THE COUNCIL
The miners' cabins at Klassan were erected on a level strip of land
along the Kaslo River. Upon the hill above nestled the Indian camps,
secure from the wild north wind in winter, and the over-flowing stream
in the springtime. At the foot of the hill was a space of ground,
covered in summer with wild grass, but now denuded of every sign of
vegetation. This spot was chosen by the Indians for the holding of the
Council as being half way between the two settlements. Here, too, the
earth was dry, free from the mud which was found so abundantly
elsewhere. Near by stood several fir trees, gaunt and half dead,
through whose naked branches the storms had howled for many years.
It was a bright spring day, and the sun riding high poured its hot
beams upon the land. Masses of fleecy clouds drifted overhead, and
early-returned birds flitted through the air or chirped and twittered
among the trees. Everything in Nature spoke of peace; peace in the
great blue vault above; peace in the air, and peace on earth. Most
fitting was the day for men of different tongues, different races and
different modes of life to meet together in sacred Council for the
settling of their disputes.
No intimation was given, no sign was vouchsafed to the miners as they
gathered there, that miles up the river millions of tons of water were
ready to burst their bonds, and sweep down upon them their fearful
besom of destruction.
It was late ere the Indians arrived, and the miners became much
impatient. When at length they did appear, they seemed to the white
men like an army marching to battle. The old chief led the way with
uncertain steps. Behind him came scores of hunters, great, stalwart
men some of them, regular Anaks in girth and stature.
They were a proud race of men, unsubdued and untarnished by contact
with civilization. And good reason was there for their proud bearing
and firm, elastic step as they moved along the trail. Was not the land
theirs? Had they not received it from a long line of ancestors? No
sword had ever conquered them, and no foreign yoke had ever been placed
upon their necks. The birds of the air, the fishes of the streams, the
lordly moose of the forests, and the bighorn sheep of the
mountains--all were theirs. And so they came to the Council, not as
suppliants, not as beggars, but as free men, in whose veins flowed the
blood of a race which will break, but not bend. How many, oh, how many
before them, throughout the length and breadth of North America, had
drawn near in the same spirit to greet their pale-face brothers in open
Council. They too had assembled with weapons laid aside, with
confidence in their faces, and peace in their hearts, only to find in
the end treachery for goodwill, betrayal for trust, and contempt for
respect. Could these sturdy Tukudhs have looked forward to the day
when their land would be flooded by thousands of greedy gold seekers,
their game slaughtered, and their sons and daughters demoralized by bad
whiskey, their attitude would have been very different to these
fore-lopers of a foreign race.
On the ground a wolf-skin robe was placed, and upon this the old chief
squatted, facing the miners. Around him gathered the hunters of his
band, two hundred strong, in the form of a semicircle. There was no
haste, no jostling one another as they took their various positions.
Everything was done quietly and with much decorum, the younger giving
the foremost places to their elders.
By the side of the chief stood Amos, who was to act as interpreter,
dressed in a simple hunting costume. His face bore an expression of
care, and ever and anon he cast anxious glances towards the Indians and
then at the white men. To him the day had been one of severe strain,
and he knew the end was not yet. In the Indian Council he had fought a
hard battle against the hot-headed youths who thirsted for revenge upon
the miners. With infinite patience, much tact and burning eloquence he
had pleaded for the Christlike virtue of forgiveness. He listened to
their harangues, settled disputes and appealed to their higher nature.
He sketched their mode of living ten years before, and emphasized the
changes which had taken place upon the arrival of the missionary.
After hours of discussion the matter reached a deadlock, so it was left
for the old chief to decide. He favoured peace, and gave as his
reasons for this conclusion the Christian teaching he had received, and
the friendly visit of the pale-face maiden to his lodge."
"Let the guilty men be punished," he had said in conclusion. "Let us
not do it in the spirit of revenge, but only as a warning to others."
Squatting upon the wolf-skin robe the chief now scanned the miners as
intently as his weak eyes would permit, and then addressed a few words
to the interpreter.
"Pale-face brothers," began Amos, turning to the white men, "chief of
Tukudhs give you welcome to Council. He come here with peace in heart.
His hunters all leave guns in camps, dey trust white man. But white
man no trust Tukudh. Dey come with guns. Dey keep guns in hand. Old
chief moche sorry."
The miners looked at one another when Amos ended, uncertain what to do.
"Stack yer guns, b'ys," demanded Old Pete, who was the only one among
them without a rifle. "Be fair to the Injuns an' they'll be fair to
us."
"Well said," replied Caribou Sol, and suiting the action to the word,
he stepped forward and laid his weapon in the open space of ground,
half way between the two parties.
One by one the rest of the miners went forward, and in the same manner
deposited their rifles.
A general exclamation of "Ah, ah," from the natives signified their
approval of this friendly act.
But still something disturbed the chief. He looked long and intently
at the white men, and again spoke to Amos.
"De chief," explained the latter to the miners, "ask if white man all
here?"
"No," responded Sol, who had been requested by his companions to act as
spokesman, "there are two absent, the gray-haired man up in yon cabin,
and Bill Pritchen."
"De chief only want Bill," was the response. "He no want ole man in
cabin on hill."
"But mebbe he won't come. Can't we git along without 'im?"
When this was communicated to the chief he shook his head.
"We wait den till Bill come," and having said this Amos moved back a
few steps.
The Indians maintained a stolid silence as they watched the miners
discussing the matter.
"Fetch 'im," said Old Pete. "Why should he stay away. I guess he'll
be needed."
And so it was decided that several should go in search of Pritchen and
bring him as quickly as possible. This was received with evident
satisfaction on both sides, and operations for a time were suspended.
Pritchen was found in his cabin, and expressed himself as quite
unwilling to attend the Council. His face told most plainly the state
of his mind, which was far from enviable. At times the longing seized
him to flee into the wilderness--anywhere would be better than Klassan
he thought. But this he knew was not practicable, for the Indian
hunters, with the instinct of sleuth hounds, would track him down in a
short time. While he waited and listened the messengers drew near.
"I'll not go, d-- you!" he cried. "Leave me alone, can't you?"
"Well, if you won't come peaceably," replied one, "we'll not try to
force you now. But I think it's better for you to come quietly along
with us than to have the gang to come after you. There'll be no
coaxing if they come, I tell you that."
Pritchen fully realized the truth of these words, so after a few
moments of hesitation he agreed to comply with the request.
As he drew near to the Council ground a nameless fear took possession
of him. He saw the miners shrug their shoulders as he took his place
among them. They seemed to forget his presence, however, as they
turned their attention to the old chief to watch his next move.
Neither did they have to wait long, for with much deliberation and many
gestures, the hoary patriarch began his harangue.
First, he invoked the aid of the Great Father of Heaven upon the
gathering. Then he told of the nobleness of his race, of the mighty
men and warriors who had died. He described the vastness of the land
which they had owned from time immemorial. He next gave an account of
their wild condition before the arrival of the missionary.
"We were brutes," he said in substance, flourishing his arm in an
eloquent manner. "We had many wives and treated them worse than dogs.
They cut and drew our wood; they brought in the moose, when killed,
into camp, and waited upon us, doing our slightest bidding. When they
refused to work we beat them, and when too old to toil we turned them
out to die, or left them on the trail. Our wives, dreading such a life
for their little girl babies, often killed them and we thought nothing
of it.
"We robbed, cheated, fought and killed one another. Our hearts were
always bad, all same black bear. We were like men walking at night in
a thick wood, lost and unable to find our way out. Oh, it was a bad
time! Then the teacher came to us from beyond the great mountains. He
lived in our midst, and learned our language. At first we treated him
very badly and tried to kill him, but we could not, for something
stopped us. When we shot at him the arrows and balls went wide. When
we threw our knives and hatchets they did not touch him. When we broke
down his cabin and stole from him, he prayed for us, and built a new
house. When we were sick, he healed us. When we wanted food he shared
with us of his own supply. He led us slowly out of the wood. He told
us about Christ and another life. He taught us how to build good
cabins, and live as true Christians. Thus the Spirit came to us like
the breath of Spring, and thawed and warmed our cold hearts. New,
sweet flowers of love, truth, purity and peace sprang up, which choked
and killed the bad weeds. We put away our old manner of living. We
cared for our children, treated our wives better, built a church,
school room and store. We lived happier, with plenty to eat and to
wear, and looked forward to another life after death. Then the miners
came; they built cabins in our midst, dug our land for gold, and tried
to ruin our young men and women. They drove away our teacher, and
burnt our store. Our men have come back from the hunting grounds; they
find what has been done, and are very angry.
"'Are we not men?' say they. 'We will fight and drive out the
strangers.' But the Spirit conquers; it holds them back. 'Call a
Council,' it says. 'Gather the white men, and let them punish the ones
who injured us.'
"In your midst stands one man who has caused all the trouble. His
heart is bad, like the heart of a black bear. He wronged our teacher;
he stole gold; he put it in the mission house; hid it there. He said
our teacher did it. He laughed at him, and drove him from Klassan. He
is there! He is there!" and the chief stretched out his hand and
pointed straight at Pritchen, who shrank back as from a terrific blow.
The speaker was about to proceed, but ere he could utter another word
Old Pete sprang forward, and with blazing eyes confronted the Indian
who had made this serious charge.
"Tell me!" he cried, "is it true? Is it true what ye say about the
missionary? Is the skunk among us what done that deed? Tell me,
quick!"
"Over there," replied Amos, pointing to the wretched Pritchen.
"It's a lie! A d-- lie, I tell you!" shouted the latter. "I know
nothing about it! The Injun hates me, and wants to ruin me. Let them
prove it, if they can! They can't do it!"
Pete was about to turn towards him with angry words on his lips, when
cries of rage from the miners caused him to hesitate, and to realize
his position. The men were thoroughly aroused, he knew that, and ready
to fall upon the villain without more ado. That the scoundrel needed a
severe punishment there was no doubt, but he wished to be just and not
let the base mob instinct rule.
"B'ys!" he shouted, "jist wait a leetle, afore ye do anything rash.
Let the Injun prove to us first what he says is true. It may be all
imagination."
"Injun speak true," said Amos somewhat indignant to think that the
chief's words should be doubted.
"What ye say may be kerrect," replied Pete, "but all we ax is fer ye to
show yer proof. How d'ye's know that Pritchen put the gold in the
cabin?"
"Jennie see 'um."
"Jennie who?"
"Jennie. Yukon Jennie. Injun squaw. She see 'um. She tell old
chief."
"Whar is she then?" and Pete looked around as if expecting to see the
girl.
"Up dere," and Amos stretched out his hand towards the Indian lodges.
"Fetch her down. We'll wait."
"No squaw come to Council. Only men, hunters."
"But this ain't all Injun Council. White men here, an' they ax fer the
gal."
When this was communicated to the chief, a scowl passed over his face,
and a sharp discussion took place among the Indians. What they said
the miners could not tell, but after much bickering Amos lifted up his
voice and gave several short calls in the direction of the lodges.
Soon a reply was returned, and then down the trail sped Jennie towards
the Council ground. As she drew near her steps slackened, for was she
not breaking a custom of long standing among her people? Encouraged by
Amos, she at length reached the place, and was requested to relate her
story.
So intent were the miners upon their task that they scarcely noticed
the change which had taken place around them, or how the time was
passing. The wind had risen, moaning gently at first, but increasing
in strength, blowing in from the Yukon, and drawing up the Kaslo as
through a mighty funnel. It shook and swayed the trees along the banks
of the stream; it played with the old chief's blanket, causing him to
clutch it firmly, and tossed Jennie's long black hair in confusion
about her oval, dusky face.
Timidly the maiden stood before the expectant miners, uncertain what to
say.
"Speak out, gal," encouraged Pete. "Ye needn't fear. Nothin'll harm
ye."
"Hold on!" called out one of the miners. "Wouldn't it be as well for
Bill to stand forth so all can see him?"
"Hear, hear!" shouted the men.
But Pritchen shrank back, and glanced around as if seeking some avenue
of escape.
"No, ye don't do that, man," said Caribou Sol, interpreting his
thoughts. "Not till we're through with ye, at any rate."
Pritchen was in a trap, he fully realized that, and a wild rage mingled
with his fear. He reached for his revolver, but it was not there.
Anyway it would have been of little use, for instantly a score of
revolvers leaped from as many hip pockets, and covered him in the
twinkling of an eye.
"Come out here!" roared Pete, "an' stand up like a man. Thar's no use
kickin'."
There was nothing else to be done, and sulkily Pritchen stepped forward
and faced the Indian girl.
"Thar, that's better. Now go ahead," continued Pete, turning to Jennie.
The latter, however, did not speak, but stood staring at Pritchen, as a
bird fascinated by a serpent.
"De' ye know that man?" demanded the prospector, seeing her
embarrassment.
"Yes. Me know 'um," came the low reply.
"Whar did ye fust see 'im?"
"Heem bad man; bad heart. Heem keel my modder long tam ago."
"It's a lie!" shouted Pritchen.
"Jennie no lie. Me see 'um."
A movement among the miners was quieted by Pete's next question.
"Gal, did ye see that man put the bags of gold in the missionary's
cabin? Tell me that."
"Yes. Me see 'um."
"How did you see 'im do it?"
"Jennie see in windee. Heem look all around. Heem see box. Heem take
wan poke, heem take two poke, all same dis," and the girl drew her hand
twice from beneath her shawl, and stooped to the ground to show how it
had been done.
"You lie!" snarled Pritchen. But it was easy to see from his pallid
face that the girl's words were having their effect.
"Jennie no lie!" and the maiden, with fear all gone and an indignant
mien, looked unwaveringly into the villain's eyes. "Me tell true. Me
Clistin. Me no lie! You laugh at peegee in box. You put down cover
lak dat," and she slapped her hands together. "You lock box. You trow
key in stove. You laugh, bad, ugh!"
During this disclosure Pritchen had stood with his eyes fixed upon the
ground, to all outward appearance abashed and confounded. But such was
not the case. He was thinking hard and fast, while from the corner of
his left eye he beheld a sight which filled him with a new
determination. He was a desperate man, in a desperate position, and
though hope had fled his heart, the spirit of revenge rankled deep. He
had played his game and lost, but at any rate he would leave a mark
which would be felt.
Scarcely had Jennie finished speaking, when, quick as thought, he
leaped towards the pile of rifles lying on the ground, and seizing one
turned fiercely upon Old Pete. The rifle was raised, his finger
pressed the trigger, and the report rang out. Instead, however, of the
ball touching the prospector, it bored its way into the earth, while
the rifle flew from Pritchen's grasp, and a dozen hands were laid
roughly upon him. He struggled, fought, and tore like a wildcat, but
all to no avail. The blood in the miners' veins ran fire. They surged
around their victim, overpowered him, and with a leathern belt bound
his hands firmly behind his back.
"A rope! A rope!" shouted one. "There, in my cabin you'll find a
strong one!"
"That tree!" yelled another. "We'll sling him up!"
Old Pete tried his best to stop them in their mad design. He shouted,
pleaded, and even fought to free the captive.
"Drive 'im from Klassan!" he roared, "but don't let his blood be on our
heads!"
He might as well have spoken to the wind which was roaring around them.
The men were besides themselves, demented. They had reached the limit
of their patience, and the wild passions surged within their breasts.
In their eyes the cowardly deeds of Pritchen were without parallel.
What dastardly tricks! What base, underhanded work! What designs of
hell! The rope, and rope only, was the proper punishment!
Half dragged and half stumbling, the wretched man reached the tree,
Nature's solid gallows, standing ghost-like and grim in the deepening
darkness. He looked wildly around, and tried to free his hands.
"Mercy! For God's sake, mercy!" he cried, as the noose was slipped
around his neck. "Let me go! Give me another chance, and I'll leave
the country!"
"The rope'll take you to a new country, and a hot one at that, quicker
than you can mush," jeered one.
"Mercy! Mercy!" pleaded the wretched man. "Spare me this once! I'll
tell you all, and get out!"
"Did ye kill that Injun woman?" asked Pete, stepping near.
"Yes."
"Did ye lave young Radhurst to die in the Ibex cabin, an' stole his
gold?"
"Yes."
"An' did ye steal Tim Fleeters' gold an' put it in the mission house?"
"Yes. Yes, I did it all. For God's sake, forgive me! I'm a bad man!
O God, help me!"
A yell of rage was the only response to his wild pleadings, for a dozen
hands had seized the rope, which had been thrown over one of the large
projecting branches.
"All together, pull!" was the shout, and with a terrible, gurgling cry,
Pritchen swung from the ground into the air.
And even as the men pulled, dead set upon their fearful deed, there was
sweeping down upon their own heads the mighty flood of ice and water.
The jam had given way and, sweeping down, was bearing all before it.
The excitement of the men and the roaring of the wind up-stream
prevented the noise from reaching their ears. Thus, unconscious of
destruction to themselves, they were all intent upon their efforts to
hurl a comrade into eternity.