CHAPTER TWELVE.
THE STORM.
Two days after the events of the last chapter, the brigade was makingone of the traverses which have already been noticed as of frequentoccurrence in the great lakes. The morning was calm and sultry. A deepstillness pervaded nature, which tended to produce a correspondingquiescence in the mind, and to fill it with those indescribably solemnfeelings that frequently arise before a thunderstorm. Dark, luridclouds hung overhead in gigantic masses, piled above each other like thebattlements of a dark fortress, from whose ragged embrasures theartillery of heaven was about to play.
"Shall we get over in time, Louis?" asked Mr Park, as he turned to theguide, who sat holding the tiller with a firm grasp; while the men,aware of the necessity of reaching shelter ere the storm burst uponthem, were bending to the oars with steady and sustained energy.
"Perhaps," replied Louis, laconically.--"Pull, lads, pull! else you'llhave to sleep in wet skins to-night."
A low growl of distant thunder followed the guide's words, and the menpulled with additional energy; while the slow, measured hiss of thewater, and the clank of oars, as they cut swiftly through the lake'sclear surface, alone interrupted the dead silence that ensued.
Charley and his friend conversed in low whispers; for there is a strangepower in a thunderstorm, whether raging or about to break, that overawesthe heart of man,--as if Nature's God were nearer then than at othertimes; as if He--whose voice indeed, if listened to, speaks even in theslightest evolution of natural phenomena--were about to tread thevisible earth with more than usual majesty, in the vivid glare of thelightning flash, and in the awful crash of thunder.
"I don't know how it is, but I feel more like a coward," said Charley,"just before a thunderstorm than I think I should do in the arms of apolar bear. Do you feel queer, Harry?"
"A little," replied Harry, in a low whisper; "and yet I'm notfrightened. I can scarcely tell what I feel, but I'm certain it's notfear."
"Well, I don't know," said Charley. "When father's black bull chasedKate and me in the prairies, and almost overtook us as we ran for thefence of the big field, I felt my heart leap to my mouth, and the bloodrush to my cheeks, as I turned about and faced him, while Kate climbedthe fence; but after she was over, I felt a wild sort of wickedness inme, as if I should like to tantalise and torment him,--and I feltaltogether different from what I feel now while I look up at these blackclouds. Isn't there something quite awful in them, Harry?"
Ere Harry replied, a bright flash of lightning shot athwart the sky,followed by a loud roar of thunder, and in a moment the wind rushed,like a fiend set suddenly free, down upon the boats, tearing up thesmooth surface of the water as it flew, and cutting it into gleamingwhite streaks. Fortunately the storm came down behind the boats, sothat, after the first wild burst was over, they hoisted a small portionof their lug sails, and scudded rapidly before it.
There was still a considerable portion of the traverse to cross, and theguide cast an anxious glance over his shoulder occasionally, as the darkwaves began to rise, and their crests were cut into white foam by theincreasing gale. Thunder roared in continued, successive peals, as ifthe heavens were breaking up, while rain descended in sheets. For atime the crews continued to ply their oars; but as the wind increased,these were rendered superfluous. They were taken in, therefore, and themen sought partial shelter under the tarpaulin; while Mr Park and thetwo boys were covered, excepting their heads, by an oilcloth, which wasalways kept at hand in rainy weather.
"What think you now, Louis?" said Mr Park, resuming the pipe which thesudden outburst of the storm had caused him to forget. "Have we seenthe worst of it?"
Louis replied abruptly in the negative, and in a few seconds shoutedloudly, "Look out, lads! here comes a squall. Stand by to let go thesheet there!"
Mike Brady, happening to be near the sheet, seized hold of the rope, andprepared to let go; while the men rose, as if by instinct, and gazedanxiously at the approaching squall, which could be seen in the distanceextending along the horizon, like a bar of blackest ink, spotted withflakes of white. The guide sat with compressed lips, and motionless asa statue, guiding the boat as it bounded madly towards the land, whichwas now not more than half a mile distant.
"Let go!" shouted the guide, in a voice that was heard loud and clearabove the roar of the elements.
"Ay, ay," replied the Irishman, untwisting the rope instantly, as with asharp hiss the squall descended on the boat.
At that moment the rope became entangled round one of the oars, and thegale burst with all its fury on the distended sail, burying the prow inthe waves, which rushed inboard in a black volume, and in an instanthalf filled the boat.
"Let go!" roared the guide again, in a voice of thunder; while Mikestruggled with awkward energy to disentangle the rope.
As he spoke, an Indian, who during the storm had been sitting beside themast, gazing at the boiling water with a grave, contemplative aspect,sprang quickly forward, drew his knife, and with two blows (so rapidlydelivered that they seemed but one) cut asunder first the sheet and thenthe halyards, which let the sail blow out and fall flat upon the boat.He was just in time. Another moment and the gushing water, which curledover the bow, would have filled them to the gunwale. As it was, thelittle vessel was so full of water that she lay like a log, while everytoss of the waves sent an additional torrent into her.
"Bail for your lives, lads!" cried Mr Park, as he sprang forward, and,seizing a tin dish, began energetically to bail out the water.Following his example, the whole crew seized whatever came first to handin the shape of dish or kettle, and began to bail. Charley and HarrySomerville acted a vigorous part on this occasion--the one with a barkdish (which had been originally made by the natives for the purpose ofholding maple-sugar), the other with his cap.
For a time it seemed doubtful whether the curling waves should send mostwater _into_ the boat, or the crew should bail most out of it. But thelatter soon prevailed, and in a few minutes it was so far got under thatthree of the men were enabled to leave off bailing and reset the sail,while Louis Peltier returned to his post at the helm. At first the boatmoved but slowly, owing to the weight of water in her; but as this grewgradually less, she increased her speed and neared the land.
"Well done, Redfeather," said Mr Park, addressing the Indian as heresumed his seat; "your knife did us good service that time, my finefellow."
Redfeather, who was the only pure native in the brigade, acknowledgedthe compliment with a smile.
"_Ah, oui_," said the guide, whose features had now lost their sternexpression. "Them Injins are always ready enough with their knives.It's not the first time my life has been saved by the knife of aredskin."
"Humph! bad luck to them," muttered Mike Brady; "it's not the first timethat my windpipe has been pretty near spiflicated by the knives o' theredskins, the murtherin' varmints!"
As Mike gave vent to this malediction, the boat ran swiftly past a low,rocky point, over which the surf was breaking wildly.
"Down with the sail, Mike," cried the guide, at the same time puttingthe helm hard up. The beat flew round, obedient to the ruling power,made one last plunge as it left the rolling surf behind, and slid gentlyand smoothly into still water under the lee of the point.
Here, in the snug shelter of a little bay, two of the other boats werefound, with their prows already on the beach, and their crews activelyemployed in landing their goods, opening bales that had received damagefrom the water, and preparing the encampment; while ever and anon theypaused a moment, to watch the various boats as they flew before thegale, and one by one doubled the friendly promontory.
If there is one thing that provokes a voyageur more than another, it isbeing wind-bound on the shores of a large lake. Rain or sleet, heat orcold, icicles forming on the oars, or a broiling sun glaring in acloudless sky, the stings of sandflies, or the sharp probes of a millionmosquitoes, he will bear with comparative indifference; but beingdetained by high wind for tw
o, three, or four days together--lyinginactively on shore, when everything else, it may be, is favourable: thesun bright, the sky blue, the air invigorating, and all but the windpropitious--is more than his philosophy can carry him through withequanimity. He grumbles at it; sometimes makes believe to laugh at it;very often, we are sorry to say, swears at it; does his best to sleepthrough it; but whatever he does, he does with a bad grace, because he'sin a bad humour, and can't stand it.
For the next three days this was the fate of our friends. Part of thetime it rained, when the whole party slept as much as was possible, andthen _endeavoured_ to sleep _more_ than was possible, under the shelterafforded by the spreading branches of the trees. Part of the time wasfair, with occasional gleams of sunshine, when the men turned out to eatand smoke and gamble round the fires; and the two friends sauntered downto a sheltered place on the shore, sunned themselves in a warm nookamong the rocks, while they gazed ruefully at the foaming billows, toldendless stories of what they had done in time past, and equally endless_prospective_ adventures that they earnestly hoped should befall them intime to come.
While they were thus engaged, Redfeather, the Indian who had cut theropes so opportunely during the storm, walked down to the shore, andsitting down on a rock not far distant, fell apparently into a reverie.
"I like that fellow," said Harry, pointing to the Indian.
"So do I. He's a sharp, active man. Had it not been for him we shouldhave had to swim for it."
"Indeed, had it not been for him I should have had to sink for it," saidHarry, with a smile, "for I can't swim."
"Ah, true, I forgot that. I wonder what the redskin, as the guide callshim, is thinking about," added Charley, in a musing tone.
"Of home, perhaps, `sweet home,'" said Harry, with a sigh. "Do youthink much of home, Charley, now that you have left it?"
Charley did not reply for a few seconds; he seemed to muse over thequestion.
At last he said slowly--
"Think of home? I think of little else when I am not talking with you,Harry. My dear mother is always in my thoughts, and my poor old father.Home? ay; and darling Kate, too, is at my elbow night and day, with thetears streaming from her eyes, and her ringlets scattered over myshoulder, as I saw her the day we parted, beckoning me back again, orreproaching me for having gone away--God bless her! Yes, I often, veryoften, think of home, Harry."
Harry made no reply. His friend's words had directed his thoughts to avery different and far-distant scene--to another Kate, and anotherfather and mother, who lived in a glen far away over the waters of thebroad Atlantic. He thought of them as they used to be when he was oneof the number, a unit in the beloved circle, whose absence would havecaused a blank there. He thought of the kind voice that used to readthe Word of God, and the tender kiss of his mother as they parted forthe night. He thought of the dreary day when he left them all behind,and sailed away, in the midst of strangers, across the wide ocean to astrange land. He thought of them now--_without_ him--accustomed to hisabsence, and forgetful, perhaps, at times that he had once been there.As he thought of all this a tear rolled down his cheek, and when Charleylooked up in his face, that tear-drop told plainly that he too thoughtsometimes of home.
"Let us ask Redfeather to tell us something about the Indians," he saidat length, rousing himself. "I have no doubt he has had many adventuresin his life. Shall we, Charley?"
"By all means.--Ho, Redfeather! are you trying to stop the wind bylooking it out of countenance?"
The Indian rose, and walked towards the spot where the boys lay.
"What was Redfeather thinking about?" said Charley, adopting thesomewhat pompous style of speech occasionally used by Indians. "Was hethinking of the white swan and his little ones in the prairie; or did hedream of giving his enemies a good licking the next time he meets them?"
"Redfeather has no enemies," replied the Indian. "He was thinking ofthe great Manito, [God] who made the wild winds, and the great lakes,and the forest."
"And pray, good Redfeather, what did your thoughts tell you?"
"They told me that men are very weak, and very foolish, and wicked; andthat Manito is very good and patient to let them live."
"That is to say," cried Harry, who was surprised and a little nettled tohear what he called the heads of a sermon from a redskin, "that _you_,being a man, are very weak, and very foolish, and wicked; and thatManito is very good and patient to let _you_ live?"
"Good," said the Indian calmly; "that is what I mean."
"Come, Redfeather," said Charley, laying his hand on the Indian's arm,"sit down beside us, and tell us some of your adventures. I know thatyou must have had plenty, and it's quite clear that we're not to getaway from this place all day, so you've nothing better to do."
The Indian readily assented, and began his story in English.
Redfeather was one of the very few Indians who had acquired the power ofspeaking the English language. Having been, while a youth, brought muchinto contact with the fur-traders, and having been induced by them toenter their service for a time, he had picked up enough of English tomake himself easily understood. Being engaged at a later period of lifeas guide to one of the exploring parties sent out by the BritishGovernment to discover the famous North-west Passage, he had learned toread and write, and had become so much accustomed to the habits andoccupations of the "palefaces," that he spent more of his time, in oneway or another, with them than in the society of his tribe, which dweltin the thick woods bordering on one of the great prairies of theinterior. He was about thirty years of age; had a tall, thin, but wiryand powerful frame; and was of a mild, retiring disposition. His facewore a habitually grave expression, verging towards melancholy; induced,probably, by the vicissitudes of a wild life (in which he had seen muchof the rugged side of nature in men and things) acting upon a sensitiveheart and a naturally warm temperament. Redfeather, however, was by nomeans morose; and when seated along with his Canadian comrades round thecamp fire, he listened with evidently genuine interest to their stories,and entered into the spirit of their jests. But he was always anauditor, and rarely took part in their conversations. He was frequentlyconsulted by the guide in matters of difficulty, and it was observedthat the "redskin's" opinion always carried much weight with it,although it was seldom given unless asked for. The men respected himmuch because he was a hard worker, obliging, and modest--three qualitiesthat ensure respect, whether found under a red skin or a white one.
"I shall tell you," he began, in a soft, musing tone, as if he werewandering in memories of the past--"I shall tell you how it was that Icame by the name of Redfeather."
"Au!" interrupted Charley, "I intended to ask you about that; you don'twear one."
"I did once. My father was a great warrior in his tribe," continued theIndian; "and I was but a youth when I got the name.
"My tribe was at war at the time with the Chipewyans, and one of ourscouts having come in with the intelligence that a party of our enemieswas in the neighbourhood, our warriors armed themselves to go in pursuitof them. I had been out once before with a war-party, but had not beensuccessful, as the enemy's scouts gave notice of our approach in time toenable them to escape. At the time the information was brought to us,the young men of our village were amusing themselves with athleticgames, and loud challenges were being given and accepted to wrestle, orrace, or swim in the deep water of the river, which flowed calmly pastthe green bank on which our wigwams stood. On a bank near to us satabout a dozen of our women--some employed in ornamenting moccasins withcoloured porcupine quills; others making rogans of bark for maple sugar,or nursing their young infants; while a few, chiefly the old women,grouped themselves together and kept up an incessant chattering, chieflywith reference to the doings of the young men.
"Apart from these stood three or four of the principal men of our tribe,smoking their pipes, and although apparently engrossed in conversation,still evidently interested in what was going forward on the bank of theriver.
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"Among the young men assembled there was one of about my own age, whohad taken a violent dislike to me because the most beautiful girl in allthe village preferred me before him. His name was Misconna. He was ahot-tempered, cruel youth; and although I endeavoured as much aspossible to keep out of his way, he sought every opportunity of pickinga quarrel with me. I had just been running a race along with severalother youths, and although not the winner, I had kept ahead of Misconnaall the distance. He now stood leaning against a tree, burning withrage and disappointment. I was sorry for this, because I bore him noill-will, and if it had occurred to me at the time, I would have allowedhim to pass me, since I was unable to gain the race at any rate.
"`Dog!' he said at length, stepping forward and confronting me, `willyou wrestle?'
"Just as he approached I had turned round to leave the place. Notwishing to have more to do with him, I pretended not to hear, and made astep or two towards the lodges. `Dog!' he cried again, while his eyesflashed fiercely, and he grasped me by the arm, `will you wrestle, orare you afraid? Has the brave boy's heart changed into that of a girl?'
"`No, Misconna,' said I. `You _know_ that I am not afraid; but I haveno desire to quarrel with you.'
"`You lie!' cried he, with a cold sneer,--`you are afraid; and see,' headded, pointing towards the women with a triumphant smile, `thedark-eyed girl sees it and believes it too!'
"I turned to look, and there I saw Wabisca gazing on me with a look ofblank amazement. I could see, also, that several of the other women,and some of my companions, shared in her surprise.
"With a burst of anger I turned round. `No, Misconna,' said I, `I am_not_ afraid, as you shall find;' and springing upon him, I grasped himround the body. He was nearly, if not quite, as strong a youth asmyself; but I was burning with indignation at the insolence of hisconduct before so many of the women,--which gave me more than usualenergy. For several minutes we swayed to and fro, each endeavouring invain to bend the other's back; but we were too well matched for this,and sought to accomplish our purpose by taking advantage of an unguardedmovement. At last such a movement occurred. My adversary made a suddenand violent attempt to throw me to the left, hoping that an inequalityin the ground would favour his effort. But he was mistaken. I had seenthe danger, and was prepared for it, so that the instant he attempted itI threw forward my right leg, and thrust him backwards with all mymight. Misconna was quick in his motions. He saw my intention--toolate, indeed, to prevent it altogether, but in time to throw back hisleft foot and stiffen his body till it felt like a block of stone. Theeffort was now entirely one of endurance. We stood, each with hismuscles strained to the utmost, without the slightest motion. At lengthI felt my adversary give way a little. Slight though the motion was, itinstantly removed all doubt as to who should go down. My heart gave abound of exultation, and with the energy which such a feeling alwaysinspires, I put forth all my strength, threw him heavily over on hisback, and fell upon him.
"A shout of applause from my comrades greeted me as I rose and left theground; but at the same moment the attention of all was taken frommyself and the baffled Misconna by the arrival of the scout, bringing usinformation that a party of Chipewyans were in the neighbourhood. In amoment all was bustle and preparation. An Indian war-party is soon gotready. Forty of our braves threw off the principal parts of theirclothing; painted their faces with stripes of vermilion and charcoal;armed themselves with guns, bows, tomahawks, and scalping-knives, and ina few minutes left the camp in silence, and at a quick pace.
"One or two of the youths who had been playing on the river's bank werepermitted to accompany the party, and among these were Misconna andmyself. As we passed a group of women, assembled to see us depart, Iobserved the girl who had caused so much jealousy between us. She castdown her eyes as we came up, and as we advanced close to the group shedropped a white feather as if by accident. Stooping hastily down, Ipicked it up in passing, and stuck it in an ornamented band that boundmy hair. As we hurried on, I heard two or three old hags laugh, andsay, with a sneer, `His hand is as white as the feather: it has neverseen blood.' The next moment we were hid in the forest, and pursued ourrapid course in dead silence.
"The country through which we passed was varied, extending in brokenbits of open prairie, and partly covered with thick wood, yet not sothick as to offer any hindrance to our march. We walked in single file,each treading in his comrade's footsteps, while the band was headed bythe scout who had brought the information. The principal chief of ourtribe came next, and he was followed by the braves according to theirage or influence. Misconna and I brought up the rear. The sun was justsinking as we left the belt of wood land in which our village stood,crossed over a short plain, descended a dark hollow, at the bottom ofwhich the river flowed, and following its course for a considerabledistance, turned off to the right and emerged upon a sweep ofprairie-land. Here the scout halted, and taking the chief and two orthree braves aside, entered into earnest consultation with them.
"What they said we could not hear; but as we stood leaning on our gunsin the deep shade of the forest, we could observe by their animatedgestures that they differed in opinion. We saw that the scout pointedseveral times to the moon, which was just rising above the tree-tops,and then to the distant horizon; but the chief shook his head, pointedto the woods, and seemed to be much in doubt, while the whole bandwatched his motions in deep silence but evident interest. At lengththey appeared to agree. The scout took his place at the head of theline, and we resumed our march, keeping close to the margin of the wood.It was perhaps three hours after this ere we again halted to holdanother consultation. This time their deliberations were shorter. In afew seconds our chief himself took the lead, and turned into the woods,through which he guided us to a small fountain which bubbled up at theroot of a birch tree, where there was a smooth green spot of levelground. Here we halted, and prepared to rest for an hour, at the end ofwhich time the moon, which now shone bright and full in the clear sky,would be nearly down, and we could resume our march. We now sat down ina circle, and taking a hasty mouthful of dried meat, stretched ourselveson the ground with our arms beside us, while our chief kept watch,leaning against the birch tree. It seemed as if I had scarcely beenasleep five minutes when I felt a light touch on my shoulder. Springingup, I found the whole party already astir, and in a few minutes more wewere again hurrying onwards.
"We travelled thus until a faint light in the east told us that the daywas at hand, when the scout's steps became more cautious, and he pausedto examine the ground frequently. At last we came to a place where theground sank slightly, and at the distance of a hundred yards rose again,forming a low ridge, which was crowned with small bushes. Here we cameto a halt, and were told that our enemies were on the other side of thatridge; that they were about twenty in number, all Chipewyan warriors,with the exception of one paleface--a trapper and his Indian wife. Thescout had learned, while lying like a snake in the grass around theircamp, that this man was merely travelling with them on his way to theRocky Mountains, and that, as they were a war-party, he intended toleave them soon. On hearing this the warriors gave a grim smile, andour chief, directing the scout to fall behind, cautiously led the way tothe top of the ridge. On reaching it we saw a valley of great extent,dotted with trees and shrubs, and watered by one of the many rivers thatflow into the great Saskatchewan. It was nearly dark, however, and wecould only get an indistinct view of the land. Far ahead of us, on theright bank of the stream, and close to its margin, we saw the faint redlight of watch-fires; which caused us some surprise, for watch-fires arenever lighted by a war-party so near to an enemy's country. So we couldonly conjecture that they were quite ignorant of our being in that partof the country; which was, indeed, not unlikely, seeing that we hadshifted our camp during the summer.
"Our chief now made arrangements for the attack. We were directed toseparate and approach individually as near to the camp as was possiblewithout risk of discovery,
and then, taking up an advantageous position,to await our chief's signal, which was to be the hooting of an owl. Weimmediately separated. My course lay along the banks of the stream, andas I strode rapidly along, listening to its low, solemn murmur, whichsounded clear and distinct in the stillness of a calm summer night, Icould not help feeling as if it were reproaching me for the bloody workI was hastening to perform. Then the recollection of what the old womansaid of me raised a desperate spirit in my heart. Remembering the whitefeather in my head, I grasped my gun and quickened my pace. As I nearedthe camp I went into the woods and climbed a low hillock to look out. Ifound that it still lay about five hundred yards distant, and that thegreater part of the ground between it and the place where I stood wasquite flat, and without cover of any kind. I therefore prepared tocreep towards it, although the attempt was likely to be attended withgreat danger, for Chipewyans have quick ears and sharp eyes. Observing,however, that the river ran close past the camp, I determined to followits course as before. In a few seconds more I came to a dark, narrowgap where the river flowed between broken rocks, overhung by branches,and from which I could obtain a clear view of the camp within fiftyyards of me. Examining the priming of my gun, I sat down on a rock toawait the chief's signal.
"It was evident, from the careless manner in which the fires wereplaced, that no enemy was supposed to be near. From my concealment Icould plainly distinguish ten or fifteen of the sleeping forms of ourenemies, among which the trapper was conspicuous, from his superiorbulk, and the reckless way in which his brawny arms were flung on theturf, while his right hand clutched his rifle. I could not but smile asI thought of the proud boldness of the paleface--lying all exposed toview in the grey light of dawn while an Indian's rifle was so close athand. One Indian kept watch, but he seemed more than half asleep. Ihad not sat more than a minute when my observations were interrupted bythe cracking of a branch in the bushes near me. Starting up, I wasabout to bound into the underwood, when a figure sprang down the bankand rapidly approached me. My first impulse was to throw forward mygun, but a glance sufficed to show me that it was a woman.
"`Wah!' I exclaimed, in surprise, as she hurried forward and laid herhand on my shoulder. She was dressed partly in the costume of theIndians, but wore a shawl on her shoulders and a handkerchief on herhead that showed she had been in the settlements; and from the lightnessof her skin and hair, I judged at once that she was the trapper's wife,of whom I had heard the scout speak.
"`Has the light-hair got a medicine-bag, or does she speak with spirits,that she has found me so easily?'
"The girl looked anxiously up in my face as if to read my thoughts, andthen said, in a low voice,--`No, I neither carry the medicine-bag norhold palaver with spirits; but I do think the good Manito must have ledme here. I wandered into the woods because I could not sleep, and I sawyou pass. But tell me,' she added, with still deeper anxiety, `does thewhite-feather come alone? Does he approach _friends_ during the darkhours with a soft step like a fox?'
"Feeling the necessity of detaining her until my comrades should havetime to surround the camp, I said: `The white-feather hunts far from hislands. He sees Indians whom he does not know, and must approach with alight step. Perhaps they are enemies.'
"`Do Knisteneux hunt at night, prowling in the bed of a stream?' saidthe girl, still regarding me with a keen glance. `Speak truth,stranger,' (and she started suddenly back); `in a moment I can alarm thecamp with a cry, and if your tongue is forked.--But I do not wish tobring enemies upon you, if they are indeed such. I am not one of them.My husband and I travel with them for a time. We do not desire to seeblood. God knows,' she added in French, which seemed her native tongue,`I have seen enough of that already.'
"As her earnest eyes looked into my face a sudden thought occurred tome. `Go,' said I, hastily, `tell your husband to leave the campinstantly and meet me here; and see that the Chipewyans do not observeyour departure. Quick! his life and yours may depend on your speed.'
"The girl instantly comprehended my meaning. In a moment she sprang upthe bank; but as she did so the loud report of a gun was heard, followedby a yell, and the war-whoop of the Knisteneux rent the air as theyrushed upon the devoted camp, sending arrows and bullets before them.
"On the instant I sprang after the girl and grasped her by the arm.`Stay, white-cheek; it is too late now. You cannot save your husband,but I think he'll save himself. I saw him dive into the bushes like acaribou. Hide yourself here; perhaps you may escape.'
"The half-breed girl sank on a fallen tree with a deep groan, andclasped her hands convulsively before her eyes, while I bounded over thetree, intending to join my comrades in pursuing the enemy.
"As I did so a shrill cry arose behind me, and looking back, I beheldthe trapper's wife prostrate on the ground, and Misconna standing overher, his spear uplifted, and a fierce frown on his dark face.
"`Hold!' I cried, rushing back and seizing his arm. `Misconna did notcome to kill _women_. She is not our enemy.'
"`Does the young wrestler want _another_ wife?' he said, with a wildlaugh, at the same time wrenching his arm from my gripe, and driving hisspear through the fleshy part of the woman's breast and deep into theground. A shriek rent the air as he drew it out again to repeat thethrust; but before he could do so, I struck him with the butt of my gunon the head. Staggering backwards, he fell heavily among the bushes.At this moment a second whoop rang out, and another of our band sprangfrom the thicket that surrounded us. Seeing no one but myself and thebleeding girl, he gave me a short glance of surprise, as if he wonderedwhy I did not finish the work which he evidently supposed I had begun.
"`Wah!' he exclaimed; and uttering another yell plunged his spear intothe woman's breast, despite my efforts to prevent him--this time withmore deadly effect, as the blood spouted from the wound, while sheuttered a piercing scream, and twined her arms round my legs as I stoodbeside her, as if imploring for mercy. Poor girl! I saw that she waspast my help. The wound was evidently mortal. Already the signs ofdeath overspread her features, and I felt that a second blow would beone of mercy; so that when the Indian stooped and passed his long knifethrough her heart, I made but a feeble effort to prevent it. Just asthe man rose, with the warm blood dripping from his keen blade, thesharp crack of a rifle was heard, and the Indian fell dead at my feet,shot through the forehead, while the trapper bounded into the openspace, his massive frame quivering, and his sunburned face distortedwith rage and horror. From the other side of the brake six of our bandrushed forward and levelled their guns at him. For one moment thetrapper paused to cast a glance at the mangled corpse of his wife, as ifto make quite sure that she was dead; and then uttering a howl ofdespair, he hurled his axe with a giant's force at the Knisteneux, anddisappeared over the precipitous bank of the stream.
"So rapid was the action that the volley which immediately succeededpassed harmlessly over his head, while the Indians dashed forward inpursuit. At the same instant I myself was felled to the earth. The axewhich the trapper had flung struck a tree in its flight, and as itglanced off the handle gave me a violent blow in passing. I fellstunned. As I did so my head alighted on the shoulder of the woman, andthe last thing I felt, as my wandering senses forsook me, was her stillwarm blood flowing over my face and neck.
"While this scene was going on, the yells and screams of the warriors inthe camp became fainter and fainter as they pursued and fled through thewoods. The whole band of Chipewyans was entirely routed, with theexception of four who escaped, and the trapper whose flight I havedescribed; all the rest were slain, and their scalps hung at the beltsof the victorious Knisteneux warriors, while only one of our party waskilled.
"Not more than a few minutes after receiving the blow that stunned me, Irecovered, and rising as hastily as my scattered faculties would permitme, I staggered towards the camp, where I heard the shouts of our men asthey collected the arms of their enemies. As I rose, the feather whichWabisca had dropped fell from my brow; a
nd as I picked it up to replaceit, I perceived that it was _red_, being entirely covered with the bloodof the half-breed girl.
"The place where Misconna had fallen was vacant as I passed, and I foundhim standing among his comrades round the camp fires, examining the gunsand other articles which they had collected. He gave me a short glanceof deep hatred as I passed, and turned his head hastily away. A fewminutes sufficed to collect the spoils, and so rapidly had everythingbeen done that the light of day was still faint as we silently returnedon our track. We marched in the same order as before, Misconna and Ibringing up the rear. As we passed near the place where the poor womanhad been murdered, I felt a strong desire to return to the spot. Icould not very well understand the feeling, but it lay so strong upon methat, when we reached the ridge where we first came in sight of theChipewyan camp, I fell behind until my companions disappeared in thewoods, and then ran swiftly back. Just as I was about to step beyondthe circle of bushes that surrounded the spot, I saw that some one wasthere before me. It was a man, and as he advanced into the open spaceand the light fell on his face, I saw that it was the trapper. No doubthe had watched us off the ground, and then, when all was safe, returnedto bury his wife. I crouched to watch him. Stepping slowly up to thebody of his murdered wife, he stood beside it with his arms folded onhis breast and quite motionless. His head hung down, for the heart ofthe white man was heavy, and I could see, as the light increased, thathis brows were dark as the thunder-cloud, and the corners of his mouthtwitched from a feeling that the Indian scorns to show. My heart isfull of sorrow for him now," (Redfeather's voice sank as he spoke); "itwas full of sorrow for him even _then_, when I was taught to think thatpity for an enemy was unworthy of a brave. The trapper stood gazingvery long. His wife was young; he could not leave her yet. At length adeep groan burst from his heart, as the waters of a great river, longheld down, swell up in spring and burst the ice at last. Groan followedgroan as the trapper still stood and pressed his arms on his broadbreast, as if to crush the heart within. At last he slowly knelt besideher, bending more and more over the lifeless form, until he lay extendedon the ground beside it, and twining his arms round the neck, he drewthe cold cheek close to his, and pressed the blood-covered bosom tighterand tighter, while his form quivered with agony as he gave her a last,long embrace. Oh!" continued Redfeather, while his brow darkened, andhis black eye flashed with an expression of fierceness that his younglisteners had never seen before, "may the curse--" He paused. "Godforgive them! how could they know better?
"At length the trapper rose hastily. The expression of his brow wasstill the same, but his mouth was altered. The lips were pressedtightly like those of a brave when led to torture, and there was afierce activity in his motions as he sprang down the bank and proceededto dig a hole in the soft earth. For half an hour he laboured,shovelling away the earth with a large flat stone; and carrying down thebody, he buried it there, under the shadow of a willow. The trapperthen shouldered his rifle and hurried away. On reaching the turn of thestream which shuts the little hollow out from view, he halted suddenly,gave one look into the prairie he was thenceforth to tread alone, oneshort glance back, and then, raising both arms in the air, looked upinto the sky, while he stretched himself to his full height. Even atthat distance I could see the wild glare of his eye and the heaving ofhis breast. A moment after, and he was gone."
"And did you never see him again?" inquired Harry Somerville eagerly.
"No, I never saw him more. Immediately afterwards I turned to rejoin mycompanions, whom I soon overtook, and entered our village along withthem. I was regarded as a poor warrior, because I brought home noscalps, and ever afterwards I went by the name of _Redfeather_ in ourtribe."
"But are you still thought a poor warrior?" asked Charley, in someconcern, as if he were jealous of the reputation of his new friend.
The Indian smiled. "No," he said: "our village was twice attackedafterwards, and in defending it Redfeather took many scalps. He wasmade a chief!"
"Ah!" cried Charley, "I'm glad of that. And Wabisca, what came of her?Did Misconna get her?"
"She is my wife," replied Redfeather.
"Your wife! Why, I thought I heard the voyageurs call your wife thewhite swan."
"_Wabisca_ is _white_ in the language of the Knisteneux. She isbeautiful in form, and my comrades call her the white swan."
Redfeather said this with an air of gratified pride. He did not,perhaps, love his wife with more fervour than he would have done had heremained with his tribe; but Redfeather had associated a great deal withthe traders, and he had imbibed much of that spirit which prompts"_white men_" to treat their females with deference and respect--afeeling which is very foreign to an Indian's bosom. To do so was,besides, more congenial to his naturally unselfish and affectionatedisposition, so that any flattering allusion to his partner was alwaysreceived by him with immense gratification.
"I'll pay you a visit some day, Redfeather, if I'm sent to any placewithin fifty miles of your tribe," said Charley, with the air of one whohad fully made up his mind.
"And Misconna?" asked Harry.
"Misconna is with his tribe," replied the Indian, and a frown overspreadhis features as he spoke. "But Redfeather has been following in thetrack of his white friends; he has not seen his nation for many moons."