THE HEART'S PEACE
Once more out to the lonely forest.
Those dark trees of death, the ever-sighing pines, tossed their solemn
heads in unquiet motion; boughs chafed one against the other with
moaning sound; the wind passed with dreary murmur through hanging
clusters, causing at times the skulls and other grisly trophies of the
death tree to scrape with horrid fitfulness one against the other. It
was late night, and the moon shone with extraordinary brightness, while
frost needles quivered along the silvery air. Even the dead leaves,
carpeting thickly the open spaces, glittered radiantly with Nature's
diamonds, while the soil became crisp and grey. Above the distant trees
might be seen the shivering spindles of the Aurora. These crept up the
sky with strange undecided movement, then retreated with a shudder, to
again advance.
In that unutterably weird conflict of lights, the white walls of the
fort were dimly visible. For long a dull yellow gleam poured from the
single window, casting a tremulous shaft across the open, a sickly beam
of light, in the heart of which trembled the frost crystals. Suddenly a
dark shadow passed unsteadily, the light disappeared, the window grew
black, night settled closely round the log walls.
Even then, at another mean dwelling, situated some way along the faintly
defined trail, a feeble ray appeared. The crazy door was partially open,
while a slow wood fire burnt within, the smoke winding its way from a
hole in the grass roof. At the threshold stood a figure, strangely bent,
gazing out on the white night. He seemed to have no feeling of the
biting cold, though the weak hands were blue and shrivelled, and the
grey face pinched with grief, hideous also with embittered age. Those
bleared eyes saw little, his tottering knees could scarce support the
withered frame, no thickness of clothing might furnish life warmth to
the parched limbs. He was like the dead branch of a tree, which has been
snapped from the parent trunk and lies rotting upon the ground, to be
broken by the feet of those passing.
The trembling jaws moved faster. The dry lips parted to form the words
of his customary evening salutation to the Spirit. Sounds fell from the
almost powerless tongue, murmurs which could not disturb the soft
sighing of the keen, frost-laden wind.
'I live,' he gasped, 'and I shall live, for the gods have forgotten me.
They have left me here to decay and not to die, to fall limb from limb,
while breath remains in the body, and the heart within stirs feebly.
They are all gone, those with whom I lived. The men who sprang up with
me have passed through the fire. Those who were born when I was already
old have gone to the shadow land, white-headed and full of years. But I
live. The god passes me as one not worth the taking.
'What happiness is there in life? Memory has gone from me, and I have
none to call friend. Nor do I love any, be it man or god. She for whom I
lived is traitor. My affection has changed to the bitterness of hatred,
and all that lies upon my tongue is a curse. Where is the beauty of
life?
'The God of the white men would not listen to my prayers, perchance He
had not the power, and to the voice of my pleading was He dumb. Now have
I come back to the gods of my fathers, the great gods, who are at least
as powerful. Yet from them I receive no answer, nor does any message
stir within me through the night. Perchance there are no gods. Perchance
the world is ruled by evil passion and cruel might.'
Dry leaves rustled beneath footsteps. But the useless ears were closed
to all sounds from without.
'I live,' he repeated, clutching with claw-like hand the corner of his
blanket. 'Life is mine, but I need it not. Long have I lived to gather
much wisdom. Ay, and I shall live.'
Along, in the full light of the white moon, came the figure of a woman,
upright and stern. She gazed neither to the right nor left, but kept the
eyes, cold as the crystals that cut her face, fixed upon the winding
path that trailed away in front. She was scantily clad, her head
uncovered, save for the wild beauty of luxuriant hair; her feet were
bare, and crushed, without feeling, the frost-covered leaves. Hanging
from her shoulders was a trembling, frightened bundle. A child,
shivering with the cold, wondering at his mother's sternness; a child,
who touched her icy cheek with tiny fingers, who cried again and again
the one love-word which had always before that night brought to him some
response,--
'Mother! Oh, mother!'
She was insensible, alike to the wailing of her child and the sharpness
of frost bite. Up to the hut door she came, until her cloak almost swept
against the crouched figure, yet without sign of recognition, with no
turn of the head. But the Ancient knew her. As she approached and struck
his vision, he crept feebly back, gathering his blanket more closely
round him, lest it should suffer contamination by touch. As she passed,
unheeding that the last friend had forsaken her, he collected his
failing energies, spat after her, raised his hands with malediction, and
spoke bitter words of execration. All this effort might have been spared
the feeble frame, for she trod on through the night with no heed to his
curses, regardless even of his presence.
So he crawled weakly into the hut and closed the door.
But she kept on her course, dead to the present, forgetful of the past,
conscious only of the immediate future. Her body brushed apart
silver-lined bush, scattered the light hoar frost from dried grass
stalks, and still she gazed before her, still she clasped the trembling
child without word or sign. For her, joy had been spent; now even grief
was a thing of the past. Behind her lay darkness, one stern resolution
lay in front--then darkness again.
She came to a rugged rock, half covered with clinging bush. Here memory
may have stirred the cold mind, for she paused, allowing her eyes to
rest for a moment upon the black, glistening surface. Here had she stood
on the evening previous to the fight; here had she chanted the happy
song of pure heart joy, provoking the envy of all else that was
beautiful in nature; here had Antoine admonished her of dangers
impending, here also had that advice been laughed away. Through the
forest, to the left, spread the river pool, where she had been wont to
lie on summer afternoons to admire the beauty that smiled at her from
the peaceful waters. That pool now flashed beneath the weird lights; the
rock on which she had so often stretched her young body was still to be
found unchanged. But what picture would that mirror now reveal. Where
was the face of beauty, the lips curling into laughter, the eyes dancing
with joy light, the smiles that had once dimpled the waves, and the soft
features moulded into perfect lines of grace? Where? Ah, where?
Vanished--departed--melted.
Gone. Gone for ever. So the dead leaves rained thickly from the cold
trees, while icy winds moaned, and earth shivered at the approach of
winter. For the brightest colours must fade, and everything living must
see decay.
She departed from that spot, yet burying at each step some blissful
memory of youth, and took the trail that led to the river. Soon the rush
and roar of the swollen torrent beat dully upon her ears. At dreaded
intervals the fitful thunder of the great rapids came trembling along
the way. Still the set countenance remained unaltered, nor was there a
word of comfort for the sobbing child.
Presently she broke from the last bushes and stood upon the brink. A
wide stretch of river spread before her, burning and flashing beneath
the gorgeous light of the moon. On the opposite shore, dreary pines
tossed their dark heads and beckoned her to come. Far down the rushing
stream were faint appearances of threatening rocks and a white foam
line. Such were indications of the angry rapids. Here the waters boiled
round jagged rock fragments, and light spray was hurled high into frosty
air. Here roared and shrieked against the pale stars the Niagara of the
Great Saskatchewan.
She stood upon the crumbling rock edge for many weary minutes, fearfully
watching the turbulent waters, the wavering mind filled with many a
strange perplexing doubt. Immediately beneath, rising and falling on the
gentle waves beneath the bank, appeared a canoe, rasping upon the rock
and lightly secured by a birch fibre to a willow branch overhanging the
stream. At the bottom of the frail craft lay a single paddle. But this
gleaming object, and nothing besides.
Presently she spoke aloud to her sole companions--the icy winds and
unknown powers of Nature.
'It is all so long ago, and yet this is but the second winter of time. I
have lived through it, and now must face the end. None may tell me where
I am going. This I myself know--I cannot be punished more than I have
suffered, I cannot suffer more than I have been already punished.'
The auroral lights crept trembling along the sky. Behind her the bushes
shook drearily.
'If there be no happiness in the world whither I am going, there can at
least be no greater sorrows.'
She was now in that complete solitude for which she had craved. Alone,
entirely alone, with none to see, none to pity. The bar of race cut her
off from the rest of the world, and upon her weak shoulders lay the sin
of others. This was the weight which might now be shaken off.
Again she cast her unfathomable glance upon the foaming river, and gazed
at the fragile canoe, which rocked restlessly from side to side.
The dregs of the life cup were bitter indeed. Her own people hated her.
On her approach they had crept away, with hidden faces. She was a
pestilence when she stirred abroad. For she had dared to break the great
oath, to cast dishonour again upon her tribe, to insult the dead
father's memory. This was a crime which might not be pardoned. So her
gods also had turned away, for she had broken their highest laws of
right and duty. Vengeance had been placed in her hands--more, forced
upon her, and yet--yet she had not strength, she lacked courage, to
strike with that fearful weapon when it thus lay within her grasp. For
that, also, she must suffer.
Darkness was everywhere in the world, yet she was about to plunge into a
greater gloom. Who would be there, on that shadow way, to meet the
broken spirit and bid it rest? Not the father, not even Muskwah. They
were surely in the bright joyland, which must be eternally forbidden to
her.
Perchance--how impossible a hope, yet how soothing--there might be
another God of Whom she knew nothing. There might be a God so merciful
as to care even for those who had not called upon Him during life, so
compassionate as to pity one who had been deceived and betrayed. Ah, if
there was such a God to receive her, to take her up in His arms, to
breathe upon the dead heart and give it life again, how joyous would be
the act of immortality!
She bowed her head, and moved slowly forward.
'It is time. Time for the great sleep; time for the peace. Only one
little struggle, one quick gasp as the eternal change takes place, one
stifling moment of agony, then I shall be as many are and all must be.
For to this end must we come, and what lies beyond none may clearly
tell.'
She crept down the steep bank. The child lay upon her back, stiff with
cold, scarcely owning strength to cry. She swept through the willows and
entered the canoe. The next instant she had cast off the clinging birch
fibre. With one bold stroke of the paddle the light skiff darted toward
mid-stream.
Another, then another, until the centre of the mighty river was reached.
Here the waves sobbed round the paper-like keel, leaping aside in bars
of burnished silver. The moon, reddened by the tints of the northern
lights, poured forth a flood of radiance; the grim Spirit of the Waters
uplifted pale arms and cried, 'Come.'
Swiftly the current pulled the canoe round towards the abyss; rapidly it
floated down between the steep banks and gloomy line of forest waving on
each side; down, until the white mass of foam became a snow mountain;
down to the rugged rocks, where black jaws were dripping with flying
spray; down, still down, towards the gate of Eternity.
She knelt, with paddle grasped firmly in both hands. Before her wailed
the child. The baby lips found strength to release faint sounds. Again
that tremulous cry beat upon the freezing air,--
'Mother! Oh, mother!'
Then she bent forward, to gaze earnestly upon the dark eyes, the small,
round cheeks, the curling hair clustering over the little brow, the
delicate shaping of the limbs. Soon she spoke again,--
'We will go together, child, for you are all mine. We may not be parted.
I brought you into this world in a moment of horror; so now we will
leave it together. You shall clasp my neck and lay your soft cheek
against mine. You shall nestle to the bosom that has nurtured you. Then
shall you endure no pang, for I will bear the pain for both. Quietly and
painlessly you shall fall asleep, as you were wont to do upon my knee.
Sleep, until you wake in a fair world on a flowery grass plain, beneath
the full light of the sun. It may be so; yet it may be still darkness.
It may be that when you drop to sleep in yonder waters--that waking will
never come.'
Swifter grew the flight of the canoe, more furious the hungry roar
ahead.
'Oh, son! Child of my body! Best of my flesh! Could you but know what a
service I am rendering you, if you could look back, even as I can, you
would raise your head in blessing and call me merciful. I am saving you.
I am lifting from you the awful burden of life. I am taking you from the
trouble and the treachery, which would surely break your spirit if you
lived. 'Tis only a few more minutes now, then all will lie in the past,
and we shall join the unknown. Ah, you do not know, you cannot
understand that. You cannot feel yourself standing on the last ledge of
life, before that black chasm which is the end of motion. You do not
know that the gate is about to clash behind us, driving us forth into
darkness. Or is it light? That we may soon tell. We may know then, also,
whether there is a God Who gazes upon mortal suffering with the eye of
pity.'
The foaming line was now awfully close; the roar of the waters beat upon
her soul; feather-like spray, caught by the wind, lashed her resolute
face.
Then she raised the paddle on high, before casting it far into the
turbulent flood. Fascinated by this gleaming guide, she watched it
floating away in front, dancing merrily upon the silver-tipped waves.
'So I cast away my life.'
No mortal effort could now snatch them from the inevitable end. Still
down they drifted, nearer--closer to the frightful Niagara of tumult and
death. Once again she bent, to gather in her arms the sobbing child. She
twined the tiny arms round her neck; she nestled the cold cheek against
his; she clasped him close to her heaving breast, and waited for the
end.
Nor was it long in coming upon them. The canoe quivered as the great
waves lashed and licked the frail sides. The paddle struck upon a
black-jawed rock, glanced off quickly, hung trembling for a second on
that unutterable brink, shone like a mirror in the moonlight--then
disappeared. Below, the savage elements sucked it in, roared lustily,
then tossed their white crests with fresh shrieks for other victims.
The livid-faced woman saw, and shuddered for the first time on that
awful journey.
'It has shown me the way; I must follow.'
The canoe swung sullenly round, then darted like a bird towards
destruction. It struck also upon the black rock, where spray flew high
in clouds. Round again, gradually quickening in speed. Sideways it
floated to the awful white line which marked eternity.
Her heart seemed to have ceased its feeble beat; the breath stifled her
with hot gasps. Sky, river, forest had vanished, blotted out by a raging
sea of red flames, boiling and hissing blood-like before her eyes.
Memory came back on the torrent of that grim flood. The past lay
outspread before the mind. Every small detail shot forth in sharp
relief, each careless action writhed from the seething atmosphere of her
horror and imagination.
'This is Death! How awful a thing it is.'
The cold winds snatched the foam from the waves, and tossed it above
rock masses in furious revelry. The canoe had reached that awful line
which marked the extinction of two lives. It shuddered upon the fearful
brink. It hovered, like a bird of prey, before making the fatal plunge
beneath. It trembled, and groaned again with the angry buffetings. It
succumbed to the irresistible force, to the mighty, unseen hand drawing
it down, down--and then--ah, then--
At the foot of the great rapids black rocks glistened in the moonlight;
foam-flecked waves darted up to beat the air; angry waters rolled and
tossed like wind-swept snow heaps, crying forth with the deep voice of
thunder. Ice crystals still danced and shivered in the biting wind.
A blood-red gleam slowly fought its way from the north, ascending the
heavens to dye the shafts of the auroral light a bright rose colour.
On either side of the river, black pines swayed beneath the eternal
whisperings of the forest. The grim hand of winter slowly fringed the
sombre tresses with silvery beauty.
The colours were black and silver, with red above. The blending of the
first two made the complexion of mourning. Is not the last the colour of
life's mystery? Red gold, red blood, red flush of shame, red blush of
love. What else is there in life worth taking?
Onward rushed the Great Saskatchewan, with a sobbing and murmuring,
while loose shingle hissed and rattled upon the shore, and leafless
bushes swept the waters. Then the ice lord crept from drear confines of
the Arctic, with the great chains in his white hand. Soon would he
fasten down those clamouring waves to a long silence.
* * * * *
So, to this day, no Indian lands at that point, nor stretches his tent
near the rocky ledge which faces the great rapids. And the name of the
place is still called, _Menotah-toopah_--the passing place of the heart
which knew not sorrow.
GLOSSARY
Bandy--Flow of language
Brace of bullets--Pair of aces
Bulldog--A large horse-fly possessing formidable jaws
Bummers--Idle loafers
Chores--Odd jobs
Corked--Greatly surprised
Coyotes--Prairie wolves
Craps--Dice
Croak off--Die
Cut didoes--To excessively enjoy, or make a fool of, oneself
Diddle--Get the better of
Dosh--Money
Gall--Impudence
Goldam--A local expletive
Goldeye--A small, highly edible fish, common in the Saskatchewan
Good--Physically well and strong
Heelhi-Manitou--The good, or great, Spirit
Hopping--Dying
Jag (Jamboree)--A drunken spree
Kanikanik (spelt in various other ways)--The red willow
Megrims--The 'blues'
Moonhead--Madman
Mosquito hawk--A large species of dragon fly
Muskegs--Moss swamps
Mutchi-Manitou--The lesser, or evil, Spirit
Nitchies--Natives
Quirk--Laugh
Raddled--Drunk
Razzle-witted--Crazy
Scrapping--Fighting or quarreling
Shaganappi--A rough, native-bred horse
Sharpshooters--Cigars
Shin plasters--Dollar bills, _i.e._, money
Slick--Easy, pleasant, etc.
Snuff out--Die
Spoiling--Extremely anxious
Suds--State of depression
Totem--Every man is descended from some animal. This animal is
known as the Totem. Thus one man's Totem may be a buffalo,
another's a beaver, and so on
Truck--Miscellaneous articles
Twitter--Hurry
Wasayap--An Indian maid of old mythology
Waterlogged--Done for, beaten, etc.
Worth shucks--Not worth anything at all
THE END