CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE LAST.
Eagerly, earnestly, doggedly, did Daniel Davidson and Francois La Certewatch for a favourable opportunity to escape from their captors, butthey waited and watched in vain, for their captors were cruel, suspectedthem of the intention to escape, and were consequently careful toprevent even an attempt being made. They never freed their wrists fromstrong cords; kept knives and axes out of their way; tethered them to atree each night, and watched them continually.
Can it be wondered at that, in the circumstances, our unfortunate herobecame almost insane? The wedding-day had been fixed before he left RedRiver; preparations were being made for the great event, and it waspretty well understood that Dan had gone off hunting with the view,chiefly, to be out of people's way till the day should arrive. Theywould scarcely begin to notice his prolonged absence till the dayapproached. Then, no doubt, when too late, and he should be far on theway to Canada, they would in some alarm send out parties to search forhim.
Dan became desperate, but he was gifted with an unusual power ofself-control, so that, beyond a very stern expression, his countenancebetrayed no sign of the terrible conflict that was raging within--aconflict in which mortal hatred of mankind in general and anoverwhelming desire to kill or be killed formed elements. Ah! reader,poor human beings have many and many a time in the past been brought tothis terrible condition. God grant that we and ours may never know whatit is to tremble on the brink of madness because of the combinedinfluence of gross injustice and horrible cruelty. To do theNor'-westers justice, they were unaware of the intensity of the painthey were inflicting. They had only captured a powerful enemy, andmeant, by keeping a tight hold of him, to render him powerless in thefuture--that was all!
As for La Certe, they had no intention of taking him to Canada. Theyonly meant to carry him so far on the road, that, when set free, itwould be impossible for him to get back to the colony in time to giveeffective warning to Dan's friends.
One afternoon the voyagers put ashore at one of the numerous portageswhich obstruct the navigation of that route to Canada, and, afterunloading the canoe and lifting her out of the water, they proceeded tocarry the lading across to the still water above the rapids whichrendered this portage necessary.
Although bound, the prisoners were by no means freed from labour. Thecords had been so arranged that they could use the paddle while in thecanoe; while, on the portages, although unable to load themselves, theywere quite able to carry a load which others placed on their shoulders.On this occasion Dan was first sent off with a load, and then La Certeand some of the others followed. When he reached the upper end of theportage, Dan flung down his load, and, from his elevated position, gazedwistfully down the valley through which the waters of the Winnipeg Riverroared and seethed among jagged rocks as far as the eye could reach. Itwas a wild majestic scene, but no thought of its grandeur touched themind of the poor prisoner. He thought only of escape. His intimateknowledge, however, of the terrific power of rushing water told him thatthere could be no escape in that direction.
"Oh! if my arms were only free, I would risk it!" he murmured, as heraised his hands and looked at the powerful thongs of hide with whichthey were bound--thongs which were always drawn tighter when he landed,to render an attempt at escape more hopeless. Then he glanced at therushing river beside him. A sheer precipice of full thirty feetdescended from the spot on which he stood to the edge of the flood.Just below there was a whirlpool, and beyond that began the first of theseries of falls and rapids which were avoided by means of the portage.Half-mad though he was, he did not dream of attempting such a leap withbound hands. He would wait, and continue to hope for a more favourableopportunity, but the possibility of such an opportunity was now growingvery faint indeed, for even if he did escape, and had a canoe to use, itwas by that time barely possible to accomplish the journey in time forthe wedding-day. But although his hope of being in time had pretty welldied out, his whole heart was still concentrated on the simple desire toescape.
A rush of despair came upon the poor youth just then, and the idea ofending his misery by taking his own life occurred to him for a fleetingmoment, as he gazed wistfully around on water, wood, and sky, andobserved the laden and toiling men who were slowly clambering up thesteep towards him--La Certe being in front.
Just then an object among the grass at his feet attracted his attention.Stooping, he picked it up and found it to be a scalping-knife!--dropped, probably, long before by some passing Indians or voyageurs, forit was very rusty.
With a bounding heart and a wild rush of blood to his temples, he sprangtowards a tree: stuck the point of the knife into it; held the handlewith his teeth; sawed the thongs across its edge once or twice--and wasfree!
His first impulse was to bound into the woods, but the thought of hiscomrade arrested him. La Certe was already close at hand. Runningtowards him he said, quickly, "Drop your load! Now or never!" and cuthis bonds at once. Then, turning, he sprang towards the woods. Butfrom the very opening through which he meant to plunge into the tangledthicket, there issued the leader of the Nor'-westers and two of his men.The chief was armed with a gun, which he immediately presented. Withthe instinct of bush-warriors the two prisoners dodged behind rocks, andmade for the higher ground which Dan had recently quitted. Here a sheerprecipice barred further progress. There was no way of escape but theriver. They ran to the edge and looked down. La Certe shrank back,appalled. Dan glanced quickly round to see if there was any otheropening. Then there came over his spirit that old, old resolve whichhas, in the moment of their extremity, nerved so many men to face dangerand death, from the days of Adam downward.
"Now, La Certe," he said, grasping his comrade's hand: "Farewell! Deathor Freedom! Tell Elspie my last thoughts were of her!"
Almost before the half-breed could realise what was said, Dan had leapedover the cliff and disappeared in the raging torrent. A few secondslater he was seen to rise in the whirlpool below the first cataract, andto buffet the stream vigorously, then he disappeared a second time.Before La Certe could make out whether his friend rose again, he wasseized from behind, and dragged from the brink of the precipice.
Swift as the hunted stag springs from his covert, and bounds over everyobstacle with speed and apparent ease, so sprang the chief of theNor'-westers down the rugged path which led to the foot of the series ofrapids, and the lower end of the portage. There was good grit in theman, morally and physically, for he was bent on a rescue which involvedconsiderable danger.
Throwing off his capote, and tightening his belt, he stood on a ledgejust below the last fall, intently watching the water.
The fall was not high, but it was deep, and rushed into a large darkbasin with terrible velocity, causing the tormented foam-speckled waterto circulate round its edges. In a few moments the form of Dan was seento shoot down the fall and disappear in the basin. The chief stooped,but did not spring until, not far from him, the apparently inanimateform reappeared on the surface and began to circle slowly round amongthe flecks of foam. Then he plunged, swam out with powerful strokes,and quickly returned to the shore with Dan in his grasp.
Soon they were surrounded by the other voyageurs, who had left La Certeto look after himself,--not caring much, in the excitement of themoment, whether he escaped or not.
"He is dead," said one; "he breathes not; and see how his face isbruised and cut."
"And his chest, too," said another. "I think his ribs have been broken.Poor fellow! It was a wild, a reckless jump!"
"Keep back, and let him have air," said the chief, who was doing hisbest, according to his knowledge, to resuscitate Dan.
Presently La Certe arrived, panting.
"O! he is gone! My comrade, my friend, is dead!" he exclaimed,clenching his hands, and gazing at the pale, bruised face.
"You are wrong," exclaimed the chief, testily. "Out of the way, man!See! his eyelids quiver."
And so they did; and so also qu
ivered his lips, and then a sigh came--faint and feeble--then stronger, and at last Dan opened his eyes andthanked God that his life had been spared. But when he recoveredsufficiently to realise his true position as being again a captive, thefeeling of despair returned.
That night they encamped a mile above the upper end of the portage. Atsupper the two prisoners were allowed to sit by the camp-fire and eatwith their hands free.
"Monsieur," said the guide to Dan, respectfully, "you see it isimpossible to escape. Why compel us to bind you? Give me your word ofhonour that you will not try, and your limbs may then remain as free asmine."
"I give you my word of honour," answered Dan, with a sardonic smile,"that till after breakfast to-morrow I will not try, for I need rest andfood; but after that, I give you my word that I will never cease totry."
With this promise the guide was fain to rest content, and that night Danand his friend were allowed to sleep untethered, which they did soundly.
Next morning they were roused in gentler tones than usual, and notrequired to work--as had been the case hitherto--before breakfast. Inshort, there was an evident change in the feelings of their captorstowards them, founded largely, no doubt, on admiration of Dan's recklesscourage; but that did not induce them in the least degree to relax theirvigilance, for the moment the hour of truce had passed, the chiefadvanced towards Dan with the thongs to bind him.
For one moment Dan felt an impulse to knock the man down, and then fightthe whole party until death should end the matter; but the good-humouredlook on his jailer's face, the fact that the man had saved his life theday before, and the certainty of defeat with such odds against him,induced him to quell the evil spirit and to hold out his hands.
"Pardon, Monsieur," said the chief, with the politeness of a Frenchhalf-breed. "I am sorry you refuse to give me your parole. I wouldrather see you like the rest of us; but my orders are strict, and I mustobey."
Before Dan could reply, a sound struck on their ears, which caused thewhole party to listen, immovable and in perfect silence.
It was the wild, plaintive, beautiful song of the voyageur which hadfloated to them on the morning air, softened by distance to a mere echoof sweet sound. After listening intently for a few moments, the guidesaid gently: "Voyageurs."
Again they listened to the familiar sound, which increased in volume andstrength as it approached, proving that the voyageurs were descendingthe river towards them. As yet nothing could be seen, for athickly-wooded point intervened. Presently the song burst on them infull resonant chorus; at the same moment two large north-canoes--in allthe brilliancy of orange-coloured bark, painted bows and sterns,red-bladed paddles, with crews of scarlet-capped or bare-headed menswept round the point with quick stroke, in time to the rapid measure.
A cheer was the irrepressible impulse of the men on shore, causing thenewcomers to stop and listen.
"Perhaps," said Dan, "they may be your foes of the Hudson's BayCompany."
"That may be so," returned the Nor'-west Chief, gravely.
The unfurling of an "H.B.C." (Hudson's Bay Company) flag proved that itwas so, to a certainty, and the depressed Nor'-westers did not cheeragain; but the H B C men came on, paddling with wild vigour and cheeringhilariously.
"They seem in great spirits," growled the Nor'-west leader. "We arealmost as strong as they, boys, and have the advantage of woods andcliffs. Shall we fight and keep our prisoners?"
"What is that white thing in the bow of the first canoe?" said one ofthe men.
"It looks like a flag," said another.
"If so, it is a flag of truce," observed Dan. "They have something tosay, and do not want to fight."
"That may be trite, but we won't let _you_ be at the conference,"returned the leader, sternly. "Come, four of you, lead them out ofearshot. Take your guns, and use them if need be."
Four powerful fellows at once obeyed the order, and led the prisoners,who had been once more bound, into the woods. Once again Dan wastempted to offer fierce resistance, but he knew that the Hudson's Baymen were yet too far off to be able to hear shouts--at least tounderstand the meaning of them--and that it would be useless to resistsuch a guard. He therefore submitted to be led a mile or so into thewoods, and finally was permitted to sit down with La Certe under a treeto await the result of the conference.
They had not to wait long. In less than half-an-hour one of the youngeramong the Nor'-westers came bounding towards them, waving his cap andshouting.
"You are free, Messieurs--free!" he cried, seizing both prisoners by thehands. "We are no longer enemies!"
"Free! What do you mean?" demanded Dan, who fancied that the young manmust have gone mad.
"The companies have joined!" he cried, excitedly. "They are one! Weare all friends now; but come and see and hear for yourself."
Filled with wonder, and some small degree of hope, Dan and La Certefollowed the young man, accompanied by their guards, who were not lessmystified than themselves. Arrived at their camping-place, they foundthat the canoes had brought a Chief Trader--or officer of the Hudson'sBay Company--who was conveying to Red River, and the interior ofRupert's Land generally, the good news of a momentous historical event,namely, the union of the two companies.
The important event here referred to, namely, the coalition between thetwo great rival companies, which took place in 1821, was the death-blowto party strife over the whole of Rupert's Land, and also inauguratedthe dawn of lasting prosperity in the Red River Colony.
"Cut their bonds," said the Chief Trader, as the prisoners approached.
No touch of the surgeon's knife ever effected a cure more speedily.
"I congratulate you, young sir," said the Trader, grasping Dan's hand:"you are now free, for I understand that your loss of liberty hadnothing to do with crime, and the rival companies are no longeropponents; they are friends. Indeed, we have been married, so to speak,and are now one. I am on my way to Red River with the good news."
"When do you start?" asked Dan, abruptly.
"Well, if you mean from this spot," answered the Trader, somewhatsurprised as well as amused at the eagerness of the question, "I startat once. Indeed, I would not have landed here had I not seen yourparty. You appear to be anxious. Why do you ask?"
"Because it is of the utmost importance to me that I should be in RedRiver on a certain date, and I fear that that is all but impossiblenow."
Dan then explained, as briefly as possible, his circumstances.Fortunately, the Trader was a sympathetic man. He ordered his crews toembark at once and bade the two captives take a brief, if not anaffectionate, farewell of their late captors.
"I cannot promise you to push on," he said, "at a rate which willsatisfy you--or even accomplish the end you have in view--but I will dothe best I can, without overworking my men. I fear, however, that youwill have to make up your mind to a delayed wedding!"
"If you will only do your best for a day or two," said Dan, "until wereach the mouth of this river, that will do, for there my own huntingcanoe was left; and, once in that, La Certe and I can go ahead and tellthem you are coming."
"Nay, that would be requiting me ill--returning evil for good--to takethe wind out of my sails and make my news stale," returned the Trader,with a good-natured laugh.
"True, I did not think of that," said Dan. "Then we will say not a wordabout it until you arrive."
"Yes, we will be dumb," added La Certe. "Even Slowfoot shall fail todrag it out of me!"
And thus it was arranged. The (late) Nor'-westers continued theirvoyage to Canada, and the Hudson's Bay men resumed their descent of theWinnipeg River.
Arrived at the great lake, the anxious pair did not wait even to rest,but at once embarked in their little hunting canoe.
"I'm sorry you are such an unpresentable bridegroom," said the Trader,when they were about to separate. He referred to the cuts and bruiseswith which poor Dan's countenance was temporarily disfigured.
"Never mind," returned our hero, w
ith a laugh, "wait till you see thebride; she will more than make up for the shortcomings of the groom.Adieu!--_au revoir_!" They pushed off, and now began a race againsttime, which, in the matters at least of perseverance, persistency, hardlabour, and determination, beat all the records of bicyclists andhorsemen from the beginning of time. Cyclists have frequent down-hillsto help and rest them; Dan and his friend had no such aids. It was alleither dead level or upstream. Dick Turpin and the rider to Ghent, (weforget his name), only killed their horses. Dan and Francois nearlykilled themselves--not only with hard work and no rest, but withprofound anxiety, for the wedding hour was rapidly approaching and theywere still far from home!
While these events were transpiring in the wilderness, things were goingsmoothly enough in the Colony.
"I will be thinkin'," said old Duncan McKay, one fine evening as he satin his invalid chair, beside Duncan junior, who was woefully reduced andcareworn, despite the attentions of the sympathetic Jessie Davidson, whowas seated near him on a rustic seat beside Elspie--
"I will be thinkin' that Tan an' La Certe are stoppin' longer away thaniss altogither seemly. Tan should have been here two or three daysbefore the weddin'."
"He will likely be time enough for his own weddin'--whatever," remarkedDuncan junior. "Don't you think so, Miss Jessie?"
"I think it likely," answered the girl with a smile.
"He is _sure_ to be in time," said Elspie, with emphasis.
"We niver can be sure of anything in this world, my tear," remarked oldDuncan, becoming oracular in tone. "How do you know he iss so sure?"
"Because Dan never breaks his word," returned Elspie, with an air ofdecision that would have gratified Dan immensely had he been there tosee it.
"Fery true, my tear," rejoined the Highlander, "but there are many otherthings that interfere with one's word besides the will. He might tie,you know, or be trowned, or his gun might burst and render him helplessfor life, if it did not kill him altogither. It iss an uncertain worldat the best--whatever."
Archie Sinclair, who joined them--with his brother, Little Bill, by hisside, not on his back--was of the same opinion as Elspie, but Billieshook his head, looked anxious, and said nothing--for he felt that hisfriend was running things much too close.
At a later hour that same evening, the other members of the twofamilies--who dropped in to make inquiries--began to express anxiety,and Okematan, who called just to see how things were getting on, shookhis head and looked owlish. Old Peg said nothing, but she evidentlythought much, to judge from the deepening wrinkles on her forehead.
As for Fred Jenkins, he was too much taken up with Elise Morel to thinkmuch about anything, but even he at last grew anxious, and when thewedding morning finally dawned, and no Dan made his appearance,something like consternation filled the hearts of all within the wallsof Ben Nevis Hall and Prairie Cottage. Elspie appeared to feel lessthan the others, but the truth was that she only controlled herselfbetter.
"He only wants to take us by surprise," she said, and, under thestrength of that opinion, she robed herself for the wedding. Only hergravity and the pallor of her cheeks told of uneasiness in her mind.
"Muster Sutherland said he would come soon after breakfast," observedold Duncan, uneasily. "He should hev been here now,--for we need hisadvice sorely."
"Here he iss," exclaimed Fergus, starting up and hurrying forward towelcome the good old Elder.
Mr Sutherland's advice was decided, and promptly given. Both weddingsshould be deferred and all the young men must turn out in an organisedsearch without a moment's delay!
It was amazing to find that every one had been of exactly the sameopinion for some time past, but no one had dared to suggest a course ofaction which implied a belief that Dan might be in imminent danger, ifnot worse.
Now that the ice had been broken, however, all the youth of theneighbourhood volunteered for service, and a plan of search was beinghastily formed under the direction of the Elder, when two men in a canoewere seen to paddle very slowly to the landing-place at the foot of thegarden. After hauling the end of their canoe on shore, they walked, orrather staggered, up towards the house.
One of them tripped and fell, and seemed from his motions as if hethought it was not worth while to rise again. The other, paying noattention to his companion, came on.
"Pless my soul!" exclaimed old McKay, "it iss Tan--or his ghost--whatever!"
And so it was! Dirty, bruised, scratched, battered, and soaking wet,Daniel Davidson appeared to claim his beautiful bride. And he did notcome in vain, for, regardless of propriety and everything else, Elspieran forward with a little shriek and flung herself into his arms.
"I have kept my promise, Elspie."
"I knew you would, Dan! I _said_ you would."
"Tan, you rascal! come here."
The youth obeyed, languidly, for it was evident that he was thoroughlyexhausted.
"My poy," said the Highlander, touched by Dan's appearance, "you hevbeen in the watter!"
"Not exactly, father, but last night's thunderstorm caught us, and wehad no time to seek shelter."
"An' it iss fightin' you hev been?"
"With water and rocks only," said Dan.
"Well, well, go into the house now, and change your clo'es. Dryyourself, an' get somethin' to eat, for you are used up altogither."
Elspie took his hand, and led him away. Meanwhile La Certe, havinggathered himself up and staggered to the front, was seized upon andquestioned unmercifully. Then he also was taken into the house and fed;after which both men were made to lie down and rest.
Having slept for six hours Dan awakened, and rose up to be married!Fred Jenkins and Elise were--as the jovial tar expressed it--turned offat the same time.
It was customary in Rupert's Land at that time, as it is customary inmany remote lands, no doubt, at the present day, to celebrate everywedding with a feast and a dance. Feasts are very much alike insubstance, if not in detail, everywhere. We refrain from describingthat which took place in Ben Nevis Hall at that time, further than tosay that it was superb. The dancing was simple: it consisted chiefly ofthe Highland Fling danced by the performer according to taste orimagination.
But that it was eminently satisfactory to all concerned was clearlyevinced by the appearance of the whole party--the elegant ease withwhich Fergus McKay did it; the tremendous energy with which JacquesBourassin tried it; the persistent vigour with which Andre Morel studiedit; the facility with which Elise acquired it--under Elspie's tuition;the untiring perseverance with which Archie and Little Bill didsomething like it--for the latter had quite recovered, and was fit tohold his own, almost, with any one; the charming confusion of mind withwhich Fred Jenkins intermingled the sailor's hornpipe with it; theinimitable languor with which La Certe condescended to go through it;the new-born energy with which Slowfoot footed it; the side-splittingshrieks with which Old Peg regarded it; the uproarious guffaws withwhich the delighted old Duncan hailed it; the sad smile with which thatweak and worn invalid Duncan junior beheld it; and, last, but not least,the earnest mental power and conspicuous physical ability with which DanDavidson attempted something which Charity personified might havesupposed to bear a distant resemblance to it.
The music was worthy of the dancing, for the appointed performer had,owing to some occult cause, failed to turn up, and a volunteer had takenhis place with another fiddle, which was homemade, and which he did notquite understand. A small pig with feeble intellect and disorderednerves might have equalled--even surpassed--the tones of that violin,but it could not hope to have beaten the volunteer's time. That,performed on a board by the volunteer's foot, automatically, beateverything that we have ever heard of in the musical way from the daysof Eden till now.
Only four members of the two households failed to take a violentlyactive part in that festive gathering. Jessie Davidson had convenientlysprained her ankle for the occasion, and thus was set free to sitbetween the wheeled chairs of the two Duncans, and act a
s a sympatheticreceptacle of their varied commentaries. Her mother, being too stoutfor active service, sat beside them and smiled universal benignity. Herlittle maid, Louise, chanced to be ill. Peter Davidson's case, however,was the worst. He had gone off in company with Okematan to visit a campof Cree Indians, intending to be back in time, but his horse had gonelame while yet far from home, and as it was impossible to procureanother at the time, he was fain to grin and bear it. Meanwhile AntoineDechamp had been pressed into the service, and took his place asbest-man to Fred Jenkins--a position which he filled to admiration,chiefly owing to the fact that he had never served in such a capacitybefore.
Late on the following evening La Certe sat by his own fireside, somewhatexhausted by the festivities of the day before, and glaringaffectionately at Slowfoot, who was stirring something in a pot over thefire. The little one--rapidly becoming a big one, and unquestionably bythat time a girl--crouched at her father's side, sound asleep, with herhead resting on his leg. She no longer cried for a pull at her father'spipe.
"Have you heard that Kateegoose is dead?" asked Slowfoot.
"No--how did he die?"
"He was met on the plains by enemies, killed, and scalped."
"That is sad--very sad," said La Certe.
"The world is well rid of him," observed Slowfoot; "he was a bad man."
"Yes," responded her lord; "it is necessary to get rid of a bad mansomehow--but--but it is sad--very sad--to kill and scalp him."
La Certe passed his fingers softly among the locks of his sleeping childas if the fate of Kateegoose were suggestive! Then, turning, as from apainful subject, he asked--
"Does our little one never smoke now?"
"No--never."
"Does she never wish for it?"
"Slowfoot cannot tell what our little one wishes," was the reply, "butshe never gets it."
La Certe pondered for some time, and then asked--
"Does my Slowfoot still like _work_?"
"She likes it still--likes it better."
"And she _does_ it--sometimes?"
"Yes, often--always."
"Why?"
"Because Mr Sutherland advises me--and I like Mr Sutherland."
"Does my Slowfoot expect me to like work too, and to _do_ it?" asked LaCerte with a peculiar glance.
"We cannot like what we don't like, though we may do it," answered thewife, drawing perilously near to the metaphysical, "but Slowfoot expectsnothing. She waits. My Francois is not a child. He can judge of allthings for himself."
"That is true, my Slowfoot; and, do you know," he added, earnestly, "Ihave had hard work--awfully hard work--killing work--since I have beenaway, yet it has not killed me. Perhaps you will doubt me when I tellyou that I, too, rather like it!"
"That is strange," said Slowfoot, with more of interest in her air thanshe had shown for many a day. "Why do you like it?"
"I think," returned the husband, slowly, "it is because I like DanDavidson. I like him very much, and it was to please him that I beganto work hard, for, you know, he was very anxious to get home in time tobe at his own wedding. So that made me work _hard_, and now I find thathard work is not hard when we like people. Is it not strange, mySlowfoot?"
"Yes. Your words are very like the words of Mr Sutherland to-day. Itis very strange!"
Yet, after all, it was not so very strange, for this worthy couple hadonly been led to the discovery of the old, well-known fact that--"Loveis the fulfilling of the law."
There was yet another of those whose fortunes we have followed thus farwho learned the same lesson.
About the same time that the events just described took place in RedRiver, there assembled a large band of feathered and painted warriors ina secluded coppice far out on the prairie. They had met for a gravepalaver. The subject they had been discussing was not war, but peace.Several of the chiefs and braves had given their opinions, and now alleyes were turned towards the spot where the great chief of all wasseated, with a white-man beside him. That great chief was Okematan.The Paleface was Peter Davidson.
Rising with the dignity that befitted his rank, Okematan, in a low buttelling voice, delivered himself, as follows:
"When Okematan left his people and went to live for a time in thewigwams of the Palefaces, he wished to find out for himself what theywanted in our land, and why they were not content to remain in their ownland. The answer that was at first given to my questions seemed to megood--a reply that might have even come from the wise heads of the CreeNation; but, after much palaver, I found that there was contradiction inwhat the Palefaces said, so that I began to think they were fools andknew not how to talk wisely. A Cree never reasons foolishly--as you allknow well--or, if he does, we regard him as nobody--fit only to fightand to die without any one caring much. But as I lived longer with thePalefaces I found that they were not all fools. Some things they knewand did well. Other things they did ill and foolishly. Then I waspuzzled, for I found that they did not all think alike, as we do, andthat some have good hearts as well as good heads. Others have the headswithout the hearts, and some have the hearts without the heads--Waugh!"
"Waugh!" repeated the listening braves, to fill up the pause here, as itwere, with a note of approval.
"The Palefaces told me," continued Okematan with great deliberation, asif about to make some astounding revelations, "that their land was toosmall to hold them, and so they came away. I told them that that waswise; that Cree Indians would have done the same. But then came thepuzzle, for they told me that there were vast tracts of land where theylived with plenty of lakes, rivers, and mountains, in which there wasnobody--only fish and birds and deer. Then I said, `You told me thatyour land was too small to hold you; why did you not go and live onthese mountains, and fish and shoot and be happy?' To this theyanswered that those fine lands were claimed by a few great chiefs, whokept them for their own shooting and fishing, and drove out all thebraves with their wives and families and little ones to crowd upon theshores of the great salt-water lake, and live there on a few fish andshells--for even there the great chiefs would not allow them to have allthe fishing, but kept the best of it for themselves! Or, if they didnot like that, the poor braves were told to go and live in what theycalled cities--where there are thousands of wigwams crowded together,and even piled on the top of each other,--but I think the Palefaces weretelling lies when they said that--Waugh!"
Again there were many "Waughie" responses, mingled with numerous "Ho's!"of astonishment, and a few other sounds that seemed to indicatedisbelief in Okematan's veracity.
"What," continued Okematan, with considerable vehemence, "what would mybraves do if Okematan and a few of the Cree chiefs were to take all thelands of Red River, and all the buffalo, and all the birds and beasts tothemselves, and drive the braves with their families to the shores ofLake Winnipeg, to live there on fish, or die, or leave the country ifthey did not like it! What would they do?"
Okematan's voice increased in fervour, and he put the finishing questionwith an intensity that called forth a chorus of "Waughs!" and "Ho's!"with a glittering of eyes, and a significant grasping of scalping-knivesand tomahawks that rendered further reply needless.
"Would you not scorn us," he continued, "scalp us, tear out our eyes,roast us alive?--but no--the Cree Nation loves not cruelty. You wouldmerely pat us on the head, and tell us to go and make moccasins, andboil the kettle with the squaws!
"Then, when I began to know them better, I found that all the Palefacechiefs over the great salt lake are not greedy and foolish. Some areopen-handed and wise. I also found that there is a tribe among them,who lived chiefly in the mountain lands. These are very kind, verybrave, very wise, and very grave. They do not laugh so loud as theothers, but when they are amused their eyes twinkle and their sidesshake more. This tribe is called Scos-mins. I love the Scos-mins! Ilived in the wigwam of one. He is old and fierce, but he is not bad,and his heart is large. In his house were some other Scos-mins--bravesand squaws
. They were very kind to me. This is one of them."
The flashing eyes of the entire party were turned upon Peter Davidson,who, however, had presence of mind enough to gaze at the cloudlessheavens with immovable solemnity and abstraction.
"There are two others, whom I look upon as sons. One is named Arch-ee;the other Leetil Beel. Now," continued Okematan, after a pause, "myadvice is that we should teach the Paleface chiefs over the great saltlake a lesson, by receiving the poor braves who have been driven awayfrom their own lands and treating them as brothers. Our land is large.There is room for all--and _our_ chiefs will never seize it. Our heartsare large; there is plenty of room there too.
"The Great Spirit who rules over all inclines my heart to go and dwellwith the Palefaces until I understand them better, and teach them someof the wisdom of the Red-man. I shall return to Red River to-morrow,along with my Paleface brother whose name is Pee-ter, and while I amaway I counsel my braves and brothers to dwell and hunt and fishtogether in love and peace."
How it fared with Okematan on his self-imposed mission we cannot tell,but we do know that from 1821--the date of the auspicious coalitionbefore mentioned--the sorely tried colony began steadily to prosper,and, with the exception of the mishaps incident to all new colonies, anda disastrous flood or two, has continued to prosper ever since.Civilisation has made rapid and giant strides, especially during thelater years of the century. The wave has rushed far and deep over theold boundaries, and now the flourishing city of Winnipeg, with itsthousands of inhabitants, occupies the ground by the banks of the RedRiver, on which, not many years ago, the old Fort Garry stood, a sort ofsentinel-outpost, guarding the solitudes of what was at that timeconsidered a remote part of the great wilderness of Rupert's Land.
THE END.
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