CHAPTER XI.
EXPLANATIONS.
We must go back a little in order to explain how the three hunters weredriven to seek hospitality in the hut of George Clinton, and what werethe motives of the deadly hatred they had vowed against the wounded,almost dying, man.
At the time of which we write nearly the whole American continent,north and south, was owned by Spain, which ruled her provinces with ayoke of iron, closed to all other nations with as much jealousy as everwas shown by China.
The United States alone stood free, independent.
The newly enfranchised people were, however, well aware that as long asthe rest of the land was not free their work was unfinished.
Besides, it became necessary to give employment to the restless spiritslet loose by the close of the war.
The Government at once set to work. The territory of the new republicwas already immense, but thinly peopled, almost unknown, and occupiedin many instances by wandering Indian tribes. These must first be gotrid of.
The activity of the Americans is known. They rushed off into thedesert, they erected forts to awe the redskins; hardy pioneerstraversed the prairies and established settlements in the very heart ofthe Indian country.
Every encouragement was given to emigrants from Europe, who werereceived most hospitably.
The Government was favoured by circumstances; it was a rising powerwhile Spain was falling to pieces.
The American Government at once offered to buy Louisiana of France,and meanwhile sent out small companies of free corps to attack thefrontier of the Spanish colonies. But alongside those recognised bythe authorities were other bands, men isolated from all civilisation,having no control to fear, recruited from the scum which froths upduring troublous times; these bands made war on their own account,pillaged friend and foe, burned haciendas, and allied themselves withthe redskins, taking their dress in order the more readily to carry outtheir nefarious designs.
Among these bands was one more formidable than all the others of sadand monstrous celebrity.
This troop of two hundred desperadoes, called themselves outlaws, and,it was believed, though no one exactly knew their headquarters, wereestablished on the Missouri, whence they carried their depredations farand near.
Powerfully organised, submitting to strict discipline, this band hadspies in every direction, who kept them well informed, not only as tothe number and strength of caravans about to cross the desert, withtheir destination, but as to the expeditions sent out by Governmentagainst themselves. By these means they were always on their guard andnever taken by surprise.
The chief of this terrible band was said to have only been six yearsin America, and yet he knew all the secrets of the desert; he was asclever as the most cunning and astute runner of the woods, quite equalto any redskin in deceit. He was supposed to be a Frenchman, though hespoke English, Spanish, and many Indian languages equally well. He wascalled Querehard, Sambrun, Magnaud, Tom Mitchell, and various othernames.
But none knew his real one, though some did whisper that he was thechief of a certain fearful band who had played so terrible a partduring the Reign of Terror.
Many asserted that he was not so bad as he was painted--that, infact, though chief of this fearful crew, he always tried to preventbloodshed, that he never allowed women and children to be ill-treated.
He was said to be very generous, and had as many friends as enemies.
Whatever the truth, Tom Mitchell was a kind of hero; the American andSpanish Governments had placed a price upon his head; but no one everventured to try for the reward of ten thousand dollars.
After the medicine council we have recorded, Numank-Charake and his twofriends continued their journey.
On the seventh day, an hour before the setting of the sun, they reacheda village built in the fork of two rivers.
The village was surrounded by lofty palisades, with a ditch full ofwater, and drawbridges.
The travellers came up just as these were being removed.
They were warmly received by an eager crowd.
Since his landing in America this was the first time Oliver had entereda real village of redskins.
He was surprised to find it so superior to what he expected. Instead ofordinary bison tents, or huts made with hurdles, mud, and thatch, itconsisted of admirably constructed Canadian cabins.
These cabins stood in rows, with small gardens in front, while here andthere were some real Indian wigwams.
Those Canadians who had retreated with their families to the tribeof Bison Hurons had introduced these habits. Hence the rather hybridcharacter of the village, which was half Canadian and half Indian.
Reaching the centre of the village Numank left his companions, whileBright-eye pointed out a most comfortable looking cabin and declared itto be his home.
At the entrance stood two men leaning on their rifles. One, nearly acentenarian, but still robust and very tall, had a large white beard;his eyes still shone brightly, his complexion was the colour of brick,while his ropy muscles could be seen through his parchment skin. Hisexpression was gentle and full of courage. This was the grandfather ofthe hunter, an old soldier of Montcalm.
The second was Bright-eye's father, whom he resembled in everyparticular except age and height.
"They indeed appear a noble couple," whispered Oliver.
"Come with me," was the laconic reply.
In a few minutes they were at the door of the cabin. Bright-eyedismounted and took off his fur cap.
"I am back after a long absence. Give me your blessing."
"Take it with all our hearts," cried the two old men.
They then shook hands cordially, Oliver looking on with a deep sigh ofenvy and regret.
"He at all events has a family," he said.
"Come nearer, my friend," cried Bright-eye; and when Oliver stoodbeside him, he added, "this is Oliver, my friend. Eight days ago we metin the savannah, and we have never parted since. He loves me and I lovehim; he is a brave man and a most excellent hunter; our friend, theredskin, calls him Bounding Panther."
"He is welcome," said the old man; "all Frenchmen are our brothers;as long as he chooses to remain there is a hut to shelter him and aquarter of venison for his food."
"Well spoken, father," said his son, shaking hands with the youngFrenchman; "we are French here. Welcome."
"Messieurs," replied Oliver, with a bow and a smile, "it is not withwords we answer such words, but by acts."
"We welcome you as a second son; come in."
The horses were now taken away by a young Indian, and the whole partyentered the house.
The hut, which was built with logs, was whitewashed both in and out,and had four windows.
Oliver entered a rather large hall, lit by two of the windows, with aplank flooring, and a roof supported by heavy beams; at one end was alarge chimney, near the kitchen a table, some seats and chairs, twooaken dressers covered by utensils in brown earthenware, and a largeold-fashioned clock composed the furniture.
Two doors led, one into the kitchen, the other into the guests' room,which was pointed out to Oliver.
There were three other rooms, one occupied by the two old men, one byBright-eye, and one by his sister when at home.
All were furnished alike; a bed, a little table, several boxes, two orthree chairs; some hideously coloured prints from Epinal were fixedon the walls, also pipes of all sorts and sizes, a French long gun, apowder horn, lead pouch, game bag, hatchet, a knife with its deerskinbelt, that was all.
It was one floor, except a large loft above.
Behind the house there was stabling for six horses, a yard with fowls,a rather large garden, well enclosed and full of choice vegetables. Itwas the old man who took care of the garden as child's play.
When, having made some slight change in his toilette, Oliver returnedto the hall dinner was on the table.
"Have you had good hunting lately?" asked Bright-eye.
"Not very good. Game gets scarce. Still
I made three hundred andseventy dollars in a fortnight," he replied.
"Pretty fair; and what was your game?"
"The blue fox, near Hudson's Bay," continued the other; "I have beenhome three weeks. But you say nothing of your sister."
"I am not in the habit of questioning you, father."
"The boy is right," said the old man; "it is your place to speak."
"I suppose," cried the hunter, "Angela is in the village."
"No, my son, she is absent," continued the old man, "and I am sorry forit, as she was the joy of the house."
"Where is she then, father?" asked Bright-eye.
"About five days' march, with our cousin Lagrenay, the squatter of theWind River. His wife has been ill, he is alone; having no one to takecare of her, he came here and asked for Angela to stay a few days."
"My dear father, our cousin Lagrenay's settlement is a long way off, inthe heart of the Indian country."
"You are right," said his father; "I fear I have acted with too greathaste. I will fetch her home tomorrow."
"I will go with you, father."
"It is unnecessary. Your health, sir," addressing Oliver; "is it longsince you left France?"
"Many thanks. I have been in America two months."
"Though so far off news is welcome. How is the king?"
"There is no longer any king," said Oliver, gravely; "France is now arepublic like America."
While the stupefaction which this news caused was still at its heightNumank-Charake entered.
"Welcome; be seated and eat," said the old man.
"I came neither to eat nor to drink," replied the young Indian, sadly."I came to tell you that your child, Evening Dew, has been carried offby Tom Mitchell, the outlaw, and that we must at once save her."