IN THE FOREST DEPTHS
When Natsatt started upon his perilous task he knew how necessary it
would be for him to proceed with the greatest caution. He believed that
the Post was being watched by Chilcats who were lying in ambush. He,
therefore, slipped quietly out of the door in the barricade, and crept
by the side of the wall until he came to the river. Along the bank of
this he swiftly moved until he had gained the shelter of the forest some
distance above. Here he paused and listened most intently. The night
was very dark, and he could observe nothing astir. With the greatest
care he skirted the edge of the woods, passed the chief's lodge, and
down to the wild meadow below. He knew the region well, as he had
hunted all over the place, and had a good idea where the Chilcats were
encamped. He found it difficult to move without making any noise, and
his progress was accordingly slow. He did not cross the meadow as he
knew what sharp eyes Indians had. Instead, he made a long detour around
the upper end and came down on the opposite side until he reached the
rock where Owindia had waited for the Chilcats. Here he stopped to get
his bearings, and then began to thread his way to the left through the
dark and silent forest. He little realised that he was following the
same course, in fact almost the exact route which Owindia had taken but
a short time before.
No sense of fear came into his heart as he moved steadily forward. He
was so accustomed to the forest that almost instinctively he directed
his steps. How far he was from the camp he could not tell, but he
believed it to be somewhere straight ahead. He expected that the
Chilcats would have a number of men stationed among the trees to give
warning in case any one should approach. It would be necessary to escape
these if he should ever get close to the main body of Indians. His
progress, therefore, became much slower the farther he advanced. Nothing
could he observe for some time, and he began to think that after all
he might be astray, when a faint glimmer of a light broke through the
night. He stood perfectly still for a while, and then step by step he
proceeded. Larger grew the light, which he was soon able to tell came
from a camp fire. His action became now more cautious than ever. He
glided from tree to tree, pausing for a brief space behind each to make
sure that no one was near, and that he had not been observed.
Ere long he was but several rods away, and he was enabled to obtain a
good view of the whole camping ground. He was surprised not to see a
large band of Indians clustered around the fire. But looking carefully
he found that they were there lying upon the ground apparently asleep.
Only one person could he see sitting before the burning logs, and his
heart gave a great leap when he saw that it was Owindia. She was seated
upon a stone, her head bent forward, and her eyes fixed intently upon
the burning coals at her feet. Natsatt's blood tingled, and his hand
closed hard upon his musket. How he longed to rush forward, seize her in
his arms, and bear her away. He felt sure that she was not there of her
own accord, but had been carried away captive. He was not afraid to face
the whole band if it would do any good. But what could he do against
such a number of Chilcats. No doubt some of them were asleep, but a few
would be awake. He wondered, too, why no watch was kept upon Owindia. No
one seemed to notice her, and how easy it would be for her to slip away
into the forest and escape. If she only knew that her lover was not far
off watching her, he believed that she would make the attempt. But how
could he attract her attention without waking the Indians?
A sudden thought flashed into his mind. It was a risky thing to do,
but he was willing to make the attempt. Placing his hand beneath his
buck-skin jacket he brought forth his little mouth-organ, and raised it
to his lips. Then out upon the night air floated a low sweet tune, which
he had often played for Owindia, and one she loved most dearly.
No sooner had the first notes sounded out than a weary head by the fire
was raised, and a pair of startled eyes searched the dark forest depths.
Owindia recognised that sound, and it brought a new hope into her heart.
She had never expected to hear it again, and it brought back memories of
happy days. Then a great fear came upon her. The Chilcats would hear it,
and her lover would be in great danger. Oh, if he would only stop, and
go away. Why should he risk his own life for her sake? What could she do
to warn him?
It was not long before a movement took place among the sleepers, and
head after head was raised to listen to the strange sound which had
disturbed their slumbers. But the music suddenly ceased. Natsatt saw
what was taking place, and lowered the instrument from his lips. In
truth he somewhat relished the wonder he had aroused among the natives,
and only with an effort could he resist the temptation of giving them a
little more excitement. But he knew that further music would bring them
to their feet, and that would mean an end to all his hope of getting
Owindia away. He, therefore, watched and waited to see if she would make
an attempt to come to him when the Indians were again in slumber deep.
That they had taken the music for the song of some unfamiliar bird was
quite evident from their readiness to resume their disturbed slumbers.
With Owindia, however, it was different. Her heart was beating wildly,
and when the music ceased, and she saw the warriors once more asleep
she breathed a sigh of relief. How she longed to leave the fire, and
go to Natsatt. But she had given her word that she would remain until
the morning, and the Chilcats had promised to take her back. She would
keep her promise no matter what the others might do. Lifting her hand
she made the motion for Natsatt to go away. She also shook her head as a
sign that she could not go with him.
The eager, watchful lover saw the signal, and it puzzled him. What can
she mean? he asked himself. It would be very easy for her to come to me
now, and why does she not do so? Then the medicine man's story came into
his mind. Was there truth in it after all? Had she come to this place
of her own free will? But where was the chief's son? He could not see
him near her side. Where else would he be if she had become his wife?
Perhaps he was waiting to take her back to the coast, that the Indian
marriage ceremony might be performed there in the presence of all the
tribe. That Owindia did not make any effort to leave the Chilcats and
come to him when she knew that he was near, gave him good ground for
his suspicion. If such was the case he might as well go back to the
Post. There was nothing more for him to do. He could not carry her away
by main force, and neither would he attempt it. If she preferred the
chief's son to him he would make no further effort to save her. This
was one voice which spoke to him. There was another, however, which he
could not silence. It told him there must be some reason connected with
the affair; that Owindia loved him still, and would gladly flee to his
arms for protection if she could. There was something holding her back.
There was a purpose in her strange action. It was this idea which stayed
his feet, and kept him at his watch amid the trees. He could not take
his eyes away from that form crouching before the fire. Why does she not
lie down? he asked himself. She must be very weary. At times she would
lift her head and look straight toward the concealed lover. He knew that
she could not see him, but it thrilled his heart to know that she was
thinking of him.
How long Natsatt remained in that one place he could not tell. He only
knew that night was speedily advancing, and that the early northern dawn
would ere long be breaking upon the far-off mountain peaks. The fire
was still burning, for occasionally Owindia had risen and replenished
it from a pile of dry wood lying near. Natsatt believed he could see
another reason in this besides that of warmth. She evidently dreaded the
darkness among those Indians. She needed the fire for protection as well
as for comfort.
At length he determined to quit the place and go back to the Post. The
Indians would shortly be stirring and it would not be well for him to be
found lurking near. But just as he took one long lingering look upon the
maiden, and was about to turn away, he saw a form moving slowly forward
from the background. Natsatt stayed his steps, and his hand grasped more
firmly the musket. As he saw the figure of an Indian emerge into the
fire light and bend over the maiden he quickly brought the weapon to
his shoulder. But in a few seconds he lowered it and stood watching the
scene before him. The Indian had spoken to Owindia and she had risen to
her feet, and was facing the brave. What they said Natsatt could not
tell, as he was too far away and their voices were low. When, however,
a strong arm reached out and was placed around the maiden he had no
doubt as to the object of the man's visit. It must be the chief's son,
he thought, endeavouring to draw Owindia aside while the others slept.
But the maiden had thrown off the arm which had been placed about her,
and stood defiantly before the intruder. Suddenly a knife gleamed in
Owindia's hand which she held threateningly before her. At this the
brave retreated a step, and then in a twinkling of an eye he reached
out, gripped the maiden's wrist, and wrenched the shining steel from her
grasp.
What would have followed is hard to say had not Natsatt acted upon the
impulse of the moment. He longed to shoot the villain where he stood,
and if it came to the worst he would be forced to do so. But another
idea had come into his mind. He would try the effect of his mouth
organ upon the Chilcat brave. Again bringing it forth he placed it
to his lips, and produced a series of such plaintive, doleful sounds
that the Indian paused and looked wonderingly into the forest. As the
notes continued, growing more uncanny all the time, an expression of
superstitious fear overspread his face. The whole band of Chilcats
by this time were thoroughly aroused, and had leaped to their feet.
Trained from early days to believe in strange apparitions, and weird,
ghostly inhabitants of forest, mountain, and glen, it was but natural
for them to imagine that now they were surrounded by unseen creatures
who belonged to this northern region. Had it been a war-whoop which had
aroused them from sleep they would have rushed forward with shouts of
defiance. Physical courage they did not lack, but what Chilcat brave
could face those horrible invisible beings, who only made their presence
known by the doleful sounds they emitted from time to time?
On almost any other occasion Natsatt would have been much amused by the
consternation he was causing among the proud and arrogant Chilcats. As
it was it brought much satisfaction to his heart to see them standing
huddled together like a flock of dazed sheep. Where were the glory of
warrior, and the thrill of battle in the presence of that unseen power
so full of mystery and awe? Owindia alone seemed unaffected by the
sounds which were disturbing the stillness of the night. The chief's
son had shrunk away from her, and had flung the knife amid the trees
that his men might not see what he had been doing. He, too, stood like
the rest and listened apprehensively to the wails which were falling
upon their ears. It was only when the sounds ceased that the Chilcats
aroused from their temporary fright, and began to talk to one another in
an animated manner. They remembered how they had been awakened during
the early part of the night, when they had imagined it was a northern
bird singing among the trees. Now they believed it was the same creature
which had been hovering near through the hours of darkness. Several
suggested that the white men had much to do with the noise, and that
they were exercising some evil power against the Chilcats.
Natsatt, in the meantime had retreated swiftly and silently away from
the place. He knew that he could be of no further assistance to Owindia.
He had done her one good turn, and had learned the strength of the
enemy. After a while he walked less cautiously, for he felt sure that
the Chilcats would not attempt to follow. So engrossed was his mind with
what he had seen that he forgot all about the braves whom he believed
were watching the Post. In fact he had never been certain that any were
there; it was only a supposition on his part.
He did not as before skirt the wild meadow but moved boldly across
the open. He had gained the opposite side and had plunged again into
the forest, when, without the slightest warning a form leaped upon
him out of the night. Recoiling as from an electric shock he felt the
brush of cold steel against his face, and knew that he had escaped the
deadly blow of a hunting axe as if by a miracle. Then with a bound he
grappled with his adversary, caught him about the body, and endeavoured
to hurl him to the ground. It was no weakling, however, who had thus
so treacherously assailed him, but one whose thews were like whips
of steel. That he was a Chilcat Natsatt had not the slightest doubt.
A burning rage filled his heart, and nerved him to almost superhuman
effort. He realised that it was a struggle to the death, and he must not
give his opponent the slightest advantage. He must be wary, and reserve
his strength as much as possible. Not a word was spoken as there in the
darkness they strained and wrestled with each other. The hard panting of
the men told of the desperate struggle which was taking place. Backward
and forward they reeled and staggered. A small root or a twig tripping
one or the other would soon have ended the conflict. But each kept his
feet with marvellous dexterity. Presently Natsatt's right hand was
brought in sudden contact with the Indian's face, and with a lightning
movement his fingers dropped to the coarse throat, and closed. There was
no escaping that grip, which never relaxed for an instant. The native
endeavoured to tear away that death-dealing clutch, but in vain. The
more he struggled the firmer the fingers seemed to press. His breath
came in short fitful gasps. His body weakened, his knees trembled,
and soon Natsatt was able to force him to the earth, still holding
tenaciously to the throat like a determined bull-dog.
Natsatt did not wish to kill the Indian, and in the darkness he could
not tell how much injury the fallen man had received. For a few seconds
he maintained his merciless grip, and then let his fingers slowly
relax. He sat for a while upon the prostrate form, ready any instant
should the Chilcat arouse to renew the contest. But the defeated brave
exhibited no sign of further wish to fight. That he was not dead Natsatt
could tell by the breathing he could now distinctly hear. He might be
unconscious, he thought, and will recover later. He wished to leave the
place and get back to the Post. But he desired to have a parting word
with his opponent, if he were in a fit condition to understand anything.
"Who are you?" he demanded in the Indian tongue, "and what are you doing
here at this time of night?"
Receiving no answer to his question, he continued:
"Speak and tell me who you are, or else I will kill you where you lie."
He had no intention of putting his threat into practice; he only wished
to make the man speak. And in truth his words had the desired effect,
for after a slight pause there rasped forth the one word "Chilcat."
"Ah, ah, so that's who you are," Natsatt remarked with a sneer. "Nice
warrior you are, to lie in wait and leap upon a man without giving him
a chance. But you found your mistake this time, didn't you? It was not
such an easy job after all, was it? Now look here, Chilcat dog that you
are, you've met more than your match to-night. I could kill you here
and leave your dead body upon the ground, which is what you really
deserve. But I'm not going to do that. I want you to go back to your
chief and tell them what the white men are like. That they can fight
like grizzlies, and know not what it means to be defeated. Tell him,
too, that if he wants to attack the Post he will have a harder job than
he expected. There are men over there stronger than I am, and if you had
got into their clutches instead of mine they would have had you torn to
pieces by this time."
The Chilcat made no reply to these words but lay perfectly still as if
he had heard nothing.
"Why don't you speak?" Natsatt demanded. "Why don't you say something?
I've a sharp knife here in my belt which is just anxious to do more than
tickle your ribs. I'm thinking that would make you speak. Maybe it'll be
well to have it handy if you try any of your tricks."
"Ugh!" grunted the Chilcat.
"That makes you say something, does it? Well, I want you to say more
than that. Now tell me at once, and no fooling about it either. What is
Klitonda's daughter doing over there in the Chilcat camp? How did she
get there?"
To these questions the Chilcat deigned no reply until he felt the sharp
point of steel pressing his side right over his heart. He then gave a
struggle, and attempted to rise.
"None of that," Natsatt ordered. "Try it again and I'll drive this knife
into your measly carcass up to the hilt. Tell me, did the chief's
daughter go to the Chilcat camp of her own free will?"
"Ah, ah," the native replied.
"And did she go to become the wife of the Chilcat chief's son?"
"Ah, ah."
"What did she do that for? Why did she leave her own people to go there?
Did not the Chilcats kill her mother? Has she forgotten that?"
"The Ayana squaw wished to save her people and the white traders."
"In what way?" Natsatt queried, while a faint light of comprehension
began to glimmer in his mind.
"The chief's son promised to go back to the coast at once if Klitonda's
daughter would be his wife," was the reply.
"Whew! I see," broke from the half-breed's lips. "So that's it, is it?
And will the chief's son go away now? Will he leave the white traders
and the Ayana people alone?"
"The chief's son will not go away," was the slow response. "His warriors
will not let him. They wish to drive out the white traders."
"And what, then, will the Chilcats do with Klitonda's daughter? Will
they send her back to her own people?"
To this question came no answer, and from his captive Natsatt could
learn nothing more. But he had heard enough to give him cause for much
thought. His heart thrilled as he mused upon what Owindia had done.
She was willing to sacrifice herself to save those she loved. He felt
somewhat friendly to this prostrate Indian for what he had told him.
It lifted a great weight from his mind. To know that she whom he loved
better than life itself had not been untrue to him, but had taken this
step with the noblest motive, brought him much joy. But why did she not
come to him when she knew he was waiting for her among the trees? he
wondered. It was something he could not understand, although he believed
now that Owindia did it for some good reason.
At length Natsatt rose slowly from off the Chilcat's body. He still held
the knife in readiness lest the native should renew the attack. Away on
the mountain tops the dawn of a new day was breaking. The light stole
down silently and gradually among the secret forest ways. It showed
quite distinctly the form of the defeated Chilcat lying upon the ground.
"Get up," Natsatt commanded, "and go back to your chief, and tell him
what has happened to you this night. Tell him, also, to beware of the
white men, for they are swift, merciless, and strong."
The Chilcat waited for no second bidding. He leaped to his feet and
without stopping to recover his hunting-axe dashed into the forest, and
disappeared from view. Natsatt also turned and with the light of triumph
shining upon his face walked swiftly back to the Post.