SHASTA SEES HIS REDSKIN KINDRED
Not more than a couple of minutes had passed before the news of the
capture had gone through the camp. The Indians, old and young, men,
women and children, came crowding round to see this strange monster
which Looking-All-Ways had found. Shasta, sitting hunched upon his
calves, glared round at the company with his beady eyes shining
through the masses of his hair. The Indians, seeing the glitter of
them, thought it wiser not to come too close, and every time Shasta
threw back his head to shake the hair out of his eyes, a murmur went
through the crowd.
Looking-All-Ways told his tale. He had been hunting on the caribou
barren, behind the high rocks. On his return, he had come upon the
little monster crouching on the rocks where the wolves had gathered,
and looking down upon the camp.
Poor little Shasta gazed at the strange beings around him with wonder
and awe. He did not feel a monster. It was they who were the
monsters--these tall, smooth-faced creatures with skins that seemed
to be loose, and not belonging to their bodies at all! No wonder his
eyes glittered as he turned them quickly this way and that, taking in
all the details of his surroundings with marvellous rapidity. The
thing excited him beyond measure. He felt a growing desire to throw
back his head and howl.
For a time nothing happened. The Indians were content to stare at
him in astonishment, while Shasta glared back. Then the chief, Big
Eagle, gave orders that his arms should be untied. Looking-All-Ways
stepped forward and unloosened the deer-skin thong. Shasta submitted
quietly, for he had a strong feeling within him that it was the best
thing to do. Only he wanted to howl so very badly! Yet he kept the
howl down in his throat, and crouched, humped up, with his hands upon
the ground.
Suddenly one of the Indians, bolder than the rest, touched Shasta's
back, running his hand down his spine. Like a flash, Shasta,
whirling round, with a wolfish snarl, seized the offending hand.
With a cry of fear and pain the Indian sprang back, snatching his
hand away. After that, the Indians gave Shasta more room, for now
they had a wholesome dread of his temper. If they had not touched
him, Shasta would not have turned on them. But the touch of that
strange hand maddened him, and set his pulses throbbing. It was the
wild blood in him that rebelled. In common with all really wild
creatures, he could not bear to be touched by a human hand. And all
his life afterwards he was the same. He never overcame the shrinking
from being touched by his fellows.
After a while the Indians began to move off, and soon Shasta was left
to himself with only Looking-All-Ways to watch him. For some time
Shasta stayed where he was without stirring. He wanted to take in
his new surroundings fully, before deciding what to do. The only
thing about him that he moved was his head and his eyes. He kept
moving his head rapidly this way and that, as some unfamiliar sound
caught his ear. He observed the shapes of things, and their colour
and movements, with a piercing gaze which saw everything and lost
nothing. And because he was so true to his wolf training, he sniffed
at them hard, to make them more understandable through his nose. It
was all so utterly new and unexpected that it was like being popped
down into the middle of another world. Next to the Indians
themselves, the things that astonished him most were their lodges.
He watched with a feeling of awe the owners going in and out. Some
of the lodges were closed. Over the entrances flaps of buffalo-skin
were laced, and no one entered or came out. Shasta had a feeling
that behind the laced flaps mysterious things were lurking--he could
not tell what. Or perhaps they were the dens where the she-Indians
hid their cubs. If so, they were strangely silent and gave no sign
of life. Many of the tepees were ornamented with painted circles and
figures of animals and birds that ran round the hides. At the top,
under the ends of the lodge-poles, the circles represented the sun,
moon and planets. Below, where the tepee was widest and touched the
ground, the circles were what the Indians call "Dusty Stars," and
were imitations of the prairie puff-balls, which, when you touch
them, fall swiftly into dust. The tepee against which Shasta
crouched was ringed by these dusty stars, but he did not know what
they were meant for. He only saw in them round daubs of yellow
paint. And because he knew nothing about painting, or that one thing
could be laid on another, he thought that the tepees and their
decorations had _grown_ as they were, like tall mushrooms, bitten
small in their tops by the white teeth of the moon. But wherever his
gaze wandered, it always returned to Looking-All-Ways, who sat a few
paces away towards the sun, and smoked a pipe of polished stone. And
there was this peculiarity about Looking-All-Ways, that, although his
name suggested a swift and prairie-wide glance, which made it
impossible for one to take him by surprise, he had a habit of sitting
in a sleepy attitude, staring dreamily straight in front of him, as
if he noticed nothing that was going on around. Shasta, of course,
did not yet know his name. All he knew was that if Looking-All-Ways
had a slow eye, he was extremely swift as to his feet. And as he
watched him, he measured distances with his own cunning eyes behind
his heavy hair. This distance, and that! So far from the last
porcupine quill on Looking-All-Ways' leggings to the nearest toe-nail
on Shasta's naked foot! So far again from the toe-nail to the dusty
stars at the edge of the tepee; and from the tepee itself to that
lump of rising ground toward the northwest! Shasta began to lay his
plans cunningly.
If he made straight for the knoll, Looking-All-Ways might catch him
before he could reach it, but if he darted behind the tepee, he might
be able to dodge and double, and make lightning twists in the air,
and so baffle the Indian until he could reach the trees. As always,
when in danger, Shasta's instincts turned toward the trees. It was
not until long afterwards that he learnt the ancient medicine song
and sung:
"The trees are my medicine.
When I am among them,
I walk around my own medicine."
Shasta was nervous of the tepee--he did not know what might be
immediately behind it. That was one reason which kept him so long
where he was. If he could see what was on the other side he would
feel better, and more inclined to run. Another reason was the sense
of being surrounded on all sides by strange creatures whose behaviour
was so utterly unlike the wolves that there was no saying what they
would do the moment he started to run. Yet, whenever he looked away
from the lodges, there were the high bluffs and the precipices, and
the summits of the spruces and the pines, like the ragged edges of
the wolf-world. That way lay freedom, and the life that had no
terror for him, and in which he was at home.
The more he looked at the tree-tops over the summits of the rising
ground to the northwest, the more he felt the desire growing in him
to be up and away.
At last the moment came when he could bear it no longer. He glanced
warily at his captor before making the dash. The time seemed
favourable. Looking-All-Ways had his eyes upon the remote horizon.
There was a dull look in them as if they were glazed with dreams.
Suddenly, without the slightest warning, Shasta leapt and disappeared
behind the tepee.
The thing was done with the quickness of a wolf. In spite of that,
the slumberous-looking mass of the Indian uncoiled itself like a
spring. The dream-glaze over his eyeballs vanished in a flash.
Instantly they became the eyes of an eagle when he swoops.
Shasta had scarcely reached the back of the tepee when the Indian was
on his feet and had started in pursuit. This time Shasta did not
make the mistake of running a straight course. He made a zigzag line
through the outermost tepees, turning and twisting with bewildering
quickness. Even when he darted out into the open, he did not run
straight. It was a marvel to see how he turned and doubled. And
every time when Looking-All-Ways, with his greater speed, was almost
upon him, Shasta would draw his muscles together and leap sideways
like a wolf. And every time he leaped, he was nearer to freedom than
before.
Suddenly something happened which he could not understand.
Looking-All-Ways was not near him. He was farther behind than he had
been at the beginning of the chase. Yet Shasta felt something slip
over his head, tighten round his body with a terrible grip, and bring
him to the ground with a jerk. When he looked round in astonishment
and terror, there was his pursuer fifty paces away, at the other end
of a raw-hide lariat!
Shasta struggled and tore at the hateful thing which was biting into
his naked body. But the thing held. The more he struggled the
tighter it became. It was dragging him back to the camp. In a very
few minutes he was among the lodges again and knew that escape was
hopeless.
After this attempt, the Indians secured him firmly with thongs, one
of which was fastened to a stake driven in the ground. They were
fond of making pets of wild animals. And now they felt they had in
their midst a creature so wonderful that it was more than half human,
and which might prove to be a powerful "Medicine" to the tribe. Once
more they crowded round the strange boy, and jabbered to each other
in their throats. Shasta had never heard such odd sounds. The
strange eyes in their hairless faces troubled him, but the noises
that came out of their mouths made him tingle all over. It was not
until near sunset that the crowd separated, the Indians going back to
their evening meal.
Shasta looked wistfully at the sun as it dipped to the mountains,
rested for a moment or two upon their summits and then disappeared.
The sun was going to his tepee, and the stars which decorated it were
not dusty. But they would not bind him with deer-thongs, the people
in those lodges; for nothing is bound there, where the sun and moon
go upon the ancient trails. And of those trails only the
"wolf-trail" is visible, worn across the heavens by the moccasins of
the Indian dead.
The smell of the cooking came to Shasta's nose, and tickled it
pleasantly. Not far off, a group of squaws were cooking buffalo
tongues. Seeing his eyes upon them, one of them took a tongue from
the pot and threw it to him with a laugh. Shasta drew back, eyeing
it suspiciously--this steaming, smelling thing which lay upon the
ground. But by degrees the pleasant smell of it overcame him, and he
began to eat. It was his first taste of cooked food. When he had
finished, he licked his lips with satisfaction, and wished for more.
But though the squaws laughed at him, they did not offer him another,
for buffalo tongues are a delicacy and not to be lightly given away.
The smoke of many fires was now rising from the lodges. Besides the
cooking, Shasta could smell the sweet smell of burning cottonwood.
As the dusk fell and twilight deepened into night, the lodges shone
out more and more plainly, lit by inside fires. And in the rising
and falling of the flames the painted animals upon the hides seemed
to quiver into life, and to chase each other continually round the
circles of the tepees. Then, one by one, the fires died down, and
the lodges ceased to shine. They became dark and silent, hiding the
sleepers within. Only one here and there would give out a ghostly
glimmer like a sentinel who watched.
As long as the lodges glimmered Shasta did not dare to move. He felt
as if the dusty stars of them were eyes upon him. But when the last
glimmer died, and all the tepees were dark, he began to move
stealthily backwards and forwards, tugging at the thongs.
But, try as he would, he could not loosen them. They were too
cunningly arranged for his unskilled fingers to undo, and when he
tried his strong white teeth upon them he had no better success.
The camp was very still. Presently the wind rose and made the lodge
ears flap gently. Shasta did not know what it was, and the sound
made him uneasy. All at once there was another sound which set his
pulses throbbing.
It was a long, sobbing cry, coming down from the mountains. In the
midst of his strange surroundings it was like a voice from home. He
knew it for the voice of a wolf-brother walking along the high roof
of the world. He waited for it to come again. In the pause, nothing
broke the stillness, except the gentle flap, flap of the lodge-ears
at the top of the tepees.
Again the cry came. This time it sounded less clear, as if the wolf
were farther away. Shasta felt a desperate sense of loneliness. He
was being left to his fate. If the wolf-brother went away and did
not know that he was there, how would he carry a message to the rest
of the pack? For if Nitka only knew that he was taken captive by
these strange man-wolves, surely she would come and rescue him, if
any power of rescue lay in her feet and paws.
Shasta did not wait any longer. He threw his head backwards and let
out a long, howling cry. It was the genuine wolf-cry. Any wolf
hearing it would recognize it at once, and answer it in his mind even
if he did not give tongue.
The noise aroused the Indian huskies, but before they yelped a reply
the wolf on the mountains howled again, and Shasta knew that his call
had been answered. He howled back louder and more desperately than
before. The mournful singing note went with a throb and a quiver far
into the night, and the wind, catching it, sped it farther on its
way. Again the answering cry came back from the mountains. It came
singing down the canyon like a live and quivering thing.
Now the huskies could bear it no longer. They broke out into a loud
clamour, rushing about wildly, and yelping at the top of their
voices. In a moment, the whole camp was astir. The Indians rushed
out of their lodges to see what was the matter, shouting to each
other and bidding the women and children stay where they were.
Looking-All-Ways came running to Shasta, fearing lest he should have
escaped. But Shasta, the cause of it all, sat there quietly crouched
in front of the tepee, and making no outward sign, though every nerve
in his body was tingling with excitement.
It was some time before the camp settled down again and peace was
restored. Every now and again a husky would whine uneasily, or give
the ghost-bark which Indians say the dogs give when spirits are
abroad. But by decrees even these uneasy ones dropped off to sleep,
and no sound broke the intense stillness which brooded over the camp.
Shasta, however, had no thought of sleep. His mind and body were
both wide awake. To him the silence was only a cloak, which muffled,
but did not kill, all sorts of fine sounds that trembled on the air.
The wind had dropped now, and the flapping of the lodge-ears had
ceased. He listened intently, waiting, always waiting, for what he
knew would come.
It was in the strange hour just before dawn that two grey wolf-shapes
came loping down the mountainside. They approached the camp warily,
bellies close to the ground, and eyes a-glimmer in the dark.
It was Nitka and Shoomoo.
The huskies were fast asleep and did not hear them. On they came,
moving as soundlessly as the shadows which they seemed.
They crept in among the ring of tepees. On all sides lay the
sleeping Indians, unconscious that, in their very midst, two great
wolves were creeping towards their goal. If Shasta had been on the
leeward side, he would have scented their approach, but he sat
crouched to the windward of the wolves and was not aware of their
coming until they had actually entered the camp. Then his wolf-sense
warned him that something not Indian was moving between the lodges.
So that when, suddenly, Nitka's long body glided into view, he was
not astonished, and not in the least alarmed. Her cold nose against
his arm, and then the warm caress of her tongue, told him all she
wanted him to know. Close behind her stood Shoomoo. But he did not
caress Shasta. As usual, he kept his feelings to himself, and waited
for Nitka to take the lead.
Nitka had never seen deer-thongs before, nor how they could bind you
so that you could not move. But her keen brain soon took in the
problem, and once her brain grasped the thing she was ready to act.
Holding down with one paw the thong which bound Shasta to the stake,
she set her gleaming teeth to work. Shoomoo followed her example,
and in a very few minutes the thing was cut, and Shasta was once more
free.
Directly Shasta felt that he was free, a wild joy took possession of
him. It was not the Indians themselves that terrified him so much as
the feeling of being a prisoner in their hands. To be bound, to be
helpless, not to be able to run when you wished--that was the
terrible thing. The creatures themselves--the smooth-faced
hind-leg-walking wolves--seemed harmless enough. At least, they had
not yet shown any signs of wanting to hurt him. And something almost
drew him to them with a drawing which he could not understand.
Still, the thing which made it impossible to feel they were really
friends was this being bound in their midst, with this horrible
rawhide thong. Directly Nitka's teeth had done the work, and he felt
that he could move from the stake, his own thought was to make sure
of his freedom by leaving the camp without a moment's delay.
So far, nothing seemed to have warned the Indians what was going on.
The camp was wonderfully still. In a few minutes more the dawn would
break. When it did, danger would begin for all wild things within or
near the circle of the camp. Above, the stars still shone brightly
between the slow drift of the clouds. The tall shapes of the lodges
loomed black and threatening, like creatures that watched. Now that
the work for which they had come was finished, both Nitka and Shoomoo
were uneasy and anxious to be gone. The smells of the camp did not
please them as they had pleased Shasta. To their noses, they were
the danger scents of something which they did not understand. And
_fear_ was in their hearts. It was not the fear that wild animals
have of each other; it was deeper down. It was the instinctive fear
of man.
As soon as she had gnawed through the thong, and nosed at Shasta to
satisfy herself that he was not only free but able to make use of his
legs, Nitka gave the sign to Shoomoo. What sign it was, no one not
born of wolf blood could have told you. Even Shasta could not have
done so, though he was aware that the sign was given, for the
unspoken sign-language of the animals is not to be cramped into the
narrow shapes of human speech. Whatever the sign was, Shoomoo
obeyed. He slid round the nearest tepee as noiselessly as if his
great body floated on the air. Shasta followed, with Nitka close
behind. She had led the way into the camp, because of her greater
cunning, but now it was for Shoomoo to find the way out. Her place
now was close to her strange cub, so that she could protect him on
the instant from any danger that might threaten.
Two grey shadows had drifted into camp. Now three were stealing out,
under the stars, and no human eye watched their stealthy departure.
All would have been well, if an unlucky husky dog had not happened to
wake as the three shadows glided past.
There was a short bark, a rush, and a worrying snarl. Then one
piercing yelp rent the silence, and the husky lay a bleeding form,
thrown by Shoomoo's jaws three yards away. With that the whole husky
pack was on its feet, roused from its slumbers in an instant. At
least twenty furious dogs hurled themselves at the wolves. Never had
Nitka and Shoomoo a finer chance to show their fighting power. From
two large grey timber-wolves they seemed to transform themselves into
leaping whirlwinds that snatched and tore, and flung husky dogs like
chaff into the air. At first Shasta was in the centre of the fight.
He could not, of course, help his foster parents, for his teeth and
hands were useless at such a time; all he could do was to save
himself as much as possible from the brunt of the attack. This he
did by crouching, leaping and running when the right moment came.
Beyond everything else, he kept his throat protected with his arms,
for his wolf-knowledge and training taught him that this was the
danger spot, which if you did not guard, meant the losing of your
life.
Once or twice he felt a stinging pain, as a husky snatched at him and
the sharp teeth scored his flesh; but each time the dog paid dearly
for his rashness, and was not for biting any more. It was only when
Nitka or Shoomoo was busy finishing a dog that the thing happened.
Otherwise, they kept close to Shasta, one on each side, guarding him
from attack. Each time Shasta was touched, Nitka's anger passed all
bounds. She not only punished the offender with death, but she tore
at the other dogs with redoubled fury.
So the fight rolled towards the forest--a yapping, snarling mass of
leaping bodies and snatching teeth. In its track the bodies of dead
and dying huskies lay bleeding on the dark ground.
The thing that Shasta dreaded most was lest the Indians should come
to the rescue of their dogs. But having had one false alarm, they
did not trouble to rouse themselves again, and even Looking-All-Ways
remained on his bed of buffalo robes and said evil things of the
huskies for disturbing his repose.
It was not many minutes before the fight was over. The huskies,
finding themselves outmatched by the superior strength and fury of
the wolves, began to lose heart. When the moment came that they had
had enough of it, the wolves seemed to know it by instinct They
passed in a flash, from defence to attack, and, covering Shasta's
retreat towards the trees, they charged the pack with unequalled
fury. Such an onset was irresistible. The huskies gave way before
it, completely routed. Their only care was how to save their skins,
as they fled, yelping into the night. Of the twenty dogs which had
attacked the wolves, only ten found their way back to camp; and of
these many had ugly wounds which they carried as scars to the end of
their days. It had been so great a fight that the Indians marvelled
when the morning light showed them the blood-stained ground and the
bodies of the dogs that had died in the fray.
All the way back through the dark woods Shasta felt a great joy
within him. And the gloom seemed alive with things that gave him
greeting as he ran. He could not see them clearly--those things.
Yet now and then something shadowy stirred, and swayed towards him,
or drifted softly by. And though they were so faint and shadowy, he
knew them for the good, secret things of the forest, which none but
the wild creatures know. His wounds were a little sore, but, even as
he ran, Nitka found time to doctor them with her tongue. She paid no
heed to her own. There would be time enough to attend to them when
they had reached the den. Neither she nor Shoomoo had really
dangerous wounds, although they were bleeding in many places. A day
or two's rest and licking would make them all right, and as long as
their man-cub was safe they did not care.
It was bright morning before they reached the den. The sun had risen
and was pouring down upon the Bargloosh all the freshness of his
early beams. From the tip of a fir branch, a clear little song
slipped into the morning air. It was Killooleet, the white-throated
sparrow, trilling his morning tune. He had his nest somewhere near
the den, only the wolves never found out where. All they knew him by
was his song, and the flicker of his flight as he darted daintily
past. The very fanning of his wings seemed to sweeten the air. As
for his song--he spilt it out at them in little trickling tunes all
through the day, or whenever he happened to wake up in the night.
The old wolves didn't mind him much, one way or the other, but Shasta
was fond of him, and used to make a gurgle in his throat whenever
Killooleet spilt his voice. And now, as he approached the cave, the
song of Killooleet seemed a welcome home, and when he looked up into
the tree there was Killooleet perched on the fir-tip, with the
sunlight shining full on his little wobbling throat!