THE RED MAN RECEIVES A VISITOR, COGITATES DEEPLY, AND ACTS WITH
DECISION.
We return now, to the red man, who, with his captive, spent the greater
part of that winter on the slopes of the Rocky mountains, in a valley
between two spurs of the range which merged gradually into the prairie.
In this sequestered spot Petawanaquat could, by turning to the right
hand, seek the rugged haunts of the grizzly near and the Rocky Mountain
goat; or, by turning to the left, ride after the buffalo on his own
undulating plains. Here the Indian instructed Tony in all the mysteries
of the hunter's craft, showed him how to set traps for wolves and foxes,
and snares for rabbits, and taught him how to use the gun, and how to
follow the tracks of game in the snow. He also made him a little bow,
with a sheaf of blunt-headed arrows, and a pair of snow-shoe frames, the
interstices of which were filled up by the red man's wife.
Petawanaquat had only one wife, named Meekeye. He might have had half a
dozen wives if he had chosen, because he was a strong, able, and
successful hunter, which is equivalent to saying he was, for an Indian,
a rich man, and among the Indians there is no legal limit, we believe,
to the number of a man's wives. But _our_ red man seemed to think one
quite enough. He was very good to her--which is more than can be said,
alas! of many white men. He never failed to bring her the tit-bits of
all animals slain in the chase. He never beat her if she grew weary on
the march, as too many of his savage countrymen are wont to do, but, on
the contrary, relieved her of part of her burden, and, as a rule,
carried the heaviest part of the family baggage on his own shoulders or
sledge. Moreover, when on a visit with his furs to the stores of the
fur-traders, he never failed to consult Meekeye as to every purchase
that he made, and invariably gladdened her heart with gifts of scarlet
cloth and white enamelled beads, and brilliant ribbons and little
circular mirrors, which were deemed ample in size, though hardly big
enough to display to advantage the point of an average nose. In short,
Petawanaquat was quite un-Indian and chivalrous in his attentions to his
squaw, who repaid him with faithful service, and, above all, with loving
looks from the orbs which had originated her name.
Some people may think the loving looks produced the chivalry; others
that the chivalry caused the looks. Whichever way it was, the result
was mutual felicity. The red man had no family, hence Meekeye took to
Tony with something of the fervour of a mother. Tony soon reciprocated.
At first he indulged some of his mischievous tendencies, but, being
only smiled at when he was naughty, found that the interest of being bad
was gone, and ere long gave it up.
In the presence of his new father he never dared to be other than
absolute perfection. Petawanaquat's solemnity was too much for him.
Thus it came to pass that Tony was soon thoroughly broken in. Meekeye
taught him to make leggings and to ornament moccasins, for the boy was
omnivorous in his thirst for knowledge. He swallowed everything with
avidity, including immense quantities of food, so that his frame and
mind developed together in a marvellous manner.
Of course the red man did not take Tony with him on his longest hunting
expeditions, but he took him considerable distances from home
notwithstanding, and showed him the "far west" sport in all its phases,
insomuch that Tony, who could scarcely sit a trotting horse in the
settlements, became Tonyquat the Fearless in the course of time--could
ride bare-backed steeds with ease, and could send his little arrows into
the flank of a buffalo with as much coolness, if not as much force, as
his instructor.
Tony even got the length of drawing first blood from a grizzly bear. It
happened thus:--
He was out with Petawanaquat one day, in a narrow defile of the
mountains. The Indian carried his gun; the boy his bow. Tony's quiver
contained two sorts of arrows, one set shod with iron, and sharp, the
other set not only blunt, but with a lumpy wooden head, meant not to
pierce but to stun birds.
"Ho, look here!" exclaimed Tony, fitting a blunt arrow to the string,
and pointing up at a tree, among the branches of which sat a bird
resembling a grey hen in size and colour.
Petawanaquat stopped, let the butt of his gun fall to the ground, rested
his hands on the muzzle, and smiled approval.
The arrow flew, hit the bird on its astonished eye, and brought it down.
"Good! Tonyquat will be a great chief," said the red man, with another
grave nod.
"Ho, look _there_!" whispered Tony, glaring in the direction of a
thicket while he fitted a sharp arrow to his bow.
Turning quickly, the Indian saw a grizzly bear rise from behind a rock
and look at the hunters inquiringly. Before he could raise his gun he
heard a twang, and next moment saw an arrow quivering in the bear's
neck. The roar of the enraged animal and the report of his own gun
commingled. Another instant, and Tony found himself in the midst of the
tree out of which he had just brought the grey bird, hurled there by
Petawanaquat, who was himself not a moment too soon in climbing to the
same place of refuge. From this point of vantage the Indian, having
carried his gun up with him, fired several deadly shots, and killed the
bear, whose claws Tony afterwards wore in commemoration of the event.
This was but one of the varied and stirring adventures which befell our
little hero while under the care of his red-skinned captor.
What passed in the mind of the Indian during that winter Tony had little
opportunity of knowing, for he was remarkably taciturn, though at night,
when smoking the calumet over his wigwam fire, the thoughtful expression
of his face, and occasional troubled look on his brows, suggested the
idea that he was ill at ease. He frequently gazed at his captive as if
about to speak to him seriously, but as often seemed to abandon the idea
with something like a sigh.
One evening, however, Petawanaquat seemed more troubled than usual, and
held frequent earnest consultations with Meekeye in an undertone, in the
midst of which Tony could distinguish a few words, such as "tracks,"
"white strangers," "encampment," etcetera. Before going to rest the
Indian smoked an extra pipe, and then said--
"Tonyquat is a brave boy!"
"Yes," answered Tony, with an air of gravity quite equal to that of his
red father. The few months he had been in captivity had indeed wrought
an almost miraculous change in the child. His ideas were much more
manly. Even his speech had lost its childish lisp, and he had begun to
express himself somewhat in the allegorical language of the American
Indian. Under the influence of a will stronger than his own he had
proved himself an apt scholar.
"Tonyquat is a boy who keeps his word?" continued the other, with a keen
glance.
Tony turned his large eyes full on the Indian.
"Has my Indian father ever found Tonyquat telling lies?"
To this Petawanaquat said "Good," and smoked his pipe with increasing
vigour, while Tony sat with his hands clasped over one knee, gazing
sternly at the fire, as though he were engaged in consulting on matters
of life and death. He glanced, however, for one instant at Meekeye, to
see that she observed his staid demeanour. The same glance revealed to
Tony the fact that Meekeye's right foot was rather near the fire, with
the red-hot end of a log close to it. Tony's own left foot chanced to
rest on the other and unburnt end of the same log. A very gentle motion
on his part sufficed to bring Meekeye's toes and the fire into contact.
She drew back with a sudden start, but was too much of an Indian to
scream. Tony was enough of one to remain motionless and abstracted like
a brown statue. The slightest possible twitch at one corner of
Petawanaquat's mouth showed that he had observed the movement, but his
brow did not relax as he said--
"Tonyquat must make his red father a promise. White men are coming
here. They travel towards the setting sun. If they hear the voice of
Tonyquat they will take him away."
"Will they take me to my own father?" cried Tony, forgetting his role in
the excitement of the moment.
"Petawanaquat has said that the white strangers travel towards the
setting sun. Red River lies in the direction of the rising sun. Would
Tonyquat like to go with white strangers into the mountains?"
Tony was most emphatic in his denial of entertaining any such desire,
and declared with his wonted candour that he loved Petawanaquat and
Meekeye next to his own father and mother.
"If this be so," returned the Indian, "Tonyquat must be dumb when the
white men speak to him. He must know nothing. His voice must be more
silent than the waters of a lake when the wind is dead."
Tony promised to be as dumb as a stone, as ignorant as a new-born
infant, and as quiet as a dead man. He then questioned the Indian about
the white men, but obtained no further information than that
Petawanaquat had come on their camp unexpectedly the day before, had
observed them secretly from among the bushes, knew that the route they
were pursuing would infallibly lead them to his wigwam, and that
therefore he had hurried home to be ready for them. He could not tell
who the white men were. They looked like traders--that was all he knew,
or, at least, chose to communicate.
That night Meekeye repainted Tony's neck and face with considerable
care; dyed his luxuriant hair with grease and charcoal; touched up his
eyebrows with the same, and caused him to dirty his hands effectively
with mud and ashes.
Next morning, a little after sunrise, the twinkle of bells, the yelping
of dogs, and the cracking of whips were heard. Petawanaquat and Tony
had just time to step out of the tent when a cariole, somewhat in the
form of a slipper-bath, drawn by four dogs, dashed up to the door. The
dogs, being fresh and young, took to fighting. Their driver, who wore a
head-dress with horns, belaboured the combatants and abused them in
French, while a tall, quiet-looking man arose from the furs of the
cariole, and, mounting the slope on which the Indian stood to receive
him, advanced towards the wigwam. Some minutes later another team of
dogs with a provision-sled and driver came rattling up.
"What cheer?" said the tall man heartily, as he held out his hand.
"Wat-chee?" replied Petawanaquat, grasping the hand, and repeating the
phrase as he had learnt it in the settlements.
The tall man was very affable, and at once revealed the object of his
journey. He was a missionary, he said, and was making a tour among the
native tribes of that region to preach the good news of salvation from
sin and its consequences through Jesus Christ the Son of God.
Petawanaquat listened with grave intelligence, but with the reticence of
an Indian.
"Some tribes of Indians, I have been told, are encamped not far from
this spot," said the missionary through his interpreter.
Petawanaquat admitted that such was the case, and that some lodges of
Indians were pitched in the mountains not two days' march from his tent.
The missionary entered the wigwam and sat down. He gradually introduced
the subject of his mission, and endeavoured to bring it home to the
Indian and his wife, who, however, replied in very brief sentences. He
also addressed Tony, but that sharp child seemed to be less
impressionable than a pine stump, and refused to utter a word on any
subject. The missionary, however, was a true man, with the love of God
burning brightly in his breast. Although slightly disappointed he was
not discouraged. He spoke of Christ crucified with great earnestness,
and commended the Christian virtues--among others the duty of forgiving,
nay, even loving, one's enemies, and especially of returning good for
evil. He also dwelt much on the wickedness of harbouring revengeful
feelings, and on the sweetness and blessedness of doing good to others--
enforcing his arguments on the latter point by quoting the Saviour's own
words, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to
them."
Still the red man listened with stolid composure, Meekeye with apparent
indifference, and Tony with absolute vacancy, so that the missionary,
after offering up a silent prayer, went on his way with a sad feeling at
his heart that his labour with that family of savages had been in vain.
He comforted himself, however, with the reflection that it is written,
"Your labour is _not_ in vain in the Lord."
And he was right. His labour had not been in vain, though it was not
given to him at that time to see the fruit thereof.
We have said that Petawanaquat had smoked and pondered deeply in the
evenings that winter over his wigwam fire. His slightly enlightened
mind had been busy with those difficult problems about good and evil,
God and man, which seem to exercise all earnest souls more or less in
every land, savage as well as civilised. The revenge which he had taken
on Mr Ravenshaw was sweet--very sweet, for his indignation against that
irascible old gentleman was very bitter; justifiably so, he thought.
But the clergyman at Red River had enlightened the red man's conscience,
and conscience being once aroused cannot easily be put to sleep again.
His reasoning powers told him that the revenge which he had taken was
far in excess of the injury which he had received. This was unjust, and
conscience told him that injustice was wrong. The great Manitou Himself
could not be unjust. Had He not taken the guilt of man on Himself in
the person of Jesus, in order that, without injustice, He might be the
justifier of sinners? Injustice is wrong, reiterated conscience again
and again; but revenge is sweet, thought the Indian.
Now this visit of the missionary had cleared the mind of Petawanaquat to
some extent. It was a new idea to him that returning good for evil was
sweeter than revenge. He coupled this thought with the fact that the
Saviour had laid down His life for His _enemies_, and the result was
that a change, gradual but decided, was wrought in the red man's
sentiments. The seed thus sown by the wayside fell into good ground.
Unlike ordinary seed, it bore fruit during the winter, and that fruit
ripened into action in the spring.
"Tonyquat," said the red man one morning, after much of the snow had
left the ground, "your Indian father intends to start on a long journey
to-morrow."
"Petawanaquat," replied Tony, "your white-faced son is ready to follow."
It must be understood that Tony's language was figurative, for at the
time he was speaking his "white" face was changed so much by paint and
smoke that it quite equalled that of his adopted father in dirty
brownness.
"Meekeye will get ready," continued the Indian. "Our journey shall be
towards the rising sun."
The result of this order was that on the following day the Indian's
leather tent was taken down, wrapped up into a bundle, and fastened to a
couple of poles along with the rest of the family property. One end of
each of these poles was fastened to a horse like shafts; the other ends
were left to trail on the ground, the load resting between these ends
and the steed's tail. It was, as it were, a cart without wheels or
body. Meekeye mounted the horse after the fashion of a man.
Petawanaquat and Tony together mounted another steed. Three dogs formed
part of the establishment. These were harnessed to little poles like
those of the horse, and each dragged a little load proportioned to his
size. Thus they left the spur of the Rocky Mountains and travelled over
the plains towards Red River settlement.
About the same time, and with the same destination in view, and not far
distant from the same region, another party on horseback commenced their
journey towards the rising sun.
The two parties ultimately met--but these and other matters we shall
reserve for our next chapter.