SHROUDED LIGHT
A feeling of despair swept over Owindia as the forest hid the Post from
view, for she believed she had seen it for the last time. She knew that
the Chilcats would be very angry at her for what she had done. She saw
them emerge from the trees where they had been hidden. With what fierce
eyes they beheld her, and she would not have been surprised had they
fallen upon her in their fury and torn her to pieces. They were cruel
and blood-thirsty for such a deed, so she thought. Instead, however,
they hurried her back to their camping place, where they forced her to
sit upon the ground while they surrounded her in a formidable, menacing
circle.
The clouds of night had passed, and the sun was slanting down among the
numerous tree tops. The day was bright and warm, but Owindia shivered as
she sat there awaiting the verdict of her enemies. Her head ached, and
her entire body was weary. The strain of the excitement through which
she had passed, and the want of sleep were plainly visible upon her face
and form. Her eyes stared forth with an unnatural light, which at first
the Indians did not notice. Strange thoughts were rushing through her
brain. The babble of voices about her fell meaningless upon her ears.
She heard nothing of the harsh words of condemnation which came from the
lips of the baffled Chilcats. Gradually the dusky figures at her side
were transformed, and she saw in their stead a band of her own people,
all armed ready to drive back the invaders. She was watching them as
they crept through the forest. She heard the cries of death, and the
yells of victory. She saw her father leading his warriors, and beheld
the look of triumph upon his face as he saw the Chilcats fleeing before
the attack. Her heart thrilled with pride, and she gave vent to a laugh,
a loud laugh of joy to think that at last their land was free from the
enemy. She sprang to her feet and began waving her arms in the wildest
excitement. And he was there, too, Natsatt her lover, driving the Coast
tribe before him. How he was fighting, and she was cheering him on.
The strange look in Owindia's eyes, and her excited manner startled the
Chilcat warriors. They ceased their talking and stared upon the maiden
standing before them. Well did they know the meaning of that expression
upon her face, and the rapid words which were pouring from her lips.
They shrank back with superstitious awe and dread, and more than one
Indian laid his hand upon his gun. An evil spirit had entered into this
Ayana squaw, so they believed, and was possessing her whole being. To
them this incident was most disconcerting. The bad spirit was abroad
and had entered into this woman. It had evidently been surrounding them
for days, and had been working against them. No doubt the white men had
something to do with the matter, and were inciting the spirit against
the Chilcats. It would be necessary, therefore, to get rid of this evil
one as speedily as possible. Already a feeling of fear was spreading
among the warriors. Every time Owindia spoke or approached them they
drew back and looked apprehensively around as if expecting that hideous
creatures were about to emerge from the forest depths. Those braver than
the rest realised that unless some action was immediately taken the
courage of the Indians would soon ebb away, and their hope of defeating
the white traders would be at an end.
It was a pathetic sight to see Owindia standing in the midst of these
men, talking at random, and occasionally pointing among the trees, and
calling their attention to imaginary foes.
"Ha, ha," she laughed, "the Chilcats are running away. They are afraid
of the Ayana warriors. Look, look, the chief's son has fallen; he is no
more. Never again will he trouble Owindia."
These words, added to what she had already said, caused more than a
score of warriors to seize their guns, and train them upon the maiden.
They determined to delay no longer. The evil spirit must be driven out,
and the only way to do it would be to put the maiden to death. The
beautiful picture she made with flushed face, and form drawn to her full
height caused them to hesitate for a few moments. Never before had they
seen such a squaw so full of grace and perfect loveliness. Hardened
though they were their hearts were not altogether unresponsive to a
certain pleasure in true beauty. They could worship it in the surge of
the ocean, in the ripple of the streams, in the glory of the sunset,
and in the laughter of the flowers. It was, therefore, but natural that
they should shrink from taking the life of one of whom they had heard so
much, and their own eyes had seen.
And as they hesitated, and Owindia's life hung by a thread, Klukwan, the
messenger, stepped forward, and raised his arm for his companions to
desist. He had been a silent witness of the whole proceeding, and his
heart stirred within him at the idea of putting the maiden to death.
In fact ever since she had entered the camp he had found it almost
impossible to keep his eyes away from her face. How he longed to possess
her for his own. She appealed to him not only for her beauty, but for
her courage and modest demeanour.
"Kill not the squaw," he began. "Why should she be put to death? When
did Chilcat warriors ever do such a thing? If the evil spirit had
entered into an Ayana brave Klukwan would not say a word. But this is
a squaw, daughter of a great chief. That chief is the Chilcats' enemy,
but he is a brave warrior, and has a strong heart. The Chilcats honour
a brave man, even though he is their enemy. This maiden has a strong
heart. She saved Klukwan's life in Klitonda's lodge, and Klukwan cannot
forget. The evil spirit is in her, and it must not be allowed to get
away or it will do harm to the Chilcats. Bind the squaw fast to a tree,
that she may be safe. The spirit cannot get away from her body now that
it has taken up its abode there."
Stepping up to the maiden Klukwan placed his right hand upon her arm.
"Does the Ayana squaw dream?" he asked. "Does she see strange sights? Is
the evil spirit speaking through her lips?"
Owindia turned and looked upon the brave, although she saw him not. A
far away expression shone in her dilated eyes, as lifting her hand she
pointed out among the trees.
"See, they come!" she cried. "The Chilcats are among the Ayana people;
they will steal the women, and kill the men."
Then she began to sing in the monotonous Indian fashion a fragment of a
song she had often heard around the camp fire at night. It was but one
of the numerous compositions which had been handed down from generation
to generation. Each had added something to the various pieces, legends,
deeds of bravery, and love, until in some cases the crazy jumbles were
of great length, requiring often an hour or more for their rendition.
Owindia learned only the ones which appealed to her heart and mind,
especially those telling of the deeds of her forefathers, and their
heroism in days gone by. It was only natural, therefore, that her
favourite piece should be sung when her mind was so wildly excited.
"Hark! I hear the Chilcats coming.
They are coming o'er the ranges;
They will steal our wives and daughters,
They will slay our sons and husbands.
Rouse, Ayana, to the battle,
Drive the Chilcats o'er the ranges,
Free our land and save our people,
Come, Ayana, come, come!"
Having ended these words in the long drawn wail of the Indian manner, a
sudden fancy seemed to seize Owindia's mind. She began to sing snatches
of songs and hymns which her mother had taught. Some were bright, and
gay; others were sombre, and full of much pathos. Her voice was as clear
and full of sweetness as when Natsatt had first heard it out in the
lodge in the wilderness.
The Chilcat warriors were now more firmly convinced than ever that
the maiden was possessed of the evil spirit. They were not accustomed
to such singing, and the tunes of the English songs and hymns made no
appeal to their hearts. The singer must not be allowed to abide among
them. Nothing but harm would come from her presence. Death was the
only remedy. Such was the opinion of all the Chilcats when they had
considered the matter except Klukwan, the messenger. He would not agree
to such a proposition, and appealed to the chiefs son, who had taken but
little part in the discussion.
"Klukwan will stand by the Ayana squaw," he said. "She shall not be put
to death. Let any warrior raise his gun against her and he will answer
to Klukwan. Make the squaw fast to a tree, so she cannot escape. Let the
chiefs son speak."
Thus appealed to, and with the eyes of his men turned upon him there
was nothing for the weak vacillating creature to do but to give voice
to his thoughts. He knew only too well that what Klukwan said he would
do would be carried out to the bitter end. He did not wish to have
friction among his band at such a critical moment, when unity was needed
in their attack upon the whites. He believed, too, that some of the
warriors would side with Klukwan, and disastrous might be the result.
According to the superstitious idea which had been instilled into him
from childhood he felt that the maiden should die. But he wished to
delay her death now, and put off the performing of it in order to keep
peace. Something might happen, so he thought, which would not make it
necessary. She might get well, or Klukwan might change his mind and
consent to her death. That she should recover he earnestly desired for
he wished to possess the maiden, and take her back in triumph to the
coast. Such a beautiful creature added to his list of wives would make
him the envy and admiration of other tribes far and near, as well as
among those of his own people. He accordingly gave it as his opinion
that the possessed squaw should be taken to the very tree where her
father, Klitonda, had been bound, and there made fast.
Owindia made no attempt to resist the rough hands which were laid upon
her. She permitted herself to be led to the tree where she was securely
tied. She continued to talk, however, about the coming of the Chilcats,
and occasionally she would sing. But as the day wore away she became
silent, and her head drooped. She made no effort to support herself,
but allowed her whole weight to bear upon the moose-hide thongs with
which she was bound. Her face was hot and flushed, which even the air
of evening could not cool. It was the heat of fever which was raging
through her whole body. When night shut down she was left alone, all the
warriors having gone to surround the Post. But she knew nothing of time
or events. She was living in that strange world of wild unrealities,
where the mind seems to depart from its earthly tenement and roams
through vast vistas of unknown regions. As the darkness deepened, and
the air grew colder her ravings returned. She called for Natsatt, and
implored him to come to her. Now she was with her father out upon the
trail, and again she was a little child playing by the side of her
mother along the river's bank. She sang, too, not the songs of the
Indians, but the ones her mother had taught her. Night, desolate night,
covered her form, but a darkness more terrible shrouded her mind, though
it could not silence the music of her voice which floated forth among
the trees clear, sweet, and plaintive.