THE BATTLE OF WITS!
It was only to be expected that Bob was not fit for much exertion after
his experience with the muskeg, and it was Skipper Mackintosh's decision
on returning to camp that the boy should proceed no farther that night.
"But that will be a longer time before we get on the track of our
fathers," protested Arnold, to whom the thought of inactivity for even
twelve hours was irksome.
"Better to bide quiet for a night at present than be laid up for days
later on," was the Scotsman's response. "But you can set your mind
easy-like. The time will no' be lost, for Haggis and me will set oot on
a wee scouting expedition to the place where we found yon hanky. We'll
be back by midnight."
This plan was a relief to the boys' minds, for though it entailed a
certain delay in the forward journey, the result of the scouting might
curtail matters in the long-run. Mackintosh's report might enable them
to make more definite plans than were possible at present.
So, after a few preparations for the journey, the two men set off,
accompanied by the faithful Bannock, early in the afternoon.
"Don't you go and disappear like the others did!" laughed Holden, to
which the "ceevilised" Haggis replied--
"Fox lose trail in bush easier than me!"
It was a hot afternoon, so, when the boys had watched their friends
disappear in the forest, Bob decided that it would be a good opportunity
to wash the mud and slime from his clothes, as they would soon dry in
the sun.
No sooner said than done. The soiled garments were stripped (for of
course the lads were reduced to one suit apiece) and the stream utilised
as a washing-tub, after which Bob was obliged to sit in his suit of
Nature while the clothes of Art were drying upon handy branches.
As we said, the day was hot, and, as the grassy slope upon which the
boys sat formed the margin of a clear pool where the stream widened, it
was not to be expected that the period of idle ease would be prolonged.
"Ah!" Bob suddenly exclaimed, as he sat up and regarded the water with
covetous eyes, "the temptation is too much for me. I'm going to have a
dip."
"It certainly looks more tempting than your plunge into mud. A pleasant
change, I should say," remarked Alf chaffingly. Then he added merrily:
"But are you sure that you can stand it? It won't do to exert yourself
too much yet. Old Mackintosh expects you to rest."
"That's all right. I shan't muck about very much. I can take it easy. As
a matter of fact, I am sure that a plunge will buck me up."
"All serene," returned the younger boy, rising to prepare himself for a
bathe. "So long as you don't think that it will do you any harm, I'm
ready."
A short run, and then Bob had entered the water in the clean-cut style
of a practised diver.
"It's glorious!" he called to his chum, who was almost ready to follow
his leader. "I should think that it is quite eight feet in the middle,
so you can plunge safely."
"Right. Clear out of the way!" was the response, and in a second more
Holden in his turn cleft the sparkling water.
Those of our readers who are only familiar with the cheerless sea or
even the placid river-bathing of England can have no idea of the charm
that is found in emulating the fishes in the cool depths of a Western
forest stream.
Imagine the great trunks of cedar and pine and the gnarled giants of
maples spreading their great arms--shutting off the distance with a
surrounding barrier of dense colour; imagine the red willows dipping
their heads in the margin of the bowl, gaily coloured birds skimming the
surface in pursuit of insects, and gaudy butterflies sometimes touching
your cheek, like a piece of down borne upon the mellow air. At such a
time, in such a place, you feel yourself to be but a tiny little speck
in the centre of the world of Nature. You feel as free as a savage. If
you are not happy, it must be that you are a weakling boy who lacks the
real boy's love for out-of-door freedom.
These were some of the sensations that our young heroes experienced as
they splashed about in the crystal pool. Probably they did not realise
the details as I have described them; but that was the effect, all the
same. It is the glorious sense of freedom that everybody feels if they
have the "backwoods spirit." It cannot be properly described, but I can
smell the atmosphere of it all, even though I am now sitting in an
English room in an English county. And so intent were the boys on the
enjoyment of the moment that they did not observe the figure of an
Indian who crept out of the bush near by while they were experimenting
in various positions for swimming.
The Indian paused for a few moments. Then, seeing the attention of the
lads was devoted to their amusement, he crept to the tent like a snake
in the long grass. This he examined thoroughly, and he gave a grunt of
satisfaction as he discovered the pack-horse picketed near by. After
this, seeing no necessity for further secrecy of movement, he boldly
walked to the edge of the pool where the boys were bathing, and sat down
quietly to watch their play.
It was Alf who was the first to discover the stranger. "I say! There's
an Indian!" he exclaimed.
"Where?" questioned Bob, who had swum a little way out of sight beyond a
curve in the creek.
"Over there--beside our clothes. But, I say, what a horrible face he has
got! He looks as if a lion had started to chew him and changed his mind!
He's the ugliest-looking freak I ever saw."
Taking for granted that the Indian would not understand the
uncomplimentary remarks, Holden swam towards the side of the pool, being
quickly followed by his chum. But the Indian had understood. He was as
familiar with colloquial English as he was with his own tongue.
Nevertheless, he did not alter the grin on his face, though there was
something very different from a grin at his heart--a something which (if
the rash speaker had only known it) had suddenly determined him to carry
out his contract in quite a different manner from that which had been
arranged with Thunder-maker.
An Indian is a queer creature at the best. He loves as quickly and
impulsively as he hates, while devotion may be turned into detestation
as rapidly as a vessel of clear water is discoloured by a drop of ink.
Red Fox's eyes flashed fire towards the imprudent lad, though his lips
still smiled, and anyone who was a judge of Indian character would have
understood from that look that it would be an ill moment for Alf if ever
it was within the power of the redskin to repay the insulting
expressions.
By this time both lads had reached the shore, whereupon Bob addressed
the stranger while the pair proceeded to dress--Arnold's clothes being
dry by this time.
"Well, where have you come from?" the boy questioned.
"Trail long. Red Fox come over prairie--bush--far--far----"
"Oh, you understand English?" exclaimed Alf, at the same time hoping
that the Indian had not heard enough, or understood English well enough,
to comprehend the recent criticisms as to his personal appearance.
The redskin nodded, though he craftily pretended that his knowledge of
the foreign tongue was but scanty.
"Red Fox know little--very little. He speak--he no' understand all that
ears tell him."
"And a jolly good job, too," commented Alf to his friend. "He's a
hideous monster, but I shouldn't like to hurt his feelings by letting
him know my opinion."
"I don't think that I would express it too freely, if I were you," said
Bob, who had quickly resumed his everyday attire. "You never can tell
how much fellows like that understand. I remember father telling me that
Indians won't always admit that they know English well. They think that
they can drive better bargains by pretending ignorance."
Then the boy turned to the native, and the fact that the man was alone
and seemed to have no other possessions than his gun, hunting-knife, and
pipe, raised doubts in the lad's mind as to the truth of the statement
concerning the long journey. He knew and had heard sufficient about
Indians to be aware that they seldom travelled any distance without
their family and other belongings.
"You said that you had come a long trail?" he said, regarding the Indian
with a sharp scrutiny.
Red Fox bowed assent, taking out his pipe to fill it with kini-ka-nik
(tobacco and red willow bark mixed) as he spoke.
"Red Fox come far--with feet of deer. He have story for ear of pale-face
brothers."
The boys started at the remark, while Alf repeated--
"A story?"
"From the white men to their papooses."
This was news indeed; but the unexpected announcement disarmed suspicion
for the moment.
"From our fathers?" said Bob eagerly. "Where are they? What has kept
them from returning to camp?"
"The white men rest," replied the Indian. "The trail far. They find Red
Fox, and they say: 'Go, find our papooses and lead them by straight
trail to our tent.'"
"But they had no tent with them!" exclaimed Alf, at once touching the
weak point in the falsehood. "Perhaps they are with other Indians?"
Red Fox had not been instructed by Thunder-maker in the details of the
story that he was to tell in order to gain his ends. It had not occurred
to him to invent more than that he had been sent to bring the lads. That
had seemed sufficient to attain his aims, though he realised that it
would not do to say that the white men were captives. That might
frighten the boys and prevent their following his guidance. The poor
servant had not calculated upon the probing questions that would have
been naturally anticipated by an English mind and prepared for.
But he saw the blunder, and hastened to amend the error as best he
might.
"White men with Indians--with friends. Red men good to pale-faces--give
them food and teepees and robes to rest on. So white men wish papooses
to follow where Red Fox walk."
Holden turned aside to his chum.
"I'll be hanged if I'll follow the lead of a murderous-looking villain
like that unless he can show very good reasons why I should. His face is
like a nightmare."
"I can't say I like the look of him myself," returned Bob. "He hasn't
got the expression of a fellow you could trust. Besides, don't you think
that if our fathers were well and had sent a native messenger to
us--don't you think that they would have sent some sort of written
message as well?"
"It would have been easy enough. Father always carries his notebook and
pencil with him----"
"So he could have easily explained matters. I don't think he would have
trusted an Indian to be understood. It isn't as if we knew anything of
the lingo."
While the boys were thus discussing the situation in low tones, they did
not heed how Red Fox was observing them sharply from the corners of his
eyes. He was trying to discover how far his deception had succeeded,
though he endeavoured to hide his anxious observation by the action of
lighting his redstone pipe. And it must be confessed that his keen
scrutiny of the lads' faces did not reassure him. He could see suspicion
plainly marked in both, while his heart burned with fire of anger,
though resentment was mainly directed to the younger lad, whose
inadvertent remarks had cut so deeply into the savage pride.
But the redskin's mental observations were suddenly cut short by Bob,
who wheeled upon him with a sudden inspiration.
"Look here," he said quickly, though his voice was pleasant and almost
reassuring, "it is very good of you to travel so far to bring us this
news. We are glad to see you, and will try to give you a good present.
But we will settle our business first. So, give me the letter, and then
we will go to the tent and eat."
"Letter?"
The Indian repeated the single word in a puzzled tone.
"Yes; the one my father gave you," said Bob.
So mystified was Red Fox by the intelligence that apparently he had not
only been expected by the boys but that he had been looked for as the
bearer of a letter from the fathers to their sons, that he was
momentarily startled out of his caution in pretending an only slight
acquaintance with the English language.
He stared open-eyed at the question, and Bob continued evenly--
"Of course my father would send a letter if he wanted us. He would do
that to prove that his messenger was one whom we could trust. Did he
give you one?"
Red Fox was quite taken off his guard by the white boy's guile, but he
strove to cover his confusion by further lying.
"Yes--the white man send paper by hand of Red Fox, but--but Red Fox
foolish; he--lose letter--on trail----"
"But you are _sure_ you had one? It would be written--in red--with a red
pencil--a red paint-stick."
"My white brother speaks true," said the Indian.
"Of course he does!" chimed in Alf, to whom his chum's ruse was now
clear. "And if that letter was written in red and sent to us, we would
know where it came from, and would follow the messenger at once."
The Indian flashed a quick glance of hatred towards the last speaker,
but instantly lowered his eyelids again, as he returned with more
calmness than before--
"It is well. The pale-face did paint letter with red. But--Red Fox
foolish Indian. He lose letter on trail. He seek much--much--but no'
find."
The game of bluff had succeeded. Now the boys knew for certain that the
man was lying--that he had not been commissioned by either of their
parents, and both laughed derisively.
"Trapped!" exclaimed Holden triumphantly. "You've got him tight as a
rabbit in a gin, Bob."
How that sneering laughter scorched the redman's pride! It touched him
at the quick, and caused him to writhe inwardly, until his fingers
twitched beneath the folds of his blanket with eagerness to tear out the
tongue that thus jeered at him. Yet the lads did not dream how near they
were to tragedy as they laughed at the little comedy, with the chief
actor sitting huddled at their feet. They did not notice how the
Indian's eyes first measured the distance from the overhanging bank to
the surface of the water, and then as quietly calculated the distance
between himself and the lads.
"Yes, you were indeed foolish," resumed Arnold, "for you have shown us
that your words were lies. My father never wrote such a letter, I am
sure, for a red pencil is not a thing that he possesses. And if he were
well enough to write, he would be well enough to come himself, instead
of sending such a foolish Indian and a bad liar."
"At the same time," whispered Alf, "the chap must know something, or he
wouldn't be here at all. We must find out that in some way or other."
"True," Bob said.
But there was no time allowed for considering what means to adopt to
obtain further information, for just at that moment Red Fox uttered a
wild cry, and sprang from the ground with the leap of a deer. Next
instant Bob was gripped as in a vice and flung into the centre of the
pool; then, with a snarl like that of a wild cat, the Indian sprang for
Alf's throat.