THE MAJOR GAINS A FRIEND AND MAKES AN ENEMY
For some seconds the three Indians, who were panting heavily from the
effect of their long chase through the forest, gazed in silence at the
white man who with the child in his arms so fearlessly confronted them.
Then the foremost of them, an evil-looking savage who bore the name of
Mahng (the Diver), motioned the major aside with a haughty wave of the
hand, saying: "Let the white man step from the path of Mahng, that he
may kill this Ottawa dog who thought to escape the vengeance of the
Senecas."
Without retreating an inch from his position, and still holding the
little Donald, who crowed with delight at sight of the Indians, Major
Hester replied:--
"Not even if the whole Seneca tribe demanded it would I allow this man
to be murdered in the presence of my wife. Nor, since my child has
saved his life, will I deliver him into your hands for torture. He has
sought my protection, and it shall be granted him until he is proved
unworthy of it. Let the sachems of your tribe lay this grievance
before Sir William Johnson. If the white chief decides that the
prisoner must be restored to them, and so orders, then will I give him
up, but not before. Now go, ere my young men, who are already
approaching, reach this place and drive you from it with whips, like
yelping curs."
Being sufficiently acquainted with the English language to comprehend
the purport of these remarks, the scowling savage made answer:--
"Who gave the white man the right to step between an Indian and an
Indian? This land is Indian land. The long house in which the white
man dwells belongs to the Indians, as did the forest trees from which
it is built. If the Indian says stay, then may you stay; if he says
go, then must you go. Let one of your young men but lift a hand
against Mahng, and this ground that has known the tread of the white
man shall know it no more forever. His house shall become a hooting
place for owls, and Seneca squaws shall gather the harvest of his
fields. Restore then to Mahng his prisoner, that there may be no bad
blood between him and his white brother."
"Never," replied Major Hester, who was sufficiently versed in the
Indian tongue to catch the general drift of these remarks.
He had hardly uttered the word ere Mahng stooped, darted forward with
deadly intent like a wild serpent, and sought to bury his gleaming
hatchet in the brain of his still prostrate foe.
Like a flash the major's strong right foot shot out; the heavy,
hob-nailed walking-shoe caught the savage squarely under the chin; he
was lifted from the ground, and, falling on his back, lay as one who is
dead.
The remaining savages made as though to take instant vengeance for this
deadly insult and, as they imagined, murder of their leader, but their
impulse was checked by a stern command from behind. Glancing in that
direction, they saw themselves covered by a long, brown rifle-barrel,
held by a white man clad in the leathern costume of the backwoods. At
the same time half a dozen laborers who, home-returning from the
fields, had noticed that something unusual was taking place, came
hurrying to the scene of disturbance. Wisely concluding that under
these circumstances discretion was the better part of valor, the
Senecas picked up their helpless comrade and, retreating as rapidly as
their burden would permit, disappeared amid the darkening shadows of
the forest.
The tableau presented at this moment by those who remained was that of
the tall major standing above the prostrate form of the escaped
captive, holding his laughing child in one arm while his trembling wife
clung to the other. Close beside them knelt the terror-stricken maid,
with her face buried in her hands, and a few paces in the rear were
grouped the laborers, armed with various implements of toil. In the
foreground, Truman Flagg, the hunter, white by birth, Indian by
association and education, leaned on his rifle and gazed silently after
the disappearing savages. As they vanished in the forest, he remarked
quietly:--
"'Twas handsomely done, major, and that scoundrel Mahng deserved all he
got. But ef he's as dead as he looks, I'm fearful that kick may get
you into trouble with the tribe, though he's not a Seneca by blood, nor
overly popular at that."
"You know him, then?" queried the major.
"Not edzackly what you might call know him; but I know something of
him."
"Very well; come up to the house and tell me what you know, while we
consider this business. Some of you men carry this poor fellow to the
tool-house, where we will see what can be done for him. Now, my dear,
the evening meal awaits us, and I for one shall partake of it with a
keener relish that this unfortunate affair has terminated so happily."
"I pray God, Graham, that it may be terminated," replied Mrs. Hester,
fervently, as she took the child from its father's arms and strained
him to her bosom.
The whole of this dramatic scene had transpired within the space of a
few minutes, and when the men approached to lift the prostrate Indian
they found him so recovered from his exhaustion as to be able to stand,
and walk feebly with the aid of some support.
Major Hester's first duty, after conveying his wife and child to the
shelter of the blockhouse, was to visit the guest so strangely thrust
upon his hospitality and inquire into his condition. He found him
lying on a pallet of straw, over which a blanket had been thrown, and
conversing with Truman Flagg in an Indian tongue unknown to the
proprietor. The hunter was bathing the stranger's wounds with a
gentleness that seemed out of keeping with his own rude aspect, and
administering occasional draughts of cool well water, that appeared to
revive the sufferer as though it were the very elixir of life.
"What do you make of the case?" asked the major, as he watched Truman
Flagg apply to each of the many gashes in the Indian's body a healing
salve made of bear's grease mixed with the fragrant resin of the balsam
fir. "Will he pull through, think you?"
"Bless you, yes, major! He'll pull through all right; for, bad as his
hurts look, none of em's dangerous. They warn't meant to be. He was
nighest dead from thirst. You see, he's been under torture most of the
day, without nary a drop to wash down his last meal, which war a chunk
of salted meat give to him yesterday evening. He'll pick up fast
enough now, though. All he needs to make him as good as new is food
and drink, and a night's rest. After that you'll find him ready to go
on the war-path again, ef so be he's called to do it. He's the
pluckiest Injun ever I see, and I've trailed, fust and last, most of
the kinds there is. Ef he warn't, I wouldn't be fussin' over him now,
for his tribe is mostly pizen. But true grit's true grit, whether you
find it in white or red, and a man what values hisself as a man, is
bound to appreciate it whenever its trail crosses his'n."
"A sentiment in which I must heartily concur," assented the major. "A
brave enemy is always preferable to a cowardly friend. But is this
Indian an enemy? To what tribe does he belong?"
"Ottaway," was the laconic answer.
"Ottawa!" exclaimed the major, greatly disconcerted. "Why, the Ottawas
are the firmest allies of France and the most inveterate enemies of the
English. Are you certain he is an Ottawa?"
"Sartain," replied the hunter, with a silent laugh at the other's
evident dismay. "And not only that, but he's the best fighter and best
man in the whole Ottaway tribe. They call him Songa, the strong heart,
and I consate Sir William would be passing glad to exchange one hundred
pounds of the king's money for his scalp to-morrow."
"Why don't you earn it, then?" asked, the other. "Surely one hundred
pounds could not be gained more easily, nor is it a sum of money to be
despised even by an independent American woods-ranger like yourself."
For answer the hunter rose slowly to his full height, and, holding a
candle above his head, so that its light shone full on the proprietor's
face, regarded him intently for a score of seconds.
"You don't mean it, Major Hester! Thank God, you don't mean it! for
your face belies your words, and proves you to be an honest man," he
said at length. "Ef I thought you meant what you just said, and was
one to tempt a poor man to commit a murder for the sake of gold, I
would never again sit at your table, nor set foot in your house, nor
look upon your face, nor think of you save with the contempt an honest
man must always feel for a villain."
"No, Truman. I did not mean what I said," replied the major, holding
out a hand that was heartily grasped by the other. "I spoke out of
curiosity to hear your reply, though I might have known it would have
the ring of true steel. Now I must return to my wife, and if you will
join us, after you have done what you can for this poor fellow, we will
consult concerning the situation, for it is no light thing to hold
Songa the Ottawa as prisoner in one's house."