CAPTAIN TOM MITCHELL, THE AVENGER.
The marriage of Evening Dew with Numank-Charake was to be celebrated
with unusual splendour. Invitations had been sent in all directions,
and, two days before the ceremony was to take place, numerous
deputations from all the tribes were collected around, and were
received with the splendid hospitality essential in such a case.
At least five hundred strange warriors had come.
Some hours later a new troop appeared on the verge of the plain; it was
very numerous, three hundred men at least, in the picturesque costume
of Mexican rancheros, all armed to the teeth, and admirably mounted.
Four cavaliers rode in front; these were Tom Mitchell, Pierre Durand
Camotte, and Tête de Plume. It was the full force of the outlaws. On
nearing the village two other men were seen; these were Clinton and
Charbonneau.
Nothing was omitted to give _éclat_ to such a reception. The most
renowned of the sachems, with the three Canadians, Bright-eye, and
Oliver, advanced to meet them, and give them a most cordial and sincere
welcome.
Captain Pierre Durand, who had given up his disguise, kept a little in
the background.
Having exchanged compliments, Tom ordered his men to camp outside, and
entered the village with the others.
As soon as all were collected in the hut of the Canadians, Tom Mitchell
closed the door carefully.
"Gentlemen," he said, in a low and solemn tone, "I owe you no
explanation for coming, but for coming in such force."
"You owe no explanation. You are welcome."
"Listen. Not a moment is to be lost. Spies are on all hands. You are
surrounded by treachery and traitors. You are all to be made the
victims of an execrable plot concocted by two wretches, Lagrenay and
Tubash-Shah."
All were stupefied. While the other spoke, Pierre Durand slipped into
Bright-eye's own room to rest.
"Yes. Tubash-Shah hates Numank; but that is not all. He loves your
gentle daughter, Evening Dew."
"Horrible!" cried the old man.
"The capture of Miss Angela was a thing arranged between Lagrenay and
Tubash-Shah, who thought to get her from me."
"Thanks to you, the plot is exploded."
"He still hopes to kill his rival, steal his wife, become possessor of
the treasure you know of," cried Tom Mitchell, "and become chief of the
tribe. With these schemes in their heads, Lagrenay and Tubash-Shah are
allies."
"It is a horrible plot. How did you discover it?"
"No matter; my spies have served me well. I knew the plan of the
conspirators, and hence have come in such force. I shall be able to
thwart them. Do you now attend to the immediate safety of the chiefs of
this nation and people."
"I will take measures at once."
"Above all, be cautious. You have to deal with desperate and cunning
rascals," urged Tom Mitchell.
The three Canadians, grandfather, father, and son, went out, leaving
behind only George Clinton and his friend.
"Now, Mr. Clinton," said the outlaw, "though we met under unpleasant
circumstances, we are friends."
"I see no reason why we should not be," he replied.
"I am happy to hear it," continued Tom Mitchell; "but before we go any
farther, allow me to say a word to this young Frenchman. In that room
you will find a friend."
"A friend!" cried Oliver; "Impossible! You know I have only recently
reached this country."
"Take my advice," said the outlaw, with a smile.
Oliver shrugged his shoulders, as if yielding to a foolish whim, and
went in to find himself face to face with Durand.
"Now," said the outlaw, "I have not told all; I have left out certain
matters which personally concern yourself. One moment, and you shall
judge for yourself. Excuse me if I have to touch upon a very tender
topic--that of love."
"Captain!" cried George.
"Pardon me. You love a charming girl, whom you have followed into the
desert with as much devotion as men show in the search of gold. To this
I have only to add that the girl is as beautiful and as good as an
angel."
George bowed his head to hide his confusion.
"Her father is against you, I know. But the important fact is that a
terrible calamity threatens her and you."
"Pray explain yourself," George cried.
"Do you think the redskins are blind? You forget them in your
calculation of future happiness."
"Explain yourself," continued the young man.
"I cannot at present. You are young in the desert, but you have clever
and devoted friends. Above all, you have Bright-eye, honest, devoted,
intelligent. Tell him all I have said, and to work. You have not a
moment to lose to save her."
At this moment the three Canadians came in at one door, Oliver and
Captain Durand at the other. Before anyone else could speak, Oliver
rushed forward.
"Captain," he said to the outlaw, "I can never thank you enough. I know
all. Command me in every way."
"I shall remind you of your promise."
"And my wretched persecutor--you will bring him to me?"
"Yes; and place in your hands papers to confound him," cried the
outlaw; "papers which prove your rank."
The conversation now became general. The two Canadians had been at
work, and warned all the sachems.
But everything had been done without exciting suspicion. All went on
just as usual in the village.
The preparations for the marriage continued.
The Canadians entertained their friends at a great banquet that night,
at which Numank was present, grave and proud, seated beside Angela, who
was charming, though blushing with downcast eyes, and never speaking a
word.
The formal ceremony of betrothal had taken place in the morning, so
that this was rather a friendly meeting than anything else.
There was, however, a magnificent exchange of presents.
Next day, just before the final ceremony, Tom Mitchell went off with a
hundred of his most resolute men.
Camotte remained in command of the others.
According to invariable Indian custom, the man who takes a wife takes
her seemingly by force; he snatches her up, puts her behind him, darts
off, and two days later comes back, slays a mare that has never foaled,
and all is over.
Numank, of course, would do the same.
At night the hut was surrounded by a party of Indians, and Angela
carried off, after a feeble resistance.
Then some shots were fired, and away sped Numank with his wife
surrounded by a powerful Indian escort.
This escort was almost wholly composed of strangers with Tubash.
The abductors had scarcely departed when Bright-eye came out of the hut
and whistled. He was at once surrounded by warriors.
"On," he said, in a menacing voice; "there is no time to lose."
And they darted away like a whirlwind, riding for some hours in the
direction taken by the bridal party.
Suddenly they were startled by flashes of light, followed by the report
of guns. A terrible combat was going on.
With a tremendous war cry the troop led by Bright-eye dashed in the
direction of the fight. It was time.
Numank-Charake, holding his wife on one arm, was fighting, surrounded
by the few warriors faithful to him.
Ten only of these could stand, and must have succumbed in five minutes
but for the unlooked-for succour.
The carnage was fearful. All fought desperately in silence. At last
every one of the treacherous escort was dead.
Tubash Shah escaped in the confusion.
Numank-Charake was more like a corpse than a live man, and had to be
carried on a litter.
They reached the village next day, from which all the rival tribes had
departed, leaving behind a bundle of arrows dipped in blood. It was a
formal declaration of war.
We turn elsewhere for a time.
It was night at the hut of the squatter Lagrenay. Everybody slept
except himself. Seated by the dying fire in a cane chair, his head in
his two hands, his elbows on the table, the squatter appeared at least
to be reading.
His huge and savage dog lay at his feet, listening for the faintest
sound from without.
Every now and then the old man looked at a clock, and then appeared to
read again until a sharp whistle was heard.
The dog and man leaped up, but suddenly Lagrenay bade the animal be
quiet, and went himself to open the door. He started back as two men
entered, strangers.
"I am Joshua Dickson," said the first, "and this is my brother Samuel.
You sent for my son; we have come in his place."
The old man professed to be glad to see his neighbours, and bade them
be seated. After some time wasted in circumlocution, he began to speak
of real business.
"You have established yourselves in the Valley of the Moose Deer," he
said, "a magnificent settlement."
"Well, what then?"
"That valley belongs to one of the most powerful tribes on the whole of
the Missouri," continued Lagrenay.
"No matter. Virgin soil belongs to the first comer."
"Perhaps. But that is not the question. This tribe have other lands of
which they take no account," went on the squatter, "and will probably
never claim, but they have special reasons for keeping the Valley of
the Deer sacred."
"Explain yourself," cried both.
"In that valley is buried the treasure of the nation."
"What treasure? Old shooter of muskrats!" cried Joshua; "There is no
treasure like mother earth."
"I mean a real treasure--gold, ingots, diamonds," said the old man, "to
the extent of many millions."
"So much the better," replied Joshua; "it is mine."
"Take care! The struggle will be terrible. Your adversaries are many
and brave; they have allied themselves with the outlaws of the desert,
and, moreover, have taken as their chief a fellow countryman, who
dearly covets your possessions."
"May I ask the name of my countryman?" inquired Samuel, in a bantering
tone of voice.
"His name is George Clinton," said Lagrenay.
"George Clinton!" exclaimed Joshua, amazed.
"You lie, miserable wretch!" said Samuel Dickson, rising; "George
Clinton is an honourable man, not a--"
"I have spoken the truth. Do as you please."
Then the door was burst open, and two men entered pushing forward a
third with blows of musket butts.
"Miserable wretch!" said one, seizing him by the throat, "I am George
Clinton, and you lie in your teeth."
Rock attempted to fly at the assailants, but Charbonneau brained him
with the butt end of his gun.
Lagrenay rose rifle in hand, but the two Americans disarmed him, and
forced him to reseat himself.
The prisoner brought in was Tubash-Shah. Behind the three men appeared
the dogs Nadeje and Drack.
"Gentlemen, we arrive in time. Thank heaven, we have brought with us
this wretch, who now will tell the truth."
And he looked at the Indian with a glance that made him shudder to the
marrow of his bones.
The two Americans were exceedingly surprised, while Lagrenay thought in
vain of some new subterfuge.
Roused by the noise made on the entrance of the three men, the wife
of Lagrenay had risen in haste, and, without waiting to dress, had
rushed into the room. She entered without being seen, and tremblingly
ensconced herself behind her husband.
Inside there was silence, but without the sound of many men.
None spoke for some time; everyone's breathing seemed oppressed.
Lagrenay, his teeth chattering, at last spoke.
"Will you explain this outrage?" he began.
"Silence!" cried George Clinton, in a terrible voice; "Speak only when
called upon for your defence. All I hope is that when you have heard of
what you are accused you may be able to give a satisfactory reply to
the charge."
"Accused--defend myself!" cried the old man.
"Yes, before Judge Lynch, who will decide between us," said Clinton,
coldly. "Listen, here come your judges."
As he spoke several men entered. Lagrenay felt himself lost. He was in
the hands of implacable foes.
Tubash-Shah, erect against the wall, appeared utterly indifferent. But
his every thought was intent on escape.
The sudden appearance of George Clinton had very much surprised Joshua
Dickson. All his rage was revived, and he was prepared to treat him
with severity and hatred. The idea of treason still rankled in his mind.
Two men had now seized upon the squatter, and, despite the cries of his
wife, were trying to carry him out.
At that moment Louis and François Berger entered.
"My cousins!" cried Lagrenay, "They would murder me!"
"Save my old man!" said the wife, pitifully.
"My friends and brothers," said Louis Berger, raising his hand, "this
man is my relative. Give him to me. Justice shall be done."
The squatter was released, and hid himself behind his two Canadian
cousins, trembling, nearly dead.
"Sirs," said Louis to the Americans, "you are the new squatters
established in the Moose Deer Valley?"
"We are," replied Joshua, rather doggedly.
"Then I have business with you. In the first place, by what right have
you squatted in that place?"
"Really, except that you have force on your side, I should not answer
so singular a question. Because I found it."
"I beg to inform you that it is private property. You are by no means
the first occupier."
"And who may he be?" asked Joshua, furiously.
"Myself. It was given me by the chiefs of the Huron tribe. A deed,
perfectly legal, exists."
"Can a man find no free land on earth?" he cried, "On the face of the
earth? You claim it, then?"
At this moment, when all were busy, Tubash saw his opportunity, and
ran. Two or three pursued, but the rest remained.
"Then," said Joshua, presently, "there is some truth in the story of
the gold treasure in the valley?"
"Yes, and I have recently ceded all my rights to Tom Mitchell, chief of
the outlaws."
"Then all I have to do is to go?" urged Joshua.
"I think the matter might be arranged," observed Louis. "Here is a
young man who loves your child. George Clinton, is it not so?"
"It is useless my persuading Joshua Dickson."
"By heavens!" cried Samuel, "But you shall. Here is a noble, young,
rich, brave--"
"But," cried Joshua, "what has that to do with it?"
"Sole owner of the Valley of the Deer," continued Louis Berger, drily;
"he bought it this morning."
"But--" still hesitated Joshua.
"To arms!" cried Tom Mitchell, rushing in, "To arms! Pardieu! You have
fallen into the trap."
"What is the matter?" cried the brothers.
"While you are wasting your time here, your plantation is attacked by
Indians," he responded, "who are burning and destroying all. Soon there
will be only ruins and ashes."
This terrible revelation fell like a thunderbolt upon all present in
that room.
Tom Mitchell--his dress torn, his face covered by powder and blood,
holding a smoking gun--summoned them.
George Clinton, without waiting a minute, darted away, followed by
Charbonneau and his dogs.
Above all, he would save her he loved from the fearful peril she was in
of falling into the hands of redskins.
"What is to be done?" cried Joshua.
"Never despair," said the outlaw. "Your sons and servants are fighting
like lions. We must join them."
"Come along," cried Samuel.
"Oh! Oh!" said Joshua, brandishing his rifle, "The rascally redskins
shall pay for this."
"Come, in the name of God!" cried the outlaw; "I have with me a party
ready for any amount of redskins."
At these words everybody mounted, and dashed through the darkness like
a legion of phantoms.
Four persons only remained in the silent and deserted hut--the two old
Canadians, Lagrenay, and his wife.
The old squatter had, during these exciting scenes, recovered his
equanimity. He believed himself saved.
As soon as they were alone, he and his wife began to place refreshments
on the table for their guests.
The two Canadians remained standing, leaning on their rifles, and not
noticing even the preparations.
"My dear relations," said Lagrenay, in an insinuating voice, "will you
honour me by accepting refreshments?"
"What does the man say?" asked François Berger.
"You have a long journey to go," continued Lagrenay, "you must be
extremely tired and want rest."
"What matter?" said the old man.
"Will you not empty a cup of whisky?" began the woman.
"Silence!" cried the hunter, striking the butt of his rifle on the
ground, "And listen."
The old man shuddered.
"Lagrenay," he went on, in a hollow voice, "I dragged you from the
hands of Judge Lynch, because I did not wish to see my cousin hanged;
you have dishonoured not only the name you bear, but the family to
which you belong; that family, poor as it has always been, has known
how to preserve its honour intact. That honour you have soiled, from
the base love of gold. Prepare to die."
"To die!" he murmured.
"My cousins, my dear cousins, you will not have the heart to kill my
poor old man," said his wife, clasping her hands and weeping; "thirty
years we have lived together. What shall I do when he is gone? Who will
support my miserable existence? Have mercy, in the name of the Lord. If
you kill him, I shall die."
"You shall not die," said François Berger; "my cousin will take care of
you for life."
"I," she said, with a gesture of horror, "accept the protection of the
murderers of my husband, eat the bread of assassins! I should choke
myself at the first mouthful. Have mercy, then, and shoot us together."
Louis Berger turned away his head. Even the inflexible old judge of the
reign of terror was moved.
Then he made a sign to his son, and both cocked their rifles.
"Stop!" said Lagrenay, in a firm and solemn voice; "I know your
inflexible will too well to ask my life of you. You have decided on
my death. Good. But I will not die at your hands. You say the honour
of the family requires that justice should be done. Well, it shall be
done. Still I could not die like a dog. Give me ten minutes to pray.
You will not refuse this?"
"Heaven forbid!" said the old man, "And may heaven have mercy on you
for all your sins."
"Thanks, cousins and friends," cried the squatter, "and now, wife, on
your knees. Let us beg forgiveness of our sins."
The two old men went out, tears in their eyes, and almost inclined to
be merciful. Stern will prevailed.
Five minutes later, a double shot was heard. They rushed in. Both lay
dead upon the floor.
Justice was done.
The two hunters kneeled down beside the bodies, and said a silent
prayer over them.
Then, in the room itself, they dug a grave, and, after some little
time, interred the husband and wife.
Then, dragging away by main force the wounded dog, they collected a lot
of brushwood and other fuel.
This they piled against the house and then fired. In a few minutes the
whole was in flames.
The dog got away, and plunged into the burning pile.
When all was over and nought remained but cinders and ashes, the two
men wiped away a tear and retired.