HAS-SE IS HELD PRISONER
Saluting his commandant, the sergeant of the guard, who held the
prisoner on the right, reported that this young savage had been seen
skulking in the forest near the fort, and that, deeming his presence
and movements very suspicious, he had sent a party of men to capture
him. They had gone out by a rear gate, and, making a long detour, had
surprised him just as he was making off through the underbrush, and
after a sharp tussle had secured and brought him into the fort.
At the first appearance of his friend, Réné had started up with an
exclamation of joy to go to him, but his uncle sternly bade him keep
his seat. He obeyed, but scowled angrily at the soldiers, who still
retained their hold of Has-se, as though fearful that if they let go he
might in some mysterious way vanish from their sight.
Laudonniere commanded them to release their hold of the prisoner and to
retire from the room, but to remain within call. They did so, and the
young Indian, left to face the council, drew himself up proudly, and
folding his arms, stood motionless. Réné tried in vain to catch his
eye, that he might, by a sympathetic glance, assure him of his
friendship; but the other betrayed no recognition of his presence, nor
once looked in his direction. He was dressed in the full costume of a
young warrior who occupied the honorable position of Bow-bearer to a
great chief, and in his hair gleamed the Flamingo Feather that
proclaimed the station in life to which he was born. His handsome
figure, proud face, and fearless bearing caused the members of the
council to regard him with approving glances, and it was with less of
sternness in his tone than usual that, after the door was closed,
Laudonniere said,
"Now, sir, explain to us the meaning of this sudden departure of thy
people, and the reason of thine own action in thus acting the part of a
spy upon us."
With flashing eyes the young Indian answered in the French that he had
learned of Réné:
"My name is Has-se. I am the son of a chief. My father and my people
have been friendly to you and your people. This country is ours, and
in it we go where we please when we are ready to go, and stay where we
please when we are ready to rest from going. I have done nothing that
I should be brought here against my will, and until I am set free I
will answer no questions. Has-se has spoken."
Réné's face flushed with pleasure at this brave speech of his friend,
and even Laudonniere admired the young Indian's coolness and courage,
but he nevertheless felt it his duty to maintain his dignity, and
questioned him sternly. To all his questions however, Has-se remained
dumb, absolutely refusing to open his lips. The expression, "Has-se
has spoken," with which he had ended his defiant speech, signified that
he had said all that he had to say, and nothing should induce him to
speak further unless his condition of being set at liberty were
complied with.
At last Laudonniere called in the soldiers and ordered them to take the
prisoner to the guard-house, and there treat him kindly, but to watch
him closely and on no account allow him to escape. When Has-se had
thus been removed, Laudonniere turned to the members of the council,
and asked what, in their opinion, should be done with him.
Le Moyne, the artist, declared that the young Indian should be set free
at once, and treated with such kindness that he might thereby be
induced to give them the information they sought to gain. Then Réné de
Veaux, blushing at his own boldness, jumped to his feet and made a
vehement little speech, in which he said that Has-se was his dear
friend, and that, as he himself had said, they had no right to make a
prisoner of him, besides much more to the same effect. He became so
excited in his defence of the Indian lad that finally his uncle
interrupted him, saying,
"Softly, softly, Réné! Thou art right to defend thy friend if indeed
he be not our enemy, but thou hast no authority for finding fault with
those who are much older and wiser than thyself."
Blushing furiously at this rebuke, Réné sat down, while his uncle
continued: "I am also of the opinion that this young savage should be
courteously entreated and set at liberty. Thus shall we win favor with
his tribe, with whom it behooves us to remain on friendly terms."
The others of the council did not, however, agree with this, but
thought the better plan would be to retain the Indian lad as a hostage,
and demand of his tribe a great quantity of provisions as his ransom.
As they were in the majority, Laudonniere hesitated to act contrary to
their counsel, and finally said that they would hold him for at least
one day, and that in the mean time Réné should visit him, and endeavor
to extract from him the desired information regarding the movements of
his people.
When Réné, armed with his uncle's authority for so doing, passed the
sentinel and entered the guard-house, he found the Indian lad seated on
a rude bench in one corner, with his face buried in his hands. He
sprang to his feet at Réné's approach, and stood silently regarding
him, not knowing but what he too had become an enemy. Carefully
closing the door behind him, the impulsive French boy stepped quickly
over to where the other stood, and embraced him, saying, as he did so,
"Surely, Has-se, my brother, thou canst not think that I am aught but
thy friend?"
Thus reassured, Has-se returned the embrace, and said, "I know thou art
my friend, Ta-lah-lo-ko, and I did wrong to doubt thee for a moment;
but it maddens me to be thus caged, and I am become like Nutcha the
hawk when restrained of his liberty, suspicious of all men."
Then both boys sat down on the bench, and Réné questioned Has-se
regarding the sudden departure of the Indians, and why he was there
alone.
Has-se replied that while he had no secrets that all men might not
know, he would have died rather than answer the questions of those who
held him a prisoner, and as such commanded him to speak. To his friend
Ta-lah-lo-ko he would, however, talk freely and with a straight tongue.
He said that after the destruction of the storehouse containing their
supply of provisions for many months, Micco, their chief, had decided
that it would be best for his people to remove to the land of the
Alachus, their friends, who had provisions in plenty, and remain there
until the next season of corn planting. He caused their departure to
be made secretly, for fear that the white men would seek to detain them
as hunters for the fort, if they learned of the intended movement, and
he wished to avoid any shadow of trouble between his people and their
white brothers.
"He had undoubtedly the right to act as seemed to him best," said Réné;
"but why didst not thou accompany thy people, and what brings thee here
to the fort?"
"To see thee, Ta-lah-lo-ko, and thee only, did I come," answered
Has-se. "I learned, after we had been some hours on the journey, that
which affects thee so nearly that I could not leave thee in ignorance
of it and without a warning. What I learned is, that Chitta the Snake
regards thee with a deadly hatred, and has sworn to have thy life."
"Mine!" exclaimed Réné, in great surprise. "Why does the Snake bear
malice towards me? I have no quarrel with him."
"That I know not, unless he suspects that it was thou who taught me the
trick of wrestling that overthrew him, and thus lost him the position
of Bow-bearer that he so greatly desired to obtain."
"It may be so," said Réné, musingly, "though how he could learn it I
cannot think, nor why, even if he had knowledge of it, it should be
cause for his wishing my death."
"Ah, Ta-lah-lo-ko, thou dost not know Chitta. His nature is that of
the serpent whose name he bears, and for real or fancied wrongs to
himself his revenge is cruel. Having once conceived a bitter hate
against thee he will have thy life, or risk his own in attempting to
take it."
"In that case," said Réné, "I am deeply grateful for thy warning, and
will take care that master Chitta does not find me unprepared for him,
in case he seeks me out."
"Now," said Has-se, "I would speak of another matter. I know that you
white men have but little food within the fort, and must soon suffer
for want of it if more is not obtained. There is none left in this
country, but the Alachuas, to whom my people have gone, have an
abundance. If one of thy people would go with me to them, and offer
them things such as thou hast and they have not, in exchange for food,
he could thus obtain a supply for the fort. If many went, the red men
would be afraid; but with one they would talk, and if he were my friend
then would his safety be assured. Wilt thou go with me to this distant
land, Ta-lah-lo-ko?"
"Why," answered Réné, hardly knowing what to say to this sudden and
unexpected proposal, "thou art a prisoner, Has-se, and dost not even
know if my uncle will release thee. How then dost thou speak with such
confidence of journeying to the land of these Alachuas?"
With a meaning smile Has-se answered:
"Walls and bars may answer to cage men, but they cannot confine a
sunbeam. If thou wilt go with me, then meet me when the light of the
second moon from now touches the waters where Allapatta the great
alligator delivered us from Catsha the tiger. With my life will I
answer for thy safety, and at the next full moon, or soon after it,
thou shalt return to thy people."
Réné would have talked more of this plan, but just then the door of the
guard-house was opened and the sergeant appeared, saluting, and saying,
"'Tis the hour of sunset, Master De Veaux; the guard is about to be
relieved, and I must request you to retire and leave the prisoner for
the night. Surely you must be tired of talking with such a pig-headed
young savage."
Not caring to exhibit his real feelings towards Has-se before the
sergeant, Réné bade him good-night very formally, and added, "Mayhap I
will see thee on the morrow; but count not on my coming, for I may not
deem it worth my while to visit thee."
"I should think not," said the sergeant, as he closed the door behind
them and barred it. "A young gentleman such as Master De Veaux can
find but little pleasure in intercourse with such ignorant creatures.
For my part, were I commandant of this fort, I would make slaves of
them all, and kindly persuade them to my will with a lash. They--"
"Hold there!" cried Réné, as he turned towards the sergeant with
flashing eyes. "An thou speakest another word in such strain of those
who have favored us with naught save kindness, I will report thee to
that same lash of which thou pratest so glibly."
The astonished sergeant muttered something by way of apology, but Réné,
not waiting to hear it, hurried away to report to his uncle the result
of his mission to the prisoner, and then to his own quarters to think
over the startling proposal made to him by his friend.
The next morning Has-se had disappeared, and was nowhere to be found.
With a troubled countenance the sergeant of the guard reported to
Laudonniere that he had looked in on the prisoner at midnight, and
found him quietly sleeping. He had visited the room again at sunrise,
and it was empty. The sentinels at the gates, and those who paced the
walls, had been closely questioned, but declared they had seen nobody,
nor had they heard any unusual sound. For his part he believed there
was magic in it, and that some of the old Indian witches had spirited
the prisoner up the chimney, and flown away with him on a broomstick.
Although troubled to find that his prisoners could thus easily escape
from the fort, Laudonniere was relieved that the disposal of Has-se's
fate had thus been taken from his hands. He said to Réné, "I am glad
that thy friend has escaped, though I like not the manner of his going,
and I trust he may come to no harm. I would, however, that we had been
able to send a company, or even one man, with him to this land of the
Alachuas of which he told thee, for mayhap we might thus have obtained
provision; but without a guide, I know not how it could be discovered."
"Could I have gone, uncle?" inquired Réné, eagerly.
"Thou, lad? No, thou art too young and tender to be sent on such a
perilous mission. It should be one of double thy years and experience.
Let no such foolish thoughts fill thy head yet a while."