"Rool Britanny! Britanny rool waves!Britons ne-vaire—ne-vaire—ne-vaireShall be sla-aves!"
"Rool Britanny! Britanny rool waves!Britons ne-vaire—ne-vaire—ne-vaireShall be sla-aves!"
During the march through the woods the Indians were not communicative. Once or twice Arnold attempted to draw Swift Arrow into conversation, but the old man merely listened in solemn silence. He refused even to respond to direct questions.
Eventually a clearing was reached where a large number of teepees were pitched. It was quite a wigwam village, and thence the two captives were escorted to a tent that stood among many others. They were politely requested to enter, and, on obeying, they found that the teepee was otherwise empty. Several men were posted on guard at a little distance from the entrance, while Swift Arrow departed with the rest of his brethren.
"There's no doubt but that we are prisoners," remarked Arnold, as he sat down upon a buffalohide, preparing to make the best of things and take his ease while he might.
"The whole affair is a puzzle," said his companion. "Why on earth they should take us prisoners passes my comprehension. It can't be that they regard us as enemies. They would not have been so polite and considerate if that had been their thought."
"That's just it," laughed Arnold, who, like his son, had the gift for worrying little until he knew exactly what to worry about. "That's just what surprises me. We are treated as prisoners, and not as prisoners. My impression is that we are regarded with more fear than anger."
The time allowed for speculation was soon curtailed by the sound of many voices approaching the tent, though presently there was silence, and a loud voice called to those within—
"The eyes of Mighty Hand would gladly rest on the sight of the White Men."
"He means us," commented Arnold, rising from the couch of fur. "He's too polite to enter the teepee uninvited."
"By all means let his eyes rest upon us," laughed Holden.
The two men then advanced, while one threwopen the flap of the tent. And the picture that met their eyes was one that struck the strangers with admiration, for it seemed to throw the years back to the days when the Indian ruled the prairie—the days that knew the youth of Ballantyne and the prime of Fenimore Cooper.
Ranged in a semicircle before the tent was a crowd of braves and warriors—all arrayed in the picturesque garb that was unspoilt by any touch of Saxon attire, such as is commonly seen among redskins of the present day. Except that the old-time bows and arrows were replaced by more modern muzzle-loaders, there was nothing to suggest any association with white men and white men's tastes.
But it was not so much the background of natives that impressed the Englishmen. Their admiration was called to the central figure. He was an Indian of enormous size—tall, squarely built, and equally proportioned. His head was surmounted with a turban of black fox decorated with eagle feathers that were continued like a wing right down his back and nearly touched the ground. His black hair was threaded with many coloured beads, some of which resembled (and actually were proved to be) nuggets of puregold. Necklaces of beads and animals' teeth hung in many strands upon the breast of his deerskin shirt. Leggings and moccasins were a mass of beads, feathers, and porcupines' quills woven in intricately fantastic designs. And, over all, there hung in graceful folds an ermine robe of spotless white.
This was the great chief of the Dacotahs. Mighty Hand was his name, and that hand was famed for its deeds of valour as equally for its deeds of kindness. He was sole monarch of a mighty branch-tribe of the Dacotahs that had long been separated from its renegade brethren, preferring to maintain the old life in the forest and on the prairie rather than a workhouse existence in a Government Reserve. He led his people far from the haunts of white men, and his life was only harmful to the game that supplied his people's needs. Powder and other necessaries he obtained from frontier trading-stations. But he was known as a man of peace and a man of spotless honour. Hence his irregular life and failure to comply with Government Reserve regulations had been hitherto winked at by the officials.
When the Englishmen issued from the tent,this chief was standing before them in a majestic attitude that at once proclaimed his royal blood. He was unarmed. This was a courtesy to the strangers.
At the chief's right side stood Swift Arrow; at the left was a figure that formed a weird contrast to the other two. This one was lean, bent, and twisted like a gnarled tree that had been starved and warped in the forest. His dress was alike native, but the grotesque ornaments of animals' skulls, tails, dried monkeys' hands, and other gruesome relics gave the wearer an appearance that was repulsive to Saxon eyes. This freak of figure and dress was Thunder-maker, the great Medicine Man of the tribe. Without his presence no state conclave was complete; without his opinion no tribal law or ruling was ever decided.
It must not be thought that the time we have occupied in describing these several features was similarly occupied by the Englishmen in minute observation. Not at all. Arnold, immediately recognising the bearing of the chief, promptly addressed him in English, which Mighty Hand could understand—judging from his first salutation.
"The white brothers of the redmen are gladdenedby this visit of the great chief," he said. "The white brothers have been in great danger from rushing waters—danger from which the great chief's braves snatched them. They are grateful that their lives have been saved, and they are glad to meet the chief and thank him for what was done."
The Indian listened in silence, and, at the pause that followed, he returned in deep tones, as if he were repeating a lesson that he had learnt by heart—
"Out from the silver waters, when the moon is round, they shall come. They shall be pale-face, and they shall look like men."
This was certainly a puzzling rejoinder! To neither of the captives did it convey any knowledge. Arnold, however, deemed that the best course would be to assume no impression that he and his friend were regarded as prisoners.
"The chief speaks well," he returned. "But his tongue deceives him when he says that welooklike men. Pale-faces we are. But we are friends to the redman. We would smoke the peace-pipe with him. But we are far from our camp. At our tents are our young sons, who are awaiting our return with anxious hearts. Perhapsthe great chief has also a son! He will know, then, how heavy would be the heart of his papoose if the chief were long absent from his teepee. We therefore beg that the chief will hasten the peace-pipe. Afterwards he will lend a brave to guide the white brothers back to their camp-ground."
While Arnold spoke there was silence among the Indians, and it was obvious, from the chief's face, that his mind was disturbed with indecision.
"Mighty Hand has listened to the words of the pale-face," the chief said. "The white man's words flow as music, but—'out from the silver waters, when the moon is round—— '"
The speaker's voice faded into thoughtfulness, and Holden whispered to his companion—
"What is the fellow driving at? What does he mean by 'out from the silver waters'? Of course we came out from waters, but what has that to do with the moon, I wonder?"
"I can't think, unless—yes, I believe I've got it! It's full moon about this time, Holden. There's some Indian superstition, I imagine, about full moon and people being rescued from the water——"
"It sounds like that from the way he speaks.You remember Swift Arrow said much the same thing."
"Then depend upon it we've hit the mark. In some way we've got mixed up with a legend or superstition."
Mighty Hand had been consulting with Swift Arrow while the Englishmen had been quietly summing up the situation, but now he again faced the captives.
"Mighty Hand has lived long and seen many wonders and much great medicine. But to-day there is a cloud in his mind. He understands but darkly. It would be a shame that Mighty Hand should bring water to the eyes of his white brother's papoose, but who can say if the Fiery Totem be not calling this day? Behold!"
As he spoke the chief tore open his deerskin shirt, and when the Englishmen bent forward in curiosity they saw—upon the naked breast—the figure of a serpent tattooed in gold and red so cunningly that it seemed as though a living reptile were there resting—a reptile moulded from burning flames, with head raised in the attitude of striking.
The men gave a gasp of wonder and surprise, and at the same instant the Medicine Man jumpedforward, pointed a finger towards the sign, and turned with an evil grin towards the strangers.
"The totem of the Serpent Dacotahs!" he hissed through his teeth. "Can the pale-face look upon it without fear? Can they not feel the poison-tooth break the covering of their flesh?"
At this strange attack Arnold laughed aloud, and Holden smiled as he said—
"The white men are not cowards! They do not shrink before a figure of paint!"
The Medicine Man threw up his arms in a transport of rage.
"They laugh! The white men smile at the sacred totem!" he cried in a wild appeal to the sympathies of the people, who began to respond with disapproving murmurs. "Shall it be that the fiery serpent hear laughing tongues while the hands of the Dacotahs are idle?Whoare they that dare to revile our sacred sign with mocking eyes and tongues?"
Matters were beginning to assume a serious aspect towards the strangers, for evidently the Medicine Man was one whose lead was followed by his people, and who knew well how to play upon their weaknesses. So Arnold hastened totry and pacify the anger that he had inadvertently roused.
"My red brother mistakes," he said, addressing Thunder-maker. "The white man's laughter was at the suggestion of fear. We are brave men who fear nothing. But we did no insult to the totem of the Dacotahs——"
"Dogs!" exclaimed the furious Indian. "Dogs! The fiery totem has been defiled. Revenge, my brothers! Revenge! lest the names Dacotah and Mighty Hand become things for jeers and laughter in the women's tents!"
The Indian was quite frantic with passion, and as he flung his wild appeal to his people the murmurs suddenly burst into a flood of angry roars—knives were snatched from their sheaths, a hundred arms were lifted, and the circle quickly closed upon the helpless men. But just at that moment of peril and almost inevitable death, the great figure of Mighty Hand was seen to start. He stepped forward with one stride, turned his back upon the captives, and then raised his arms, from which his robe hung like great protecting wings that shielded the strangers beneath their folds. And his voice rang out above the angryclamour like the voice of a wind roaring through the pine forests.
"Back, Dacotahs! Back to your tents ere the strength of Mighty Hand is lifted and you sink to the dust! Is this how the redman treats the stranger who would smoke the peace-pipe by our fire? Is this the welcome that my braves give to those whom Mighty Hand has received with a smile—with no arms in his hand, no tomahawk at his belt? Back, dogs! and hide your coward faces like frightened papooses in the skirts of the women!"
The clamour ceased instantly. The men hung back, and their heads bent with shame, that is, all heads but that of Thunder-maker. His face betokened no shame. Nay, greater fury than ever was depicted, though he was silenced before the anger of his chief. But it was only for a little while that he was thus disconcerted, for soon he resumed—though now he spoke with humble fawning—
"It is death in the heart of Thunder-maker when the eyes of Mighty Hand shoot their looks of fire. But—Thunder-maker speak true. Has he not made great medicine these many suns? Did he not bring the thunder to prove his greatmedicine? Has he not many times driven the fever from the camp, till it fled over the prairie like a coyote driven with sticks and dogs? Huh! many wonders has he done, and—more will he do. He will do great medicine this day. He will show if the fiery totem has called in vain for vengeance."
Thus speaking, Thunder-maker dived a hand into the bosom of his shirt and drew out a bundle of dirty linen. The chief had lowered his arms, so that the Englishmen could now see the Indian as he laughed and held up the bundle triumphantly above his head.
"Great medicine!" he exclaimed, fixing his eyes upon the white men. "Great medicine! Look! See! Listen!"
They looked, and as they looked they saw the linen move, as if something inside were struggling to be free, and at the same time they heard a sound like the sudden springing of an old-time policeman's rattle.
"Rattlesnakes!" exclaimed Arnold under his breath.
Thunder-maker laughed when he saw that the sound had been recognised.
"Come! Come, my children!" he cried, as heturned his face upwards. "Come, my little son—come, my little daughter!"
Then he shook the knot of the bundle, and out from the aperture crept two grey-green bodies—a pair of twisting, writhing somethings that caused the onlookers to shudder and the Medicine Man to laugh, as he repeated carelessly—
"Come, my little papooses! You will speak great medicine in the ears of Thunder-maker!"
Slowly the serpents came from their covering. One remained coiled on the raised wrists, the other—still sounding the ominous rattle—moved slowly downwards till it rested on the man's shoulder. Then Thunder-maker inclined his head, as if listening to a whisper. Afterwards his face lit up with understanding.
"Huh!" he exclaimed. "Did not the spirit of Thunder-maker speak true? Come, my little papoose! You shall show for whom the fiery totem called."
Turning his head so as to look along his shoulder, the Indian suddenly grabbed the writhing reptile with his teeth, after which (holding the other serpent with his right hand) he commenced dancing until he had cleared an opencircular space, of which the Indians and the white men formed the border.
Suddenly he sprang to the middle and tossed the snake to the ground, while he uttered a wild shriek.
Once on the earth, the snake glided swiftly in several directions, while all watched the creature with tense excitement. Then for a second it seemed to pause with its head in the direction of the Englishmen. At the same moment the Indian gave a cry of triumph, tucked the one snake into a fold of his robe and bent down, making passes with his hands above the serpent on the ground. And as his hands moved so the rattlesnake gradually straightened out its body till it lay stiff and straight as a piece of wood.
Thunder-maker paused. Then he rose up slowly and looked with triumph straight into the chief's face.
"My children say that the time has come to take the cloud from the Dacotah. My papooses showwhoanswer call of fiery totem!"
Even considering the serious nature of their quest and the plight they were in, it was not possible for the boys to refrain from laughing when they recognised Britain's national song as caricatured by the singer. But they had sufficient wisdom to control most of their amusement to "inward laughing." It is not always safe in the backwoods to announce your presence too suddenly where strangers are concerned—especially strangers who are not of the white skin.
"That's a rum sort of music to come upon a hundred miles from nowhere," remarked Bob, with a grin, to his chum.
"Let's hope that it comes from a throat that has something of civilisation about it," said Alf.
"It doesn't sound quite like a white man. That 'ne-vaire' is more French accent than English—probably a half-breed."
"What do you think we ought to do?"
"Investigate. We've got no choice. We're lost; that's certain enough. What's more, there seems to be very little chance of finding our own trail back to the camp."
"That's true enough," Alf assented. "But suppose we come upon a camp of half-breeds, as you suggested? I've heard that they're not the best of friends to white people in out-of-the-way places."
Arnold nodded in agreement.
"I dare say that's true. But, at the same time, most yarns of the kind have usually got large bits of ornamental stuff stuck round the facts. We'll have to take our chance of falling in with friends or foes."
"Right-away. If you're ready, I'm ready also," said Alf promptly. "It will be a strange thing if 'Rule Britannia' leads Britons into a mess instead of out of one."
Having thus determined what course to pursue, the two boys began to creep cautiously through the bush towards the locality from whence still proceeded the music that was being repeated with all the diligence of some one who was determined to learn his lesson thoroughly.
The night was now quite dark, but presently the chums were able to distinguish the flickering of a camp-fire at no great distance before them.
Taking every care not to betray their presence by any careless footstep, they twined a path with all the success that a professional tracker would have admired. Then, penetrating a more than usually dense portion of the bush, the young explorers found themselves right on the edge of the encampment, and the picture that they then discovered was one that was surely calculated to drive away all melancholy thoughts and feelings of fatigue, for the time being at least.
Seated on the end of a water-keg, in front of a moderate-sized "A" tent, was a man of gigantic size whose black hair stood up from his head as if he were constantly seeing ghosts, and whose equally black beard streamed down his breast like a cataract of ink. He was dressed in a blue shirt, corduroy trousers protected with cowboy "shaps," and heavy top-boots. In his hands was an accordion, at his side sat a collie dog, while in front of him, with his back to the fire—standing with his hands behind his back in the attitude of a schoolboy repeating a lesson—was a tousle-headedhalf-breed, whom he of the black beard was addressing in encouraging tones—
"Noo then, ma callant, we'll just be having that last line ower again. It's no' bad as an eemitation o' a cat left oot on a winter's night; but it's no' just what I call 'ceevilised'; no' just quite that—yet."
Then the accordion sounded a dismal chord suggestive of an attack of asthma, the half-breed reattacked the "ne-vaire, ne-vaire, ne-vaire" in a manner that made up in energy what it lacked in music, and the collie raised his head to add a long-drawn wail to the concert.
"That's a wee bit better," was the player's verdict at the finish. "I'm thinking we'll make a ceevilised creature oot o' you in time, Haggis." Then the speaker turned to the dog. "As for you, Bannock, you're a bit oot o' tune at times. But it's no' that bad for a doggie. It's good to be aye trying to do our best——"
"Hear! hear!" shouted Bob, whose interested amusement had quite banished his caution.
The effect of the boy's applause was electric. The two men started. The half-breed snatched up a gun that was leaning against a tree near by; one hand of the bearded man deposited themusical instrument upon the ground as his right picked up a handy rifle; while Bannock, the dog, crouched down with bristling hair and deep growling.
"Come oot and show yourself, whoever ye be!" commanded the master, as he raised himself to his great height, with rifle in readiness and eyes staring towards that part of the bush where the chums stood. "Come forward this instant, or I'll bore as many holes in your body as there are farthings in a pound!"
In obedience to the gentle invitation, and not in the least nervous, now that they knew who the musicians were, the boys immediately made their appearance.
"There's no need to be afraid——" began Holden reassuringly, when he was interrupted by a huge guffaw of derision.
"Afraid! And what for shall Skipper Mackintosh be afraid? Unless it's mosquitoes, there's no man or beast in Canada that'll turn a hair on his hide." Then, seeing the lads as they approached into the firelight, the man immediately changed his tone of address as he also altered the threatening pose of his rifle. "What! A pair o' laddies?" he exclaimed in astonishment, and Bob replied—
"Neither of whom is particularly anxious to be riddled with a pound's worth of farthing bullets!"
But the words had barely passed the boy's lips before the rifle had been dropped to the ground and the man had sprung forward excitedly to grab a hand of each boy in his great fists.
"Faix! but this is a fine sight for sore eyes!" he exclaimed, as he vigorously pumped the arms up and down. "I've no' seen a white face (barring a trader's, and that was ower dirty to call it 'white') this twelvemonth past. I'm right glad to see you!"
"And I guess we're jolly glad to see you," returned Alf. "It's a treat, but—speaking for myself, I really want to use my hand again. It'll be jelly in a few more seconds."
"And mine too!" laughed Bob, who could not help wincing at the vigorous form of the welcome.
The Scotsman immediately released his severe grasp.
"Sakes! But I'm that glad to see you, laddies, I feel just like squeezing for another hour. I suppose, noo, that I'm no' just dreaming? You're no' by chance just twa o' them muckle moths that's come into my dream in a make-believe?"
"We're human, sure enough," Arnold laughed in reply, and Alf added—
"Terribly human we are, for we've lost our way in the forest, and we're beastly tired as well as hungry."
"Lost—tired—hungry?" repeated Mackintosh. "That has a human sound—terribly human, as you say." Then he turned towards the half-breed, who had been standing an amazed spectator of the scene. "Did you hear that, Haggis?" he demanded. "Did you hear that—'hungry and tired'?"
"Haggis hear," was the quiet reply of the native, to which the Scot retorted angrily—
"You heard? And yet, one meenit after, I see you standing there like a daft gowk instead o' hustling for food as fast as your legs can move you? Ma conscience! But you tak' a deal of ceevilising! You dinna ken the first meaning o' the word 'hospitality.' Off wi' you!"
There was no need to repeat the order, for the half-breed immediately disappeared within the tent, and the almost simultaneous rattling sound of tin-ware was evidence of his haste to supply the want.
Mackintosh then turned to the boys.
"Noo then, rest yourselves, laddies. Sit doon by the fire, and you'll soon have a bit o' something to grind between your molars. Haggis is slow to understand, but he's quick enough when he kens what's wanted."
Not unwillingly, the chums soon stretched themselves in comfortable positions beside the camp-fire at either side of their eccentric host. Bannock, however, still eyed the strangers with suspicion, so Mackintosh was forced to introduce the dog formally to each boy in turn, at which the intelligent animal extended a paw with all the air of one who is accustomed to polite society.
"He's a fine chap," explained the Scot. "There's no' a single thing that he canna do (according to the leemitations o' Nature) except speak. And even that he manages to do in his ain way. Noo, come here, Bannock, and lie down while oor freends spin us their yarn. They've no' told us yet who they are, where they come frae, nor where they're going."
"That's a yarn that's quickly told," remarked Bob. The half-breed by this time had returned from the tent with generous supplies of cold deer, damper, and wild berries, after serving which heplaced a pan on the fire in preparation for coffee. "It's a yarn that won't take long in the telling, though, if you'll excuse me, I'll eat while I speak."
"Eat awa'," assented the other, while he lit a corn-cob pipe to satisfy his own immediate wants. "There's plenty mair where that came frae, and the coffee will soon be ready!"
Arnold then launched into a brief recital of his and his chum's adventures, beginning with the departure of their fathers on the previous morning, and concluding—
"So all this afternoon we've been wandering about trying to find a path back to our camp, so as to start afresh by the river course. But it was no use."
"And we might have been wandering still if it had not been for a strange accident that led us here," added Alf, at which remark Mackintosh questioned—
"And what might that be? The soond o' Haggis's nightingale voice?"
"No—at least, not in the first place. We heard that later. What first started us in this direction was a curious sort of light that we discovered on one of the trees. And while we were examining it we noticed that there were otherlights on other trees in a straight line with one another. Strange, wasn't it?"
"Very," returned the Scotsman dryly. "Very strange."
"It would be a good thing for a naturalist," said Bob. "I noticed that there was a perfect cloud of moths flying about wherever there was a patch of light. A collector of moths and butterflies would reap a harvest. I suppose you've noticed the lights as well as we?"
"H'm—yes—considering that I painted the trees mysel' this afternoon," was the reply. "It's an invention o' my own. I'm whatyoucall a collector of moths and butterflies. An entomologist is a shorter way o' putting it. Well, there's many folks stick to treacle—I mean, stick to the auld-fashioned way o' putting dabs of treacle and speerit on trees to attract the nocturnal creatures. That's all very fine and good. But you canna carry gallons o' treacle on a tramp like this, when your whole outfit must be packed on one pony. So says I to mysel': 'Moths are attracted by light; I must invent a composeetion o' phosphorus to take the place o' treacle.' And those lights that you found on yon trees are the result."
"And a splendid idea it is!" exclaimed Alf, who had also done his little share of treacling at school. "Is it a success?"
"Magnificent. I've found more moths than were known to exist in the West. I'm thinking that I'll open the eyes o' the Royal Edinburgh Entomological General Natural History Exchange Society when I get back again after my journeys. But——" The speaker here paused in his enthusiasm, remarking seriously, "I'm thinking there's other matters o' mair importance before us the noo than moths. Your faithers went doon the Athabasca, you said?"
"Yes; in a canoe," said Bob.
Mackintosh shook his head ominously.
"That's bad. I suppose they'd never been there before—indeed, it was no' possible, or they'd never have made the attempt yesterday."
"Is it—dangerous?" questioned Holden, in an undertone of dread, for the man's voice conveyed no small impression of the risks the voyagers had run. "We had not thought of danger in the river. We only thought of moose."
Mackintosh grunted uneasily.
"The river is more treacherous than any moose. There's a terrible narrow bight atweencliffs where it runs like lightning, and then shoots in a waterfall into the Silver Lake. Man! I've seen great trunks o' pine giants flung through yon opening like wee arrows a hundred feet in the air afore they touched water again."
"Then a canoe——"
"If it reached so far in safety it would shoot likewise."
"You think it possible that the canoemightpass the gully unharmed?" Bob then questioned. It was always his nature to struggle for the brightest view, and the man's answer was somewhat in the same spirit.
"It's no' the way o' Skipper Mackintosh to find trouble until trouble finds him. He's been in a' the back corners o' Europe, Africa, India, China, and America; and, if he learned nothing mair from his travels, he learned this: troubles are easier conquered when you meet them wi' a firm lip at the proper time. But the man that moans before he kens what he's moaning about—well, it's little strength he's got left when the fight really begins."
"Yet if, as you say, the Athabasca is so dangerous——" began Alf, when he was again interrupted with kindly roughness.
"If? Laddie, laddie, are you forgetting that there's a Hand that could guide the frailest birch-bark safely through Niagara itsel'? And I doot not that I'm right when I say that it's my opeenion that that same Hand has no' been very far from your faithers in their plight. Does either o' you ken anything o' this by chance?"
As he spoke Mackintosh dived his hand into the hip-pocket of his overalls and produced a white handkerchief which he spread out upon the ground by the fire. The boys bent forward, and immediately Alf exclaimed—
"That's my father's! See! His initials are at the corner. Where did you find it?"
"Notin the Athabasca!" said Mackintosh with quiet triumph. "Haggis and I came upon it this morning a hundred yards from Silver Lake."
"Then that means that they are on shore!" exclaimed Bob with delight at the relief from one anxiety that the evidence of the handkerchief provided.
"Ay. The Athabasca is free from that charge, at any rate. That hanky has no legs to walk by itsel'. It must have been carried. By whom? No' by an Indian, though I ken there's beenIndians in the viceenity. If a redskin had found it, he'd have taken better care o' it. And so it's clear to me that one o' your faithers must have dropped it on dry land, and so—so—— Well, you both o' you can have a sound night's rest."
So convincing were the tones in which the man clothed his words that the spirits of the boys were quickly stirred from gloomy anticipations to comparative cheerfulness.
"You've lifted a load from my mind, Mr. Mackintosh," Bob said gratefully, "for of course it is all fairly plain now. As likely as not they passed through that horrible gully, but were too worn out yesterday to start the trudge back to camp. It would be a long way, too, seeing how the river winds."
"In that case, most likely they are back at the camp by this time," suggested Alf. "But they would understand our being away, for they would find the note that we pinned to the tent."
"That's right, laddies. Look for the bright side and you'll always find it," the Scotsman remarked. "But I'm thinking that your reasoning is a wee bit oot in one respect—they have no' gone back yet, else Haggis or I would have seen them. This camp is in the direct natural pathfrom that part o' the Athabasca. My opeenion is that they've fallen in with the Indians—a tribe o' Dacotahs, and peaceable folk they are. It's no' to be expected that the gully could be passed unscathed. So it's likely to me that they're nursing themselves for a day wi' the redskins, after, maybe, sending a brave to your camp to tell you o' it. So to-morrow we'll lose no time in starting for Silver Lake. That's the best plan I can think o'."
"You mean to come with us?" asked Alf.
"What do you take me for—a savage?" was the reproachful return. "Do you think that Skipper Mackintosh is going to allow twa laddies like you to go wandering aboot the backwoods when he can guide you? And when Skipper fails, is there no' the Haggis and Bannock—a pair o' the finest scouts and trackers that ever set foot in bush or prairie? What do you take me for, I'd just like to know?"
"One of the kindest hearts in the world, Mr. Mackintosh," said Bob fervently.
"Bah! Fiddlesticks and porridge-sticks!" was the rough rejoinder, though a pair of eyes were turned kindly enough upon the youths—eyes that glistened in a way that rather suggestedthe nearness of water. "All a pack o' nonsense! If a man is no' ready to help his fellow-creatures when they need him—well, I'm thinking that he ought to have a pin stuck through his thorax and mounted in a box among my moths, labelled, 'A horrible freak o' Nature.' And I'd have you know, too, that my name is Mackintosh—Skipper Mackintosh. There's no 'Misters' in the backwoods. 'Skipper' is the name that my auld faither gave me to commemorate his discovery o' a new variety of skippers in the entomological world. Mind that, and—and good-night to you, laddies. Good-night, and God bless the pair o' you."
While the two boys had been holding their lonely watch at the camp prior to setting forth the following morning on their disappointing search, matters of serious moment were taking place at the encampment of Mighty Hand and his brother Dacotahs.
Thunder-maker's triumph had been complete. The savage mind seldom looks for a simple explanation of anything that surprises him. When the unusual is not understood, he does not search for a simple and natural explanation. He immediately flies to the supernatural and attributes to good and evil spirits actions that a little common sense would have readily explained in an everyday way.
The Medicine Man of a tribe is different from others of his race. He is the brainy exception of craft united to common sense, and he usesthese to best advantage for his own interests. Thunder-maker's method of divining was very simple after all—nay, even childish. We have seen it performed by redskin jugglers, as we have also seen the same effects produced by Arab diviners on the Syrian desert.
The explanation is found in the fact that serpents are exceedingly sensitive to blows. A cut with an ordinary willow wand is usually sufficient to break the spine and disable all but the monsters of the class. At the same time, although the first blow may daze a snake, it is some time before the final effect takes place, and the creature will wriggle about for some time after having been struck, while its energy is practically nil—that is to say, it merely lives without possessing any real strength.
Now, Thunder-maker's cunning was well aware of all this, and when he dropped the rattler from his teeth he was careful to do so in such a way that the creature would touch the ground with considerable violence. Then he allowed it to wriggle about until in time its head faced the Englishmen. That was the moment for which he had waited, and immediately he started forward with a cry that startled the snake into stillfear. A few passes with his hands fascinated the creature long enough for the Medicine Man to show the Indians that the creature was undoubtedly pointing in the direction of the captives, and when that was done the crafty redskin had achieved his purpose:
The serpent had divined whom the sacred totem of the tribe had called that day.
Then Thunder-maker had replaced his assistant in the linen cloth before it revived sufficiently to commence wriggling again, and, perhaps, point its supernatural head to some one else.
Both Arnold and Holden had observed how Mighty Hand had been wavering between reason and superstition until the intervention of the Medicine Man had caused superstition to take the uppermost place. A moment before, and the chief would have released the captives and sent them back to their camp in charge of a guide. But the art of Thunder-maker had stepped in to convince the people that the sacred totem of their tribe had been calling that day, and that it was the Englishmen for whom it called.
Why?
Ah, that was what the strangers found inexplicable. Of this, however, there was no doubt:their arrival had been at a most unfortunate time, when some answer to the supposed call of the totem was then expected. They were that answer, and the result—who can say what the consequences would be when falsehood and superstition had a savage people at command?
So the Englishmen were requested to return within the teepee that had been reserved for their prison. But, curiously enough, they were not treated in any way after the traditional Indian mode of treating prisoners. They were not bound; no guard was placed at the entrance, though sentries were placed round the camp of which the prison teepee was the centre. The best food that the Indians possessed was supplied to them, as well as a sufficiency of fur robes to sleep upon. All the same, in spite of these kindnesses and other thoughtful attentions, there was no room for doubting that they were prisoners who were not to be allowed any opportunity for escape, and the men could only accept the present situation in a philosophic spirit, and await the course of events with such patience as they could muster.
As the day passed, and darkness fell upon the forest, the Englishmen stretched themselves uponthe robes, while in whispers they tried to arrive at the solution of the mystery and form some sort of plan for future action.
"It's all owing to that scoundrel Thunder-maker," Arnold said. "If he had not stepped in, Mighty Hand would have released us. I could see by his face that he was favourably disposed towards us."
"It is a serious business," said Holden.
"Serious enough for us, for there is no knowing what may happen when people get mixed up with native superstitions. At the same time, what I worry about most is the boys."
Holden sighed at the thought of Bob and his son Alf being alone at the deserted camp.
"Yes," he said. "It will be hard on them if anything happens to us—miles away from civilised habitations. Of course, I don't give up hope of coming out of this right enough in the long-run, and we may be worrying over very little after all. But meantime—the boys—I wonder what they are doing now?"
At this question the elder man gave a slight laugh.
"You wonder?" he repeated. "I don't think you need go very far for the answer if youhaven't quite forgotten our own schooldays. What would you and I have done if two of our chums had disappeared from camp as we did?"
"Gone to look for them," was the prompt reply, to which Arnold resumed—
"And I think there's not so very much difference between Arnold and Holdenpèresandfils. You take my word for it: at this very minute the youngsters have summed up the situation and are planning a rescue expedition, if, indeed, they have not already set out. Neither Bob nor Alf is the sort of chap to sit still and moan at such a time."
"Yes, I believe you are right. Neither of the youngsters would allow himself to be knocked over by the first difficulty. And they would know that some accident must have taken place, for we promised to be back at camp by dinner-time."
"All the same, we don't want them to be mixed up in this affair in the event of their coming on our track," said Arnold. "We must contrive to prevent that, but—— Hullo! Who's this?"
A dark outline had suddenly filled the space at the opening of the tent at this juncture, but the Englishmen were not left long in doubt of the nature of their late visitor, for a voice addressed them in Indian accents.
"Thunder-maker would speak words of counsel with his white brothers."
"Oh, he would, would he?" returned Arnold, and his companion added—
"There was very little friendship about Thunder-maker this afternoon."
The Indian gave a low laugh, as though he were thoroughly enjoying some secret joke.
"There are days when hunter's path must be straight; there are days when crooked trail lead him where he find much deer. To-day—crooked trail. But Thunder-maker friend. He would speak in ear of white brother—low, soft. Thunder-maker wise man. He speak words of wisdom to his friends. But—none may hear but pale-face."
"By that you mean that you want to come into the teepee?" said Arnold. "All right. Come along. And if you have any sense to speak of, out with it."
The Indian noiselessly entered and took a seat on the robes between the Englishmen. He did not speak during these movements, but when he was comfortably settled he turned to Holden and addressed him in a whisper—
"Night dark, and red men sleep—all but braves, who watch that white men no return toSilver Lake." And a second time the Medicine Man laughed quietly.
"Silver Lake!" returned Holden. "I shouldn't think we need any watching to prevent that. Without a canoe, Silver Lake is not much use to us."
"Still—braves watch. They believe that white men return to waters. They came without canoes; they go back without canoes."
"Fools!" exclaimed Holden. "What do they think we are? Spirits?"
"Huh! My white brother speaks true. Indians—someIndians—fools," answered Thunder-maker, at which Holden uttered an exclamation betokening sudden enlightenment.
"By Jove, Arnold! That's it! That explains the whole business. These idiots take us for spirits, since they saw us scramble out from the lake without any boat in sight. Spirits! It's almost too silly to believe."
"Yet that's what Thunder-maker means," said Arnold, to whom the solution of the mystery was now equally clear. "That is what you wish us to understand, isn't it, Thunder-maker?"
"The understanding of the white man travels quick."
"And that accounts for the kind treatment—the food, half-freedom, and the rest. But if your people think us spirits, why do they keep us here? Why not let us return?"
The Indian paused for a moment before he replied, after which he remarked quietly, and with a peculiar inflection of tone that added deep meaning to his words, while at the same time it betrayed the fact that there was some curious reason to account for this confidence—
"Dacotahs fools. They think white brothers spirits—evilspirits. They have not the eyes of Thunder-maker."
"I see," said Arnold thoughtfully. "But you forget, Thunder-maker, that your trickery with the snakes helped them to that opinion."
Once more the Medicine Man laughed quietly in a manner that irritated his hearers, and Holden broke in roughly—
"Come now, you old cheat, explain yourself!Youdidn't believe as the rest of your people did. And if not, why did you behave in such a double way? Out with it. You had some purpose in coming here to-night, and you may as well give us the truth right away."
It is not possible to hasten an Indian in thematter of speech. Hasty response or rapid talk they deem discourteous. Thunder-maker was no exception to his race in this respect, but he was exceptional in another, inasmuch as when bent on a subject he stuck to it without using many unnecessary words or ornaments of speech. He waited in thoughtful silence for several minutes. Possibly in his cunning way he was mentally scrutinising the peculiarities of his companions in the teepee—deciding what course would be best to enable him to be assured of their trust. Whether or not he judged their characteristics correctly will be seen later.
"My white brother has asked for the truth," the Indian began. "Thunder-maker shall speak words as straight as the path of a burning arrow.
"Many years ago—when the buffalo lived upon the prairie to feed the redman and provide his robes—the great tribe of Dacotahs would hunt in the valley that is known even to-day as the Peace Camp. Many deer would feed there, and the buffalo would eat the blue grass, and Manito had filled the camp with fruit and flowers. In those days the Dacotahs were ruled by a mighty warrior, Flying Cloud—the son of the fiery totem serpent that saved his life by slayingthe chief of the Chippeways in the war-path by night."
Here the speaker paused, as though he expected some comment from the listeners regarding the seeming miracle. But no remark being forthcoming, he resumed—
"For many years our tribe lived in prosperity. Pemmican was in plenty, and the redmen kept the hunting-grounds in peace. Then—one night—Chief Fire-water came to the camp, and a brave with foolish mind praised Fire-water more than the sacred totem. He was slain by Flying Cloud ere the insult was cool on his lips. But the serpent was angered. He flashed tongue of fire to the Dacotahs—called down the rains and the tempest upon the Peace Camp by night, until the water spirits rushed through the valley on white horses, destroying trees and fruits—washing the land bare of earth. And, when the sun came up from his teepee of fire, Flying Cloud and the best warriors of the Dacotahs had been carried away by the water spirits and were never seen again.
"Then there was great wailing in the camp, and the totem of the tribe was called upon to cease anger, lest the Dacotahs be a tribe no more.
"And the serpent had pity, and spoke thus to the warriors and braves—
"'I will stay my anger; but I have given power to the spirits that ride on white horses, and I may not call it back again.'
"'Then what shall the Dacotahs do?' asked the warriors. 'It may be that the spirits will again ride their white mustangs and take from us our chief and our young men.'
"And the serpent replied—
"'When such time come, the Dacotahs will see two white spirits rise out of the lake that is silver. When the moon is round, they shall rise out of the lake that is silver. They shall come without canoe to bear them, and without arrow or tomahawk for fighting. By this shall you know them. Then shall the Dacotahs lay hands upon the white spirits; they shall treat them kindly, but they shall bring them to the Peace Camp and there consume them with fire. Then shall the power of the water spirits be broken. Then shall the Dacotahs be safe. Then shall the fire of my anger be quenched.
"'But I—the sacred totem of the Dacotahs—am mighty and full of pity. The Dacotahs are brave, but they are not all wise. It may be thattheir ignorance might lead them to bring suffering to those who are not evil spirits. But let them not hold back in doubt, for I shall stay their hand, even though the torch be set at the wood. For if the eyes of my children are blind, I shall be near to guide them. And the sign of this shall be:I shall appear before the eyes of all people as a serpent of fire. By this shall they know that they have erred. They shall withhold the torch, free the captives, and be to them as brothers.'"
Once more the speaker waited for a space, until he knew that his hearers had time to grasp the full meaning of the legend that he had related. Then he lowered his voice and spoke with deep meaning that was not difficult for the Englishmen to understand—
"Yesterday the moon was round. Two white spirits came from the lake that is silver without canoe for sailing, without arms or tomahawk for fighting. The fiery totem called, and was answered.... By another sun Mighty Hand will lead the white spirits of the water to the camp that is called Peaceful!"
It needed no great knowledge of Indian character and Indian ways to make clear to the Englishmen all that was implied in this story that Thunder-maker had recited. Nor had they any reason to doubt that he had spoken the truth, for the evident pleasure that it gave him to watch the effect of his revelation was almost a sufficiently convincing argument in itself.
Of course Thunder-maker had only the evidence of his ears to inform him, for the tent was in darkness, the convenience of lamps not being a usage of the redskins, who either retire to sleep at nightfall, or rely upon camp-fires for illumination. But the Medicine Man could hear his companions give slight gasps of horror when the climax was reached. His ears were quick to interpret the faintest sounds of pleasure, pain, or surprise.
The trio sat in silence for a time, until at last the soundless night became too oppressive, and Holden was forced to speak his thoughts.
"Why have you told us of this, Thunder-maker?" he asked. "Were you sent to us by Mighty Hand?"
The Indian made an impatient movement of his body, and grunted meaningly at the question.
"Mighty Hand send Thunder-maker?" he exclaimed, in an undertone that conveyed a sense of the uttermost contempt for the chief of the Dacotahs. "My white brother speak foolish words—the words of women and papooses. Mighty Hand do the wish of Thunder-maker. The chief of medicine no slave to run when any man speak."
"Then why have you come to us to-night?" urged Holden.
"It was not out of friendship for us," added Arnold.
"Huh! It true what the redmen say, that the pale-face have heart of buffalo skin that keep out the love of brother," responded the Indian, in fawning tones that caused the listeners to feel as though they would have gladly kicked the speaker out from the tent. There was lowcunning in his voice—such cringing craft as all brave men naturally despise. But it was the instinct of both to draw out the visitor's confidence. It was possibly their only hope of learning the truth of their position, thereby enabling them to make plans for their future actions.
"The redman love the pale-face and would be friend to him," Thunder-maker went on. "So he come to tell his brothers what they did not know. Dacotahs fools, Dacotahs believe foolish stories, and—Thunder-maker can lead their feet by what trail he will."
"H'm. That was plain enough this afternoon when you played with those rattlesnakes," remarked Arnold, at which the Indian laughed quietly.
"Dacotahs fools. But white men wise. They see not with the eyes of redmen. But Dacotahs might be great people if Mighty Hand were in Happy Hunting-ground."[2]
"But what has all this got to do with us?" asked Holden.
"My white brothers in great danger. In a few more suns cruel fire burn beautiful bodies. But——"
"Well—but?"
"Thunder-maker could save—white brothers—from fire?"
"Oh, that's it, is it? That's what you are driving at, you cunning old serpent?" said Arnold, in accents that were as little complimentary as the words. "You want us to buy our lives for money? Well, how much do you wish?"
"My white brothers have papooses, they say to Mighty Hand?"
"Yes; two boys in a camp by Crane Creek."
"It would gladden the eyes of the pale-faces to see their papooses by another sun?"
"We would do much to go back to them, for they must be sad at the absence of their fathers," said the elder man.
"Then it may be as the pale-face wish," resumed the Medicine Man. "Thunder-maker can save his white brothers, and he will——"
"If you will, there is nothing that we will not do, within our power, to repay you," said Holden, wrongly anticipating the motive of the Indian. "We can give you many dollars, and will give you blankets and weapons for hunting."
"That is good," returned the redskin quietly. "But—Thunder-maker no wish blankets—dollars,He have many—many." Then he lowered his voice to speak in deeper tones of confidence. "Let the pale-face be patient, and listen to the words of the redman. Then he will understand how it may be that he look not upon the face of the fire.
"The Dacotahs foolish. They see white men as spirits that came out of Silver Waters. And Mighty Hand foolish too. He believe that fiery totem speak—that fiery totem call water spirits to torture. Foolish redmen! Foolish chief! But Thunder-maker would see his people a great people. He would see his tribe wise as the fox and brave as the great bear. He would seeanotherchief to rule them—he would seeanotherwear the robes of a chief! So he would blind the eyes of his people. He would say to them: 'Children, you are foolish. The spirits that come from the Silver Waters are not the spirits that the totem called. They great spirits sent to you by Manito to tell you how to be a mighty tribe again.' Then great medicine will be done, and Thunder-maker will ask the pale-faces to speak what Manito has told them.
"Then the pale-faces will tell the Dacotahs: 'Slay Mighty Hand! Let him not see anothersun, and place the chief's robes on Thunder-maker; tie the chief's feathers in the hair of Thunder-maker; write on Thunder-maker's breast the picture of the sacred totem.' Then will the Dacotahs believe. Then shall Thunder-maker be chief of the Dacotahs, and—the pale-faces shall return in peace to their tents. I have spoken."
The Indian paused, but, no comment being immediately forthcoming, he resumed quickly, being warmed to excitement by treacherous hopes—
"Then it shall be well with my white brothers. No fire shall have their white bodies——"
"And if we—refuse—to do—this?" questioned Arnold slowly and seriously, and his companion added: "Yes, if we refuse—what then?"
"The pale-faces will not refuse," returned the Indian firmly. The savage mind could not conceive such a possibility as refusal to purchase freedom at any cost, no matter how despicable that cost might be. "The pale-faces will not refuse," he repeated. "The flames hurt much, and white men die slow, slow as tongue of fire lick their bodies. The pale-faces not refuse——"
"But we do!" exclaimed Arnold angrily, as heraised his voice to a louder pitch, now that the first need for caution was past. "You know little of the pale-faces, as you call them, if you think that they would do the deeds of dogs to save themselves from pain. Manito, to us, is God—He whom we serve and honour; He whom we love. Do you think that we could dare to live another hour if we knew that we had pretended to be sent by Him—and so delude foolish people? No! A thousand times no! Even if we were to see our sons dying before our eyes, and knew that one such false word would save them and us, I tell you, liar and cheat that you are, that word would never be spoken! We would be as dumb as the trees of the forest!"
So moved was Arnold by the indignation that he felt at Thunder-maker's treacherous proposal that he rose as he spoke and poured out the torrent of his anger with reckless vehemence. Holden also got up, anticipating that the Indian might attempt some deed of revenge, seeing that he had displayed his hand to the sight of enemies who might make much of this knowledge in an appeal to Mighty Hand.