A GIRDLE OF AGATES RECALLED
To unravel a ball of yarn, with which kittens have been making cobwebs,
has always seemed to me a much easier task than to unknot the tangled
skein of confused influences, that trip up our feet at every step in
life's path. Here was I, who but a month ago had a supreme contempt for
guile and a lofty confidence in uprightness and downrightness,
transformed into a crafty trader with all the villainous tricks of the
bargain-maker at my finger-tips. We had befooled Louis into a betrayal
of his associates but how much reliance could be placed on that
betrayal? Had he incriminated Diable to save himself? Then, why had
Diable rescued his betrayer? Where was Louis in hiding? Was the Sioux
wife with her white slave really in the north country, or was she near,
and did that explain my morose Iroquois' all-night vigils? We had
cheated Laplante; but had he in turn cheated us? Would I be justified in
taking Diable prisoner, and would my company consent to the
demoralization of their crews by such a step? Ah, if life were only made
up of simple right and simple wrong, instead of half rights and half
wrongs indistinguishably mingled, we could all be righteous! If the
path to the goal of our chosen desire were only as straight as it is
narrow, instead of being dark, mysterious and tortuous, how easily could
we attain high ends! I was launched on the life for which I had longed,
but strange, shadowy forms like the storm-fiends of sailors' lore,
drunkenness, deceit and crime--on whose presence I had not
counted--flitted about my ship's masthead. And there was not one guiding
star, not one redeeming influence, except the utter freedom to be a man.
I was learning, what I suppose everyone learns, that there are things
which sap success of its sweets.
Such were my thoughts, as our canoes sped across the northern end of
Lake Huron, heading for the Sault. The Nor'-Westers had a wonderful way
of arousing enthusiastic loyalty among their men. Danger fanned this
fealty to white-heat. In the face of powerful opposition, the great
company frequently accomplished the impossible. With half as large a
staff in the service as its rivals boasted, it invaded the
hunting-ground of the Hudson's Bay Company, and outrunning all
competition, extended fur posts from the heart of the continent to the
foot-hills to the Rockies, and from the international boundary to the
Arctic Circle. I had thought no crews could make quicker progress than
ours from Lachine to _Point à la Croix_; but the short delay during the
storm occasioned faster work. More _voyageurs_ were engaged from the
Nipissangue tribes. As soon as one lot fagged fresh shifts came to the
relief. Paddles shot out at the rate of modern piston rods, and the
waters whirled back like wave-wash in the wake of a clipper. Except for
briefest stoppages, speed was not relaxed across the whole northern end
of those inland seas called the Great Lakes. With ample space on the
lakes, the brigades could spread out and the canoes separated, not
halting long enough to come together again till we reached the Sault.
Here, orders were issued for the maintenance of rigid discipline. We
camped at a distance from the lodges of local tribes. No grog was given
out. Camp-fire conviviality was forbidden, and each man kept with his
own crew. We remained in camp but one night; and though I searched every
tent, I could not find Le Grand Diable. This worried and puzzled me. All
night, I lay awake, stretching conscience with doubtful plans to entrap
the knave.
Rising with first dawn-streak, I was surprised to find Little Fellow and
La Robe Noire, two of my canoemen, setting off for the woods. They had
laid a snare--so they explained--and were going to examine it. Of late I
had grown distrustful of all natives. I suspected these two might be
planning desertion; so I went with them. The way led through a dense
thicket of ferns half the height of a man. Only dim light penetrated the
maze of foliage; and I might easily have lost myself, or been
decoyed--though these possibilities did not occur to me till we were at
least a mile from the beach. Little Fellow was trotting ahead, La Robe
Noire jogging behind, and both glided through the brake without
disturbing a fern branch, while I--after the manner of my race--crunched
flags underfoot and stamped down stalks enough to be tracked by
keen-eyed Indians for a week afterwards. Twice I saw Little Fellow pull
up abruptly and look warily through the cedars on one side. Once he
stooped down and peered among the fern stems. Then he silently signaled
back to La Robe Noire, pointed through the undergrowth and ran ahead
again without explanation. At first I could see nothing, and regretted
being led so far into the woods. I was about to order both Indians back
to the tent, when Little Fellow, with face pricked forward and foot
raised, as if he feared to set it down--for the fourth time came to a
dead stand. Now, I, too, heard a rustle, and saw a vague sinuous
movement distinctly running abreast of us among the ferns. For a moment,
when we stopped, it ceased, then wiggled forward like beast, or serpent
in the underbrush. Little Fellow placed his forefinger on his lips, and
we stood noiseless till by the ripple of the green it seemed to scurry
away.
"What is it, Little Fellow, a cat?" I asked; but the Indian shook his
head dubiously and turned to the open where the trap had been set.
Bending over the snare he uttered an Indian word, that I did not
understand, but have since heard traders use, so conclude it was one of
those exclamations, alien races learn quickest from one another, but
which, nevertheless, are not found in dictionaries. The trap had been
rifled of game and completely smashed.
"Wolverine!" muttered the Indian, making a sweep of his dagger blade at
an imaginary foe. "No wolverine! Bad Indians!"
Scarcely had he spoken when La Robe Noire leaped into the air like a
wounded rabbit. An arrow whizzed past my face and glanced within a
hair's-breadth of the Indian's head. Both men were dumb with amazement.
Such treachery would have been surprising among the barbarous tribes of
the Athabasca. The Sault was the dividing line between Canada and the
Wilderness, between the east and the west, and there were no hostiles
within a thousand miles of us. Little Fellow would have dragged me
pell-mell back to the beach, but I needed no persuasion. La Robe Noire
tore ahead with the springs of a hunted lynx. Little Fellow loyally kept
between me and a possible pursuer, and we set off at a hard run. That
creature, I fancied, was again coursing along beneath the undergrowth;
for the foliage bent and rose as we ran. Whether it were man or beast,
we were three against one, and could drive it out of hiding.
"See here, Little Fellow!" I cried, "Let's hunt that thing out!" and I
wheeled about so sharply the chunky little man crashed forward, knocking
me off my feet and sending me a man's length farther on.
That fall saved my life. A flat spear point hissed through the air
above my head and stuck fast in the bark of an elm tree. Scrambling up,
I promptly let go two or three shots into the fern brake. We scrutinized
the underbrush, but there was no sign of human being, except the fern
stems broken by my shots. I wrenched the stone spear-head from the tree.
It was curiously ornamented with such a multitude of intricate carvings
I could not decipher any design. Then I discovered that the medley of
colors was produced by inlaying the flint with small bits of a bright
stone; and the bright stones had been carved into a rude likeness of
some birds.
"What are these birds, Little Fellow?" I asked.
He fingered them closely, and with bulging eyes muttered back, "L'Aigle!
L'Aigle!"
"Eagles, are they?" I returned, stupidly missing the possible meaning of
his suppressed excitement. "And the stone?"
"Agate, _Monsieur_."
Agate! Agate! What picture did agate call back to my mind? A big squaw,
with malicious eyes and gaping upper lip and girdle of agates, watching
Louis Laplante and myself at the encampment in the gorge.
"Little Fellow!" I shouted, not suppressing my excitement. "Who is Le
Grand Diable's wife?"
And the Indian answered in a low voice, with a face that showed me he
had already penetrated my discovery, "The daughter of L'Aigle, chief of
the Sioux."
Then I knew for whom those missiles had been intended and from whom they
had come. It was a clever piece of rascality. Had the assassin
succeeded, punishment would have fallen on my Indians.