FOILED
Steep wooded banks lined both sides of the Yukon River for many miles.
On one of the highest hills stood Klitonda, keenly watching the crooked
stream as it wound like a silver thread through its setting of dark
green trees. He might have been a stump, for not the slightest movement
did he make.
Far away in the distance toward the left his eyes were resting upon
two specks gliding steadily up stream. That they were Chilcat traders
and plunderers he was well aware. As he looked his right hand closed
fiercely upon the stout bow which only his arm could bend to its full
capacity. The day was cool, and a keen wind careening over the land
presaged a coming storm. But Klitonda heeded it not.
Since that terrible night, over a year before, when he had watched the
burning embers in front of the lodge wherein his wife was lying cold in
death, the fire raging within his heart had not subsided. Time had only
added fuel, and a deeper intensity to the flames. The Chilcats had vowed
revenge for the brave who had been slain. "Blood for blood" was their
cry, and they had mercilessly hunted Klitonda from place to place. They
had threatened to exterminate the whole Ayana tribe if the chief were
not delivered into their hands. But this threat had never been carried
out, for the Chilcats could not well afford to slaughter the hunters and
trappers who supplied them so regularly with an abundance of game and
valuable furs.
But Klitonda had not been idle. He had roamed the land like a weird
spectre, appearing suddenly in the most unlikely places, and at times
when least expected. He had visited every band of his scattered flock by
river, lake, and in forest depths. Wherever a camp fire had been lighted
there Klitonda's voice had been heard, pleading with his people, and
urging them to arouse to action and drive back the haughty, insulting
Chilcats beyond the mountain ranges. But his efforts seemed all in vain.
A spirit of base fear pervaded the hearts of even the lustiest of the
warriors. They had been too terribly crushed and held in subjection
so long to be stirred easily to action. The old men and women who had
survived that slaughtering carnage had passed away, but not without
instilling into the breasts of their children their own overwhelming
dread of that cruel coast tribe.
With Klitonda it was different. Fear to him was unknown, and he despised
the cringing spirit of his people. Two forces now governed his very
being: one, the love he bore to his only child, Owindia; the other, the
hatred to the Chilcats, and his determination to free the land from
their dominating sway. So on this late fall afternoon as he watched the
two canoes out upon the river an almost overpowering passion possessed
his soul. This was due to the visit he had just made to his wife's grave
near at hand. He had not previously returned to the place since he had
borne her body up that steep hill over twelve months before. But the
longing had been strong within his heart to look upon the spot where she
was lying. And so he had come back, and had stood for a long time by the
lonely mound upon the hilltop.
Having watched the advancing canoes until the trees along the shore
hid them from view, Klitonda left the summit and glided swiftly down
through the forest toward the river. Ere long he moved more cautiously,
and at length coming to the brow of the bank he dropped upon his knees,
and crept warily forward. Under the shelter of a small thick fir tree
he paused and from his place of concealment he was able to obtain an
excellent view of all that took place below. He could see that the
Chilcats had landed, and were bartering with a number of Ayana Indians
encamped at that very place. Klitonda well knew that moose meat and
skins were being exchanged for trinkets of little value. In fact the
Chilcats set the price, and if they had nothing to give would always
take what they wanted as a matter of course.
Klitonda breathed hard, and his dusky face grew darker than ever as he
watched the unscrupulous barter. How he longed to leap down the hill and
meet those plunderers face to face. He believed he would be a match
for all of them, even though they were ten to one. But he well knew
that such an act would be useless. Nothing would be gained. Only by
the united efforts of the Ayana could anything of a definite nature be
accomplished.
Presently an expression of anxiety came into Klitonda's eyes. For a
while he remained lost in thought. His mind turned toward his daughter
whom he had left that morning in a temporary lodge farther upstream. The
Chilcats would pass that way, and he must get there first. It would not
do for those human wolves to see Owindia.
Slipping quietly back from the brow of the hill until he had gained the
safety of the forest, he sped with nimble feet among the trees. No trail
marked the way, and Klitonda needed none. He was as certain of his steps
as if he walked on a well-beaten road. Ere long the river appeared to
view, and warily approaching the shore he looked carefully up and down
the stream. Then drawing a small dug-out canoe from a concealed place he
pushed it gently into the water and stepped in. Seizing one of the two
paddles lying in the bottom he sent the rocking craft speeding on its
way. The wind was in his teeth, blowing strong and keen from the great
lake two miles beyond.
Klitonda had gone but a short distance, when, happening to look back,
he saw the two canoes of the Chilcats rounding a bend in the river
several hundred yards behind. They had evidently caught sight of the
craft ahead, and were bending strongly to their paddles in an effort to
overtake the lone voyager.
The sight of his pursuers affected Klitonda like magic. With a jerk
he settled himself into a better position, and drove the blade of his
polished paddle into the cold water with a sudden swish. The canoe
responded like a thing of life, and bounded forward as if eager to do
its master's bidding. Only occasionally did Klitonda glance back, and
each time he noticed that the Chilcats were steadily gaining. There were
ten of them, and each wielded a paddle.
The current was now swift and Klitonda was compelled at times to keep
close to the shore. Eagerly he looked ahead and at length saw far
beyond the faint outline of the lodge he had recently erected. The
sight lent new strength to his arms. He must reach the place before his
pursuers overtook him. Soon the rain, which had been threatening for
some time, met him. It drove lashingly into his face, impelled by the
ever increasing wind. But neither rain, wind nor current could stay
the onward rush of that trim little craft. The paddle bent beneath
Klitonda's tremendous sweep. He felt that the Chilcats were not far
behind, but he could not afford to turn around even for one fleeting
glance. His eyes were constantly fixed upon the lodge ahead, which was
now becoming quite distinct. He watched for Owindia as he approached.
Would she be near the shore, waiting his return, or had she strolled
off into the forest a short distance as was sometimes her custom?
Nearer and nearer swept the canoe. He could see the opening of the
lodge, but no one was in sight; all was in silence about the place. A
few more mighty strokes, and then a wild, piercing whoop broke from his
lips. It was answered by yells of derision from the pursuing Chilcats.
They knew the man now as the outcast chief whom they longed to capture.
He could not escape them they felt sure, and what could one man do,
armed only with bow and arrows, against their fire-vomiting guns? They
would take him alive, if possible, in triumph back to the coast. And
his daughter--they saw her emerge from the lodge--would be theirs, too.
There was not a Chilcat but had heard of her remarkable beauty, and
longed to possess her as his own.
Owindia comprehended the whole situation at a glance. With her to think
was to act, so hurrying forward she reached the shore just as Klitonda
ran the canoe alongside. Words were unnecessary, and as Owindia stepped
lightly and quickly aboard, she seized the unused paddle, dropped upon
her knees, and began to assist her father. They were now close to the
large lake, and the swells rolling in through the narrow channel ahead
gave evidence of the roughness of the water beyond. But not for an
instant did Klitonda hesitate. Pointing the canoe for the opening it
bounded forward as if anxious to do battle with the tempest outside. The
white-capped waves rushed to meet it; the spray dashed over the bow at
each headlong plunge, and the racing wind strove to turn it from its
course.
Klitonda steered straight for the open. Owindia's lithe form bent and
swayed at each dip of her paddle. No word was spoken, for father and
daughter realised the seriousness of their position. Both knew what
fearful odds they were facing. It seemed the wildest folly to attempt to
run over that lake in such a frail craft. But better far to brave the
fury of the elements than to fall into the hands of their pursuers. With
the former there was the possible chance of mercy and escape; with the
latter none.
Klitonda did not believe that the Chilcats would attempt the pursuit
across the lake. Great was his surprise, therefore, when glancing back
he saw that they were holding firmly to their course. So set were they
upon making the capture that their inborn discretion was for the time
overcome by the spirit of rashness. Where such a small canoe could go
they could follow, so they fondly imagined. But they forgot how heavily
their crafts were freighted, not only with the men, but also with the
large supply of moose meat they had obtained down the river. At first
the canoes were able to stem the waves which beat against their bows.
They rent them asunder and threw them easily aside. At length, however,
the waves became larger and as the curling whitecaps reared up angrily
in front, the canoes plunged heavily and began to ship water. Seeing
this the Chilcats realised their imminent danger, and in a moment of
panic swung the canoes to the left as if to make for the shore. It
proved a fatal mistake, for the next oncoming wave broke right over
them, completely swamping both canoes. In an instant the ten Chilcats
were struggling desperately in the icy water. They were all good
swimmers, and at once struck out for the land. But their efforts were
in vain, and soon the last had disappeared beneath the surface of that
rough inland lake.
When Klitonda saw what had happened, a grim triumph shone in his clear
dark eyes. He spoke a few words to Owindia, who drawing in her paddle
turned herself deftly about in the canoe. Klitonda did the same, and
soon they were driving before the wind back over the very course they
had just taken. Night had shut down dark and cold by the time they
reached smoother water, and passed down the narrow channel. Soon they
were before their own lodge, and the canoe drawn well up on the shore.
Then a fire was lighted, and supper prepared.
Klitonda sat that evening by the fire, while Owindia lay on several
skins just within the door of the lodge. The bright light fell upon her
strongly moulded face, and played with her dark hair. Her eyes were
gazing dreamily before her, out upon the leaping flames. Occasionally
Klitonda looked in her direction and his eyes were full of tenderness.
"I nearly lost you to-night, little one," he began. "Things looked very
bad for a time."
"Oh, it was terrible!" and Owindia clasped her hands before her as she
replied, while a slight shiver shook her body. "When will we be safe
from the cruel Chilcats? Why do they hunt us all the time? Why can't
they leave us alone?"
"They will never do that, child, until our people make up their minds to
drive them back beyond the mountains of the setting sun, and I fear that
will not be for some time. I am dreading the outcome of the death of
those ten men to-night."
"In what way, father?"
"The Chilcats will think that the Ayana killed them, and they may come
in great numbers to seek revenge. Anyway no matter what happens we
are never safe. They hate me because I have always opposed them, and
have been trying to stir up our people against them. And they want you
because you are so beautiful. I understand there is great rivalry among
the coast Indians over you. The chief's son, a very determined man, has
made up his mind to have you as his wife. Oh, little one, my heart is
sore all the time. I am ever thinking how those wolves are trying to
steal you away. How could I live without you? Since your dear mother
died you have been my only comfort."
"But why should the chief's son want me, father?" Owindia replied.
"There must be many women along the coast more pleasing than I am."
"But you are different from them, child. You know that yourself. There
is white blood in your veins, and your mother taught you many things
which the coast women do not know."
"Yes, father, my mother taught me much, and I have forgotten nothing.
I think over everything day and night. I would die rather than be the
wife of a Chilcat brave, even though he were the chief's son. There is
something here, father," and she placed her hand upon her breast, "which
gives me no peace. It is like a voice telling me of a life different
from this such as we are living. My mother often told me about the
wonderful things beyond the great mountains of the rising sun, where
there are no cruel Chilcats; where people live in lodges so different
from ours, and know, oh, so many things. And she told me something else,
father."
"What is it, little one?"
"She said that there were no medicine men out there; that the white
people believed in the Great Father who cares for each one. She told me
many beautiful stories about Him, and I remember them all."
For a time Klitonda did not speak, but gazed thoughtfully into the fire.
This noted hunter and dreaded warrior was now as quiet as a little
child. Years before the tiny seed of a new power had entered his heart.
It had been slowly growing, and was steadily contending with his wild
savage nature.
"Your mother often told me about the wonderful ways of the white
people," he after a while began. "She taught me many things, and I have
always wanted our own race to understand the feeling that is in my
heart. Why do we ever remain the same? We are no better than our fathers
and forefathers. They hunted, fished, trapped and fought. We are doing
the same. This land is ours, and has been ours for ages. Shall we let
the Chilcats have it, or shall we drive them back, and learn the secret
of the ways of the white people? I cannot tell all that's in my heart
and mind, but I see and hear things, and when I try to tell them to my
people they shake their heads, and think there is something wrong with
me."
Klitonda rose slowly to his feet, and stood erect before the fire.
His gaunt face was drawn and tense, and in his eyes dwelt a wistful,
yearning expression.
"Little one," and he looked down earnestly upon his daughter as he
spoke, "I have a strange feeling to-night. Something tells me that we
are soon to break the influence of the Chilcats over this land. I see a
new power coming to our aid, though I cannot tell what it is. My heart
is much lighter than it has been for months. We must get away from here,
for we are never safe so close to the coast. Sleep now, Owindia, for we
must leave very early in the morning."