While we were thus feasting and chatting on the green sward of the
region which seemed destined to be our future home, an object suddenly
appeared among the bushes, near the edge of the circle of light cast by
our camp-fire.
This object was by no means a frightful one, yet it caused a sensation
in the camp which could hardly have been intensified if we had suddenly
discovered a buffalo with the nose of an elephant and the tail of a
rattlesnake. For one moment we were all struck dumb; then we all sprang
to our feet, but we did not seize our firearms--oh no!--for there, half
concealed by the bushes, and gazing at us in timid wonder, stood a
pretty young girl, with a skin much fairer than usually falls to the lot
of Indian women, and with light brown hair as well as bright blue eyes.
In all other respects--in costume, and humble bearing--she resembled the
women of the soil.
I would not willingly inflict on the reader too much of my private
feelings and opinions, but perhaps I may be excused for saying that I
fell over head and ears in love with this creature at once! I make no
apology for being thus candid. On the contrary, I am prepared rather to
plume myself on the quick perception which enabled me not only to
observe the beauty of the girl's countenance, but, what is of far more
importance, the inherent goodness which welled from her loving eyes.
Yes, reader, call me an ass if you will, but I unblushingly repeat that
I fell--tumbled--plunged headlong in love with her. So did every other
man in the camp! There is this to be said in excuse for us, that we had
not seen any members of the fair sex for many months, and that the sight
of this brilliant specimen naturally aroused many pleasant recollections
of cousins, sisters, nieces, aunts, mothers, grandmothers--well, perhaps
I am going too far; though, after all, the tender, loving-kindness in
this girl's eyes might well have suggested grandmothers!
Before any of us could recover the use of our limbs, Big Otter had
glided rapidly towards the girl. Grasping her by the hand, he led her
towards Lumley, and introduced her as his sister's daughter, Waboose.
The red-man was evidently proud as well as fond of his fair niece, and
equally clear did it become in a short time that the girl was as fond
and proud of him.
"Your relative is very fair," said Lumley. "She might almost have been
the daughter of a white man."
"She _is_ the daughter of a white man."
"Indeed!"
"Yes; her father was a white hunter who left his people and came to
dwell with us and married my sister. He was much loved and respected by
us. He lived and hunted and went on the war-path with us for many
years--then he was killed."
"In war?" I asked, beginning to feel sympathetic regard for the father
of one who had stirred my heart to--but, I forget. It is not my
intention to bore the reader with my personal feelings.
"No," answered the Indian. "He perished in attempting to save his wife
from a dangerous rapid. He brought her to the bank close to the head of
a great waterfall, and many hands were stretched out to grasp her. She
was saved, but the strength of the brave pale-face was gone, and we knew
it not. Before we could lay hold of his hand the current swept him away
and carried him over the falls."
"How sad!" said Lumley. "What was the name of this white man?"
"He told us that his name was Weeum--but," said the Indian, turning
abruptly to Waboose, whose countenance betrayed feelings which were
obviously aroused by other matters than this reference to her lost
father, "my child has news of some sort. Let her speak."
Thus permitted, Waboose opened her lips for the first time--disclosing a
double row of bright little teeth in the act--and said that she had been
sent by her mother in search of Maqua and his son, as she had reason to
believe that the camp was in danger of being attacked by Dogrib Indians.
On hearing this, Maqua and Mozwa rose, picked up their weapons, and
without a word of explanation entered the bushes swiftly and
disappeared.
Big Otter looked after them for a moment or two in grave silence.
"You had better follow them," suggested Lumley. "If you should require
help, send a swift messenger back and we will come to you."
The Indian received this with a quiet inclination of the head, but made
no reply. Then, taking his niece by the hand, he led her into the
bushes where his relatives had entered and, like them, disappeared.
"It seems like a dream," said I to Lumley, as we all sat down again to
our steaks and marrow-bones.
"What seems like a dream, Max--the grub?"
"No, the girl."
"Truly, yes. And a very pleasant dream too. Almost as good as this
bone."
"Oh! you unsentimental, unsympathetic monster. Does not the sight of a
pretty young creature like that remind you of home, and all the sweet
refining influences shed around it by woman?"
"I cannot say that it does--hand me another; no, not a little thing like
that, a big one full of marrow, so--. You see, old boy, a band of beads
round the head, a sky-blue cloth bodice, a skirt of green flannel
reaching only to the knees, cloth leggings ornamented with porcupine
quills and moccasined feet, do not naturally suggest my respected mother
or sisters."
For the first time in our acquaintance I felt somewhat disgusted with my
friend's levity, and made no rejoinder. He looked at me quickly, with
slightly raised eyebrows, and gave a little laugh.
With a strong effort I crushed down my feelings, and said in a tone of
forced gaiety:--
"Well, well, things strike people in strangely different lights. I
thought not of the girl's costume but her countenance."
"Come, then, Max," returned my friend, with that considerate good nature
which attracted men so powerfully to him, "I admit that the girl's face
might well suggest the thought of dearer faces in distant lands--and
especially her eyes, so different from the piercing black orbs of Indian
squaws. Did you note the--the softness, I was going to say
truthfulness, of her strangely blue eyes?"
Did I note them! The question seemed to me so ridiculous that I
laughed, by way of reply.
I observed that Lumley cast on me for the second time a sharp inquiring
glance, then he said:--
"But I say, Max, we must have our arms looked to, and be ready for a
sudden call. You know that I don't love fighting. Especially at the
commencement of our sojourn would I avoid mixing myself up with Indians'
quarrels; but if our guide comes back saying that their camp is in
danger, we must help him. It would never do, you know, to leave women
and children to the mercy of ruthless savages."
"Leave woman and children!" I exclaimed vehemently, thinking of only
one woman at the moment, "I should _think_ not!"
The tone of indignation in which I said this caused my friend to laugh
outright.
"Well, well," he said, in a low tone, "it's a curious complaint, and not
easily cured."
What he meant was at the time a mystery to me. I have since come to
understand.
"I suppose you'll all agree with me, lads," said Lumley to the men who
sat eating their supper on the opposite side of the fire, and raising
his voice, for we had hitherto been conversing in a low tone, "if Big
Otter's friends need help we'll be ready to give it?"
Of course a hearty assent was given, and several of the men, having
finished supper, rose to examine their weapons.
The guns used by travellers in the Great Nor'-west in those days were
long single-barrels with flint-locks, the powder in which was very apt
to get wet through priming-pans and touch-holes, so that frequent
inspection was absolutely necessary.
As our party consisted of twelve men, including ourselves, and each was
armed--Lumley and myself with double-barrelled fowling-pieces--we were
able, if need be, to fire a volley of fourteen shots. Besides this, my
chief and I carried revolvers, which weapons had only just been
introduced into that part of the country. We were therefore prepared to
lend effective aid to any whom we thought it right to succour.
Scarcely had our arrangements been made when the lithe agile form of
Mozwa glided into the camp and stood before Lumley. The lad tried hard
to look calm, grave, and collected, as became a young Indian brave, but
the perspiration on his brow and his labouring chest told that he had
been running far at the utmost speed, while a wild glitter in his dark
eye betrayed strong emotion. Pointing in the direction whence he had
come, he uttered the name--"Big Otter."
"All right. I understand you," said Lumley, springing up. "Now, boys,
sharp's the word; we will go to the help of our guide. But two of you
must stay behind to guard our camp. Do you, Donald Bane and James
Dougall, remain and keep a bright look-out."
"Is it to stop here, we are?" asked Bane, with a mutinous look.
"Yes," exclaimed our leader so sharply that the mutinous look faded.
"An' are we to be left behind," growled Dougall, "when there's fightin'
to be done?"
"I have no time for words, Dougall," said Lumley in a low voice, "but if
you don't at once set about preparation to defend the camp, I'll give
you some fighting to do that you won't relish."
Dougall had no difficulty in understanding his leader's meaning. He and
his friend at once set about the required preparations.
"Now then, Mozwa," said Lumley.
The young Indian, who had remained erect and apparently unobservant,
with his arms crossed on his still heaving chest, turned at once and
went off at a swift trot, followed by all our party with the exception
of the ill-pleased Highlanders, who, in their eagerness for the fray,
did not perceive that theirs might be a post of the greatest danger, as
it certainly was one of trust.
"Tonald," said Dougall, sitting down and lighting his pipe after we were
gone, "I wass vera near givin' Muster Lumley a cood threshin'."
"Hum! it's well ye didn't try, Shames."
"An' what for no?"
"Because he's more nor a match for ye."
"I don't know that Tonald. I'm as stout a man as he is, whatever."
"Oo ay, so ye are, Shames; but ye're no a match for him. He's been to
school among thae Englishers, an' can use his fists, let me tell you."
At this Dougall held up a clenched hand, hard and knuckly from honest
toil, that was nearly as big as a small ham. Regarding it with much
complacency he said, slowly:--
"An' don't you think, Tonald, that I could use my fist too?"
"Maybe you could, in a kind o' way," returned the other, also filling
his pipe and sitting down; "but I'll tell ye what Muster Lumley would do
to you, Shames, if ye offered to fight him. He would dance round you
like a cooper round a cask; then, first of all, he would flatten your
nose--which is flat enough already, whatever--wi' wan hand, an' he'd
drive in your stummick wi' the other. Then he would give you one
between the two eyes an' raise a bridge there to make up for the wan
he'd destroyed on your nose, an' before you had time to sneeze he would
put a rainbow under your left eye. Or ever you had time to wink he
would put another under your right eye, and if that didn't settle you he
would give you a finishin' dig in the ribs, Shames, trip up your heels,
an' lay you on the ground, where I make no doubt you would lie an'
meditate whether it wass worth while to rise up for more."
"All that would be verra unpleasant, Tonald," said Dougall, with a
humorous glance from the corners of his small grey eyes, "but I duffer
with ye in opeenion."
"You would duffer in opeenion with the Apostle Paul if he wass here,"
said the other, rising, as his pipe was by that time well alight, and
resuming his work, "but we'll better obey Muster Lumley's orders than
argufy about him."
"I'll agree with you there, Tonald, just to convince you that I don't
always duffer," said the argumentative Highlander, rising to assist his
not less argumentative friend.
The two men pursued their labour in silence, and in the course of an
hour or so had piled all the baggage in a circle in the middle of the
open lawn, so as to form a little fortress, into which they might spring
and keep almost any number of savages at bay for some time; because
savages, unlike most white men, have no belief in that "glory" which
consists in rushing on certain death, in order to form a bridge of dead
bodies over which comrades may march to victory. Each savage is, for
the most part, keenly alive to the importance of guarding his own life,
so that a band of savages seldom makes a rush where certain death awaits
the leaders. Hence our two Highlanders felt quite confident of being
able to hold their little fort with two guns each and a large supply of
ammunition.
Meanwhile Mozwa continued his rapid trot through wood and brake; over
swamp, and plain, and grassy mound. Being all of us by that time strong
in wind and limb, we followed him without difficulty.
"Lads, be careful," said Lumley, as we went along, "that no shot is
fired, whatever happens, until I give the word. You see, Max," he
continued in a lower tone, "nothing but the sternest necessity will
induce me to shed human blood. I am here to open up trade with the
natives, not to fight them, or mix myself up in their quarrels. At the
same time it would be bad policy to stand aloof while the tribes we have
come to benefit, and of which our guide is a member, are assailed by
enemies. We must try what we can do to make peace, and risk something
in the attempt."
Arrived at the Indian camp, we found a band of braves just on the point
of leaving it, although by that time it was quite dark. The tribe--or
rather that portion of it which was encamped in leathern wigwams, on one
of the grassy mounds with which the country abounded--consisted of some
hundred families, and the women and children were moving about in great
excitement, while the warriors were preparing to leave. I was struck,
however, by the calm and dignified bearing of one white-haired
patriarch, who stood in the opening of his wigwam, talking to a number
of the elder men and women who crowded round him. He was the old chief
of the tribe; and, being no longer able to go on the war-path, remained
with the aged men and the youths, whose duty it was to guard the camp.
"My children," he said, as we came up, "fear not. The Great Spirit is
with us, for our cause is just. He has sent Big Otter back to us in
good time, and, see, has He not also sent white men to help us?"
The war-party was detained on our arrival until we should hold a palaver
with the old chief and principal braves. We soon ascertained that the
cause of disagreement between the two tribes, and of the declaration of
war, was a mere trifle, strongly resembling in that respect the causes
of most wars among civilised nations! A brave of the one tribe had
insultingly remarked that a warrior of the other tribe had claimed the
carcase of a moose-deer which had been mortally wounded, and tracked,
and slain by him, the insulter. The insulted one vowed that he shot the
deer dead--he would scorn to wound a deer at all--and had left it in
hiding until he could obtain assistance to fetch the meat. Young
hotheads on both sides fomented the quarrel until older heads were
forced to take the matter up; they became sympathetically inflamed, and,
finally, war to the knife was declared. No blood had yet been shed, but
it was understood by Big Otter's friends--who were really the injured
party--that their foes had sent away their women and children,
preparatory to a descent on them.
"Now, Salamander," said Lumley, who, although he had considerably
increased his knowledge of the Indian language by conversing with the
guide during our voyage, preferred to speak through an interpreter when
he had anything important to say, "tell the old chief that this
war-party must not go forth. Tell him that the great white chief who
guides the affairs of the traders, has sent me to trade furs in this
region, and that I will not permit fighting."
This was such a bold--almost presumptuous, way of putting the matter
that the old red chief looked at the young white chief in surprise; but
as there was neither bluster nor presumption in the calm countenance of
Lumley--only firmness coupled with extreme good humour--he felt somewhat
disconcerted.
"How will my white brother prevent war?" asked the old chief, whose name
was Muskrat.
"By packing up my goods, and going elsewhere," replied Lumley directly,
without an instant's hesitation, in the Indian tongue.
At this, there was an elongation of the faces of the men who heard it,
and something like a soft groan from the squaws who listened in the
background.
"That would be a sad calamity," said old Muskrat, "and I have no wish to
fight; but how will the young white chief prevent our foes from
attacking us?"
"Tell him, Salamander, that I will do so by going to see them."
"My young braves will be happy to go out under the guidance of so strong
a warrior," returned Muskrat, quite delighted with the proposal.
"Nay, old chief, you mistake me, I will take no braves with me."
"No matter," returned Muskrat; "doubtless the white men and their guns
will be more than a match for our red foes."
"Still you misunderstand," said Lumley. "I am no warrior, but a man of
peace. I shall go without guns or knives--and alone, except that I will
ask young Mozwa to guide me."
"Alone! unarmed!" murmured the old man, in astonishment almost too great
for expression. "What can one do against a hundred with weapons?"
"You shall see," said Lumley, with a light laugh as he turned to me.
"Now, Max, don't speak or remonstrate, like a good fellow; we have no
time to discuss, only to act. I find that Muskrat's foes speak the same
dialect as himself, so that an interpreter is needless. I carry two
revolvers in the breast of my coat. You have a clasp-knife in your
pocket; make me a present of it, will you? Thanks. Now, have our men
in readiness for instant action. Don't let them go to rest, but let
them eat as much, and as long, as they choose. Keep the old chief and
his men amused with long yarns, about what we mean to do in these
regions, and don't let any one follow me. Keep your mind easy. If I
don't return in three hours, you may set off to look for me, though it
will I fear be of no use by that time; and, stay, if you should hear a
pistol-shot, run out with all our men towards it. Now, Mozwa, lead on
to the enemy's camp."
The young Indian, who was evidently proud of the trust reposed in him,
and cared nothing for danger, stalked into the forest with the look and
bearing of a dauntless warrior.