THE SHE-WOLF OF THE PRAIRIES.
About four or five hours after the various events we have described
in the previous chapters, a horseman, mounted on a powerful steed,
caparisoned in the Indian fashion, that is to say, bedizened with
feathers, and painted of glaring colours, crossed a streamlet, and
galloped over the prairies, proceeding in the direction of the Virgin
forest, to which we have several times alluded. The rider, dressed
in the war costume of the Blackfoot Indians, and whom it was easy to
recognize as a chief by the eagle feather fastened over his right ear,
incessantly bent over his horse's neck, and urged it to increased speed.
It was night, but an American night, full of sharp odours and
mysterious sounds, with a dark blue sky, studded with an infinite
number of dazzling stars; the moon profusely spread her silvery rays
over the landscape, casting a deceitful brightness, which imparted a
fantastic appearance to objects. All seemed to sleep on the prairies;
the wind even hardly shook the umbrageous tops of the trees; the wild
beasts, after drinking at the river, had returned to their hidden dens.
The horseman alone moved on, gliding silently through the darkness;
at times he raised his head, as if consulting the sky, then, after a
seconds rest, he galloped onwards.
Many hours passed ere the horseman thought of stopping. At length
he reached a spot where the trees were so interlaced by creepers
which enfolded them, that a species of insurmountable wall suddenly
prevented the rider's progress. After a moment's hesitation, and
looking attentively around to discover a hole by which he could pass,
seeing clearly that all attempts would be useless, he dismounted. He
saw that he had arrived at a canebrake, or spot where a passage can
only be made by fire or axe. The Indian chief fastened his horse to the
trunk of a tree; left within its reach a stock of grass and climbing
peas; then, certain that his horse would want for nothing during this
long night, he began thinking of himself.
First he cut down with his bowie knife the bushes and plants which
interfered with the encampment he wished to form; then he prepared,
with all the stoicism of a prairie denizen, a fire of dry wood, in
order to cook his supper, and keep off wild beasts, if anyone took it
into his head to pay him a visit during his sleep. Among the wood he
collected was a large quantity of what the Mexicans call _palo mulato_,
or stinking wood; this he was careful to remove, for the pestiferous
smell of that tree would have denounced his presence for miles round,
and the Indian, judging from the precautions he took, seemed afraid of
being discovered; in fact, the care with which he had placed sand-bags
round his horse's hoofs, to dull the sound, sufficiently proved this.
When the fire, so placed as not to be visible ten yards off, poured
its pleasant column of flame into the air, the Indian took from his
elk-skin pouch a little Indian wheat and pemmican, which he ate with
considerable appetite, looking round continually in the surrounding
gloom, and stopping to listen attentively to those noiseless sounds
which by night trouble the imposing calmness of the desert, without any
apparent cause. When his scanty meal was ended, the Indian filled his
pipe with kinne-kinnick, and began smoking.
Still, in spite of his apparent calmness, the man was not easy;
at times he took the pipe from his lips, looked up, and anxiously
consulted the sky, through a break in the foliage above his head. At
length he appeared to form an energetic resolution, and raising his
fingers to his lips, imitated thrice, with rare perfection, the cry of
the blue jay, that privileged bird that sings in the night; then he
bent his body forward and listened, but nothing proved to him that his
signal had been heard.
"Wait a while," he muttered.
And crouching again before the fire, into which he threw a handful of
dry branches, he began smoking again. Several hours passed thus: at
length the moon disappeared from the horizon, the cold became sharper,
and the sky, in which the stars expired one after the other, was tinted
with a rosy hue. The Indian, who had been slumbering for a while,
suddenly shook himself, turned a suspicious glance around, and muttered
hoarsely,--
"She cannot be far off."
And he again gave the signal. The last cry had scarce died out in the
distance, when a roar was heard close by. The Indian, instead of being
alarmed by this ill-omened sound, smiled, and said in a loud and firm
voice,--
"You are welcome, She-wolf; you know it is I who am awaiting you here."
"Ah! you are there, then!" a voice answered.
A rustling of leaves was now heard in the bushes opposite the spot
where the Indian was seated; the reeds and creepers were pulled back by
a vigorous hand, and a woman appeared in the space left free. Before
advancing, she thrust her head forward cautiously, and looked.
"I am alone," the Indian said; "you can approach without fear."
A smile played over the newcomer's lips at this answer, which she did
not expect.
"I fear nothing," she said.
Before going further, we will give some indispensable details about
this woman--vague, it is true, as we can only supply what the Indians
said about her, but which will be useful to the reader in comprehending
the facts that will follow. No one knew who she was, or whence she
came. The period when she was first seen on the prairie was equally
unknown. All was an inexplicable mystery connected with her. Though
she spoke fluently, and with extreme purity, most of the prairie
idioms, still certain words she at times used, and the colour of her
skin, not so brown as that of the natives, caused the supposition that
she belonged to another race from theirs. It was only a supposition,
however, for her hatred of the Indians was too well known for the
bravest among them ever to venture to see her sufficiently closely to
render themselves certain on that head.
At times she disappeared for weeks, even for months, and it was
impossible to discover her trail. Then she was suddenly seen again
wandering about, talking to herself, marching nearly always by night,
frequently accompanied by an idiotic and dumb dwarf, who followed her
like a dog, and whom the Indians, in their credulous superstition,
suspected strongly of being her familiar. This woman, ever gloomy and
melancholy, with her wild looks and startling gestures, could not be
accused of doing anyone harm, in spite of the general terror she
inspired. Still, owing to the strange life she led, all the misfortunes
that happened to the Indians, in war or hunting, were imputed to her.
The Redskins considered her a wicked genius, and had given her the name
of the _Spirit of Evil_. Hence the man who had come so far to see her
must necessarily have been gifted with extraordinary courage, or some
powerful reason impelled him to act as he was doing.
As this Blackfoot chief is destined to play a great part in this
narrative, we will give his portrait in a few words. He was a man who
had reached middle life, or about forty-five years. He was tall, well
built, and admirably proportioned. His muscles, standing out like
whipcord, denoted extraordinary vigour. He had an intelligent face; his
features expressed cunning, while his eyes were rarely fixed on any
object, but gave him an expression of craft and brutal cruelty, which
inspired an unenviable repugnance towards him, if you took the trouble
to study him carefully: but observers are rare in the desert, and with
the Indians this chief enjoyed a great reputation, and was equally
beloved for his tried courage and inexhaustible powers of speech,
qualities highly esteemed by the Redskins.
"The night is still gloomy; my mother can approach," the Indian chief
said.
"I am coming," the woman said, drily, as she advanced.
"I have been waiting a long while."
"I know it, but no matter."
"The road was long to come."
"I am here; speak!"
And she leaned against the stem of a tree, crossing her arms on her
chest.
"What can I say, if my mother does not first question me?"
"That is true. Answer me then."
There was a silence, only troubled by the wind sighing in the leaves;
after a few moments' reflection, the woman at length began,--
"Have you done what I ordered?"
"I have."
"Well?"
"My mother guessed rightly."
"Is it so?"
"All is preparing for action,"
"You are sure?"
"I was present at the council."
She smiled triumphantly.
"Where was the meeting place?"
"At the tree of life."
"Long ago?"
"The sun has set eight hours since."
"Good! What was resolved?"
"What you already know."
"The destruction of the whites?"
"Yes."
"When will the war signal be given?"
"The day is not yet fixed."
"Ah!" she said in a tone of regret.
"But it cannot be long," he added quickly.
"What makes you think so?"
"The Grizzly Bear is eager to finish."
"And I, too," the woman muttered in a low voice.
The conversation was again broken off. The woman paced up and down the
clearing in thought. The chief followed her with his eyes, carefully
examining her. All at once she stopped before him, and looked him In
the face.
"You are devoted to me, chief?" she said.
"Do you doubt it?"
"Perhaps."
"Still, only a few hours ago, I gave you a decided proof of my
devotion."
"What?"
"This!" he said, pointing to his left arm, which was wrapped in strips
of bark.
"I do not understand you."
"You see I am wounded?"
"Well! what then?"
"The Redskins attacked the Palefaces some hours ago; they were scaling
the barricade which protected their camp, when they suddenly retired
on your appearance, by order of their chief, who was wounded, and
thirsting for revenge."
"It is true."
"Good. And the chief who commanded the Redskins--does my mother know
him?"
"No."
"It was I, the Red Wolf: does my mother still doubt?"
"The path on which I am walking is so gloomy," she replied sorrowfully;
"the work I am accomplishing is so serious, and of such import to me,
that at times I feel fear enter my heart, and doubt contract my chest,
when I think I am alone, a poor weak woman, to wrestle with a giant.
For long years I have been ripening the plan I wish to accomplish
today; I have occupied my whole life to obtain the result I desire, and
I fear failure at the moment of succeeding. Then, if I have no longer
confidence in myself, can I trust a man whom self-interest may urge to
betray, or at any rate abandon me at a moment."
The chief drew himself up on hearing these words; his eye flashed fire,
and, with a gesture of wounded pride, he said,--
"Silence! my mother must not add a word. She insults at this moment
a man who is most anxious to prove his truth to her: ingratitude is
a white vice, gratitude a red virtue. My mother was ever kind to me;
Red Wolf cannot count the occasions on which he owes his life to
her. My mother's heart is ulcered by misfortune; solitude is an evil
counsellor: my mother listens too much to the voices which whisper in
her ear through the silence of night; she forgets the services she has
rendered, only to remember the ingratitude she has sowed on her road.
Red Wolf is devoted to her, he loves her; the She-wolf can place entire
confidence in him, he is worthy of it."
"Dare I believe in these protestations? Can I put faith in these
promises?" she muttered.
The chief continued passionately,--
"If the gratitude I have vowed to my mother is not enough, another and
stronger tie attaches us, which must convince her of my sincerity."
"What is it?" she asked, looking fixedly at him.
"Hatred," he answered.
"That is true," she said, with a sinister burst of laughter. "You hate
him too?"
"Yes; I hate him with all the strength of my soul: I hate him, because
he has robbed me of the two things I held most to on earth,--the love
of the woman I adored, and the power I coveted."
"But are you not a chief?" she said significantly.
"Yes!" he exclaimed proudly, "I am a chief, but my father was a sachem
of the Kenhas; his son is brave, he is crafty, the scalps of numberless
Palefaces dry before his lodge. Why then is Red Wolf only an inferior
chief, instead of leading his men to battle as his father did?"
The woman seemed to take a delight in exciting the anger of the Indian,
instead of calming it.
"Because doubtlessly," she said, "a wiser man than the Red Wolf has
gained the votes of his brothers."
"Let my mother say that a greater rogue stole them from him, and
her words will be true," he exclaimed violently. "Grizzly Bear is a
Comanche dog, the son of an exile, received through favour into my
tribe; his scalp will soon dry on the girdle of the Red Wolf."
"Patience!" the woman said in a hoarse voice. "Vengeance is a fruit
which is only eaten ripe: the Red Wolf is a warrior; he can wait."
"Let my mother order," the Indian said, suddenly calmed; "her son will
obey."
"Has the Red Wolf succeeded in obtaining the medicine which
Prairie-Flower wears round her neck?"
The Indian bowed his head in confusion.
"No," he said hoarsely. "Prairie-Flower never leaves the White Buffalo;
it is impossible to approach her."
The woman smiled ironically.
"What! did Red Wolf ever keep a promise?"
The Blackfoot shuddered with rage.
"I will have it," he cried, "even if I must use force in obtaining it."
"No," she replied; "cunning alone must be employed."
"I will have it," he repeated. "Before two days I will give it to my
mother."
"No," she said quickly; "in two days is too soon. Let my son give it me
on the fifth day of the new moon, which will begin within three days."
"Good; I swear it! My mother shall have the great medicine of
Prairie-Flower."
"My son will bring it to me at the tree of the bear, near the great
lodge of the Palefaces, two hours after sunset. I will await him there,
and give him my final instructions."
"Red Wolf will be there."
"Till then, my son will carefully watch every movement of the Grizzly
Bear; if he learns anything new, which appears to him important, my
son will form on this very spot a pyramid of seven buffalo heads, and
come back two hours after to wait for me. I shall have understood his
signal, and will reply to his summons."
"_Oche_, my mother is powerful; it shall be done as she desires."
"My son has quite understood?"
"The words of my mother have fallen on the ears of a chief; his mind
has received them."
"The sky on the horizon is covered with red bands, the sun will soon
appear: let my brother return to his tribe; he must not arouse the
suspicions of his enemy by his absence."
"I go; but before leaving my mother, whose wisdom has discovered all
the schemes of the Palefaces, has she not made a great medicine to know
if our enterprise will succeed, and if we shall conquer our enemy?"
At this moment a loud noise was heard in the canebrake, and a shrill
whistle traversed the air; the Indian's horse laid hack its ears,
made violent efforts to break the rope that fastened it, and trembled
all over. The woman seized the chiefs arm firmly, and said in a gloomy
voice,--
"Let my brother look!"
Red Wolf stifled a cry of surprise, and gazed, motionless and
terrified, at the strange sight before him. A few paces off, a tiger
cat and a rattlesnake were preparing for a contest. Their metallic
eyeballs flashed, and seemed to emit flames. The tiger cat, crouching
on a branch, with hair erect, was meowing and spitting, while closely
following every move of its dangerous enemy, and awaiting the moment
to attack it advantageously. The Crotalus, coiled up, and forming
an enormous spiral, with its hideous head thrown back, whistled, as
it balanced itself to the right and left, with a movement full of
suppleness and grace, apparently trying to fascinate its enemy. But
the latter did not allow it a long rest; it suddenly bounded on the
serpent, which, however, moved nimbly on one side, and when the cat,
after missing its leap, returned to the charge, gave it a fearful sting
on the face.
The tiger cat uttered a yell of rage, and buried its long and sharp
claws in the eyes of the serpent, which, however, wound round its
enemy with a convulsive movement. Then the two rolled on the ground,
hissing and howling, but unable to loose their hold. The struggle was
long; they fought with extraordinary fury; but at length, the rings of
the snake became unloosened, and its flaccid body lay motionless on
the ground. The tiger cat escaped, with a meow of triumph, from the
monster's terrible embrace, and bounded on a tree; but its strength
was unequal to its will, and it could not reach the branch on which
it wished to climb, but fell back exhausted on the ground. Then the
ferocious animal, struggling with death and overcoming its agony,
crouched back to the body of its enemy, and stood upon it. It then
uttered a final yell of triumph, and fell, itself a corpse, by the side
of the snake. The Indian had followed all the moving incidents of this
cruel contest with ever-increasing interest.
"Well," he asked the unknown, "what does my mother say?"
She shook her head.
"Our triumph will cost us our life," she replied.
"What matters," the Red Wolf said, "so long as we conquer our enemies?"
And, drawing his knife, he began skinning the catamount. The woman
looked at his operations for a while; then making him a parting sign,
she re-entered the canebrake, where she was speedily lost to view. An
hour later, the Indian chief, laden with the cat's head and the snake's
skin, started off toward his village at full gallop. An ironical smile
played around his lips; he needed no excuse to explain his absence, for
the spoils he brought with him proved that he had spent the night in
hunting.