injins just waitingoutside to pounce upon us."
"You are talking nonsense, and you know it."
"Well, there's _one_ Injin, for I seen him. Come now," he affirmed, asif the matter was now settled beyond a question.
"Ah! that alters the case considerably. I shouldn't wonder at all ifthere is one or a half-dozen savages in the forest."
"If you see _one_ savage haven't you a right to suppose there's ahundred more about, I should like to know?"
"Not always, Nat; I have seen three myself, yet I do not believe thereis another one in the neighborhood. But I have not heard theparticulars of this affair of which you have been speaking. Please letme hear them."
"There isn't much to tell, but there is enough to make you do a heapof thinking. You see, after you had left, I took a notion that I musthave a morning ramble; and I thought, too, there might be such a thingas you two running into danger and needing my help (I should like toknow what you are laughing at). So, on the whole, there was nohesitation upon my part. Taking my rifle out, I was soon making myway as noiselessly as possible, in a direction from the river.
"I hadn't gone more than a dozen yards before I commenced thinkingabout Injins, and came nigh going back again. I wasn't afraid at all,you know, but then it appeared to me I might bring you and Biddon intotrouble. However, I kept on. I had gone some distance further, whenall of a sudden I heard a terrible whirr and rattle, and jumped cleanoff my feet. But it was only a big owl which I had stirred up. I wasso provoked at the start he gave me, that I should have wrung his neckhad I got my hands upon him. But I went on. Pretty soon I reached alittle stream of water, and as I jumped across, what do you suppose Isaw in the sand?"
"I am sure I cannot tell."
"Nothing less than a big moccasin track. And what was more, it hadn'tbeen made there a week before! I stood and looked at it a good while,cogitating some wonderful things. At last I stooped and went tomeasuring it. I was just going to rise, when I heard a grunt right byme. I jumped up so quick--to be ready, you know--that I flounderedbackward into the water. And I may be shot if there wasn't a bigpainted Injin standing not ten feet off. He didn't say a word, butjust stood and looked at me with them awful eyes of his. As soon as Icould think, I raised my gun, took a quick aim, and pulled thetrigger; but the infernal gun snapped. I pulled it again, but itwouldn't go, and I just happened to think the thing wasn't loaded. Allthis time the painted imp stood grinning at me, without saying a word,except to kinder grunt. He had a big shining gun in one hand, and Iwas dreadful afraid he would shoot it. I told him not to stir, but tostand still till I got mine loaded,
and he waited. But somehow orother, I s'pose I was in such a hurry that things wouldn't go right.Instead of putting the powder in the gun-barrel, I crammed it in mypocket, and jammed the ramrod into my shoe. I told the Injin to havepatience and I'd get it loaded in a minute. I got it fixed somehow atlast and hauled it up to my shoulder, when, no Injin was there! Ilooked behind, all about me, and up into the trees but he'd beenspirited away somewhere. However, I made up my mind to shoot at thespot where he had stood, and I up and blazed away. That is, I blazedaway without the gun going off. I believe he spirited that too."
"Let me examine it. Perhaps you made some blunder."
"No, I'm sure I didn't."
I took the rifle, with a smile of certainty that I should findsomething the matter with it. Sure enough the muzzle was crammed withpaper, and upon removing it, _a pipestem_, broken in pieces, rolledout, while there was not a grain of powder in the barrel.
"I declare, I forgot about the powder!" exclaimed Nat, opening hiseyes in wonder.
"But not about the bullet," I laughed, pointing to the fragments ofhis pipe.
"How'd that get there?" he angrily asked.
"That's the question."
"I didn't put it there."
"Who did, then?"
"I don't know, I declare."
Nat picked up the fragments and examined them carefully.
"That's my pipe sure; and I had it in my mouth, I remember when Istarted out, and missed it coming back. I didn't put it in the gunthough."
"Let it pass then. Did you see no more of your Indian friend?"
"No; he knew enough to keep out of my way. I waited a long time forhim, and at last started home again. I kept an eye on every suspiciousobject, but as I just said, seen nothing."
At this point I gave free vent to my pent-up mirth. Nat, muchastonished, looked wonderingly at me, seemingly at a loss tounderstand the cause.
"I do not see what there is to laugh at," he remarked, reprovingly."If it's a laughing matter to know that there are Injins all aboutyou, why you must laugh."
"Your adventure with the Indian, Nat, and the singular load in yourrifle appears to me to be a funny matter, and I trust you will pardonme if----"
"Didn't I tell you I didn't put it in there? It was the Injin's work."
And to this day Nat cannot be made to believe that he was instrumentalin introducing the pipe into his gun.
After a few more unimportant remarks, the conversation ceased. Nat'sadventure began to appear to me in a different light from that inwhich I had viewed it at first. I doubted not but that he wasperfectly honest and truthful in what he said. But why, when exposedto the will of the savage, did he escape unscathed? Why did the latterstand fearless and harmless before him? And what meant these strangesigns, these "footprints," which were becoming visible around us?Matters were assuming a puzzling form. We were being environed byIndians without any evidence of hostility upon their part. What meantit? Surely there was a meaning too deep and hidden for us to divine asyet.
Suddenly Nat spoke.
"Don't you remember the canoe? We were going to hunt for that to-day!"
"Ah! how did I forget that? But had we not better wait till Biddonreturns?"
"No; let us go at once. Hark! what's that?"
I held my breath, as the distant report of a rifle reached our ears.The next instant came a sound, faint and far away yet clear anddistinct--a horrid, unearthly sound, as the cry of a being in mortalagony!