AN HEIRLOOM RETURNED.
Rand, whose inquiring turn of mind was scarcely inferior to that of Jack,
but of a more profound and less transitory nature, had shown a strong
interest in the Indian boatmen from the beginning of their journey and had
struck up an especial friendship with the Indian whose dog had tackled the
wild cat and had been later crushed by the Kodiak bear. The red man, while
not morose, was taciturn, and replied to all questions with monosyllables
and scarcely a smile. He showed friendliness in other ways, and as he
became better acquainted with the boys responded to the young Scout
leader's approaches. Day by day and word by word he inducted Rand into the
mysteries of the "pigeon," or jargon used as a language of communication
with the natives. It was made up of half Siwash, half English words, the
latter so amputated and distorted as scarcely to be recognizable. It was
rather automatic in character, as it could be changed or added to as
circumstances required, and Rand found it easy to use after he had
mastered the first few principles of it, if it may be said to have had
any.
One evening, after the day's work was over, Rand strolled over to the
shack where the Indians lived and found his erstwhile friend sitting on a
stone, engaged in slowly carving with a sharp knife the soft wood of a
sycamore spar that had been carefully cleared of its branches and smoothed
to comparative symmetry. The worker had begun at the butt end of the pole
and had worked his way carefully upward. The carvings were weird, goggle
eyed, snouted and saw-toothed creatures, the like of which could only have
originated in the brain of the late Lewis Carroll, who wrote "Alice in
Wonderland" or in the dreams of a Siwash nourished on smoked salmon and
rancid seal oil. Part of the carved lines of one creature formed the
features of another (if they could be dignified by the name of features),
and there was a sort of artistic continuity about the whole that aroused
Rand's interest and admiration. At the butt of the pole another Indian had
begun with two or three bean tins filled with crude colors evidently made
from vegetable dyes, to paint the carvings already finished. Rand pointed
to the pole, and asked:
"What?"
"Totem," grunted the Siwash. "Me chief." He further informed the young
Scout that it was his purpose to set it up in front of the camp. Just
then, Swiftwater came along and spoke to the Indian in his native Siwash.
The latter arose and stood for a moment erect, with his hand on his breast
with so dignified an air that Rand could scarcely recognize in the figure
before him the slouching round-shouldered aborigine, who went daily, so
stolidly, about the labor of the camp. Swiftwater listened to the rather
oratorical harangue which the Indian delivered, smiling at times, but
giving the man respectful attention. He even gave him half a salute, as he
turned and walked with Rand toward their own tent.
"I didn't know that we had with us a representative of the old Siwash
nobility. The tribal relations of these people are pretty well broken up
since we brought our boasted civilization and our whiskey up among their
homes, and they don't recognize the authority of their head men any more.
They have 'got onto' our most cherished principle that all men were
created free and equal, and the chiefs and their families have to hustle
for a living as hard as the lowest of them. Still, they cling to their
ancient dignities. That totem he's been carving is the insignia of his
clan or family, and as he couldn't bring the old family totem pole with
him, he carves one wherever he settles for a time, and sets it up. You
remember in old 'Ivanhoe,' Front de Boeuf and the Templar displayed their
banners on the castle walls whenever they came up for the week end, and
they really didn't have so much on this old rootdigger after all. I rather
like his spunk. Good family connections are really something to be proud
of if ye don't let 'em interfere with yer business, and they don't come
visitin' too often."
Something about the totem pole aroused Rand's imagination, and with the
other boys he went over to the shack to look at the "work of art" as Jack
insisted on calling it. Although the boys had seen totem poles in the city
museums, and one or two on their original ground in the Alaskan villages
that they had visited, there was something familiar about this one. As
they went over the various figures, trying to distinguish them from each
other and speculating on what they were supposed to represent, Pepper, who
had been inspecting the upper part of the work, where lack of color made
the figures less conspicuous, suddenly exclaimed:
"S-s-say, this fellow's family isn't so very old. Here's the ace of clubs,
and that couldn't have got over here before Columbus, and he didn't come
up this far."
"What's that?" said Rand. "Let's look at it." Then, for the first time,
the reason for the familiarity of the design struck him.
"Hey, boys," he cried, excitedly, "don't you see it?"
"What is it?" they cried in chorus, crowding around him.
"There, there, and there. The top of this totem is an exact replica of our
narwhal horn. Here's the mammoth, and here's the pile of tusks."
"Begorra, that's truth," said Gerald. "Looks as though he had copied it
from our ivory. Run and get it, Rand."
The young Scout leader, who had been made custodian of the treasure,
returned to the tent and brought out the relic. It was a short, broken
piece of the twisted horn of the narwhal or white whale, discolored, and
rubbed smooth as if with much handling. It was covered with rude etchings
evidently made with flints or sharp shells. As nearly as could be made
out, the figures represented a mammoth, an extinct creature of the
elephant tribe, a man beside a dogless sledge, a pile of mammoth tusks,
and a high cliff with an opening or cave at the top whose mouth was shaped
like the ace of clubs referred to by Pepper.
With the greatest care the boys went over the lines of the graven ivory
comparing the figures with the carvings of the hieroglyphics which the
"chief" had carved on his totem pole, and found them to be almost
identical, except for a few minor particulars caused by the relief work on
the totem, and less crudity in the carvings.
The Indians at this time of day were engaged at their work of sawing
lumber and in finishing the foundations of the sod house, where a ditch
was being dug, but it being near the hour of noon the man who had
described himself as a "chief" came to the shack to arrange for the
noonday meal.
The boys turned to greet him as he came up, and Rand drew his attention to
the ivory, intending to indicate the resemblance of the two carvings. As
his eye fell upon the relic a remarkable change came over the Siwash. He
reached forward, and his eyes blazing with excitement, almost tore the
ivory from Rand's hand and stepped back in a defiant attitude.
Heretofore, the tones of the Indians, like those of their dogs, had been
low, guttural and subdued. Now the aborigine gave vent to a shrill
piercing yell, and, at the same time, waved hysterically to his comrades,
all five of whom dropped their tools and rushed to the shack and
surrounded the chief.
With a wealth of wild gesticulation and deep growling tones that at times
rose to almost a shriek in a higher note they examined the horn and
appeared to pay it the most awed reverence. The Scouts seeing that they
were so deeply interested did not attempt to repossess themselves of their
treasure for some minutes, and then Rand was met by a most firm refusal on
the part of the leading Indian to give it up.
The other Indians surrounded him in a defiant attitude--the first sign of
insubordination that had yet appeared among them, and the boys seeing that
they had encountered a mystery which could not at once be unraveled, and
that the relic had some almost overpowering importance to the Siwashes,
determined to drop the matter for the time being, and put it up later to
the commander of the camp.
The aborigines went back quietly to their labor in the afternoon, and the
boys who were at work with the miner, laying out the foundation for the
sawmill, took occasion in the intervals of their labor to tell Swiftwater
the story of the narwhal's horn, and the incident that had taken place at
noon. The guide listened with close attention, and at the finish of the
incident his face was rather grave.
"I'll talk with that main guy Siwash, some time this afternoon. Meantime,
I wish you would all leave this matter in my hands. It may turn out to be
of more importance to us than we think."
The Scouts readily agreed, and toward the middle of the afternoon the
miner left them and strolled over to where the Indians were at work on the
sod house, and calling the "chief" to one side walked away with him to the
bank of the creek.
"Well," said Jack, when they were all together at one end of the
foundation, "what do you think of it? There seems to be more in that horn
than we thought when we decided to bring it along with us."
"Yes," replied Rand, "and we seem to be coming out of the little end of
it."
"Faith," exclaimed Gerald, "it looks as if that Indian was going to hold
on to our relic, and the others seem as if they were going to stand by
him."
"They certainly have seen something like it before," commented Dick, "and
maybe it's worth more to them than to us. It was only a mere guess of
ours, after Colonel Snow undertook to interpret it to us, that there might
be anything behind it, and it was only because it had evidently come from
an Arctic country that we even thought of bringing it along with us."
"I think," said Rand, "that we shall have trouble getting it back, and I,
for one, propose that we leave the whole matter in the hands of Swiftwater
and try and get the true inwardness of the thing from him. It ought to be
a good story if we don't get anything else out of it." This view was
readily agreed to, and the afternoon's work was progressing satisfactorily
when Don, after deep thought, said:
"I've been listening to this Siwash language, and I haed me doots as to
whether it was a real language like Gaelic or English or just a rumble,
but when I heard that head man scream like a white man I concluded that
it's got some elements of a language."
The conference between the miner and the chief lasted for a half hour,
after which the latter returned to his work, and Swiftwater joined the
boys. His face was still grave, and simply remarking that he would
enlighten them at supper when the afternoon's work was completed.
"I'm a little bothered about this matter," said Swiftwater, after the
evening meal was concluded, "and would have given a good deal if it hadn't
happened. My experience with savages the world over has taught me that
while you may rob them and make war on them and get away with it, that you
cannot interfere safely with their religions or their traditions. Not that
we have intentionally done so, but it may have an effect after all.
"The chief told me a long story, a good deal of which I couldn't quite
make out the sense of, but it seems that you boys have in some way got
hold of an ancient treasure of his tribe many hundred years old, and
considered in some way, sacred. He says there were two of these relics,
that they were handed from generation to generation and carefully guarded.
At first they were merely the record of a buried treasure, the wealth of
the northern tribes being the ivory of the walrus and the narwhal and such
tusks of the mammoth as came to them through the melting of the glaciers.
The buried treasure was never found, and the tradition finally became
incorporated in the totem or coat of arms of the tribe.
"Many years ago this family of Siwashes was raided by tall red Indians
from the far southwest and the family scattered, and many women and
children and much loot taken. These ivory relics were among the loot, and
have been simply a legend of the remnants of the tribe ever since.
"The unexpected return of this relic has aroused a new spirit in them, and
I can see a little offishness and suspicion. While I do not expect any
trouble from them I want to be absolutely certain of them until we get
this work of Colonel Snow's done, and as I say, I should have been better
satisfied if the matter had not come up at this time."
"I want to suggest," said Rand, "that we Scouts surrender all claim to the
ivory, and tell the Indians that they are welcome to the relic."
"That might be a good idea, and I will go along with you and explain to
the Siwashes that it came into your hands accidentally."
The boys crossed over to the shack where the chief sat smoking with the
others. For some reason all work on the totem pole had been abandoned for
that night at least.
Rand, in his newly acquired jargon, explained to the aborigines that the
Scouts desired to present the heirloom to the tribe, and Swiftwater
supplemented this with a talk in the native tongue telling just how the
boys had come into possession of the horn.
The Indians listened gravely, without expression, except to nod eager
assent to the offer of the Scouts to relinquish the prized relic. The
chief even showed some cordiality, saying:
"Good! You come me potlatch," which Jim explained was an invitation to
visit him at his village on the occasion of a merrymaking similar to a
Christmas celebration.
The Scouts retired that night full of the mystery of the thing, feeling as
if they had come, somehow, into touch with a long dead past. Swiftwater
appeared more reassured, but took occasion to visit the shack before
turning in and found the aborigines all herded together with the dog in
the almost air tight hut, ventilation appearing to be a thing abhorrent to
them.
The first thing that became apparent when the boys and the miner threw
back the cheesecloth door of their tent that kept out the horde of
mosquitos in the early morning was the absolute silence of the forest. The
six Indians had taken one of the two boats, and with the dog had silently
drifted away during the night down the current of Gold.