FOES WITHOUT AND WITHIN
Natsatt had much to think over after he left the Ranger. He could not
get the story he had just heard out of his mind. His thoughts reverted
to Owindia, and what Klitonda had told him about her mother. She had
white blood in her veins, and he had the dim impression that the chief
had said her name was Klota. Of this, however, he was not certain.
Formerly it was no more than of ordinary interest, as east of the
mountains it was nothing unusual for Indians to marry half-breed women.
But since he had heard Dan's story he was anxious to know more. He would
make careful inquiries, however, before saying anything to the Ranger
about the matter. It would be better to find out definitely before
filling his old leader's mind with any false hopes.
He noticed that now his companions treated him with marked coolness.
They would converse together, but whenever he approached they would
either disperse or maintain a frigid silence. Larry, especially,
favoured him with surly looks. Revenge was plainly written in his eyes,
making Natsatt realise that here was a man who needed careful watching.
Such action on the part of these men only caused the young half-breed
to be more on his guard than ever. For himself he cared but little. He
was accustomed to the brutal tactics of rough, heartless men. He did
not fear the entire gang, as in his heart he believed they were too
cowardly to offer him any bodily harm. But with regard to Owindia it
was different, and he became fearful as he thought of what they might
attempt to do to her.
After supper, which was eaten in unusual silence, Natsatt left the
building and strolled over to Klitonda's lodge. Here he found Owindia
alone, for her father was away visiting several Indian camps. She was
sitting on a large bear-skin, gazing intently upon several objects
before her, and did not hear Natsatt's soft footsteps. But when she at
length turned her head and beheld her lover standing near, she gave a
slight cry of joy, and rose quickly to her feet.
"And what is my little one doing to-night?" Natsatt asked, as he
enfolded her in his arms, and imprinted a kiss upon her lips.
"Counting the tokens," was the reply. "See, they are all here, the
blood-stained arrows the Ayana hunters brought. Owindia keeps them safe."
"Do you think they will ever be needed?" Natsatt questioned, at the same
time stooping and picking up the arrows. "My! they are well made, and
sharp too."
"But none too sharp for the Chilcats," was the low response. "Oh, that
there were ten times the number! then Owindia's heart would be lighter."
"Do not worry, little one. All those Coast dogs cannot harm you now when
I am here to protect you. You are not afraid, are you?"
"Not now," and Owindia turned her love-lit eyes up to the young man's
face. "But sometimes I have a strange feeling of dread here," and she
placed her hand to her heart as she spoke. "It is the same to-night. It
tells Owindia that the Chilcats are coming, and will try to steal her
away, and kill her people."
"Come, little one," Natsatt commanded, "and let us walk down by the
river. You have been brooding too much about the Chilcats. The night
is fine, and we will listen to the music of the water, and forget all
troubles."
Owindia at once obeyed her lover's request, and together they wended
their way among the various lodges until the edge of the stream was
reached. They walked slowly along the bank for some distance above the
village. Here they seated themselves upon an old fallen tree, and looked
out upon the river flowing sullenly by. It was a balmy evening, with not
a breath of wind stirring the trees. Overhead, the stars were tumbling
out one by one, and twinkling down upon the young lovers. Sounds of
voices drifted up from the camps, mingled with the occasional snarl or
bark of a dog. But Natsatt and Owindia had neither eyes nor ears for
what was taking place around them. They were too much absorbed in each
other to care about anything else. They were living in a little world
of their own, with not a jarring note to disturb the sweet harmony.
Forgotten for the time were the maiden's fears. She felt secure in the
presence of the strong man at her side. And the many things he was
telling her held her spellbound. He related to her again the story of
his own past life, his numerous wanderings, and the marvellous things he
had seen. Some day he would take her to see them for herself, so he told
her. They would have, too, a little home of their own, where fear of the
Chilcats would never worry them.
"How strange it will all be," Owindia at length remarked. "I know so
little of the ways of the white people that I am afraid they will laugh
at me. I shall make so many stupid mistakes that you will feel ashamed
of me at times."
"Never, little one," was the emphatic reply. "I shall be proud of you.
Even now you are much superior to many white women I have met. You are
beautiful, gentle, and remember so much of what your mother taught you.
She had white blood in her veins, and was very wise, was she not?"
"Ah, ah. She seemed to know everything. She said she wanted me to grow
up to be a good woman. She would often watch me for a long time without
saying anything. Sometimes she had a far away look in her eyes, and when
I would ask her what she was thinking about, she would give a start, and
laughingly say that she was dreaming about her father and mother, and of
the days when she was a little child."
"Did your mother ever tell you why she left her happy home?" Natsatt
eagerly asked, feeling sure that now he was to find an answer to the
question which had been puzzling Ranger Dan for long years.
"Ah, ah. She told me something, but not all. She said she had been
stolen away by a band of cruel Coast Indians one bright summer
afternoon, as she was wandering in the forest near her father's home.
She had pleaded with them, but they had only laughed at her tears, and
had hurried her forward. Then they met an Ayana Indian, my father, who
rescued her. That is about all I know."
"But why did not your father take your mother back?" Natsatt questioned.
"Did she never wish to return to her old home? Did she not know how her
father and mother would grieve about her?"
"Ah, but she did go back. My father took her; but the old home was
deserted. Some Indians they met told her that her mother was dead, and
that her father had gone never to come back again."
"Oh, I see," Natsatt mused, half to himself. "So there was nothing for
your mother to do but to return with her husband?"
"Nothing."
"And your mother often talked about her parents?"
"Ah, ah. Very much; but mostly about her father. She said he was so
kind, and she loved him dearly."
"Would you like to meet your mother's father some day, little one?"
Natsatt asked. "Have you ever thought about him?"
Owindia looked up quickly into her lover's face, but under the pall of
night she could detect no hidden meaning there.
"Have I thought of him?" she at length slowly replied. "I have dreamed
of him by night and by day. I have always believed that he is living
yet, and that sometime we shall meet. Maybe when we go beyond the great
mountains of the rising sun I shall see him. But how sorry he will be
when he hears that his daughter Klota is dead. He will grieve sorely,
for he loved her."
To these words Natsatt made no response. He was thinking deeply of what
he had just heard. There was no doubt now, and he would be able to tell
Dan all he had learned. But there was a difficulty in the way. He knew
that the Ranger would feel badly when he heard about Klota's death, and
that would be only natural. But would he at once abandon the Post, and
go back beyond the mountains? In that case Owindia would have to go too,
and would she be willing to leave her father so soon?
"Why is Natsatt so still? Why does he not speak?" a voice pleaded at his
side, which roused him from his reverie.
"I was thinking, little one," he replied, "and for a moment forgot where
I was. But, come, we had better go back. It is dark, and your father
will wonder where you are, should he return to the lodge and not find
you there."
Together they slowly retraced their steps along the river. On their left
stretched the great forest, black and silent. Ahead they could see the
lights of the numerous camp fires. Not a thought of danger entered their
minds so much taken up were they with each other. They were passing
close to a heavy thicket of trees, when, without the least warning, two
forms leaped upon Natsatt, and bore him to the ground. A half-smothered
cry of fright escaped Owindia's lips, telling plainly that something,
perhaps a hand was placed over her mouth.
Natsatt at once realised the cowardly nature of the attack, and the
hot blood of a hundred generations surged madly through his veins. In
falling he had partly loosened his assailants' grip, and before they
could fully recover he dealt one a savage blow with his clenched fist,
and sent him reeling backwards. Springing nimbly aside he met the
second with a kick that doubled him up, causing him to give vent to a
deep groan of pain. Not waiting for another charge Natsatt bounded to
Owindia's side, as she was being borne away among the trees. He could
see very little, but could hear the noise her captor was making. No
lioness bereft of her cub could have hurled herself forward with greater
impetuosity than did the enraged lover. He reached the maiden's side,
and ripped away the arms which were holding her fast. Dropping his
burden the cowardly cur turned to face the half-breed. But he was as
a child in the clutch of that passion-inflamed man. Natsatt's hands
reached for the villain's throat, and gripped with the suddenness and
intensity of a steel-trap. For a few seconds there was a wild struggle,
a gurgling, choking noise, and then the sound of a form dropping heavily
to the earth.
"Lie there, you dog," at length came from Natsatt's lips, as he groped
his way to where Owindia was standing. "Where are you, little one? Come
quick, and let's get out of this. There's no time to lose."
Finding the maiden, he hurried with her as fast as possible through the
rough and night-enshrouded forest. He breathed a sigh of relief when at
last the lights of the camp fires twinkled among the trees. His first
impulse was to take Owindia to her father's lodge, and then hasten to
the Post to appraise Dan of the base attack which had just been made.
This idea, however, was soon banished from his mind, for upon reaching
the open where the Indians were encamped he found them all greatly
agitated, and talking in a most excited manner.
"What is it?" he asked of the first Indian he met.
"The Chilcats have come!" was the terrified reply. "They are over there
in the forest. They are hiding, ready to attack us!"
Natsatt waited to hear no more. He went with Owindia to her father's
lodge, where he found the chief sitting calmly at the entrance of
the rude abode, as if nothing unusual was taking place. He tried to
persuade Klitonda to come with his daughter into the Post. But the
former shook his head. No, he preferred to remain where he was. He did
not fear the Chilcat dogs.
"Then let Owindia come," the young man pleaded. "Let her be safe,
anyway."
The maiden looked first into the face of her lover, and then at her
father. A struggle was going on within her breast. There were tears in
her eyes, when at last she took Natsatt's hand in hers, and placed it to
her lips.
"Owindia must stay with her father," she simply said. "He will need her
now more than ever."
Natsatt realised that her words were final, and that no inducement could
shake her resolve. Dan would need him at this critical moment, he well
knew, so he must not delay longer. Bidding farewell to the chief and
Owindia, he left the lodge, and hurried across the open toward the Post.