IN WHICH TOM MITCHELL DISCOVERS THAT HONESTY IS A GOOD SPECULATION.
We now direct our steps to one of the most savage and abrupt sites in
all the desert, before the rising of the sun.
Five men are crossing a narrow gorge in the mountains, the tops of
which are rocky and bare or covered with snow. Just now they are
rendered almost invisible by the dense fog which the sun's rays cannot
dissipate.
These five travellers came from the interior of the mornes, as the
hilly plains are called, and were bound for the plains, which they
began to make out a short distance before them, traversed, or rather
cut in two, by the extensive stream of the Missouri, the sandy waters
of which were half concealed by high grass, willow, and the cottonwood
trees that lined its shores.
The five wayfarers of whom we have spoken walked painfully over the
flints that paved the gorge, the dried-up bed of a torrent, which
itself had suddenly disappeared during one of the cataclysms so common
in that region.
Having reached the extremity of the gorge, they stopped, looked around,
and gave a sigh of satisfaction.
Their task had been a rude one. For far more than three hours they had
been stumbling in the midst of a whirlpool, nothing else, of flint
stones, which, at every step they took, slid under their feet like
mountain shingle.
Four of these men were whites, wearing the costume of hunters of the
prairies; the fifth was an Indian.
They were George Clinton, Oliver, Bright-eye, Keen-hand, and
Numank-Charake, the chief.
Now, then, let us ask how it came about that these five men should be
there at that early hour in a place so far from their home--a hundred
miles, in fact, from the regions they were in the habit of frequenting,
and why were George Clinton and Keen-hand members of this singular and
perhaps fortuitous group.
Of course we shall as soon as possible satisfy the legitimate curiosity
of our friend the reader.
"Oh!" said Keen-hand, "It is my opinion, friends and companions, that
the wisest thing to be done is to stop here."
"Why stop here?" cried Bright-eye, in far from a pleasant tone of
voice; "Explain yourself."
"For a hundred reasons, every one of which is better than the other,"
resumed Keen-hand.
"I should like to know the first," said the Canadian.
"Well, it is a very excellent one, I think. You and I and the chief are
used to these diabolical roads, which is far from being the case with
our companions, which you ought to have observed without telling a very
long time ago."
Both Oliver and Clinton tried to protest.
"No! No!" cried Bright-eye, in his frankest manner. "I am a brute. So
say no more about it, as I proclaim it myself. Let us camp at once."
"Here is an excellent place," cried Keen-hand.
The hunters had halted under a grove of gigantic gumtrees. A fire was
lighted, and each one, resting himself, prepared for the morning meal.
"Well, to tell the truth," said Oliver, gaily, "I will now confess that
I needed repose; I was simply done up."
"I could scarcely put one foot before the other," observed George
Clinton, who was stretched out on the grass.
"There!" cried Keen-hand; "Was I not right?"
"Well, considering that I have owned I was a brute," growled
Bright-eye, "are you not satisfied?"
"Perfectly!" said the guide.
Numank-Charake had in the meantime undertaken the office of cook, an
office he filled effectively.
A few minutes later all were eagerly devouring slices cut from a
quarter of venison which had been broiled upon the hot embers.
Then the gourds were opened and passed joyously from hand to hand.
These brave young men had walked all night through impracticable paths
which only hunters could overcome. They were literally famished.
But now they entered into the spirit of the thing rarely. Soon
everything had disappeared. All was eaten.
When the last mouthful had been washed down, and the very last drop of
brandy absorbed, each man in his turn gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Now, then," remarked Bright-eye, looking obliquely at his companions,
"I think we may talk."
"Well, I am of opinion," said Keen-hand, gaily, "that after a hearty
meal, two things are agreeable--a pipe and talk."
This declaration, the justice and opportuneness of which everybody at
once recognised, was like a signal; instantly, pipes in red clay, with
cherry tree tubes, were drawn from their belts, stuffed, lighted, and
soon a cloud of blue smoke surrounded the head of every guest like a
glory.
"Now, then, Bright-eye," said Oliver, gaily, between two puffs, "fire
away as soon as you like."
"Messieurs, my friends," replied Bright-eye, "my heart is very sad.
Despite all I can do, I feel a kind of presentiment that this man, in
whom we have so trusted, is deceiving us."
Numank-Charake lifted up his head.
"I know the paleface chief," he said, in his guttural tones, shaking
his head in a way to give more emphasis to his words; "he is a man
whose tongue is not forked. His word is as gold--and my brother,
Bright-eye, is wrong."
"In the name of heaven, is it you who speak in that way, chief?"
asked the astonished hunter; "You, of all men in the world, so deeply
interested."
"Numank-Charake is a chief in his nation," quickly interrupted the
redskin, his words, which swelled his bosom, coming directly from his
heart; "the man who despises his enemies is not a brave warrior, but
exposes himself to the reproach of only vanquishing cowards."
"Well spoken, chief," said Keen-hand.
"The Grey Bear, the paleface chief, is ferocious, cruel, and a thief,
but he is brave and truthful."
Oliver and Clinton stared.
"What he has said he will do, he will do. What he has offered he will
give. Did we go openly to him? No! We hunted him like a wild beast
Wounded, dying, we wished to kill him. He escaped; thanks not to
cunning, but to audacity. He is a great chief."
The whites exchanged glances.
"Nothing would have been more easy for him than to laugh at our menaces
and to conceal himself from us. Instead of that, he has sent us a
collar--letter--in which he invites us to an interview, for the purpose
of ending the troubles which divide us."
"This may be a trick," said Oliver.
"No! It is neither the act of a false nor of a double-faced man. No! It
is the act of a brave and loyal warrior. That is my opinion. Whatever
may happen during the next few hours, I am convinced that if we have
confidence in him I shall be found right. I have said."
The chief relighted his pipe, which had gone out during his speech,
and from that moment he appeared to take no further part in the
conversation. Still he listened to what the others said.
"As far as I am concerned," observed Oliver, "I think the chief has
spoken well. I agree with him on every point. As far as I can judge,
this pirate or this outlaw, whichever you choose to call him, is
not a man like other men. There is something in him which is not at
all ordinary. In one word, he may, it is true, be a brigand, but,
certainly, his is a very lofty nature. Until further events, I, for
one, shall believe in his word."
"All this is very possible," observed Bright-eye, shaking his head
doubtingly, "but no one can deny that he is the captain of a monstrous
set of brigands."
"What does that prove?" said Oliver.
"Nothing that I know of. Still I am decidedly of opinion that his word
is not to be trusted."
"Then allow me to observe," said George Clinton, drily, "why are we
here?"
"Why, because one always lives in hope, despite our better reason.
Still we ought to be prudent."
"Though I am not quite of the opinion of Bright-eye," said Charbonneau,
"I think we should be wise not to rush headlong into a possible trap
which the bandits may be preparing for us. He is right as to the wisdom
of prudence."
"I, too, am an advocate for prudence," said George Clinton; "nothing
can be more wise than to take all proper precautions. That I fully
agree with. But do not act in such a way as to cause our loyalty to be
suspected, or our confidence in the man's word."
"That can be easily arranged, my friends," said Charbonneau, with a
cunning smile "let me alone, and, believe me, all will go well."
"My worthy friend, act just as you think proper. You, perhaps, more
than anyone, have experience of the desert, and nobody objects to your
taking every precaution."
"The best precaution," said the Indian chief, again speaking, "when you
deal with a loyal enemy is to have every faith in his word; to have no
suspicion of any kind in your mind."
"Very good, chief. It is very likely after all that you are right. I
will not discuss the matter with you, though I repeat I am very much
surprised to hear you speak thus. I only ask of you one thing--that is,
to remain neutral in this affair until the actual moment of action has
come."
"Numank-Charake loves Bright-eye; he is his brother. He will do
whatever the hunter wishes; still regretting that he is constrained to
act against his wishes," he answered.
"I take all the blame on myself," said Bright-eye; "and shall be the
first to own my error, if indeed I am found to be in error. A man can
say no more, even if he were speaking to his father."
The Indian said no more, but bowed his head in token of acquiescence.
But he smiled with such a keen and subtle irony that the hunter was so
deeply moved as to blush.
"I fear nothing for myself," he cried.
"Eh, what!" exclaimed Charbonneau, stretching out his arm towards the
river, "What is going on?"
Every eye was fixed upon the spot indicated by the hunter's sudden
exclamation.
"It is a canoe," said George Clinton.
"Manned by two men," observed Charbonneau.
"And those two men," said the chief, after one glance from his eagle
eye, "are two palefaces. He knows them well. One is the old hunter
called Sharpear, the other the son of my nation--Leave-no-trail."
"My father and my grandfather!" cried Bright-eye, in utter surprise.
"Surely, chief, you must be mistaken. Why should they come here?"
"Very likely," observed Oliver, gently, "the same motive leads them
here that has led us."
Meanwhile the canoe, impelled by vigorous arms, approached with extreme
rapidity, and soon was at no very great distance from the camp of the
hunters. Then it turned rapidly towards the shore, and its bow was soon
stuck in the sand.
Two men landed.
Numank-Charake had been right. These two men were indeed the father and
grandfather of the young hunter. They were coming to the encampment.
The five adventurers all leaped up, and eagerly rushed to meet the two
old men.
After the first compliments had passed and welcomes had been exchanged
with effusion between the newcomers and their friends, the Canadians
seated themselves by the fire, and, upon the invitation given, ate some
mouthfuls of fresh-cooked venison and drank some brandy.
"We have been to see our relative, Lagrenay, the squatter of the Wind
River," said the old man. "It appears he had received a very pressing
message from Tom Mitchell, the outlaw."
"Yes," said Bright-eye, "we were there when it was delivered. We know
all about it. But, as far as I am concerned, I am afraid--"
"Of what are you afraid, my son?" asked François Berger, in a rather
imperious tone of voice.
"That all this pretended facility and frankness on the part of the
pirate chief hides a snare."
The two old hunters exchanged a smile.
"Child, you are very much mistaken," said the grandfather. "Tom
Mitchell means exactly what he says. He has no intention, no motive for
laying any unworthy trap."
"I am certain of it," added the son.
Bright-eye had nothing to say to so positive an assertion. He silently
bowed his head.
"We have done all in our power to come here quickly, knowing we should
meet you," went on François Berger; "we are only too happy to be in
time."
"In time to do what?" asked Oliver.
"We will explain," said the elder of the two men; "when Tom Mitchell
comes we shall receive him."
"But that is our business?" cried Bright-eye.
"I know the message was addressed to you," said his father; "I am well
aware of it that it is our business, and, in fact, it is more proper
it should be so. At all events we have decided that it is to be so, so
that you will keep out of sight until the affair is finished."
"But," said Bright-eye, with considerable hesitation, "supposing there
was treachery?"
"My son," sententiously observed the old man, "prudence is wise, but
suspicion in certain cases is an insult. Think of that. Believe me when
I say that your father and I know better what we are about than you do."
"We shall certainly obey you," said Oliver, in the name of all. "We
shall remain at a distance during the interview, and only interfere
when called upon."
"I thank you cordially," said the old man; "everything will go rightly,
I promise you."
And he waved his hand as if to dismiss them.
The five young men rose, bowed respectfully to the two old men, and
watched them as they walked slowly down to the banks of the river.
About two gunshots distance from the camp, or thereabouts, was a rather
thick wood, composed of oaks and gumtrees. The hunters entered the
wood, and soon afterwards disappeared under the forest.
Remaining alone, the old hunters lifted their Indian calumets and began
to smoke, without exchanging one single word.
This went on for about three-quarters of an hour--incessant smoking.
Suddenly, François Berger let fall his pipe, fell flat on his face, put
his ear to the ground, and listened.
"They come," he said, rising.
"I have heard them coming for some time," quietly replied the old
grandfather. "How many?"
"Not more than four."
"Just as I expected. He has acted in perfect good faith," said the old
man.
"Then you are quite determined?"
"Yes. The Indians are not in want of it, and I should not like to see
the Yankees or English profit by it."
"You are the master. You are the one to whom it belongs to a certain
extent," said the son.
"Yes; it is today my property. Besides, it should be kept up for the
support of a great cause. Tom Mitchell is a very different man from
what he appears," added the old man, gravely.
"That, of course, I know."
"Besides, I have another very strong motive for acting as I do, and
that is the establishment, on the very spot I allude to, of the Yankee
squatter."
"Yes. And, between you and me, father, these Yankees have very sharp
noses. They will find it out before long."
"Exactly so, my son. For my part, I prefer that Frenchmen should derive
the advantage."
At this moment a distant gunshot was heard.
"Here they come," said François Berger.
He then rose, placed his hand over his mouth like a funnel, and twice
imitated, with marvellous dexterity and perfection, the cry of the
water hawk.
A similar cry came in response, and almost immediately afterwards four
cavaliers, well mounted, appeared galloping through the high grass and
trees, and coming directly towards them.
The Canadians held their rifles in their hands, while the newcomers
showed no apparent arms. They had left their pistols in the holsters,
their sabres were in their scabbards, their rifles by their sides.
On coming within a short distance of the two old men the strangers
exchanged a few words in a low tone of voice, two of them slackened
their pace, while the others rushed forward with the rapidity of the
gazelle.
In another instant Angela, for it was herself, was in the arms of the
friends, answering by cries of joy and tears of happiness the sweet
caresses of her relatives and friends.
Tom Mitchell and his companions stood apart discreetly, and then,
when they saw that the first transports were over or becoming calmer,
approached.
"Welcome," said the old man, "welcome, gentlemen," holding out his two
hands.
"Have I kept my promise?" asked Tom Mitchell.
"Nobly; I solemnly declare it, and I thank you," cried Berger, with
deep emotion.
"You have worthily made up for the act you had done. Let us forget the
past," said the old man; "what can we do for you?"
"Nothing," he said, quietly.
"You exact no ransom whatever?"
"Why should I exaggerate, old hunter? I was drawn into committing a
bad action by a man whose name I will not mention. Though a pirate, I
am not so bad as I am painted. I have therefore sought to condone the
evil."
"Admirably spoken," said François Berger, again embracing his daughter.
"Go, darling, to your brother yonder."
"Allow me first to thank Captain Mitchell," she said, "for his extreme
kindness during my captivity."
"You bear me no malice?"
"None whatever," she said, "but eternal gratitude. You deserve it and
you have it."
Then with a gesture of adieu and a sweet smile on her adorable lips she
ran off in the direction of the forest.
The men waited until she was out of sight.
"I will now take my leave," said the outlaw.
"One moment," replied the old man; "the recompense which you refuse I
must force upon you."
He pulled forth a large folded parchment.
"This is the ransom of my daughter," he said: "it is a regular deed of
gift of the Valley of the Deer."
"What!" cried the outlaw, with singular emotion.
"Yes, and here on the map is a red mark, indicating the spot where what
you know of is concealed."
"Accept without scruple, captain," said François Berger; "it is ours
and ours alone to give."
"Since you wish it, gentlemen. I should show but ill grace to refuse,
the more that I value your gift highly."
"I only ask one thing in return," said the old man.
"I shall be ready to promise anything."
"You will use what I have given you only with an honourable--" he said,
with some hesitation.
"It shall be so, I promise you."
"And so we part friends; captain, your hand."
"Friends, yes," said the pirate; "and I hope the day may come when you
may try my friendship."
"Who knows? The day may come sooner than we expect."
"I shall be ready to shed the very last drop of my blood to defend or
avenge you or yours."