MONKEY-FACE.
We have seen in what summary manner the Captain seized on the territory
conceded to him. We will now explain how he established himself there,
and the precautions he took not to be disturbed by the Indians he had so
brutally dispossessed, and who, he judged from his knowledge of their
vindictive character, would probably not yet consider themselves beaten,
but might begin at any moment the attempt to take a sanguinary and
terrible vengeance for the insults put upon them.
The fight with the Indians had been rude and obstinate, but, thanks to
Monkey-face, who revealed to the Captain the weakest points of the
village, and especially the superiority of the American fire-arms, the
Indians were at length compelled to take to flight, and abandon all they
possessed to the conquerors.
It was a wretched booty, consisting only of animal skins, and a few
vessels made of coarse clay.
The Captain, no sooner master of the place, began his work, and laid the
foundation stone of the new colony; for he understood the necessity of
protecting himself as quickly as possible against a _coup-de-main_.
The site of the village was completely freed from the ruins that
encumbered it; the labourers then began levelling the ground, and
digging a ditch six yards wide, and four deep, which was connected on
one side by means of a drain with the affluent of the Missouri, on the
other with the river itself; behind this ditch, and on the wall formed
of the earth dug out of it, a line of stakes was planted, twelve feet
high, and fastened together by iron bands, almost invisible interstices
being left, through which a rifle barrel could be thrust and discharged
under covert. In this entrenchment a gate was made large enough for a
waggon to pass, and which communicated with the exterior by a
drawbridge, which was pulled up at sunset.
These preliminary precautions taken, an extent of about four thousand
square yards was thus surrounded by water, and defended by palisades on
all sides, excepting on the face turned to the Missouri, for the width
and depth of that river offered a sufficient guarantee of security.
It was in the free space to which we have just alluded, that the Captain
began building the houses and offices for the colony.
At the outset these buildings were to be made of wood, as is usually the
case in all clearings, that is to say, of trees with the bark left on
them; and there was no lack of wood, for the forest was scarce a hundred
yards from the colony.
The works were pushed on with such activity, that two months after the
Captain's arrival at the spot all the buildings were finished, and the
interior arrangements almost completed.
In the centre of the colony, on an elevation made for the purpose, a
species of octagonal tower, about seventy feet in height, was erected,
of which the roof was flat, and which was divided into three storeys. At
the bottom were the kitchen and offices, while the upper rooms were
allotted to the members of the family, that is to say, the Captain and
his lady, the two nursemaids, young and hearty Kentuckians, with rosy
and plump cheeks, called Betsy and Emma; Mistress Margaret, the cook, a
respectable matron entering on her ninth lustre, though she only
confessed to five-and-thirty, and still had some pretence to beauty,
and, lastly, to Sergeant Bothrel. This tower was closed with a stout
iron-lined door, and in the centre was a wicket to reconnoitre visitors.
About ten yards from the tower, and communicating with it by a
subterraneous passage, were the log huts of the hunters, the workmen,
the neatherds, and labourers.
After these, again came the stables and cow houses.
In addition, scattered here and there, were large barns and granaries
intended to receive the produce of the colony.
But all these different buildings were arranged so as to be isolated,
and so far from each other, that in the event of fire, the loss of one
building need not absolutely entail that of the rest; several wells were
also dug at regular distances, so as to have abundance of water, without
the necessity of fetching it from the river.
In a word, we may say that the Captain, as an old experienced soldier,
accustomed to all the tricks of border warfare, had taken the minutest
precautions to avoid not merely an attack, but a surprise.
Three months had elapsed since the settlement of the Americans; this
valley, hitherto uncultivated, and covered with forests, was now in
great part ploughed up; clearings effected on a large scale had removed
the forest more than a mile from the colony; all offered the image of
prosperity and comfort at a spot where, so shortly before, the
carelessness of the Redskins allowed nature to produce at liberty the
small stock of fodder needed for their beasts.
Inside the colony, all offered the most lively and busy sight; while
outside, the cattle pastured under the care of mounted and well-armed
herds, and the trees fell beneath the blows of the axemen; inside, all
the workshops were in full activity, long columns of smoke rose from the
forges, the noise of hammers was mingled with the whirring of the saw;
on the river bank, enormous piles of planks stood near others composed
of fire-wood; several boats were tied up, and from time to time the
shots of the hunters could be heard, who were carrying out a battue in
the woods in order to stock the colony with deer-meat.
It was about four in the afternoon, and the Captain, mounted on a
magnificent black horse, with four white stockings, was ambling across a
freshly-cleared prairie.
A smile of quiet satisfaction played over the old soldier's stern face
at the sight of the prodigious change his will and feverish activity had
effected in so short a time on this unknown corner of earth, which must,
however, in no remote future, acquire a great commercial importance,
owing to its position; he was approaching the colony, when a man,
hitherto hidden behind a pile of roots and bushes heaped up to dry,
suddenly appeared at his side.
The Captain repressed a start of anger on perceiving this man, in whom
he recognised Monkey-face.
We will say here a few words about this man, who is destined to play a
rather important part in the course of our narrative.
Itsichaichè was a man of forty, tall, and well proportioned; he had a
crafty face, lit up by two little gimlet eyes; his vulture-beaked nose,
his wide mouth, with its thin and retiring lips, gave him a cunning and
ugly look, which, in spite of the cautious and cat-like obsequiousness
of his manner, and the calculated gentleness of his voice, inspired
those whom accident brought in contact with him with an impulsive
repugnance which nothing could overcome.
Contrary to the usual state of things, the habit of seeing him, instead
of diminishing, and causing this unpleasant feeling to disappear, only
increased it.
He had conscientiously and honestly performed his contract in leading
the Americans, without any obstacle, to the spot they wished to reach;
but, since that period, he had remained with them, and had, so to speak,
foisted himself on the colony, when he came and went as he pleased, and
no one paid any attention to his actions.
At times, without saying anything, he would disappear for several days,
then suddenly return, and it was impossible to obtain any information
from him as to where he had been and what he had been doing during his
absence.
Still, there was one person to whom the Indian's gloomy face constantly
caused a vague terror, and who had been unable to overcome the repulsion
with which he inspired her, although she could give no explanation of
the feeling: this person was Mrs. Watt. Maternal love produces
clearsightedness: the young lady adored her children, and when at times
the Redskin by chance let a careless glance fall on the innocent
creatures, the poor mother shivered in all her limbs, and she hastily
withdrew from the sight of the man the two beings who were all in all to
her.
At times she tried to make her husband share her fears, but to all her
remarks the Captain merely replied by a significant shrug of his
shoulders, supposing that with time this feeling would wear off and
disappear. Still, as Mrs. Watt constantly returned to the charge with
the obstinacy and perseverance of a person whose ideas are positively
formed and cannot change, the Captain, who had no cause or plausible
reason to defend against the wife he loved and respected, a man for whom
he did not profess the slightest esteem, at length promised to get rid
of him. As, moreover, the Indian had been absent from the colony for
several days, he determined immediately on his return to ask for an
explanation of his mysterious conduct, and if the other did not reply in
a plain and satisfactory manner, to tell him that he would not have him
any longer about the settlement, and the sooner he took himself off the
better for all parties.
Such was the state of the Captain's feelings toward Monkey-face, when
accident brought him across his path at the moment he least expected
him.
On seeing the Indian, the Captain checked his horse.
"Is my father visiting the valley?" the Pawnee asked.
"Yes," was the answer.
"Oh!" the Indian went on as he looked around him, "All has greatly
changed since the beasts of the Long Knives of the West have been
grazing peacefully on the territories of which they dispossessed the
Snake Pawnees."
The Indian uttered these words in a sad and melancholy voice, which
caused the Captain some mental anxiety.
"Is that a regret you are giving vent to, Chief?" he asked him. "If so,
it seems to me very unsuitable from your lips, since it was you who sold
me the territory I occupy."
"That is true," the Indian said with a shake of his head. "Monkey-face
has no right to complain, for it was he who sold to the Palefaces of the
West the ground where his fathers repose, and where he and his brothers
so often hunted the elk and the jaguar."
"Hum, Chief, I find you very sad to-day; what is the matter with you?
Did you, on waking this morning find yourself lying on your left side?"
he said, alluding to one of the most accredited superstitions among the
Indians.
"No," he continued, "the sleep of Monkey-face was exempt from evil
omens, nothing arrived to alter the calmness of his mind."
"I congratulate you, Chief."
"My father will give tobacco to his son, in order that he may smoke the
calumet of friendship on his return."
"Perhaps so, but first I have a question to ask of you."
"My father can speak, his son's ears are open."
"It is now a long time, Chief," the Captain continued, "since we have
been established here."
"Yes, the fourth moon is beginning."
"Since our arrival, you have left us a great many times without warning
us."
"Why should I do so? Air and space do not belong to the Palefaces, I
suppose; the Pawnee warrior is at liberty to go where he thinks proper;
he was a renowned Chief in his tribe."
"All that may be true, Chief, and I do not care about it; but what I do
care about is the safety of my family and the men who accompanied me
here."
"Well," the Redskin said, "in what way can Monkey-face injure that
safety?'
"I will tell you, Chief; listen to me attentively, for what you have to
hear is serious."
"Monkey-face is only a poor Indian," the Redskin answered, ironically;
"the Great Spirit has not given him the clear and subtle mind of the
Palefaces, still he will try to understand my father."
"You are not so simple as you choose to appear at this moment, Chief; I
am certain you will perfectly understand me, if you only take the
trouble."
"The Chief will try."
The Captain repressed a movement of impatience.
"We are not here in one of the great cities of the American Union, where
the law protects the citizens and guarantees their safety; we are, on
the contrary, on the Redskin territory, far from any other protection
than our own; we have no help to expect from anyone, and are surrounded
by vigilant enemies watching a favourable moment to attack us and
massacre us if they can; it is therefore our duty to watch over our own
safety with the utmost vigilance, for the slightest imprudence would
gravely compromise us. Do you understand me, Chief?"
"Yes, my father has spoken well; his head is grey; his wisdom is great."
"I must therefore carefully watch," the Captain continued, "the
movements of all the persons who belong nearly or remotely to the
colony; and when their movements appear to me suspicious, to ask those
explanations which they have no right to refuse me. Now, I am compelled
to confess to you, Chief, with extreme regret, that the life you have
been leading for some time past seems to me more than suspicious. It
has, therefore, attracted my attention, and I expect a satisfactory
answer from you."
The Redskin had stood unmoved; not a muscle of his face moved; and the
Captain, who watched him closely, could not notice the slightest trace
of emotion on his features. The Indian had expected the question asked
him, and was prepared to answer it.
"Monkey-face led my father and his children from the great stone
villages of the Long-knives of the West to the spot. Has my father had
any cause to reproach the Chief?"
"None, I am bound to allow," the Captain answered, frankly; "you did
your duty honestly."
"Why, then, does a skin now cover my father's heart? and why has
suspicion crept into his mind about a man against whom, as he says
himself, he has not the slightest reproach to bring? Is that the justice
of the Palefaces?"
"Let us not drift from the question, Chief, or change it, if you please.
I could not follow you through all your Indian circumlocution; I will,
therefore, confine myself to saying that, unless you consent to tell me
frankly the cause of your repeated absences, and give me assured proof
of your innocence, I will have you turned out of the colony, and you
shall never set foot again on the territory I occupy."
A gleam of hatred flashed from the Redskin's eye; but, immediately
recalling it, he replied, in his softest voice--
"Monkey-face is a poor Indian; his brothers have rejected him on account
of his friendship with the Palefaces. He hoped to find among the
Long-knives of the west, in the absence of friendship, gratitude for
service rendered. He is mistaken."
"That is not the question," the Captain continued impatiently; "will you
answer Yes or No?"
The Indian drew himself in, and walked up to the speaker close enough to
touch him.
"And if I refuse?" he said, as he gave him a glance of defiance and
fury.
"If you refuse, scoundrel! I forbid you ever appearing again before me;
and if you disobey me, I will chastise you with my dog-whip!"
The Captain had hardly uttered these insulting words ere he repented of
them. He was alone, and unarmed, with a man whom he had mortally
insulted; hence he tried to arrange matters.
"But Monkey-face," he went on, "is a chief; he is wise; he will answer
me--for he knows that I love him."
"You lie, dog of the Palefaces!" the Indian yelled, as he ground his
teeth in fury; "you hate me almost as much as I hate you!"
The Captain, in his exasperation, raised the switch he carried in his
hand; but, at the same moment, the Indian, with a panther-leap, bounded
on to his horse's croup, dragged the Captain out of his stirrups, and
rudely hurled him to the ground.
"The Palefaces are cowardly old women," he said; "the Pawnee warriors
despise them, and will send them petticoats."
After uttering these words with a sarcastic accent impossible to
describe, the Indian bent over the horse's neck, let loose the rein,
uttered a fierce yell, and started at full speed, not troubling himself
further about the Captain, whom he left severely bruised by his fall.
James Watt was not the man to endure such treatment without trying to
revenge himself; he got up as quickly as he could, and shouted, in order
to get together the hunters and wood-cutters scattered over the plain.
Some of them had seen what had happened, and started at full speed to
help their Captain; but before they reached him, and he could give them
his orders to pursue the fugitive, the latter had disappeared in the
heart of the forest, toward which he had directed his rapid course.
The hunters, however, at the head of them being Sergeant Bothrel, rushed
in pursuit of the Indian, swearing they would bring him in either dead
or alive.
The Captain looked after them till he saw them disappear one after the
other in the forest, and then returned slowly to the colony, reflecting
on what had taken place between himself and the Redskin, and his heart
contracted by a gloomy presentiment.
Something whispered to him that, for Monkey-face, generally so prudent
and circumspect, to have acted as he had done, he must have fancied
himself very strong, and quite certain of impunity.