THE KEEPER AND THE ARROW.
"What mean you?" she broke forth, searching his smiling face. "Is
this a jest, sir? Or do you really know--"
"My child," and Radisson caught her to him, touching her brow with
his lips, "it is no jest. But we are in grave danger here. Come,
greet these noblest of men, and let us begone. The tale I will give
you in full at the first chance."
Both the two Mohawks and I had looked on at this scene with no little
bewilderment. But as Ruth obeyed him and turned to them with a
puzzled smile, the elder, whom we came to know as the Keeper, stepped
forward and caught her hand to his lips in right courtly
fashion--doubtless learned at Montreal.
"The Yellow Lily need fear not, for we are brothers of the White
Eagle," and he glanced at Radisson, then turned to me. His black
eyes glittered intensely as they swept over me, but it was his
companion, the Arrow, who spoke. Doubtless he put his Mohawk thought
into French speech, for the words were abrupt.
"The young man with brave eyes is good to look upon. He is our
brother."
"Then we will care for the Yellow Lily together," I smiled at Ruth,
using the name they had bestowed upon her. This pleased them hugely,
and a smile flickered across their dark faces. Presently they and
Radisson were chattering in the strange tongue, and when he turned to
us there was doubt in his strong face, for once.
"My children, we are in a narrow path. These twain have lived for
two years among the Cree people, daily waiting my coming. But a few
days since they had journeyed to the post. Gib, Eoghan and Black
Michael had arrived in the boat. No sooner was their story told than
men were sent out in all directions in search of us, while among the
Chippewas a price was set on our heads in beads and blankets.
"What!" I cried indignantly. "Would they dare--"
"Peace, lad. You know not all the tale, and it is too long to be
told here. There is no law in these parts save that of the
strongest, and the Keeper and the Arrow set forth to find us.
Fortunately, Soan-ge-ta-ha had not heard the news, else he had not
let us go so easily. As I will explain later, it is impossible for
Ruth to seek the post. The only thing left us is to go with my
friends here and find refuge among the Crees to the west. There we
shall be safe, for the Crees are old friends of mine. The Mohawks
have two canoes hidden a few miles from here. Let us go on with
them, and we can take to the water on another river. This will throw
off any pursuers until we can find shelter among friends."
I glanced at Ruth, despair in my eyes. She read the look and came to
me, putting her hand on my arm.
"Davie, dear, there is naught else to do. Have no fear for me, but
let us trust in God. Remember, we have much to talk of and we do not
know all that has passed. Are you willing to go into the wilderness
with us?"
"Willing?" I burst out, seizing her hand. "Aye, for myself I care
naught, Ruth, but for you--is there no other way?"
"There is no other way, my son," returned Radisson gravely.
"Then let us go forth and seek what may betide," I answered bitterly.
There was no time lost. Our few belongings were all ready, and we
set out after Radisson who followed in the steps of the Keeper. As
for the Arrow, he melted into the bushes and was gone--to scout for
danger and to meet us at the canoes, explained the old wanderer.
That march through the forest was one of no little hardship for all
of us, but more especially for Ruth and me. There was danger all
about us, for at any moment we might come upon parties of Chippewas
who were even then searching the forest for trace of us. I walked
along as one in a maze, and in truth my poor brain was all bewildered.
What was the meaning of this strange meeting with the two Mohawks?
And Radisson's words to them--was Ruth indeed his niece? That was
hardly to be credited, methought, for why had he said no word to us
before? And in any case, he could know no more of the maid than did
I, who had lived all my life beside her. None the less, the matter
troubled me.
In point of distance we had not far to go, but the difficulties of
the savage forest beset us sorely. Ruth had much ado to prevent her
skirts being torn by thorns and jagged branches. At one time we
would be pushing through thick-grown saplings, and at another leaping
from tussock to tussock of swamp-grass. The Keeper and Radisson,
better accustomed to such places, moved like shadows; but had there
been any foe near, my crashing must have betrayed our presence beyond
a doubt.
Yet all things draw to an end, and the end of our journey was a
clear, open lake of good size. Not a hundred yards from where we
emerged, The Arrow stood waiting beside the shore, and at his feet
were two canoes. Here was a new wonder to me, that the Keeper should
have guided us so surely through those trackless woods to the side of
his comrade.
But Ruth was fain for rest, and so was I. We sank down beside the
canoes, and here Radisson joined us.
"Now," he said with a certain vigor and spring in his voice which was
new to me, "I will explain things to you, my children. In the first
place, you are verily my sister's daughter, Ruth. It was nigh twenty
years ago that I left her in Montreal, new-married to the Sieur de
Courbelles, and my last gift to her was that brooch you wear at your
throat. See--those are mine own arms upon it! Then I left New
France, but she, with her husband, was to join me in London town. I
never heard word of her again, my child; there can be no doubt that
their ship was driven far north and you alone were saved."
He paused a space, and I saw that Ruth's own little fingers had
stolen out to grasp his. But here there came a great light to me.
"Then," I exclaimed, "was that why Gib o' Clarclach was so hasty
after Ruth? Nay, but it could hardly have been so, for he had scarce
recognized that little brooch!"
"Not that, David," smiled the old man, "but he knew the arms right
well, and doubtless he also knew the tale of my sister and her loss
by shipwreck. I must tell you, lad, that the man who you know as
Gib, whom I know as Jean Lareatt, whom the Indians hereabouts know to
their cost as The Pike, is an agent of France--a spy, who serves
France or England according as he is best paid. No one knows, or
ever will know, just who his masters are. So you see, lad, that if
he could lay hold on the maid and fetch her to Paris, they might get
me into their clutches again right easily."
"But not that!" I exclaimed angrily. "Frenchmen would never dare go
to such extremes with a maid of good birth--"
Radisson's face went black. "No? Wait till you know them as I do,
the Jesuit dogs! If you want the truth of it, that man Gib is no man
of France so much as he is a paid spy of the Order--the Order that
has hounded me, stolen the credit of discoveries, sent forth its men
in my place to gain mine honor, and at the last tried to steal this
child of my blood!"
And therewith he went on to tell me things I had not dreamed
possible. He told of his long trips through the wilderness, of how
he had found the "Father of Waters," how his reports had been stolen
and altered, his furs stolen from him, and how on the strength of his
labors the Jesuits had sent out men of their order to take the credit
for his work.
"But why?" asked Ruth with wondering eyes. "Why should they do this
thing? Surely there are honorable and good men among--"
"Aye, lass, there are," Radisson made quick response. "But the
reason for it is simply that I am none of their faith. When a lad I
was taken by the Mohawks and grew up among them. Then I returned to
mine own people, but I never forgot my adopted nation. On all my
trips I carried Iroquois with me. The Arrow here went to the Detroit
with me years before the settlement was founded there. The Keeper
was behind me when the Sioux people saw their first white face, and
when I was led to the great river in the South."
With that our conversation was ended, for The Arrow approached and
warned us that the day was drawing on apace. We made a light meal
off some dried venison, after which we embarked in the canoes. In
one went The Arrow, Ruth and I, while The Keeper and Radisson
embarked in the other, and we followed in their course across the
lake to the mouth of a little river that flowed westward.
So it came about that I set my back toward my own people. I sat in
the bow, The Arrow in the stern. Whiles we paddled, and whiles
floated where the river was more rapid, but Ruth talked ever with us.
I could hear her chattering with the stolid man in the stern, who
seemed to waken into life at her words, and so we gained some
knowledge of these two strange Indians and their ways.
Of the Iroquois confederacy Radisson had already told us much, and of
their Long House, which was not unlike the Houses of Parliament in
London town. Here the Five Nations sent their delegates to make laws
and give judgments, and the highest chief of each nation kept the
doors. The Mohawks, who lived farther east than the rest, held the
eastern door of that savage parliament, which fact had given the
Black Prince his title. I wondered at his name being the same as
that of a former prince of England, but the reason therefor I never
knew.
As we wended on our way my gloom began to drop from me. I realized
how Radisson felt, and the fact that before us lay a great new land
where no white man was, thrilled me to the marrow. I drew the good
free air deep into my lungs and put away all thought of that villain
Gib o' Clarclach; all these plottings were left behind us, and only
the open country and friends lay before. What if these friends were
red? From the talk of The Arrow, red friends were as good as or
better than white.
Since then I have realized more truly just what that terrible journey
from the Canadas had meant for the two Mohawks. Alone and unaided
they had traversed a wilderness of foes to find the man they loved as
brother. When they came to the Cree people they chanced upon traces
of him, Radisson being well known to the Crees, and for his sake the
strangers had been taken in and provided for. Their prowess soon
made them great men among the Crees, whose customs were not so very
different, though less bloody; and during the two years they had
spent, waiting for Radisson with a firm faith in his coming, their
position had been firmly established. All these things came to me
not at once, but slowly, during the many days we paddled on, heading
toward the west, and then to the north. Our way was slow, because on
the third day one of the canoes was ripped on a rock and we had to
wait for a hasty patching. The weather was very warm indeed, but
cold at night.
So it came about that when pursuit had been left far behind, we were
in the Barren Places, as The Keeper named them. And they deserved
the name, being of swamp and scrub trees and thickets of saplings;
but of game there was plenty. In this place came the danger to Ruth,
and here we first encountered the Mighty One, of whom I will have
great things to tell in their own place.
One morning Ruth and I had left the camp for an early ramble. I took
a fusil, thinking to kill a deer or caribou. We climbed a little
hill above the camp and entered the thicker woods, where after a
while we became separated, Ruth halting beside some bushes of
berries, very good to the taste. I was perhaps a hundred yards from
her when I heard a sudden cry.
Whirling about, I saw a wondrous beast plunging toward the lass. Of
monstrous build he was, with huge shoulders and head, while great
splay-horns added to his frightful mien. In terror, Ruth made shift
to get behind a tree, while the monster stood shaking his head and
striking the earth with his hoofs.
I had been so startled that for a moment I forgot my fusil. Never
had I dreamed of so huge a beast! I shouted at him and ran forward,
whereat he came at me speedily. Ruth cried out again, and in mighty
fear I raised my weapon, thinking to see fire come from his nostrils
at any moment, for I took him as little less than the fiend himself.
But now he had turned again to Ruth, and the little maid was barely
keeping the tree between them. In desperation, I poured fresh powder
in the pan and aimed again. This time the weapon spoke, and the
added powder sent me backward to the ground with the recoil. Those
mighty horns seemed to shoot forward and up, the huge body rose in
air, and the next I knew was that the terrible beast was standing
over me, scraping at me with his horns. Fortunately, they seemed
soft, like those of a deer in summer, and I beat frantically at his
enormous nose. An instant later I gripped the horns.
With this, the monster lifted his head and me with it. I gave myself
up for lost as he pressed me back into a tree, snorting and grunting,
but I hung on grimly enough, for I feared the sharp hoofs.
"Run!" I cried to Ruth, whom I could not see. "Run, Ruth!"
I felt my strength going fast. Now the beast had pushed me in
through the branches and was striving to grind me against the
tree-trunk itself. Vainly did I writhe and twist away, for those
huge horns swung and slashed at me, and had they been hard I had died
in that moment. As it was, I felt my ribs crushed in, then a
terrific pain shot through me, and my grip loosened.
But even as I fell back, a wild yell sounded in my ears, and a blast
of powder-smoke swept by my face. The massy horns were gone, and I
scraped back against the tree and came to the ground, helpless and
broken.