"Are we not four?" he said.
"I only see the two Pale hunters and my brother—for whom is the last bed?"
"For my sister, Prairie-Flower, I suppose; has she not come to ask hospitality of her Pale brothers?"
The girl shook her head.
"The women of my tribe," she said, with an accent of wounded pride, "have their cabins for sleeping, and do not pass the night in the lodges of the warriors."
Bright-eye bowed respectfully.
"I am mistaken," he said; "I did not wish to vex my sister; but on seeing her enter my lodge so late, I supposed she came to ask hospitality."
The girl smiled with finesse.
"My brother is a great warrior of the Palefaces," she said; "his head is grey; he is very cunning; why does he pretend not to know the reason that brings Prairie-Flower to his lodge?"
"Because I am really ignorant of it," he replied; "how should I know it?"
The Indian girl turned towards the place where the young man was sleeping, and said, with a charming pout—
"Glass-eye knows all: he would have told my brother the hunter."
"I cannot deny," the hunter said, boldly, "that Glass-eye knows many things, but in this matter he has been dumb."
"Is that true?" she asked, quickly.
"Why should I deny it? Prairie-Flower is not an enemy to us."
"No, I am a friend: let my brother open his ears."
"Speak."
"Glass-eye is powerful."
"So it is said," the hunter replied, evasively, too honest to stoop to a lie.
"The elders of the tribe regard him as a genius superior to other men, arranging events as he pleases, and able, if he will, to change the course of the future."
"Who says so?"
"Everybody."
The hunter shook his head, and pressing the girl's dainty hands in his own, he said, simply—
"You are deceived, child; Glass-eye is only a man like the others; the power you have been told of does not exist: I know not for what reason the chiefs of your nation have spread this absurd report; but it is a falsehood, which I must not allow to go further."
"No, White Buffalo is the wisest sachem of the Blackfeet; he possesses all the knowledge of his fathers on the other side of the Great Saltlake, he cannot err. Did he not announce, long ago, Glass-eye's arrival among us?"
"That is possible; although I cannot guess how he knew it, as only three days ago we were quite ignorant that we were coming to this village."
The maiden smiled triumphantly.
"White Buffalo knows all," she said; "besides, for many thousand moons the sorcerers of the nation have announced the coming of a man exactly like Glass-eye: his apparition was so truly predicted, that his arrival surprised nobody, as all expected him."
The hunter recognized the inutility of contending any longer against a conviction so deeply rooted in the young girl's heart.
"Good," he replied; "White Buffalo is a very wise sachem. What is there he does not know?"
"Nothing! Did he not predict that Glass-eye would place himself at the head of the Redskin warriors, and deliver them from the Palefaces of the East?"
"It is true," the hunter said, though he did not know a word of what the girl was revealing to him; but he now began to suspect a vast plot formed by the Indians, and he naturally desired to know more. Prairie-Flower looked at him with an expression of simple joy.
"My brother sees that I know all," she said.
"That is true," he answered; "my sister is better informed than I supposed; now she can explain to me, without fear, the service she desires from Glass-eye."
The girl took a long glance at the young man, who was still sleeping.
"Prairie-Flower is suffering," she said, in a low and trembling voice; "a cloud has passed over her mind and obscured it."
"Prairie-Flower is sixteen," the old hunter answered, with a smile; "a new feeling is awakened in her; a little bird is singing in her heart; she listens unconsciously to the harmonious notes of those strains which she does not yet understand."
"It is true," the maiden murmured, suddenly growing pensive; "my heart is sad. Is, then, love a suffering?"
"Child," the hunter answered, with a melancholy accent, "creatures are thus made by the Master of Life. All sensation is suffering. Joy, carried to an excess, becomes pain; you love without knowing it; loving is suffering."
"No," she said, with a gesture of terror, "no, I do not love, at least not; in the way you say. I have come, on the contrary, to seek your protection from a man who loves me, whose love frightens me, and for whom I shall never feel aught but gratitude."
"You are quite certain, poor child, that such is the feeling you experience for that man?"
She bowed assent. Without saying anything further, Bright-eye rose.
"Where are you going?" she asked, quickly.
The hunter turned to her.
"In all that you have told me, child," he answered, "there are things so important, that I must without delay arouse my friend, that he may listen to you in his turn, and, if it be possible, come to your aid."
"Do so," she said, mournfully, and let her head sink on her breast. The hunter went up to the young man, and bending over him, touched him gently on the shoulder. The Count awoke at once.
"What is it? What do you want?" he said, rising and seizing his weapons, with the promptness that a man constantly exposed to danger so soon acquires.
"Nothing that need frighten you, Mr. Edward. That young girl wishes to speak to you."
The Count followed the direction in which the hunter pointed, and his glance met that of the maiden. It was like an electric shock; she tottered, laid her hand on her heart, and blushed. The Frenchman rushed toward her.
"What is the matter? What can I do to help you?" he asked.
Just as she was about to reply, the curtain was lifted; a man bounded suddenly over Ivon, and reached the centre of the hut. It was the spy; the Breton suddenly aroused, flung himself on him, but the Indian held him back with a firm hand.
"Look out!" he said.
"Red Wolf!" the girl exclaimed, joyfully, as she stepped before him; "lower your weapons, it is a friend."
"Speak!" the Count said, as he returned the pistol to his belt.
The Indian had made no attempt to defend himself; he awaited stoically the moment to explain himself.
"Natah Otann is coming," he said to the maiden.
"Oh! I am lost if he find me here."
"What do I care for the fellow?" the Count said, haughtily.
"Prudence," Bright-eye interposed; "are you a friend, Redskin?"
"Ask Prairie-Flower," he answered, disdainfully.
"Good; then you have come to save her?"
"Yes."
"You have a way?"
"I have."
"I don't understand anything about it," Ivon said to himself, aside, quite confounded by all he saw; "what a night!"
"Make haste!" said the Count.
"Neither Prairie-Flower nor myself must be seen here," the Red Wolf continued; "Natah Otann is my enemy; there is deadly war between us. Throw all those furs on the girl."
Prairie-Flower, crouching in a corner, soon disappeared beneath the skins piled over her.
"Hum! it is a good idea," Bright-eye muttered: "and what are you going to do?"
"Look!"
Red Wolf leaned against the buffalo hides that acted as door, and concealed himself amid their folds. Hardly had all this been done, ere Natah Otann appeared on the threshold.
"What! up already?" he said, in surprise, turning a suspicious glance around him.
Red Wolf profited by this movement to go out unseen by the Chief.
"I am come to receive your orders for the hunt," Natah Otann resumed.
Fort Mackenzie, built in 1832 by Major Mitchell, Chief Agent to the North American Fur Company, stands like a menacing sentry, about one hundred and twenty paces from the north bank of the Missouri, and seventy miles from the Rocky Mountains, in the midst of a level plain, protected by a chain of hills running from north to south. The fort is built on the system of all the outposts of civilization in the western provinces; it forms a perfect square, each side being about forty-five feet in length: a ditch, eight fathoms in depth and about the same in width; two substantial blockhouses; and twenty guns—such are the defensive elements of this fortress. The buildings contained in the enceinte are low, with narrow windows, in which parchment is substituted for glass. The roofs are flat, and covered with turf. The gateways of the fort are solid, and lined with iron. In the middle of a small square, in the centre of the fort, rises a mast, from which floats the star-spangled banner of the United States, while two guns are stationed at the foot of the mast. The plain surrounding Fort Mackenzie is covered with grass, rarely more than three feet high. This plain is almost constantly invaded by Indian tribes, that come to traffic with the Americans, especially the Blackfeet, Assiniboins, Mandans, Flatheads, Gros-ventres, Crows, and Koutnikés.
The Indians displayed a repugnance in allowing the white men to settle in their domains, and the first agent the Fur Company sent to them had a narrow escape with life. It was only by dint of patience and cunning that they succeeded in concluding with the tribes a treaty of peace and barter, which the latter were disposed, indeed, to break, through the slightest pretext. Thus the Americans were always on the watch, considering themselves in a perpetual state of siege. It still happened at times, in spite of the Indians' protestations of amity, that someengagéor trapper of the Company was brought to the fort scalped and murdered, and they were obliged, through policy, to refrain from taking vengeance for such murders, which, however, were becoming rare. The Indians, with their greedy instincts, at length understood that it was better to live in good intelligence with the Palefaces, who supplied them with abundant provisions, spirits, and money, in exchange for their furs.
In 1834, Fort Mackenzie was commanded by Major Melville, a man of great experience, who had spent nearly his whole life among the Indians, either fighting or trafficking with them, so that he was thoroughly versed in all their habits and tricks. General Jackson, in whose army he had served, put great reliance in his courage, skill, and experience. Major Melville combined with uncommon moral energy rare physical strength; he was the very man to keep in check the fierce tribes with which he had to deal, and to command the trappers and hunters in the Company's service, thorough ruffians, only understanding the logic of the rifle and the bowie knife; he based his authority on inflexible severity and an irreproachable justice, which had contributed greatly to maintain the good relations between the inhabitants of the fort and their crafty friends. Peace, with the exception of the mutual distrust that was its basis, appeared for some few years past to be solidly established between the Palefaces and the Redskins. The Indians camped annually before the fort, and generally exchanged their peltry for spirits, clothes, gunpowder, &c. The seventy men who formed the garrison had gradually relaxed their usual precautions, for they felt so confident of having induced the Indians to renounce their plundering inclinations by kind treatment and concessions. Such was the respective positions of the whites and the Redskins on the day when the exigencies of our story take us to Fort Mackenzie.
The scenery round the fort is exquisite and charmingly varied. On the day after that in which the events we have described took place in the Kenha village, a leather canoe, manned by only one rower, descended the Elk river, in the direction of the American fort. After following the numerous bends of the stream, the canoe at length entered the Missouri, and coasted the northern bank, studded with magnificent prairies at least thirty miles in depth, on which countless herds of buffaloes, antelopes, and bighorns were grazing, which, with ears erect and startled eyes, watched the silent boat pass with gloomy dissatisfaction. But the person, man or woman, in the boat seemed too anxious to reach the destination, to waste any time in firing at these animals, which it would have been easy to do.
With his eyes imperturbably fixed ahead, and bowed over the paddles, the rower redoubled his energy the nearer he approached the fort, uttering at times hoarse exclamations of anger and impatience, though never checking the speed of the boat. At length an "ah!" of satisfaction escaped his lips on turning one of the numberless bends of the river: a magnificent scene was suddenly displayed before him.
Gentle slopes, with varied summits, some rounded, others flat, of a pleasant green colour, occupied the centre of the picture. In the foreground were tall forests of poplars of a vivid green, and willow trees on the banks of the river, which meandered through a prairie to which the twilight had given a deep olive hue. A little further on, on the top of a grassy mound, stood Fort Mackenzie, where the handsome flag of the United States floated in the breeze, gilded by the parting beams of the setting sun; while on one side an Indian camp, on the other, herds of horses, tranquilly grazing, animated the majestic tranquillity of the scene.
The canoe drew nearer and nearer to the bank, and at last, when arrived under the protection of the guns, was run gently ashore. The individual occupying it then leaped on the sand, and it was easy to see that it was a woman. It was the mysterious being to whom the Indians gave the name of the She-wolf of the Prairies, and who has already appeared twice in this story. She had altered her dress. Although still resembling that of the Indians in texture, as it was composed of elk and buffalo skins sown together, it varied from it in shape; and if, at the first glance, it was difficult to recognize the sex of the person wearing it, it was easy to perceive that it was a white, through the simplicity, cleanliness, and, above all, the amplitude of the folds carefully draped round the strange being hidden in these garments.
After leaving the canoe, the She-wolf fastened it securely to a large stone, and without paying further attention to it, walked hastily in the direction of the fort. It was about six in the evening; the barter with the Indians was over, and they were returning, laughing and singing, to their tents of buffalo hide; while theengagés, after collecting the horses, led them back slowly to the fort. The sun was setting behind the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, casting a purple gleam, over the heavens. Gradually, as the planet of day sank in the distant horizon, gloom took possession of the earth. The songs of the Indians, the shouts of theengagés, the neighing of the horses, and the barking of the dogs, formed one of those singular concerts which in these remote regions impress on the mind a feeling of melancholy reflection. The She-wolf reached the gate of the fort at the moment when the lastengagéhad entered, after driving in the laggards of his troop.
At these frontier posts, where momentary vigilance is necessary to foil the treachery constantly lurking in the shadows, sentinels especially appointed to survey the gloomy and solitary prairies, that stretch out for miles around their garrisons, stand watching day and night with their eyes fixed on space, ready to signalize the least unusual movement, either on the part of animals or of men, in the vast solitudes they survey. The She-wolf's canoe had been detected more than six hours before, all its movements carefully watched, and when the She-wolf, after fastening her boat up, presented herself at the gate of the fort, she found it closed and carefully bolted; not because she personally caused the garrison any alarm, but because the order was that no one should enter the fort after sunset, except for overpowering reasons.
The She-wolf repressed with difficulty a gesture of annoyance at finding herself thus exposed to spend the night in the open air; not that she feared the hardship, but because she knew the importance of her news, and desired no delay. She did not allow herself to be defeated, however, but stooped, picked up a stone, and struck the gate twice. A wicket immediately opened, and two eyes glistened through the opening it left.
"Who's there?" a rough voice asked.
"A friend," the She-wolf replied.
"Hum; that's very vague at this hour of the night," the voice continued, with a grin that augured ill for the success of the mediation the She-wolf had commenced.
"Who are you?"
"A woman, and a white woman too, as you can see by my dress and accent."
"It may be, but the night is dark, and it is impossible for me to see you: so if you have no better reasons to give, good night, and go your ways; tomorrow we will meet again at sunrise."
And the speaker prepared to close the wicket, but the She-wolf checked him with a firm hand.
"One moment," she said.
"What's up now?" the other remarked, ill-temperedly; "I cannot pass the night in listening to you."
"I only want to ask you one question, and one favour."
"Plague take it!" the man went on; "well, you are going on at a fine rate; that's nothing, eh? Well; let me hear it; that binds me to nothing."
"Is Major Melville in the fort at this moment?"
"Perhaps."
"Answer, yes or no."
"Well, yes; what then?"
The She-wolf gave a sigh of satisfaction, hurriedly drew a ring from her right hand, and passing it through the wicket to the unknown speaker, said—
"Carry that ring to the Major; I will wait for your answer here."
"Mind what you are about; the Commandant does not like to be disturbed for nothing."
"Do as I tell you. I answer for the rest."
"That's a poor bail," the other growled; "but no matter—I'll risk it. Wait."
The wicket closed. The She-wolf seated herself on the side of the moat, and with elbows resting on her knees, buried her head in her hands. By this time night had completely set in; in the distance, the fires lighted up by the Indians on the prairies shone like lighthouses through the gloom; the evening breeze soughed hoarsely through the tops of the trees, and the howls of the wild beasts were mingled at intervals with the strident laughter of the Indians. Not a star sparkled in the sky, which was black as ink; nature seemed covered with a cerecloth; all presaged an approaching storm. The She-wolf waited, motionless, as one of those patient sphynxes which have watched for thousands of years at the entrance of the Egyptian temples. A quarter of an hour elapsed, then a sound of bolts was heard, and the gates of the fort slightly opened. The She-wolf sprung up, as if moved by a spring.
"Come!" a voice said.
She entered, and the door was immediately closed after her. Anengagé—the same who had spoken to her through the wicket—stood before her with a torch in his hand.
"Follow me," he said to her.
She walked after her guide, who crossed the entire length of the courtyard, and then turning to the She-wolf, said—
"The Major is waiting for you here."
"Rap," she said.
"No, do so yourself; you no longer need me; I will return to my post."
And, after bowing slightly, he withdrew carrying the torch with him. The She-wolf remained alone in the darkness; she passed her hand over her damp forehead, and making a supreme effort—
"I must," she muttered, hoarsely.
She then struck the door.
"Come in," a voice said from within.
She turned the key, pushed open the door, and found herself in the presence of an elderly man, dressed in uniform, and seated near a table, who gazed fixedly at her. This man, by the position he occupied, and the way in which the light was arranged, could see her perfectly; while, on the other hand, the She-wolf could not distinguish his features, hidden as they were by the gloom. The She-wolf walked resolutely into the room.
"Thanks for having received me," she said; "I was afraid you had utterly forgotten."
"If that is meant for a reproach, I do not understand you," the officer said, sternly; "and I should feel obliged by a clear explanation."
"Are you not Major Melville?"
"I am."
"The way in which I entered the fort proves to me that you recognised the ring I sent you."
"I recognized it; for it reminds me of a very dear person," he said, with a suppressed sigh; "but how is it in your hands?"
The She-wolf regarded the Major sadly for a moment, then walked up to him, gently took his hand, which she pressed in hers, and replied, with an accent full of tears—
"Harry, I must be changed by suffering, if you do not even recognise my voice."
At these words a livid pallor covered the officer's face; he rose with a movement quick as lightning; his body was agitated by a convulsive tremor, and seizing, in his turn, the woman's hands, he exclaimed madly—
"Margaret! Margaret! my sister! Have the dead come from the tomb? Do I find you again at last:"
"Ah!" she said, with an expression of joy impossible to render, as she sank in his arms, "I was certain he would recognise me."
But the shock she had received was too strong for the poor woman, whose organization was worn out by sorrow; accustomed to suffering, she could not endure joy, and fell fainting into her brother's arms. The Major carried her to a species of sofa that occupied one side of the room, and, without calling anyone to his aid, paid her all that attention her case required. The She-wolf remained for a long time insensible; but she gradually came to herself again, opened her eyes, and, after muttering a few incoherent words, burst into tears. Her brother did not leave her for a moment, following, with an anxious glance, the progress of her return to life. When he perceived that the height of the crisis was past, he took chair, sat down by his sister's side, and by gentle words sought to restore her courage. At length, the poor woman raised her head, dried her eyes—reddened by tears, and hollowed by fever—and turning to her brother, who watched her every movement, said in a hoarse voice—
"Brother, for sixteen years I have been suffering an atrocious martyrdom, which never ceased for an instant."
The Major shuddered at this fearful revelation.
"Poor sister!" he muttered. "What can I do for you?"
"All, if you will."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, with energy, as he struck the woodwork of the sofa with his fist, "could you doubt me, Margaret?"
"No, since I have come," she answered, smiling through her tears.
"You will avenge yourself, I think?" he went on.
"I will."
"Who are your enemies?"
"The Redskins."
"Ah! ah!" he said, with a bitter smile; "I, too, have an old account to settle with those demons. To what nation do your enemies belong?"
"To the Blackfeet. They are the Kenha tribe."
"Oh," the Major continued, "my old friends, the Blood Indians; I have long been seeking a pretext to give them an exemplary punishment."
"That pretext I now bring you, Harry," she answered, passionately; "and do not fancy it a vain pretext invented by hatred. No, no! 'tis the revelation of a plot formed by all the Missouri Indians against the whites, which must break out within a few days, perhaps tomorrow."
"Ah!" the Major observed, thoughtfully, "I do not know why, but, for the last few days, suspicions have invaded, my mind; my presentiments did not deceive me, then. Speak, sister, at once, I conjure you; and since you have come to me, in order to appease your hatred of these red devils, I promise you a vengeance, the memory of which will make their grandsons shudder."
"I thank you for your promise, brother, and will not forget it," she answered. "Listen to me, then."
"One word first."
"Speak, brother."
"Has the narrative of your sufferings any connexion with the conspiracy you are about to reveal to me?"
"An intimate one."
"Well, it is scarce ten o'clock, we have the night before us; tell me all that has happened to you since our separation."
"You wish it?"
"Yes, for it will be by your narrative that I shall regulate my treatment of the Indians."
"Listen, then, brother, and be indulgent to me, for I have suffered bitterly, as you are about to hear."
The Major pressed her hand; he took a chair, sat by her side, and after bolting the door, to prevent any interruption of the story, he said—
"Speak, Margaret, and tell me everything; I do not wish to be ignorant of any of the tortures you have endured during the long years that have elapsed since our parting."
"It is just seventeen years ago, you will remember, Harry; you had recently received your commission as lieutenant in the army; you were young, enthusiastic; the future appeared to you to be drawn in the brightest colours. One evening, during weather like the present, you came to my husband's clearing, to tell us the news, and bid us an affectionate farewell; for you hoped, like ourselves, not to be long away from us. The next morning, in spite of our entreaties, after embracing the children, pressing the hand of my poor husband, who loved you so, and giving me a parting kiss, you galloped off, and soon disappeared in a whirlwind of dust. Alas! who could have foretold that we should not meet again till today, after seventeen years' separation, upon Indian territory, and under terrible circumstances? However," she added, with a sigh, "God has willed it so, may His holy name be blessed! It has pleased Him to try His creatures, and let His hand fall heavily on them."
"It was with a strange contraction of the heart," the Major said, "that six months after that parting, when I returned among you with a joyous heart, I saw, on dismounting in front of your house, a stranger open your door, and answer, that the white family had emigrated three months before, and proceeded in a western direction, with the intention of founding a new settlement on the Indian frontier. It was in vain that I tried to gain any information about you from your neighbours; they had forgotten you; no one could or would, perhaps, give me the slightest news about you, and I was forced to retrace, heartbroken, the road I had ridden along so joyfully a few days before. Since then, despite all the efforts I have made, I never was able to learn anything about your fate, or lift the mysterious veil that covered the sinister events to which I was convinced you had fallen victims during your journey."
"You are only half deceived, my brother, in your supposition," she went on. "Two months after your visit, my husband, who had long desired to leave our clearing, where he said the land was worth nothing, had a grave dispute with one of his neighbours about the limits of a field of which he believed, or pretended to believe, that neighbour had cut off a corner: under any other circumstances, the difference would have been easily settled, but my husband sought an excuse to go away, and having found it, did not let it slip again. He would listen to nothing, but quietly made all his arrangements for the expedition he had so long meditated, and at length told us one day that he should start the next. When my husband had once said a thing, all I could do was to obey, for he never recalled a determination he had formed. On the appointed day at sunrise, we left the clearing, our neighbours accompanying us for the first day's journey, and at nightfall left us, after hearty wishes for the success of our expedition. It was with inexpressible sorrow I quitted the house where I was married, where my children were born, and where I had been happy for so many years. My husband tried in vain to console me, and restore me that courage which failed me; but nothing could efface from my mind the gentle and pious recollections I previously kept up: the deeper we buried ourselves in the desert, the greater my sorrow became. My husband, on the other hand saw everything in a bright light; the future belonged to him; he was about to be his own master, and act as he thought proper. He detailed to me all his plans, tried to interest me in them, and employed all the means in his power to draw me from my gloomy thoughts, but could not succeed. Still we went onwards without stopping. The distance became daily greater between ourselves and the last settlements of our countrymen. In vain did I show my husband how remote we were from all help in case of danger, and the isolation in which we should find ourselves; he only laughed at my apprehensions; repeated incessantly that the Indians were far from being so dangerous as they were represented, and that we had nothing to fear. My husband was so convinced of the truth of his assertions, that he neglected the most simple precautions to defend himself against a surprise, and said each morning, with a mocking air, at the moment of starting, 'You see how foolish you are, Margaret; be reasonable, the Indians will be careful not to insult us,' One night the camp was attacked by the Redskins, we were surprised during our sleep; my husband was flayed alive, while his children were burned at a slow fire before his face."
While uttering these words, the poor woman's voice became more and more choked. At the last sentences, her emotion grew so profound, that she could not continue.
"Courage!" the Major said, as much moved as herself, but more master of his feelings.
She made an effort, and continued in a harsh, unmodulated voice,—
"By a refinement of cruelty, the barbarism of which I did not at first understand, my youngest child, my daughter, was spared by the Pagans. On seeing the punishment of my husband and children, at which I was forced to be present, I felt such a laceration of the heart, that I imagined I was dying. I uttered a shriek, and fell down. How long I remained in that state, I know not: but when I regained my senses, I was alone. The Indians, doubtlessly, fancied me dead, and left me where I lay. I rose, and not conscious of what I was doing, but impelled by a force superior to my will, I returned, tottering and falling almost at every step, to the spot where this mournful tragedy had been enacted. It took me three hours—how was I so far from the camp?—at length I arrived, and a fearful sight presented itself to my horror-struck eyes. I looked unconscious upon the disfigured and half carbonized bodies of my children—my despair, however, restored my failing strength. I dug a grave, and, half delirious with grief, buried in it husband and children, all that I loved on earth. This pious duty accomplished, I resolved to die at the spot where the beings so dear to me had perished. But there are hours during the long nights in which the shades of the dead address the living, and order them to take vengeance! That terrific voice from the tomb I heard on a sinister night, when the elements threatened to overthrow nature. From that moment my resolution was formed. I consented to live for revenge. From that hour I have walked firm and implacable on the path I traced, requiting the Pagans, on every opportunity that presents itself, for the evil they had done me. I have become the terror of the prairies. The Indians fear me as an evil genius. They have a superstitious invincible dread of me; in short, they have surnamed me the Lying She-wolf of the Prairies; for each time a catastrophe menaces them, or a frightful danger is hanging over their heads, they see me appear. For seventeen years I have been nursing my revenge, without ever growing discouraged, certain that the day will come when, in my turn, I shall plant my knee on the heart of my enemies, and inflict on them the atrocious torture they condemned me to suffer."
The woman's face, while uttering these words, had assumed such an expression of cruelty, that the Major brave as he was, felt himself shudder.
"And your enemies," he said, after a moment's delay, "do you know them, have you learned their names?"
"I know them all!" she said, in a piercing voice; "I have learned all their names!"
"And they are preparing to break the peace?" Mrs. Margaret smiled ironically.
"No, they will not break the peace, brother, but attack you suddenly. They have formed among themselves a formidable league, which—at least they fancy so—you will find it impossible to resist."
"Sister!" the Major exclaimed energetically, "give me the name of these wretched traitors, and I swear that, even were they concealed in the depths of Hades, I will seek them, to inflict an exemplary chastisement."
"I cannot give you these names yet, brother; but be at ease, you shall soon know them; you will not have to seek them far, for I will lead them under the guns of your soldiers and hunters."
"Take care, Margaret," the Major said, shaking his head, "hatred is a bad counsellor in an affair like this; he who grasps at too much, frequently risks the loss of all."
"Oh," she replied, "my precautions have been taken for a long time: I hold them, I can seize them whenever I please, or, to speak more correctly, when the moment has arrived."
"Do as you think proper, sister, and reckon on my devoted aid: this vengeance affects me too closely for me to allow it to escape."
"Thanks," she said.
"Pardon me," he continued, after a few minutes' reflection, "if I revert to the sad events you have just narrated; but you have, it strikes me, forgotten an important detail in your story."
"I do not understand you, Harry."
"I will explain: you said, I think, if my memory serves me, that your youngest daughter escaped from the frightful fate of her brothers, and was saved by an Indian."
"Yes, I did say so, brother," she replied in an oppressed voice.
"Well, what has become of the unhappy child? Does she still live? Have you any news of her? Have you seen her again?"
"She lives, and I have seen her."
"Ah!"
"Yes; the man who saved her educated her, even adopted her," she said, sarcastically. "Do you know what this wretch would do with the daughter of the man he murdered, whom he flayed alive before my eyes?"
"Speak; in Heaven's name!
"What I have to say is very dreadful! it is so frightful, indeed, that I hesitate to reveal it to you."
"Good God!" the Major ejaculated, recoiling involuntarily before his sister's flaming glance.
"Well," she continued, with a strident laugh, "this girl has grown up, the child has become a woman, as lovely as it is possible to be. This man, this monster, this demon, has felt his tiger heart soften at the sight of the angel; he loves her to distraction, he wishes to make her his wife."
"Horror!" the Major exclaimed.
"Is that not truly hideous?" she continued, still with that nervous, spasmodic laugh which it pains one to hear: "he has pardoned his victim's daughter. Yes, he is generous, he forgets the atrocious torture he inflicted on the father, and now covets the daughter."
"Oh, that is frightful, Margaret; so much infamy and cynicism is impossible, even among Indians!"
"Do you believe, then, that I am deceiving you?"
"Far from me be such a thought, sister; the man is a monster."
"Yes, yes, so he is."
"You have seen your daughter; you have talked with her?"
"Yes; well, what then?"
"You have, doubtless, turned her from this monstrous love?"
"I!" she replied, with a grin, "I did not say a word to her about it."
"What!" he said, in amazement.
"By what right could I have spoken?"
"How, by what right—Are you not her mother?"
"She does not know it!"
"Oh!"
"And my vengeance?" she said, coldly. This word which so thoroughly explained the character of the woman, had before struck the heart of the old soldier with terror.
"Unhappy woman!" he exclaimed.
A smile of disdain curled the She-wolf's lip.
"Yes, so you are," she said, with a bitter voice, "you men of cities, with natures worn out by civilization. To understand a passion, it must be kept within certain limits, traced beforehand. The grandeur of hatred, with all its fury and excesses, terrifies you; you only admit that legal and halting vengeance which the criminal code sanctions. Brother, he who wishes the end, wishes the means. To arrive at my object, what do I care, do you think, whether I walk over ruins or wade through blood? No, I go straight before me, with the fatal impetuosity of the torrent which breaks down and overthrows all the obstacles which rise in its passage. My object is vengeance! blood for blood, eye for eye; that is the law of the prairies. I have made it mine, and I will obtain that vengeance, if for it I—. But," she added, suddenly breaking off, "what need of this useless discussion between us, brother? Reassure yourself my daughter has been better warned by her instincts than all the advice I could have given her. She does not love this man. I know it, she told me so; she will never love him."
"Heaven be praised!" the Major exclaimed.
"I have only one desire; only one," she continued with a melancholy air; "it is after the accomplishment of my vengeance, to recover my daughter, press her to my heart, and cover her with kisses, while at length revealing to her that I am her mother."
The Major shook his head sorrowfully.
"Take care, sister," he said, in a stern voice; "God has said, 'Vengeance is mine!' take care, lest, after wishing to assume the office of Providence, you may be cruelly chastised by it in some of your dearest affections."
"Oh, say not so, Harry!" she exclaimed with a sign of terror; "you would turn me mad."
The Major let his head sink on hid breast. For a while brother and sister remained opposite each other, not uttering a word; they were both reflecting. The She-wolf was the first to renew the conversation.
"Now, brother," she said, "if you will permit me, we will leave this mournful subject for a moment, and allude to what concerns you more particularly, that is, the formidable conspiracy formed against you by the Indians."
"On my word," he replied, with a sigh of relief, "I confess, sister, that I ask nothing better; my head is confused, and I believe that if this went on much longer, I should be unable to re-collect my thoughts, so much am I affected by what you have told me."
"Thanks,"
"Night is drawing on, Margaret; indeed, it has almost entirely slipped away, we have not a moment to lose, so pray continue."
"Is the garrison complete?"
"Yes."
"How many men have you?"
"Seventy, without counting some fifteen hunters and trappers occupied without, but whom I will recall without delay."
"Very good: do you require the whole of the garrison for the defence of the fort?"
"That is according. Why?"
"Because I want to borrow twenty men of you."
"Hum I for what object?"
"You shall learn; you are alone here, without any hopes of help, and for this reason: while the Indians are burning the fort, they will intercept your communication with Fort Clarke, Fort Union, and the other posts scattered along the Missouri."
"I fear it, but what can I do?"
"I will tell you; you have doubtless heard of an American squatter, who settled hardly a week back about three or four leagues from you?"
"I have; a certain John Black, I think."
"That is the man; well, his clearing will naturally serve you as an advanced post?"
"Famously."
"Profit by the short time left you; under pretence of a buffalo hunt, send twenty men from the fort, and conceal them at John Black's, so that when the moment for action arrives, they may make a demonstration in your favour, which will place the enemies between two fires, and make them suppose that reinforcements have reached you from other posts."
"That is a good idea," the Major said. "You must choose men on whom you can count."
"They are all devoted to me; you shall see them at work."
"All the better; then that is settled!"
"It is."
"Now, as it is urgent that no one should know of our relations, as it might compromise the success of our scheme, I must ask you to open the gates of the fort for me.
"What, so soon, in this frightful weather?"
"I must, brother, it is of the utmost importance that I should start at once."
"You insist."
"I beg it of you, Harry, for our common benefit."
"Come, then, sister, I will detain you no longer."
Two minutes later, in spite of the storm which still howled with the same fury, the She-wolf was rowing from Fort Mackenzie at full speed.
When Natah Otann entered the lodge inhabited by the white men, under pretext of warning them to prepare for the chase, his searching eye in a few seconds had explored every corner of the building. The Indian Chief was too clever to omit noticing the Count's constraint and embarrassment: but he understood that it would be impolitic to show the suspicions he had conceived. Hence he did not in the slightest degree affect to notice the annoyance caused by his presence, and continued the conversation with that politeness the Redskins can display when they choose to take the trouble. On their side the Count and Bright-eye at once regained their coolness.
"I did not hope to find my White brother already risen," Natah Otann said with a smile.
"Why not?" the young man replied; "a desert life accustoms one to little sleep."
"Then the Palefaces will go and hunt with their red friends?"
"Certainly, if you have no objection."
"Did I not myself propose to Glass-eye to procure them a true chase?"
"That is true," the young man said, with a laugh; "but take care, Chief, I have become uncommonly fastidious since I have been in the prairie; there is hardly any game I have not hunted, as it was the love of sport alone that brought me into these unknown countries; hence, I repeat, I shall expect choice game."
Natah Otann smiled proudly.
"My brother will be satisfied," he said.
"And what is the animal we are about to follow?" the young man asked.
"The ostrich."
The Count made a sign of amazement.
"What, the ostrich?" he exclaimed, "that is impossible, Chief—"
"Because?"
"Oh, simply because there are none."
"The ostrich, it is true, is disappearing; it fled before the white men, and becomes daily rare, but it is still numerous on the prairies; in a few hours my brother will have a proof of it."
"I desire nothing better."
"Good, that is settled: I will soon come and fetch my brother."
The Chief bowed courteously and retired, after taking a parting look around. The curtain had scarcely fallen behind the Chief ere the pile of furs that covered the young girl was thrown off, and Prairie-Flower ran up to the Count.
"Listen," she said to him, seizing his hand, which she pressed tenderly, "I cannot explain to you now, for time fails me; still, remember, you have a friend who watches over you."
And before the Count could reply, or even think of replying, she fled with the bound of an antelope. He passed his hand several times over his brow, his eye being fixed on the place where the Indian girl had disappeared.
"Ah!" he at length murmured, "have I at last met with a true woman?"
"She is an angel," the hunter said, replying to his thought. "Poor child! she has suffered greatly."
"Yes; but I am here now, and will protect her!" the Count exclaimed, with exaltation.
"Let us think of ourselves first, Mr. Edward, and try to get away from here with whole skins; it will not be an easy task, I assure you."
"What do you mean, my friend?"
"It is enough that I understand it all," the hunter said, shaking his head; "let us only think now of our preparations: our friends, the Redskins, will soon arrive," he added, with that derisive smile which caused the Count to feel increased embarrassment.
But the impression caused by the Canadian's ambiguous language was promptly dissipated, for love had suddenly nestled in this young, man's heart; he only dreamed of one thing, of seeing the woman again whom he adored with all his strength.
In a man like the Count, who was gifted with a fiery organization, every feeling must necessarily be carried to an excess; and it was the case in the present instance. Love is born by a word, a sign, a look, and scarcely born, suddenly becomes a giant. The Count was fated to learn this at his own expense.
Scarcely half an hour after Natah Otann's departure, the gallop of several horses was heard, and a troop of horsemen stopped in front of the cabin. The three men went out, and found Natah Otann awaiting them at the head of sixty warriors, all dressed in their grand costume, and armed to the teeth.
"Let us go," he said.
"Whenever you please," the Count answered.
The Chief made a signal, and three magnificent horses, superbly caparisoned in the Indian fashion, were led up by children. The whites mounted, and the band set out in the direction of the prairie.
It was about six in the morning, the night storm had completely swept the sky, which was of a pale blue; the sun, fully risen in the horizon, shot forth its warm beams, which drew out the sharp and odoriferous vapours from the ground, The atmosphere was wondrously transparent, a slight breeze refreshed the air, and flocks of birds, lustrous with a thousand hues, flew around, uttering joyous cries. The troop marched gaily through the tall prairie grass, raising a cloud of dust, and undulating like a long serpent in the endless turnings of the road.
The spot where the chase was to come off was nearly thirty miles distant from the village. In the desert all places are alike, tall grass, in the midst of which the horsemen entirely disappear; stunted shrubs, and here and there clumps of trees, whose imposing crowns rise to an enormous height;—such was the road the Indians had to follow up to the spot where they would find the animals they proposed chasing.
In the prairies of Arkansas and the Upper Missouri, at the time of our story, ostriches were still numerous, and their chase one of the numerous amusements of the Redskins and wood rangers. It is probable that the successive invasions of the white men, and the immense clearings effected by fire and the axe, have now compelled them to abandon this territory, and retire to the inaccessible desert of the Rocky Mountains, or the sands of the Far West.
We will say here, without any pretence at a scientific description, a few words about this singular animal, still but little known in Europe. The ostrich generally lives in small families of from eight to ten, scattered along the banks of marshes, pools, and streams. They live on fresh grass. Faithful to their native soil, they never quit the vicinity of the water, and in the month of November lay their eggs in the wildest part of the plain, fifty to sixty at a time, which are brooded, solely at night, by male and female in turn, with a touching tenderness. When the incubation is terminated, the ostrich breaks the barren eggs with its beak, which are at once covered with flies and insects, supplying nourishment to the young birds. The ostrich of the Western prairies differs slightly from theNandusof the Patagonian prairies and the African species. It is about five feet high, and four and a half long, from the stomach to the end of the tail; its beak is very pointed, and measures a little over five inches.
A characteristic trait of the ostriches is their extreme curiosity. In the Indian villages, where they live in a tamed state, it is of frequent occurrence to see them stalking through groups of talkers, and regarding them with fixed attention. In the plain this curiosity is often fatal to them, for it leads them to look unhesitatingly at everything that seems strange or unusual to them. We will give a capital Indian story here in proof of this.
The jaguars are very fond of ostrich meat, but unfortunately, though their speed is so great, it is almost impossible for them to run the birds down; but the jaguars are cunning animals, and usually obtain by craft what they cannot manage by force. They, therefore, employ the following stratagem. They lie on the ground as if dead, and raise their tails in the air, where they wave them in every direction; the ostriches, attracted by this strange spectacle, approach with great simplicity—the rest may be guessed; they fall a prey to the cunning jaguars.
The hunters after a hurried march of three hours, reached a barren and sandy plain; during the journey, very few words were exchanged between Natah Otann and his white guests, for he rode at the head of the column, conversing in a low voice with White Buffalo. The Indians dismounted by the side of a stream, and exchanged their horses for racers, which the chief had sent to the spot during the night, and which were naturally rested and able to run for miles. Natah Otann divided the hunting party into two equal troops, keeping the command of the first himself, and courteously offering that of the second to the Count. As the Frenchman, however, had never been present at such a chase, and was quite ignorant how it was conducted, he courteously declined. Natah Otann reflected for a few moments, and then turned to Bright-eye:—
"My brother knows the ostriches?" he asked him. "Eh!" the Canadian replied, with a smile; "Natah Otann was not yet born when I hunted them on the prairie."
"Good," the chief said; "then my brother will command the second band?"
"Be it so," the hunter said, bowing: "I accept with pleasure."
On a given signal, the first band, under Natah Otann's command, advanced into the plain, describing a semicircle, so as to drive the game towards a ravine, situated between two moving downs. The second band, with which the Count and Ivon remained, was echelonned so as to form the other half of the circle. This circle, by the horsemen's advance, was gradually being contracted, when a dozen ostriches showed themselves; but the male bird, standing sentry, warned the family of the danger by a sharp cry like a boatswain's whistle. At once the ostriches fled in a straight line rapidly, and without looking back. All the hunters galloped off in pursuit.
The plain, till then silent and gloomy, grew animated, and offered the strangest appearance. The horsemen pursued the luckless animals at full speed, raising in their passage clouds of impalpable dust. Twelve to fifteen paces behind the game, the Indians, still galloping and burying their spurs in the flanks of their panting horses, bent forward, twisted their formidable clubs round their heads, and hurled them after the animals. If they missed their aim, they stooped down without checking their pace, and picked up the weapon, which they cast again.
Several flocks of ostriches had been put up, and the chase then assumed the proportions of a mad revel. Cries and hurrahs rent the air; the clubs hurtled through the space and struck the necks, wings, and legs of the ostriches, which, startled and mad with terror, made a thousand feints and zigzags to escape their implacable enemies, and buffeting their wings, tried to prick the horses with, the species of spike with which the end of their wings is armed. Several horses reared, and, embarrassed by the ostriches between their legs, fell with their riders. The ostriches, profiting by the disorder, fled on, and came within reach of the other hunters, who received them with a shower of clubs.
Each hunter leaped from his horse, killed the victim he had felled, cut off its wings as a sign of triumph, and renewed the chase with increased ardour. Ostriches and hunters rushed onwards like thecordonazo, that terrible wind of the Mexican deserts, and forty ostriches speedily encumbered the plain. Natah Otann looked round him, and then gave the signal for retreat; the birds which had not succumbed to this rude aggression, ran off to seek shelter. The dead birds were carefully collected, for the ostrich is, excellent eating, and the Indians prepare, chiefly from the meat on the breast, a dish renowned for its delicacy and exquisite savour. The warriors then proceeded to collect eggs, also highly esteemed, and secured an ample crop.
Although the chase had scarce lasted two hours, the horses panted and wanted rest before they could return to the village; hence Natah Otann gave orders to stop. The Count had never been present at so strange a hunt before, although ever since he had been on the prairie he had pursued the different animals that inhabit it; hence he entered into it with all the excitement of youth, rushing on the ostriches and felling them with childlike pleasure. When the signal for retreat was given by the Chief, he reluctantly left off the amusement, which at the moment caused him such delight, and returned slowly to his comrades. Suddenly a loud cry was raised by the Indians, and each ran to his weapons. The Count looked around him with surprise, and felt a slight tremor. The ostrich hunt was over; but, as frequently happens in these countries, a far more terrible one was about to begin—the chase of the cougar.[1]
Two of these animals had suddenly made their appearance. The Count recovered at once, and, cocking his rifle, prepared to follow this new species of game. Natah Otann had also noticed the wild beasts; he ordered a dozen warriors to surround Prairie-Flower, whom he had obliged to accompany him, or who had insisted on being present; then, certain that the girl was, temporarily at least, in safety, he turned to a warrior standing at his side.
"Uncouple the dogs," he said.
A dozen mastiffs were let loose, which howled in chorus on seeing the wild beasts. The Indians, accustomed to see the ostrich hunt disturbed in this way, never fail, when they go out for their favourite exercise, to take with them dogs trained to attack the lion. About two hundred yards from the spots where the Indians had halted, two cougars were now crouching, with their eyes fixed on the Redskin warriors. These animals, still young, were about the size of a calf; their heads bore a strong, likeness to a cat's, and their soft smooth hide of silvery yellow was dotted with black spots.
"After them!" Natah Otann shouted.
Horsemen and dogs rushed on the ferocious beasts with yells, cries, and barks, capable of terrifying lions unused to such a reception. The noble animals, motionless and amazed, lashed their flanks with their long tails, and drew in heavy draughts of air; for a moment they remained stationary, then suddenly bounded away. A party of hunters galloped in a straight line to intercept their retreat, while the others bent over their saddles, and guiding their horses with their knees, fired their arrows and rifles, without checking the cougars which turned furiously on the dogs, and hurled them ten yards from them, to howl with pain. Still the mastiffs, long habituated to this chase, watched for a favourable moment, leaped on the lions' backs, and dug their nails in their flesh; but the latter, with one stroke of their deadly claws, swept them off like flies, and continued their flight.
One of them, pierced by several arrows, and surrounded by the dogs, rolled on the ground, raising a cloud of dust under its claws, and uttering a fearful yell. This one the Canadian finished by putting a bullet through its eye, but the second lion remained still unwounded, and its leaps foiled the attack and skill of the hunters. The dogs, now wearied, did not dare assail it. Its flight had led it a few paces from the spot where Prairie-Flower stood: it suddenly turned at right angles, bounded among the Indians, two of whom it ripped up, and crouched before the young girl, ere making its leap. Prairie-Flower, pale as a corpse, clasped her hands instinctively, uttered a stifled cry, and fainted. New cries replied to hers, and at the moment the lion was about to leap on the maiden, two bullets were buried in its chest. It turned to face its new adversary; it was the Count de Beaulieu.
"Let no one stir!" he exclaimed, stopping by a sign Natah Otann and Bright-eye, who ran up, "this game is mine—no other than I shall kill it."
The Count had dismounted, and with his feet firmly planted, his rifle at his shoulder, and eyes fixed on the lion, he waited. The lion hesitated, cast a final glance at the prey lying a few paces from it, and then rushed on the young man with a roar. He fired again: the animal bit the dust, and the Count, hunting knife in hand, ran up to it. The man and the lion rolled together on the ground, but soon one of the combatants rose again—it was the man. Prairie-Flower was saved. The maiden opened her eyes again, looked timidly around her, and holding out her hand to the Frenchman.
"Thanks!" she exclaimed, and burst into tears.
Natah Otann walked up to her.
"Silence!" he said, harshly; "what the Paleface has done Natah Otann could have achieved."
The Count smiled contemptuously, but made no reply, for he had recognized a rival.