CHAPTER XVII.
FRONTENAC SHORE.
"And what will my brother do?"
For minutes before John heard and answered it the question had beensinging in his ears to the beat of the paddles. He supposed thatMenehwehna had asked it but a moment ago.
"I cannot tell. Let us press on; it may be we shall find mycountrymen at Frontenac."
"As a child breaks down a lodge which another child has built, andruns away, so your countrymen will have departed."
Fort Amitie lay far behind. They were threading their way now amongthe Thousand Isles, and soon Lake Ontario opened before them,spreading its blue waters to the horizon. But John heeded neithergreen islands nor blue lake, nor their beauty, nor their peace, butonly the shame in his heart. He saw only the dazzle on the water,heard only the swirl around his paddle, stroke by stroke, hour afterhour; prayed only for fatigue to drug the ache and bring aboutoblivion with the night.
Coasting the shore they came at the close of day upon the charredskeletons of three ships lifting their ribs out of the shallowsagainst the sunset, and beyond these, where the water deepened, to adeserted quay.
They landed; and while they climbed the slope towards the fort, outof one of its breaches its only inhabitant crawled to them--a youngdog, gaunt and tame with hunger.
The dog fawned upon Menehwehna. But John turned his back on thesmoke-blackened walls in a sick despair, seated himself on the slope,and let his gaze travel southward over the shoreless water.Beyond the rim of it would lie Oswego, ruined by the French as theEnglish had ruined Frontenac.
The dog came and stretched itself at his feet, staring up with eyesthat seemed at once to entreat his favour and to marvel why he satthere motionless. Menehwehna had stepped down to the canoe to fetchfood for it, and by and by returned with a handful of biscuit.
"He will be useful yet," said Menehwehna, seating himself beside thedog and feeding it carefully with very small pieces. "He cannot bemore than a year old, and before the winter is ended we will make ahunter of him."
John did not answer.
"You will come with me now, brother?" Still Menehwehna kept his eyeson the dog. "There is no other way."
"There is one way only," answered John, with his eyes fastened on thesouth. "Teach me to build a canoe, and let me cross the water alone.If I drown, I drown."
"And if you reached? Your countrymen are all gathering back to thesouth; until the snow has come and passed, there will be no morefighting. You are better with me. Come, and when the corn begins toshoot again you shall tell me if you are minded to return."
"Menehwehna, you do not understand."
"I have studied you, my brother, when you have not guessed it; and Isay to you that if you went back now to your people it would benothing to their gain, nor to yours, for the desire of fighting hasgone out of you. Now in my nation we do not wonder when a man losesthat desire, for we put it away as men by eating put away the desireof food. All things come to us in their season. This month the cornripens, and at home my wife and children are gathering it; but anoncomes the Moon of Travel, and they will weary of the village andwatch the lake for me to arrive and lead them away to thehunting-grounds. So the beasts have their seasons; the buck hismonth for belling, and the beaver his month for taking shelter in hishouse which he has stored. And with us, when the snow melts, it mayhappen that the war-talk begins--none knowing how--and spreadsthrough the villages: first the young men take to dancing andpainting their faces, and the elder men catch fire, and a day sees ustaking leave of our womankind to follow the war-path. But in time wesurfeit even of fighting, and remember our lodges again."
Menehwehna paused awhile, and patted the dog's head.
"Therefore, brother, were you of our race, I should not wonder thatthe spirit of war has gone out of you. I myself am weary of itfor a season; I forget that Frenchman differs from Englishman, andthink of the sound of thin ice above the beaver's wash, the blood ofthe red-deer's hocks on the snow, the smell of his steak over thefire. But of the pale-faces some are warriors, some are not;and the warriors fight, year in and year out, whenever they can.That is your calling, brother, is it not?"
"I am not grown a coward, I hope."
"No," said Menehwehna thoughtfully, "you are not a coward; else myheart had never gone out to you. But I think there is something deadwithin you that must come to life, and something alive within youthat must die, before you grow into a warrior again. As for yourgoing back to-day, listen--
"There was war once between our nation and the Pottawatamies, andin an open fight our braves killed many of their enemies andscattered the rest to their villages. Great was the victory, butmournful; for in the chase that followed it an arrow pierced thethroat of the leader of the Ojibways. His name was Daimeka, and he achief in my own island of Michilimackinac. Where he fell there helay. His people lifted the body and propped it against a tree,seated, with its face towards the forest into which the Pottawatamieshad fled. They wiped the dirt from his head-dress, set his bowagainst his shoulder, and so, having lamented him, turned their facesnorthward to their own country.
"But Daimeka, although he could neither speak nor stir, saw all thathis friends did, and heard all that they said. He listened to theirpraises of him and their talk of their victory, and was glad; he feltthe touch of their hands as they set out his limbs against the tree,but his own hands he could not lift. His tears, indeed, ran as theyturned to abandon him; but this sign they did not see, and he couldgive no other.
"The story says that little by little his hot tears melted thefrost that bound him; and by and by, as he remembered the cry ofhome-coming--'_Kumad-ji-wug!_ We have conquered!'--his spirit putforth an effort as a babe in its mother's travail, and he found hisfeet and ran after the braves. Then was he mad with rage to findthat they had no eyes for him, and he no voice to call theirattention. When they walked forward he walked forward, when theyhalted he halted, when they slept he slept, when they awoke he awoke;nay, when they were weary he felt weariness. But for all the profitit brought him he might still have been sitting under the tree; fortheir eyes would not see him, and his talk to them was as wind.
"And this afflicted him so that at length he began to tear open hiswounds, saying, 'This, at least, will move them to shame, who owetheir victory to me!' But they heeded nothing; and when he upbraidedthem they never turned their heads.
"At length they came to the shore where they had left the canoes, andput across for the island. As they neared it the men in Daimeka'scanoe raised the war-shout, '_Kumad-ji-wug!_ We have conquered!' andold men, wives and children came running from the village, his ownfather and wife and children among them. 'Daimeka is dead!' wasshouted many times in the uproar; and the warriors spoke his praiseswhile his father wept, and his wife, and his two small ones.
"'But I am alive!' Daimeka shouted; for by this time he was in afurious passion. Then he ran after his wife, who was fleeing towardshis own lodge, tearing her hair as she went. 'Listen to me, woman!'he entreated, and would have held her, but could not. He followedher into the lodge and stood over her as she sat on the bed, with herhands in her lap, despairing. 'But I am alive!' he shouted again.'See how my wounds bleed; bind them, and give me food. To bleed likethis is no joke, and I am hungry.' 'I have no long time to live,'said the woman to one of the children, 'even now I hear my mancalling me, far away.' Daimeka, beside himself, beat her across thehead with all his force. She put up a hand. 'Children, even now Ifelt his hand caressing me. Surely I have not long to live.'
"'I was better off under the tree,' said Daimeka to himself, andstrode forth from the lodge. By the shore he launched one of thecanoes; and now he felt no wish in his heart but to return to thebattlefield and sit there dead, if only he could find his body againwhich he had left--as he now felt sure--sitting beneath the tree.
"On the fourth day he reached the battlefield. Night was falling,and as he sought the tree he came on a blazing fire. Across it hecoul
d see the tree plainly, and at the foot of it his body with thelight on its face.
"He stepped aside to walk round the fire; but it moved as he moved,and again stood in his path. A score of times he tried to slip byit, but always it barred his way, and always beyond it stood thetree, with his own face fronting him across the blaze.
"'Fire, I am a fool,' said he at the last; 'but, fire, thou art aworse fool to think that Daimeka would turn his back!' And so sayinghe strode straight through its flame. At once he found himselfseated with his back to the tree in his dress of war, with his bowresting against his shoulder. 'Now I am dead,' said he, contentedly;nevertheless he began to finger his bow. 'On what do the dead feedthemselves?' he wondered; and, for a trial, fixed and shot an arrowat a passing bird: for above the tree there was clear sky, thoughdarkness lay around its foot and in the darkness the fire stillburned. The bird fell; he plucked it, cooked it at the fire, andate.
"'In life I never ate better partridge,' said Daimeka, `but now thatI am a real ghost I will return once more to Michilimackinac andfrighten my wife out of her senses, for she deserves it.'
"So when the fire died down he arose, warm in all his limbs, andstarted northward again. On the fourth day he found his canoe wherehe had left it, and pushed off for the island. But, as he neared theshore, a man who had been standing there ran back to the village, andsoon all his folk came running down to the beach, his wife in theirmidst.
"'Daimeka!' they cried. 'It is indeed Daimeka returned to us!'
"'That may be,' said Daimeka, as his wife flung her arms around him;'and again, it may not be. But, dead or alive, I find it goodenough.'
"Such, my brother, is the tale of Daimeka. Is it better, now, toreturn to your people as a ghost or as a man who has found himself?"
John lifted a face of misery.
"Come," said Menehwehna, looking him straight in the eyes, andletting his hand rest from patting the dog, which turned and lickedit feebly.
"I will come," said John.