“AN ARCHER DREW BOW AT A VENTURE”
Late that night, while the thin crescent of a new moon hung in the sky,
touching the twisted limbs of the pine tree above him with faint silver
radiance, Crawford wakened to a lightly humming voice. It was Frontin
who sat beside him at the tip of the promontory, and gaily voiced words
which were half-sardonic, half-sad, fitting them to a tune of Old
France which ran lightly and merrily enough--
“God made a little crooked tree
And set it on the shore,
A thing of wondrous sanctity
To paynim folk! But presently
Came white men full of charity,
Who gave the redskins eau-de-vie
All up and down the shore.
They built a chapel on the shore
Beside the crooked tree,
And taught the paynim to abhor
The gods by which his fathers swore--
It proved a simple labor, for
The Cross they gathered to adore
Was but a Crooked Tree!”
There was a bitterness in Frontin’s voice that made Crawford sit up
sharply.
“Anything wrong?”
“No. Go to sleep again, cap’n.”
Instead, Crawford got out his pipe, borrowed fire from the other man,
and they smoked together. After a little, with the peaceful solitude of
the far-flung water and forest below acting upon him, Crawford broke
the silence.
“See here, Frontin! If I don’t get out of this, you make for the bay.
Those Irishmen will be at New Severn----”
“Devil take you, be silent!” snapped Frontin roughly. “Listen! You hear
the wind singing in those branches above us? Well, that is our requiem
mass. We have failed in the world, and now God brings us to an end of
the trail in this place--we have gained the glory of such a tomb as few
men know, and the choral requiem of a sacred tree!”
“What the devil has put you in this mood?”
“The devil that is in me. Oh, I am sick, sick at heart!” broke
out Frontin. “When I look into the eyes of this Star Woman, I am
frightened. She is not of this earth. She is a fairy. She has been put
here by magic--oh, the devil! I cannot understand it at all.”
Crawford, who felt that he could understand it perfectly, held his
peace. Suddenly a sharp sound drifted to them from somewhere far below,
and was repeated.
“What is that noise?” Frontin started.
“The bark of a wolf,” said Crawford.
Frontin jerked to his feet. “Then I have learned something,” he said
drily, “for until now I have never heard of a wolf swimming.”
He strode away into the trees, and presently returned with Standing
Bull and two Dacotah warriors. They joined Crawford and listened. Once
more that long wolf-call came up from the water below. At this moment
another Dacotah hurried to join them, with eager words.
“Le Talon says that he hears the voice of his brother Black Kettle!”
Standing Bull uttered a sharp exclamation, and the three Dacotah
vanished.
“There is a path down to the water,” said the chief. “Let us wait. If
the Stone Men are down there, the path must be closed.”
The three remained silent. They heard nothing more for a long space.
The dark star-glinting lake, where all the constellations of the
sky were mirrored in placid glory, gave up no further sound--until,
abruptly, a musket crashed out from the shore below. Two made answer
from the water, with ruddy flashes, and then pealed up a sharp chorus
of yells. Again silence ensued, until Standing Bull spoke up.
“The Stone Men are on the lake in canoes. Fear not, my young men will
close this cliff trail----”
A rumbling crash of rock, a yell, and then a triumphant Dacotah whoop
came close on his words to show their truth. Again silence. Crawford
waited, with hope tugging at him. If Black Kettle had arrived, Perrot
and the Dacotah warriors under Yellow Sky must have come up!
The Star Woman and most of her men were hastily gathering to the scene,
when the three Dacotah came climbing to the cliff-verge again, and with
them two weary, wounded men. One was the Mohegan, Black Kettle; the
other was a sub-chief from the southern villages of the Dacotah. These
came to the Star Woman and made report, while all around hung on their
words.
“Yellow Sky and a hundred Issanti warriors are on the trail. They have
Metaminens with them. He sent Black Kettle and Wounded Crane on ahead.
Fifty others of The Men have gone around by the eastward of the lake,
to cut off the Assiniboine retreat. It is the word of Metaminens that
Red Bull be detained for two days. Before the second sun has set,
Metaminens will be here.”
Crawford caught a significant grunt from Frontin, and gave up hope. Two
days would see a different end to this story! The Star Woman sent the
new arrivals away with the other braves, and came to the two white men.
“You heard?” she exclaimed, a thrill in her voice. “Tell me, what is in
the mind of Metaminens? What does he mean to do?”
“Save you from Maclish,” said Crawford, “make peace with the Stone Men,
and win them over to the French cause. How he can do that, remains to
be seen.”
“You do not know Metaminens, if you doubt him!” was her flashing
answer. “So he needs two days? Then we must stop all fighting until he
arrives.”
“But Maclish must not know that he is coming,” said Crawford, unwilling
to dispel her confidence. She laughed softly and was gone in the
darkness. Frontin uttered a low laugh.
“She wants peace, Perrot wants peace, Maclish wants peace--what
beautiful irony! All three lose. She is too proud to pay the price of
peace, Perrot will be too late to save us, and--who, then, will win the
game?”
“Who, then?” demanded Crawford.
“Death,” said Frontin gloomily. “We are the only ones to win, you and
I! We win what we came here to seek. Meantime, go back to sleep, for
to-morrow we work.”
Crawford obeyed.
When sunrise broke, Crawford wakened much his old self, save for an
unavoidable soreness. He interviewed Black Kettle and learned that
Perrot was still too weak to travel fast, and the Dacotah would not go
on without him; neither he nor they dreamed that the Star Woman was in
acute peril.
The scouts reported that the force of Maclish was encamped without
any immediate sign of attack. Crawford, after disposing his available
force along the one assailable front, now protected by an excellent
breastwork, joined them at breakfast and awaited the next move. Ere the
meal was finished, the Star Woman appeared and came to Crawford and
Frontin.
“We must send a messenger to Maclish at once,” she said.
“Maclish is already sending one to us,” rejoined Crawford. Her dark
blue eyes widened upon him.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t; but I know Maclish.”
While she was still staring at him perplexedly, one of the scouts came
leaping in across the breastwork with news. An Assiniboine chief had
left Maclish’s camp and was coming toward the spot. He was unarmed,
carrying only belts and a roll of birchbark. Crawford smiled at these
tidings, gave orders that the chief be brought in, and met the startled
gaze of the Star Woman.
“You see, I spoke truly. Do you imagine that we are masters of this
situation? Not at all, I assure you.”
“I will go out and see this man Maclish----”
“Then, understand what will happen!” Crawford spoke sternly, gravely,
his tone startling her anew. “He will seize you, and will then have
everything. Do you imagine that he has any respect or reverence for
you? He is an animal, an animal! If you do not believe me, ask Frontin,
who knows him.”
She believed him and said no more; only a perceptible pallor crept over
her face as she waited, and deepened there.
There was no long delay. Presently the chief of the Stone Men was led
forward by two of the Dacotah scouts. He was a young man, naked to
the waist, bearing two long bead belts around his neck and carrying
a rolled strip of bark. He came to the Star Woman, met her gaze with
grave dignity; then, removing his belts, he delivered them. He spoke
in the Dacotah tongue, which Standing Bull translated for Crawford and
Frontin.
“I bring you a belt from our father Maclish, called Red Bull,” he
said, handing the first belt to the Star Woman. “It says this: ‘Place
yourself in my hands and avoid the shedding of blood. I will take
you into my lodge and you shall have honour among the Stone Men. The
Dacotah and their brethren the Stone Men shall dwell in peace together,
and their nation will become great. A tree of peace shall be planted
whose branches will overshadow all the western country. If you assent
to this, return yourself with my messenger.’ Thus says the first belt.
“Here is the second belt,” and the envoy held out one composed of black
beads. “This is what it says. ‘If you do not return with my messenger;
if you do not come to me at once, then I will come and take you. All
those men with you shall go into the kettles of the Stone Men. You
cannot escape me, and the blood of your young men will be upon your
head.’ Thus speaks the second belt.”
Now Crawford had on this morning hung the Star of Dreams outside his
shirt, since the metal irked his tender new skin. The Assiniboine
glanced around, saw the jewel, and in silence held out his roll of
birch to Crawford, who took it. The Star Woman came to him, bitter
anxiety in her eyes, yet with a proud anger flaming behind the anxiety.
“You have heard those belts? I cannot give myself to this man--sooner
would I leap into the lake below! How can we gain time?”
“We cannot,” said Crawford grimly, and unrolled the birch. “Now let us
see what message the Red Bull has sent to me.”
He studied the scrawl in the fresh-peeled bark, and then read it aloud,
translating it into French that all might comprehend. To the woman who
listened at his elbow with bated breath, to the dark warriors standing
around, that message came with a blunt shock--a shock which betrayed
the whole truth to them.
“Make her yield to me, and I will spare you and Frontin. I have
you surrounded and will grant no quarter to others; not one of the
Nadouisioux must live to tell of this matter. If she will not yield,
then persuade her out to speak with me, and you shall still be
spared. Refuse, and I finish the torture that I began a while back.”
The red men standing around uttered a low chorus of grunts and waited.
Crawford looked up, met the lapis eyes of the Star Woman, found them
wide with horrified comprehension.
“You understand?” he said gravely. “This fool thinks me coward enough
to buy my life with you; yet he means to keep no promises. It is
essential to his scheme that none of your warriors should remain alive
to tell the Dacotah the truth--and he means to murder me as well,
despite these promises.”
The Star Woman tried to speak, and the words died on her lips. Then, at
the third attempt, she made hoarse response.
“But Metaminens! We must gain time--if I went out to meet this man----”
“You would be seized, your men would lose heart, and be slain. There is
only one way in which we can gain time.”
Crawford touched his knife significantly, and a grunt of assent broke
from the braves. Then all were silent, awaiting her response.
This was slow in coming. Despair swept the face of the girl, followed
by a swift flush of anger; but this ebbed away instantly, and was
succeeded by a deathly pallor. Now, beyond all evasion, the Star Woman
perceived that she must abandon everything, that peace and temporizing
were alike impossible, that there was but one issue. Crawford spoke
again, since he dared not risk any misunderstanding in her mind.
“Maclish knows better than to trust himself among us. You can still win
the whole game--at a price. Yield to his terms, go to his camp, put
yourself at his mercy; and peace will follow. True, we others will be
slain none the less--yet there will be peace until Perrot comes to take
vengeance. Then what?”
To this bitter speech, Frontin added cool, sardonic words which bit far
deeper than he could know.
“Madame, this affair is perfectly simple--it is as logical and
dispassionate as a problem in geometry! Look you, now. Our only
possible hope is in Sieur Perrot, is it not? Well, Perrot’s only
possible hope is in us _likewise_! This Maclish will attack, and then
what happens? With luck, we shall kill him; certainly, we shall do our
best. Perhaps he will kill us. In any case, neither he nor we can win
this game. But if we can hold out a little while, Perrot may yet find
you alive. So the only one who can win this game is Perrot--_voilà!_”
In the startled silence that ensued, the Assiniboine envoy, who spoke
no French, stabbed with curious eyes at Crawford, the Star Woman, the
chiefs around. Frontin’s words brought home to them that there was
only one wild, desperate hope left--not for them, but for Perrot. If
they chose to die here, then the Star Woman might or might not remain
alive until Perrot came. In any case, Perrot and the Dacotah host would
strike Maclish like a thunderbolt, all unperceived, and could dictate
his own terms. Crawford laughed a little.
“And I thought Perrot’s dream was impossible!” he murmured.
A swift glory leaped into the lovely face of the Star Woman. She, who
all her life had heard so much of Perrot, yet who did not know the true
reason of her longing to see that man, suddenly leaped at this one
forlorn hope.
“I play the hand of Metaminens!” she exclaimed, her eyes flashing
around the circle of dark faces. “That is my decision--yet I cannot
command you to die, my friends. Wandering Star, I leave this matter to
you. Return a belt to Maclish in my name.”
Then, not awaiting the issue, she turned and passed among the trees
toward the grave that lay beneath the crooked pine. Crawford, in turn,
spoke to Standing Bull.
“I choose to fight it out, Dacotah. Make what answer you like to the
Stone Men.”
Standing Bull had no need to ask the temper of the warriors around.
Teton and Issanti and Mohegan, all fastened upon him a fiercely
exultant regard. Le Talon alone was quite indifferent; seated against
his tree, he was calmly streaking his features with vermilion as though
quite certain of the outcome. Standing Bull took from his belt the
grisly trophy which he had fetched in the previous evening, and handed
it to the Assiniboine.
“The scalps of the Stone Men are like the feathers of crows,” he
said. “A chief of The Men does not care to keep them. Take this to
your chiefs as a belt from the Star Woman. To the Red Bull take this
message.” And unstopping his powder-horn, he sprinkled on the scalp a
few grains of powder.
“We have kettles for you all,” returned the Assiniboine. “To-night we
shall feast upon the hearts of the Dacotah.” Then, stalking away, he
leaped the barricade and was gone with a shrill yelp.
“Quick, now!” Crawford was at the side of the Dacotah chief with
swift orders. “Put ten of your men at the breastwork with all the
muskets. Frontin, take a gun! Black Kettle has his own. Send out the
other warriors to oppose their advance; tell them to fall back on the
position here and to save themselves so far as possible.”
While these directions went into effect, Crawford, who knew himself
still unable to endure the heavy recoil of a musket, provided himself
with several tomahawks and took post at the center of the barricade,
where Frontin and Black Kettle joined him. Standing Bull himself was
gone into the trees beyond with his scouts. Now Crawford heard the
voice of Le Talon, and saw the crippled chief limping to him. There,
his injured leg bolstered up, Le Talon stood facing the clearing
beyond, his voice rising and falling in a weird monotone as it lifted
to the morning sky the recital of his deeds and trophies.
Then, suddenly, a musket banged in the forest, followed by others. The
Stone Men could have little ammunition left, and what they had was now
being rapidly expended. Bullets clipped the high trees, while Crawford
and his men waited for the battle to be broken upon them; and on the
ground in little sheaves lay the scarlet arrows which were the peculiar
token of the Star Woman. Yells resounded, and among them Crawford
thrilled to the bull-like roar of Maclish.
Now came Standing Bull, darting from the trees and leaping over the
barricade, reaching for arrows to fill his empty quiver.
“Wah!” he panted, fiercely exultant. “They come--all of them!”
Among the trees appeared other of the Dacotah, fighting as they
retreated, arrows flashing around them. Man by man they came in--but
not all of them. Five had fallen. A long yell shrilled up from the
trees as the enemy sighted the barricade and paused.
“Fire one at a time, and low,” commanded Crawford.
On the word, the Stone Men came bursting from cover in one wild charge,
as though to overwhelm the defenders in a great wave, with the roar
of Maclish to spur them on. Stripped and painted, arrows and bullets
hurtling over them into the barricade, the solidly massed redskins came
pouring across the clearing, converging on the narrow line of felled
trees.
“Let fire,” said Crawford, and Frontin dropped a chief who was in the
lead.
The muskets spouted white flame and smoke; at that short distance even
the Dacotah could not miss, and their bullets ploughed furrows of
death through the enemy. The hum and twang of loosened bowstrings, the
whistling song of feathered shafts, the panting grunts of men, rippled
down the line; those short, powerful Teton bows, which could send a
shaft through and through a bison, uttered a deeper and more vibrant
note. The Assiniboine whoop changed to a death-yell. Their vanguard
stumbled, melted away, plunged headlong. A red wall of the dead formed
up, across which mounted the living ranks behind, only to catch anew
the full sweep of those scarlet shafts which pierced two men at once.
None the less, they swept forward in stubborn fury, rolled on to the
barricade, paused there like a breaking wave and then crested above it.
As that tide of men burst high and fell inward, Crawford gave up all
for lost.
He drove out with his keen little axes, sending each through the air
like a lane of living light, each one driving home relentlessly and
surely. A Dacotah beside him gasped and fell under a stone club;
Crawford axed the slayer, saw Le Talon engaged with two stocky
Assiniboines, heard the Mohegan yell volley up. No sign of Maclish
caught his eye. Behind the storm of tumultuous figures, the Tetons
drove out with their long lances, though Old Bear was now down,
stabbing and stabbed in red ruin.
Then, like a flash, all was changed. A new yell arose--men paused,
staring. Crawford turned, to see the Star Woman coming from the
trees, coming forward to the barricade. At sight of her the Stone Men
hesitated--then the reloading was accomplished, the muskets began to
roar again, bowstrings twanged, scarlet shafts pierced swift and deep.
Those of the enemy who had mounted the barricade were swept away, and
upon the others poured a deadly rain. These could endure no longer. It
was not their mode of warfare, and their fanatic exultation was blasted
by the fearful toll of death. Their ranks melted, and they were gone.
Crawford glanced down the line, lips compressed. Le Talon was dead,
with his two assailants. Old Bear was gone. Four Tetons remained, with
Standing Bull and five Issanti. Crawford turned to the Star Woman.
“Back!” he said sternly. “We cannot risk----”
Her eyes met his gaze steadily, and a smile was on her lips.
“I remain here with you and with my men,” she said quietly. Crawford
knew better than to oppose, and changed his tactics instantly.
“Very well,” he said. “But we cannot hold this barricade now--the next
rush will end it. Back to the trees, all of us! We must make ready to
hold the point of the cliff. That will be our last defence.”
She comprehended, and turned back to the grove. Crawford sent Standing
Bull and the Dacotah after her, then turned to Frontin and Black
Kettle, who were unhurt.
“Load all the muskets and hold this barricade,” he said quietly.
“Ay, cap’n,” rejoined Frontin, laughing a little.
Crawford waited. Already the arrows were singing in from the trees, and
presently he saw that which he had feared. The Stone Men were taking
advantage of the ravine at either side the clearing; sheltered there,
they began to pour in a steady fire upon the barricade, in the centre
of which remained Frontin and Black Kettle. As the muskets began to
crash out their message, Crawford withdrew to the trees of the sacred
grove, an arrow burning his arm ere he reached the cover.
He passed in among the trees. Then, ahead of him, he saw the Dacotah
grouped, saw them open out as he approached. Amid them, half hidden by
the hanging limbs of a cedar, he saw something fair and yellow. An
oath dashed from his lips, and he leaped forward to kneel beside the
Star Woman.
From the centre of that star of silver and turquoise which hung against
her breast protruded the feathered shaft of an arrow.
Crawford looked up at Standing Bull. “Carry her back there, beneath the
crooked pine; the turquoise star has deflected the arrow--she may live.
I will come to her. Set your men to work felling trees. Hurry!”
The Dacotah obeyed in dark silence.