CHAPTER XVII
THE HEART OF THE SAVAGE
Immediately the Oxford House men re-established the camp to suit theirown requirements. Then they devoted themselves to a long-delayed suppertill their ravenous appetites were fully appeased. The dogs of theNor'westers had been fed to keep them quiet. The turn of the newlyarrived teams came when the masters were satisfied. Baptiste Verenne andthe drivers arose, taking the allotted portion of thawed whitefish. Theytook their dog whips also.
"_Ici, giddes_," Baptiste called.
The animals leaped forward on the instant, growling and slavering forthe whitefish. One meal in twenty-four hours was not in any wisesufficient for their savage stomachs, and now it was three hours pastthe end of that customary space of fasting. A sound kicking met theirenergetic advance, and they were scattered out that they might be moreeasily fed. Then the Nor'westers' dogs jumped in, making a tangle offurry backs, bushy tails, and snapping jaws.
On these intruders the heavy whips smote viciously. They retreated,thoroughly cowed, and with sharp commands, kicks, and blows the food wasat length distributed. The more cunning beasts bolted their twowhitefish in a flash and fought with slower comrades for their remainingportion. Slowly the tumult died down and the dogs crept up close to thelower end of the fire, where brush beds had been thrown for them.
Having indulged in a brief after-supper smoke, the Hudson's Bay menbegan to prepare for immediate slumber. They removed their outer parkaswith the capotes and hung them on sticks to dry before the fire,together with gauntlets, leggings, and traveling shoepacks.
They put on great, fur-lined sleeping moccasins and rolled themselvesin thick fur robes designed for preserving the body warmth duringslumber. Against the abnormal frost it was imperative to cover theirheads with the upper folds of these sleeping garments, as any part ofthe face left exposed would be frozen in a solid mask by morning. Wearywith the long day's trail, the men lay motionless beside the banked-upfires.
Only two, Dunvegan and Maskwa, remained sitting upright, talkingtogether in low tones over their plans, the crucial point of which wasnot far away.
"At three in the morning we break camp," the chief trader announced. "Bynightfall we must be within sight of Brondel. I think with a few hours'rest that we might take them by surprise in the very early dawn."
The Ojibway fort runner smoked slowly, pondering. He offered no word.Squatting squarely on his haunches, he stared at the fire with a sort ofsomnolent vacancy on his countenance. Yet the Indian brain was active!Beneath their glassy surface lights his eyes studied future events. Whenhe saw things as clearly as his shrewd discernment demanded he wouldspeak, and not before!
"You understand, my brother," continued Dunvegan, "that it is necessaryfor me to succeed in my enterprise. The seizure of this fort of theFrench Hearts is so necessary to the Factor's whole plan that we cannotthink of failure. If I accomplish the capture he will join me after hehas taken Fort Dumarge. Then, together, we purpose to besiege the third,last, and strongest of the Nor'west posts in our district."
Maskwa grunted noncommittally and for an instant took the pipe from hislips.
"Fort La Roche of the French Hearts is powerful," he commented briefly.
"So powerful," supplemented Dunvegan, "that it will test even ourcombined forces to rush its stockades. Otherwise it is impregnable. FortDumarge must go, Maskwa; also Fort Brondel! The enemy's opposition mustbe wiped out as we proceed. Having no harassing foes at our backs, wewill at the last stand an equal chance against the defenders of Fort LaRoche."
"So," remarked the Ojibway. "It is a good plan, Strong Father. Andshould we stand inside La Roche we may see some old friends."
"That may be." The unconquered bitterness surged up in Dunvegan.
"No doubt we shall see the Wayward One, the daughter of Stern Father."
"Yes, doubtless."
"Also Soft Eyes, the traitor, who came from over the Big Waters."
"Aye, indeed," murmured Dunvegan, "and the Factor proposes to deal withhim. It will be dark dealing, I fancy, for Edwin Glyndon."
"We shall meet, too," Maskwa went on oratorically, "the wise ChiefRunning Wolf and his hasty son, Three Feathers."
"In the fight we may meet them, for we know Running Wolf has added histribe's strength to that of Black Ferguson in defense of Fort La Roche."
"There at the last will we stalk the Black Ferguson in his lair,"rejoiced the Ojibway. "It will be a good stalk, Strong Father. The oldwolf is worthy of a hard chase. And, Strong Father, there is one otherwe shall see!"
"Whom?"
"The Fair One! The niece of old Pierre--her that Soft Eyes took towife!"
Dunvegan winced, finding no words. Maskwa voiced something that hadevolved in his facile mind.
"Strong Father is my brother," he declared, "and I have read mybrother's thoughts. It was his wish to place the Fair One at his ownfireside. That is still his desire, although he does not fulfill it. IfStrong Father were an Indian, it would swiftly be done. Yet the Indian'sways are not the ways of the white man. He must not steal his brother'swife till that brother dies. Is it not so, Strong Father?"
"Even so, Maskwa," sighed Dunvegan, burdened by his grim thoughts.
"Then Strong Father shall have the Fair One to wife. I, Maskwa, will seewhen it comes to the last that Soft Eyes falls in the attack."
"No!" cried Dunvegan vehemently, "a thousand times, no! Not a prick ofthe skin will you give Edwin Glyndon. I warn you once. Let that stayyour hand!"
The Ojibway grumbled at the adjuration of restraint, for although he didnot quite comprehend its moral motive he fully understood itsdecisiveness.
"Be it so," he observed. "What I say is wisdom. I have also other wisdomfor Strong Father."
"How?"
"I would have him enter the gates of Fort Brondel by cunning."
"Explain, Maskwa," commanded the chief trader quietly.
"In the night of to-morrow let ten men drive this Niskitowaney fur traininside the stockades, the rest of the Company's servants lying in waitoutside. When the gates are won, the rest is easy, Strong Father."
The chief trader turned to Maskwa with an exclamation of amazement.
"By Rupert's bones, but you are bold," he cried admiringly.
"The move of the bold often wins," remarked Maskwa.
Dunvegan revolved the project mentally, getting each separate point ofview.
"We'll do it," he rapped out, smashing a burnt stick-end into the coalswith a force that sent fresh flames roaring up. "Maskwa, we'll do it!"
"Good!" exclaimed the Ojibway, without elation. "But first we need thepassword of the gates. If Strong Father allows, I will get it." Hemotioned to the prone, blanket-wrapped prisoners alongside the fire.
"Get it," ordered the chief trader. "But no torture, remember!"
"So," promised Maskwa coolly. "I will frighten it from one of them."
He plucked the Worcester pistol out of Dunvegan's belt and went slowlyup the line. Presently he singled out the spokesman of the captiveslying completely muffled up in the sleeping robes. At the touch ofMaskwa's toe the Nor'wester sat erect, his black-bearded, swarthy facefull of evil glints. He was one of the scum that the younger fur companyhad picked up to swell their none too formidable ranks.
The Ojibway squatted opposite this fellow, in whose charge theNiskitowaney fur train had been traveling.
"The password at your fort," he commanded with abruptness and vigor.
A villainous oath was the response, an epithet that would have been avicious blow had the Nor'wester's arms been loose.
"The password!" Maskwa's voice kept even, but he stabbed the black manthrough with the needle points of his concentrated gaze.
No response! The Ojibway brought the pistol into view and leveled itwith a precision more deadly than visual concentration.
"The password!" he repeated stonily for the third time.
"Shoot and be damned to you!" cried the Nor'wester, the swagger andbraggadocio which
in his breed is a substitute for courage breakingout. Swift as light came Maskwa's side-twist of the hand.
Bang! The pistol's scorch stung the Nor'wester's right ear.
Bang! Its red muzzle jet seared his left ear.
Bang! The round, fiendish mouth spat a white furrow through his blackhair.
The awakened camp, thinking of an attack, sat up and grasped weapons,then put them furtively back, half ashamed of their mistake, and gazedwonderingly at the strange tableau.
"French Heart, the next one goes through your head," warned the Ojibway."The password!"
The Nor'wester, staring into the deadly cylinder of steel, experienced aprickly, spreading sensation in the nerves of the forehead just betweenhis eyes. He imagined the crashing impact of the leaden missile. Healready felt the oozy bullet-hole.
Maskwa's eyes lanced him with bloody light which the coals infused. Hisspirit quivered under that knife. His nerves collapsed. He pitchedforward on his face, reiterating the password in choking gasps.
"Marseillaise," he panted. "Marseillaise!"
The Ojibway tossed the man's sleeping robes over his fear-shaken visage.Abruptly he stalked back and dropped the pistol in Dunvegan's lap.
"You have heard, Strong Father?" he asked. "It is good! He spoke thetruth, because he dared not lie. In the night of to-morrow we will enterthe gates of the fort of the French Hearts with that password. I havespoken!"
Like a snake Maskwa slid into his fur blankets. Dunvegan followed, andthe whole camp was soon still.
Gradually the banked logs of the fire broke in little falling rifts ofcoals. Uncombated, the frost advanced and screened the red glow with agray hand. Across the valley of the Blazing Pine came the howling ofwolves. Then of a sudden the winter aurora leaped out of the north,sweeping majestically from stars to earth-line. No rustling sound suchas is heard within the Arctic Circle accompanied its movement. It cameand vanished in mystic silence, only to reappear with twofold brillianceand multitudinous variations of hue. Up in the zenith a corona ofdazzling splendor formed, and the miracle, continuing, left pulsating,nebulous rays walking the far-off, frozen shores.
The immensity of the wilderness reaches gave field for unlimiteddisplay. Flooded with resplendent light, the primal wastes of snowreflected every colored bar, every glorious cloud, every celestialflash. As a monstrous mirror to augment the radiance and multiply thelambent gleams, the speckless crust stretched on and on. The very earthseemed to acquire motion and to roll its snows in red and whiteundulating waves.
Wrapped in the sleep of utter weariness, lost to the hard facts of life,the sleepers lay in a realm of mysticism, of phantasmagoria. Thus allnight across the world blazed this carnival of flame.