CHAPTER X
THE PAWN IN THE GAME
When morning at length broke over the land there was an unusual scene outside of the Post. A large band of Ayana Indians had arrived during the night. They had drifted in from the forest, men, women, children, and dogs, and were encamped in little groups along the river, and among the trees. It was an animated sight which met Natsatt's eyes as he wended his way toward the spot where Klitonda had erected his temporary lodge. He moved slowly, for the natives interested him. The curiosity of the children as they watched the white man did not disturb him. It was Nagu, the crafty medicine man, who arrested his attention. The creature was squatting before a small fire, with his knees drawn up almost to his chin, looking first at the Post, and then away to Klitonda's lean-to. In his eyes burned a fire of hatred, mingled with jealousy. Natsatt knew nothing of the vindictiveness of Nagu's heart toward Klitonda, and he wondered at the fierce expression he now beheld. But could he have looked deeper and have read the tumult raging within the breast of the medicine man, his own calmness would have disappeared.
Nagu feared the coming of the white men. To him they were portents of evil. Over them he had no control. He possessed no charm whereby he could bring these newcomers under his sway. He blamed Klota for turning Klitonda against him. And if a woman, who was only half white, could exert such an influence over her husband, who was a chief, what could he expect from people who were all white? He remembered only too well Klota's sharp tongue, and how she had laughed at his vain pretensions. Would not these white traders do the same, and cause him to be despised by his own people? He was, therefore, in no enviable frame of mind as he sat this morning by his smouldering camp fire brooding over his troubles. His eyes followed Natsatt as he proceeded on his way toward Klitonda's lodge. What thoughts the presence of the young man brought to Nagu's mind would be hard to divine. But at length his head drooped low until his face touched his knees. Thus he remained for some time, unheeding everything that was taking place around him.
Meanwhile Natsatt had arrived at the little lean-to, and found Klitonda and his daughter busily engaged with a pile of skins, sorting them out and laying them in various heaps near by. A smile of joy broke over Owindia's face when she saw her lover standing before her. Natsatt shook hands with the chief, and then taking a step forward caught the maiden in his arms, and imprinted a kiss upon her lips. There were no scoffing white men to witness this greeting. There was only Klitonda, who gazed with wonder at what he beheld. At once Natsatt caught Owindia's hand in his, and stood with her before the astonished father.
"Great chief of the Ayana," he began, "Natsatt loves your daughter. Will Klitonda give Owindia to Natsatt as his wife? He will be good to her. Surely the great chief will not refuse."
Klitonda looked first into his daughter's happy face, and then upon the young man standing by her side. Immediately the light of uncertainty cleared from his eyes, giving way to an expression of pleasure. He caught their disengaged left hands, and brought them together.
"The chief of the Ayana gives his daughter to the young white man," he said. "Let their hearts be one. But," and here he hesitated, "will the white man take Owindia far away beyond the mountains of the rising sun? Klitonda will miss Owindia. His heart will be very sad and lonely."
"Natsatt will not take Owindia away yet," was the reply. "He will stay here awhile, and maybe he will stay always. Would that please the chief?"
"Ah, ah," Klitonda responded. "That will be good. When the Chilcats are driven back, and the Ayana are free once more, this land will smile all the time, and Klitonda will be happy."
Thus for over an hour Natsatt stayed at the lodge, and assisted the chief and his daughter with the furs. To be near Owindia, to look into her eyes, and to watch the varying expression of joy upon her face was supreme happiness. Owindia's heart was too full of rapture to allow her to say much. The occasional glances she gave the young man were more eloquent than many words. How could he ever bear to be separated from her? he asked himself over and over again. How could he live if anything happened to her? Suppose the Chilcats should steal her away? Or his companions, what if they should try any of their base tricks, which they had practised elsewhere, so he had heard them boast? His hands clenched firmly together, and a fierce expression leaped into his eyes, which caused Owindia to start in surprise.
"It is nothing, little one," he laughed. "I was just wondering how I could ever live without you, and what I should do if any one tried to take you from me."
"I'm not afraid of anything now," was the gentle reply. "I know you will protect me always, always."
Natsatt walked back to the Post with a light heart. The fear of what his companions might do or say could not quench the spirit of elation which dominated his very being. He moved forward with a firm step, and head held high. His chest expanded, and he drank in great draughts of the fresh morning air. How good it was to be alive, he mused. How marvellously everything had changed since Owindia's arrival. The spot seemed no longer dull and commonplace. The atmosphere breathed peace, the sun smiled its warm radiance, and the few early-returned birds twittered their joy. Everything in Nature was rejoicing with the young lover.
He found Dan standing in the door-way, looking forth upon him as he approached. Since early that morning the old Ranger had watched with the keenest interest the arrival of the natives at the store. He had sat on a stool behind the counter and noted every movement of the Indians. At first sight it would seem as if his mind was intent upon business, and anxious for barter. But it was soon evident that something else engaged his attention. He paid little or no heed to the men, but gazed earnestly upon the women. Whenever a squaw crossed the threshold he riveted his eyes upon her face. He seemed to be expecting some special person, and each time his countenance expressed disappointment as he turned away his head to observe a newcomer.
The Indians had brought no furs with them, and said nothing about trade. They examined everything in the store, however, and left apparently satisfied with their first visit. Dan waited until all had departed. Then he went to the door of the stockade and watched them moving away to their various lodges. He knew they would return and perhaps bring back valuable furs. He was accustomed to the ways of the Indians, so their silence did not trouble him.
For some time he remained almost motionless, his heavy form bulking large in the door-way. His right hand clutched at his long shaggy beard, while his faded grey eyes gazed off among the trees in an abstracted manner. His face was unusually grave, telling plainly of some weight which was pressing upon his heart. Had he not waited months for the coming of the Indians? Had he not anxiously counted the days before their expected arrival? And they had come, he had looked upon them, and had learned nothing. He knew there would be others, and the thought gave him some comfort. But this first disappointment was somewhat hard to bear.
It was a beautiful morning. Not a breath of wind stirred the tapering points of the fir trees and jack pines, whose long trailing shadows lay sprawling upon the ground. Squirrels scolded, and birds warbled as they flitted here and there. Spring had come in reality, bringing with it the great renewal of earth and air.
But Dan had eyes for none of these, neither were his ears attuned to Nature's dulcet harmonies. He was living, as he had often lived, in the past. It was a vision he beheld of a similar spring day years before. He saw another trading Post, and a fair, lithesome form walking up the trail, and humming catches of an old song. Her dark, clear eyes were sparkling with animation as she held out to him a handful of wild flowers, several sprays of which she had wreathed in her jet black hair. Oh, but she was fair to look upon, the very embodiment of health, beauty, and joy. He had something to live for then, and the days passed like an Elysian summer. But now he was old, and she was nowhere near to comfort his declining years. Where was she? What had become of her since that spring over twenty years before?
The vision suddenly faded, and in its stead Natsatt stood before him. The far away expression disappeared from his eyes, and the old look returned. He was the commander once again.
"Where are the rest of the men?" he asked. "I haven't seen any of them for some time."
"I don't know," was the reply. "I haven't seen them, either. Perhaps they are strolling about among the lodges having friendly chats with the Indians. I myself have just been over to see the chief."
"Have a care, lad," and Dan laid a heavy hand upon the young man's shoulder as he spoke. "There is to be no fooling, remember, with the Indian women out yon. By heavens! if I catch any of you men meddling with those squaws I'll shoot you like dogs that have been worrying sheep. I've never had any Post degraded when I was in command, and I'm determined that this won't be the first. My word is law here, and I'll be judge and executioner combined if necessary. When I wanted a woman from the camp I took her, and we were lawfully joined together. But I strongly advise you to leave them alone entirely. There should be some white woman beyond the mountains who'd be only too glad to marry such a lad as you."
During this speech, which was a long one for the Ranger to make, Natsatt's face at first flushed with anger. This, however, gradually faded, as he noted the pathos in Dan's voice.
"I hope you don't take me for a human bloodhound," he replied. "I am not a saint by any means, but I have never harmed a squaw yet, and I have always lived in the North. My mother, as you know, was an Indian woman, and for her sake at least should I not respect the women of her own race?"
"Sure, sure," responded Dan. "But—"
"Will you please hear me through?" Natsatt interrupted. "I might as well tell you now as at any other time what is on my mind. I visited the chief's lodge this morning for the purpose of seeing his daughter, Owindia. Of all maidens I have ever met she is the fairest, and I believe the noblest. I love her, and I know she loves me. Why should we not, therefore, marry when the opportunity arrives?"
Ranger Dan looked keenly into the animated face before him, and his heart warmed toward the young man more than ever. He reached out and seized Natsatt's hand in his.
"Lad," he said, "I believe your heart is right, and that you love the maiden. It would be no use, I see, to try to turn you from your purpose. But wait until you can be joined in holy wedlock. I have seen too many unholy unions, and they never prosper. They must be sealed in the presence of the Great Father above. I must see the lass myself."
"But did you not see her, sir?" Natsatt questioned. "She was standing near her father last night by the bank of the river."
"Was she? Well, I didn't notice her. But come, lad, I have something to say to you to-day. My heart and mind have been deeply stirred by what you have just told me. Come into the store where no one will hear us. We must be alone."
Somewhat surprised, Natsatt followed his leader into the building and seated himself upon a stool by Dan's side.
"You have wondered," the Ranger began, "why a man at my advanced age should undertake such a work as this. Why should I wish to spend so much money upon building a fort in the wilderness with so many odds against me? But, lad, this Post is only a pawn in the game I am playing. There is a purpose back of it which is very near my heart. Listen and I will tell you.
"Years ago I maintained a trading Post among the Indians far to the south, right amidst the mountains. My wife was a native woman whom I had married years before. We had several children born to us, but only one lived—Klota we called her. She was the pride of my heart, and as I watched her grow and develop into all the charms of maidenhood, my cup of joy was full to overflowing. We were great companions, and her voice was like the sweetest music to my ears. Often she would ramble about the forest, and return bringing beautiful wild flowers she had gathered. Then one day never to be forgotten, she disappeared so mysteriously as not to leave a trace behind. She had been away as usual, and when she did not return at night we became greatly alarmed. Search was made, but all in vain. Days passed into weeks and weeks into months, but no word ever came of our darling Klota. The blow was a heavy one to my wife. She faded, and at length left me. I laid her to rest there by the trading Post, and abandoned the place. No longer would I live amid scenes where I had experienced such mingled joy and sorrow. From that time I devoted my life in seeking to find some trace of my lost child. At times I believed that some accident had befallen her, that either she had been drowned, or torn to pieces by bears, for savage grizzlies were common in those parts. But my principal conviction led me to think that she had been stolen away by marauding Indians. Never for a moment did I imagine that she had been taken westward. What seemed to be an impassable range of mountains barred the way, and beyond was an unknown region. No, she had not gone in that direction I felt certain. Either South, East or North could she have been taken, if taken at all. I, therefore, determined to scour the land in the vague hope of finding my child.
"Thus for almost twenty years I spent most of my time in visiting the numerous camps. No band of Indians was too isolated for me to ferret out. I was looked upon as eccentric by the white traders and trappers. They gave me the name of "Ranger" Dan, a title which has stuck to me ever since. They thought I was travelling for trading purposes, and little realised the object of my lonely wanderings. At length when the last spark of hope had almost died, a ray of light pierced the gloom which gave me new heart to continue my search.
"I had penetrated some distance into the interior, and while there I met several Indians who had ventured far westward beyond the Rocky Mountains. They gave me the first information I had ever received of this region, and of the great river flowing through the land, which the natives called the 'Ayan.' They related, among many interesting things, the story of a maiden who had been stolen away from a trading Post years before by a band of Indians from a savage tribe living along the coast. As they were hurrying along with the girl they suddenly met a powerful Ayana Indian. The captive had thrown herself at his feet and pleaded with him to save her. This he did by hurling himself upon the Coast Indians, and killing every one. The victor had then taken the maiden to himself as his wife, and her beauty and charm of manner were known by all the Ayana people."
Here Dan paused and remained lost in thought.
"And was she your daughter?" Natsatt eagerly asked. "Was it Klota?"
"I am not certain," was the reply. "I could learn nothing more from the Indians. However, the more I thought about it the more I became convinced that the stolen maiden was my own darling child. But there is one thing which has sorely puzzled my mind. If Klota was that captive, why did she never come back?"
"Perhaps the Indian who married her refused to let her do so," Natsatt suggested.
"I have thought of that," Dan replied, while a sigh escaped his lips. "It is hard to tell of the many things which have been beating through my brain. Anyway, this expedition, and the erection of the Post are the outcome of what I heard. Nothing may come of it all, and in that case I shall be the heavy loser. But it was my last hope. A trading Post would be the only way by which the Indians could be speedily gathered. Thus, you see, this Post is merely a pawn, though an important one, in the great heart game I am playing. But, there, we have talked enough for to-day. You know my secret, and may be able to give me much assistance in my search. God grant that we may hear some word soon."
CHAPTER XI
FOES WITHOUT AND WITHIN
Natsatt had much to think over after he left the Ranger. He could not get the story he had just heard out of his mind. His thoughts reverted to Owindia, and what Klitonda had told him about her mother. She had white blood in her veins, and he had the dim impression that the chief had said her name was Klota. Of this, however, he was not certain. Formerly it was no more than of ordinary interest, as east of the mountains it was nothing unusual for Indians to marry half-breed women. But since he had heard Dan's story he was anxious to know more. He would make careful inquiries, however, before saying anything to the Ranger about the matter. It would be better to find out definitely before filling his old leader's mind with any false hopes.
He noticed that now his companions treated him with marked coolness. They would converse together, but whenever he approached they would either disperse or maintain a frigid silence. Larry, especially, favoured him with surly looks. Revenge was plainly written in his eyes, making Natsatt realise that here was a man who needed careful watching. Such action on the part of these men only caused the young half-breed to be more on his guard than ever. For himself he cared but little. He was accustomed to the brutal tactics of rough, heartless men. He did not fear the entire gang, as in his heart he believed they were too cowardly to offer him any bodily harm. But with regard to Owindia it was different, and he became fearful as he thought of what they might attempt to do to her.
After supper, which was eaten in unusual silence, Natsatt left the building and strolled over to Klitonda's lodge. Here he found Owindia alone, for her father was away visiting several Indian camps. She was sitting on a large bear-skin, gazing intently upon several objects before her, and did not hear Natsatt's soft footsteps. But when she at length turned her head and beheld her lover standing near, she gave a slight cry of joy, and rose quickly to her feet.
"And what is my little one doing to-night?" Natsatt asked, as he enfolded her in his arms, and imprinted a kiss upon her lips.
"Counting the tokens," was the reply. "See, they are all here, the blood-stained arrows the Ayana hunters brought. Owindia keeps them safe."
"Do you think they will ever be needed?" Natsatt questioned, at the same time stooping and picking up the arrows. "My! they are well made, and sharp too."
"But none too sharp for the Chilcats," was the low response. "Oh, that there were ten times the number! then Owindia's heart would be lighter."
"Do not worry, little one. All those Coast dogs cannot harm you now when I am here to protect you. You are not afraid, are you?"
"Not now," and Owindia turned her love-lit eyes up to the young man's face. "But sometimes I have a strange feeling of dread here," and she placed her hand to her heart as she spoke. "It is the same to-night. It tells Owindia that the Chilcats are coming, and will try to steal her away, and kill her people."
"Come, little one," Natsatt commanded, "and let us walk down by the river. You have been brooding too much about the Chilcats. The night is fine, and we will listen to the music of the water, and forget all troubles."
Owindia at once obeyed her lover's request, and together they wended their way among the various lodges until the edge of the stream was reached. They walked slowly along the bank for some distance above the village. Here they seated themselves upon an old fallen tree, and looked out upon the river flowing sullenly by. It was a balmy evening, with not a breath of wind stirring the trees. Overhead, the stars were tumbling out one by one, and twinkling down upon the young lovers. Sounds of voices drifted up from the camps, mingled with the occasional snarl or bark of a dog. But Natsatt and Owindia had neither eyes nor ears for what was taking place around them. They were too much absorbed in each other to care about anything else. They were living in a little world of their own, with not a jarring note to disturb the sweet harmony. Forgotten for the time were the maiden's fears. She felt secure in the presence of the strong man at her side. And the many things he was telling her held her spellbound. He related to her again the story of his own past life, his numerous wanderings, and the marvellous things he had seen. Some day he would take her to see them for herself, so he told her. They would have, too, a little home of their own, where fear of the Chilcats would never worry them.
"How strange it will all be," Owindia at length remarked. "I know so little of the ways of the white people that I am afraid they will laugh at me. I shall make so many stupid mistakes that you will feel ashamed of me at times."
"Never, little one," was the emphatic reply. "I shall be proud of you. Even now you are much superior to many white women I have met. You are beautiful, gentle, and remember so much of what your mother taught you. She had white blood in her veins, and was very wise, was she not?"
"Ah, ah. She seemed to know everything. She said she wanted me to grow up to be a good woman. She would often watch me for a long time without saying anything. Sometimes she had a far away look in her eyes, and when I would ask her what she was thinking about, she would give a start, and laughingly say that she was dreaming about her father and mother, and of the days when she was a little child."
"Did your mother ever tell you why she left her happy home?" Natsatt eagerly asked, feeling sure that now he was to find an answer to the question which had been puzzling Ranger Dan for long years.
"Ah, ah. She told me something, but not all. She said she had been stolen away by a band of cruel Coast Indians one bright summer afternoon, as she was wandering in the forest near her father's home. She had pleaded with them, but they had only laughed at her tears, and had hurried her forward. Then they met an Ayana Indian, my father, who rescued her. That is about all I know."
"But why did not your father take your mother back?" Natsatt questioned. "Did she never wish to return to her old home? Did she not know how her father and mother would grieve about her?"
"Ah, but she did go back. My father took her; but the old home was deserted. Some Indians they met told her that her mother was dead, and that her father had gone never to come back again."
"Oh, I see," Natsatt mused, half to himself. "So there was nothing for your mother to do but to return with her husband?"
"Nothing."
"And your mother often talked about her parents?"
"Ah, ah. Very much; but mostly about her father. She said he was so kind, and she loved him dearly."
"Would you like to meet your mother's father some day, little one?" Natsatt asked. "Have you ever thought about him?"
Owindia looked up quickly into her lover's face, but under the pall of night she could detect no hidden meaning there.
"Have I thought of him?" she at length slowly replied. "I have dreamed of him by night and by day. I have always believed that he is living yet, and that sometime we shall meet. Maybe when we go beyond the great mountains of the rising sun I shall see him. But how sorry he will be when he hears that his daughter Klota is dead. He will grieve sorely, for he loved her."
To these words Natsatt made no response. He was thinking deeply of what he had just heard. There was no doubt now, and he would be able to tell Dan all he had learned. But there was a difficulty in the way. He knew that the Ranger would feel badly when he heard about Klota's death, and that would be only natural. But would he at once abandon the Post, and go back beyond the mountains? In that case Owindia would have to go too, and would she be willing to leave her father so soon?
"Why is Natsatt so still? Why does he not speak?" a voice pleaded at his side, which roused him from his reverie.
"I was thinking, little one," he replied, "and for a moment forgot where I was. But, come, we had better go back. It is dark, and your father will wonder where you are, should he return to the lodge and not find you there."
Together they slowly retraced their steps along the river. On their left stretched the great forest, black and silent. Ahead they could see the lights of the numerous camp fires. Not a thought of danger entered their minds so much taken up were they with each other. They were passing close to a heavy thicket of trees, when, without the least warning, two forms leaped upon Natsatt, and bore him to the ground. A half-smothered cry of fright escaped Owindia's lips, telling plainly that something, perhaps a hand was placed over her mouth.
Natsatt at once realised the cowardly nature of the attack, and the hot blood of a hundred generations surged madly through his veins. In falling he had partly loosened his assailants' grip, and before they could fully recover he dealt one a savage blow with his clenched fist, and sent him reeling backwards. Springing nimbly aside he met the second with a kick that doubled him up, causing him to give vent to a deep groan of pain. Not waiting for another charge Natsatt bounded to Owindia's side, as she was being borne away among the trees. He could see very little, but could hear the noise her captor was making. No lioness bereft of her cub could have hurled herself forward with greater impetuosity than did the enraged lover. He reached the maiden's side, and ripped away the arms which were holding her fast. Dropping his burden the cowardly cur turned to face the half-breed. But he was as a child in the clutch of that passion-inflamed man. Natsatt's hands reached for the villain's throat, and gripped with the suddenness and intensity of a steel-trap. For a few seconds there was a wild struggle, a gurgling, choking noise, and then the sound of a form dropping heavily to the earth.
"Lie there, you dog," at length came from Natsatt's lips, as he groped his way to where Owindia was standing. "Where are you, little one? Come quick, and let's get out of this. There's no time to lose."
Finding the maiden, he hurried with her as fast as possible through the rough and night-enshrouded forest. He breathed a sigh of relief when at last the lights of the camp fires twinkled among the trees. His first impulse was to take Owindia to her father's lodge, and then hasten to the Post to appraise Dan of the base attack which had just been made. This idea, however, was soon banished from his mind, for upon reaching the open where the Indians were encamped he found them all greatly agitated, and talking in a most excited manner.
"What is it?" he asked of the first Indian he met.
"The Chilcats have come!" was the terrified reply. "They are over there in the forest. They are hiding, ready to attack us!"
Natsatt waited to hear no more. He went with Owindia to her father's lodge, where he found the chief sitting calmly at the entrance of the rude abode, as if nothing unusual was taking place. He tried to persuade Klitonda to come with his daughter into the Post. But the former shook his head. No, he preferred to remain where he was. He did not fear the Chilcat dogs.
"Then let Owindia come," the young man pleaded. "Let her be safe, anyway."
The maiden looked first into the face of her lover, and then at her father. A struggle was going on within her breast. There were tears in her eyes, when at last she took Natsatt's hand in hers, and placed it to her lips.
"Owindia must stay with her father," she simply said. "He will need her now more than ever."
Natsatt realised that her words were final, and that no inducement could shake her resolve. Dan would need him at this critical moment, he well knew, so he must not delay longer. Bidding farewell to the chief and Owindia, he left the lodge, and hurried across the open toward the Post.
CHAPTER XII
THE MESSENGER
Klitonda knew of the news which was agitating his people, for he had been the first to see two terrified Ayana Indians speeding by his lodge with the tidings of dire woe. But he had asked no questions, and did not even go forth to discuss the matter with his people. That they would huddle together in fear, and then speed away like frightened rabbits he was well aware. Of what use, therefore, would it be to talk to them, and try to arouse them to definite determined action? All of his talking in the past had seemed in vain, so of what avail would words be now with the enemy so near? Only upon the white men did he feel that he could depend for assistance. But how few they were. It was true, they had their strong barricade, and deadly guns would guard every loop-hole. But the Chilcats were wily, and if they had come in great numbers it would be impossible to withstand them for any length of time. His mind turned to the score of young hunters who had made their vow of allegiance, and had given their tokens. With their support a strong stand could be made. He believed that they were not far off, awaiting for the blood-stained arrows. But whom could he send? He looked toward Owindia, seated just within the entrance of the lodge. She was watching her father's face, and trying to interpret the thoughts which were beating through his brain. A small fire outside made it possible for her to see his features quite distinctly.
His eyes glowed with a fierce light, such as she had seen there the night her mother had been killed. He sat bolt upright, with every muscle of his body tense and rigid. He was not like the tiger waiting for the onset of the hunters, and ready to spring forth with savage destruction. He was more like a scarred veteran of a hundred fights, not afraid of the conflict, yet cautious, and wary. He wished to strike, but only at the right moment, with such force and suddenness as to repulse his adversaries with overwhelming confusion.
"Little one," he suddenly began, "have you the tokens safe?"
"Ah, ah, father. They are over there," and the maiden pointed to a corner of the lodge. "Do you want them?"
"We must use them now, Owindia," her father replied. "The Chilcats are near, and some one must take them to the young hunters. I cannot go, as I must stay and help the white men. Will you—?"
The question died upon his lips, for suddenly without a sound there appeared at the door of the lodge an Indian of the dreaded Chilcat tribe. One lightning glance was sufficient for Klitonda to realise the identity of the stranger. He leaped to his feet, and seized his hunting axe which was lying near. Owindia shrank fearfully back into a corner of the lodge at the terrible expression upon her father's face.
The visitor neither moved nor exhibited the least sign of alarm. He stood calmly in the door-way, watching Klitonda's infuriated demeanour. His coolness caused the chief to hesitate as he was in the act of raising the weapon for the blow. Had the man betrayed the slightest degree of fear Klitonda would have smitten him to the ground without the least compunction. But brave himself, he always admired it in others, even though they were his most deadly enemies. He paused, and glared upon the intruder.
"Why does not the chief strike?" the Chilcat queried in a quiet voice.
"What does the dog want in Klitonda's lodge?" came the fierce reply. "Does he come here to mock the chief of the Ayana? Are the Coast dogs waiting outside to kill their enemy, and steal his daughter? They will never have her, no, not while Klitonda has breath in his body."
"Let the chief of the Ayana put aside his axe," the Chilcat responded. "Let him sit down. Klukwan has come with a message from his leader who is waiting for his return."
"No, Klitonda will stand. He will not sit while a Chilcat dog is within his lodge. Whatever you have to say, say it at once. Speak."
"Does the chief of the Ayana know that the Chilcats are near; that they are lying among the trees? Does he know how many, and how strong they are? Does not his heart tremble as he hears this? The Chilcats have come from far. They know that the white men are here, and would take the pelts from the Ayana Indians. They know, too, that Klitonda's heart is one with the traders from beyond the mountains of the rising sun. Will the Chilcats allow this? Will they hide like jack-rabbits among the trees, and let the white men take the furs? No. They have come for revenge. They are ready to drive back the white people. Then let the chief of the Ayana beware, for he cannot escape them. The Chilcats are swift as wolves, and their fangs are long and sharp."
"Klitonda does not fear the Coast dogs," was the savage reply. "They are not wolves; they are dogs. Let them come; let them bark, that is all they can do. The Chilcats have no heart. They crawl among the trees, they sneak up in the night. Their hearts are like water. Why should Klitonda be afraid of papooses? Bah!"
"The Ayana chief is surely talking wind," the visitor responded. "The Chilcats are no dogs, and their hearts are not weak. Were their hearts weak when they drove back the Ayana braves in the great battle at Tagish Lake? Does Klitonda wish to meet them to-night? Does he long to see the Chilcats come from among the trees like hungry wolves? Does he wish to see his people killed around him, and he himself carried as a captive back to the Coast? How could the proud Klitonda endure that?"
"The Chilcat dogs will never take Klitonda beyond the mountains," was the fierce rejoinder.
"How can he help it?"
"He will fight, and the white men will fight too. Has Klukwan seen how strong the white traders are behind their wooden walls?"
"Bah! What do the Chilcats care for a row of trees? Walls of stone cannot stop them, and how then can those sticks?"
"But there are men behind those walls who know how to fight. Their guns roar like thunder, flash lightning, and vomit death from their mouths."
"Bah! What do the Coast tribe care for thunder, lightning, or death? The Great Spirit will fight for them. He will rend the rocks in pieces to help the Chilcats, for they are his children."
Klitonda did not at once reply to these words, but stood gazing upon the stranger as if lost in thought.
"Then for what purpose has Klukwan come to the lodge of the chief of the Ranges?" he at length demanded. "Is it to mock him? If the Chilcats are so strong what are they waiting for? Why do they send one of their number to Klitonda? Go back and tell your leader that he is nothing but a cowardly dog."
"Klukwan has come," was the slow response, "with a message from his chief's son. He would tell Klitonda how strong are the Chilcats, and how useless it is for him to fight against them. But the chief's son is brave and noble. He does not wish to kill Klitonda, and his people. He would spare them."
"What does the chief's son want?" Klitonda asked, while his brow darkened and he turned toward Owindia. The Chilcat saw the look, and the expression upon the father's face.
"Ah, ah. The chief of the Ayana has thought aright," the messenger returned. "Let him give his daughter to the son of the Chilcat chief, and Klitonda will be safe. But the white traders must go, and never come back again. The Ayana Indians, chief and all must trade only with the Chilcats. Such is the message. Klukwan has spoken."
During these words Owindia had risen partly to her feet. In her eyes had leaped a look of wild fear. Her whole body trembled. The Chilcat brave seemed to fascinate her, like a bird charmed by a serpent. She glanced alternately at Klitonda and then at the stranger. She noted the look upon her father's face, and well knew what his answer would be. She saw him raise his arm, and beheld the hunting axe lifted to strike. Then with a sudden bound she sprang to her feet, and caught the arm as it was in the act of descending. The weapon fell not upon the head of the visitor but upon one of the poles supporting the lodge, which snapped in twain as if it had been a match. The Chilcat stood as if rooted to the spot. He had not even tried to evade the blow, and not a sign of fear could be detected upon his face. But his eyes, looking straight into Owindia's, shone with the light of gratitude. Brave himself he could appreciate, savage though he was, bravery in others, and especially in a woman. Her beauty appealed to him. He noted every movement of her graceful body, the long, slender arm which reached up to stay the fatal axe, and the deep flush mantling her nut-brown cheeks. He had heard much about this maiden, and he realised now how true were the reports concerning her which had drifted over the mountains to the coast. Little wonder, then, that the chief's son desired to possess her. What Chilcat brave who would not be willing to fight, nay even to die for her.
For an instant Klitonda looked into his daughter's face, and his rage was somewhat subdued by surprise.
"Child! Child!" he demanded. "What do you mean? Why didn't you let me finish the Chilcat dog?"
"Would you kill a defenceless man, father?" she replied. "Has he not come into our lodge? When did Klitonda ever do such a thing before? Surely he is not himself to-night."
For a few brief heart beats the chief looked intently upon his daughter. Then his face softened, and the muscles of his body relaxed.
"You are right, little one," he assented. "Klitonda forgets himself to-night. But, oh, there was reason. They would steal Owindia, my only child, away from me, and they have sent this dog with the message.
"See," and he turned fiercely upon the Chilcat, "take this axe to the chief's son. Show him how heavy and sharp it is. Tell him that Klitonda, chief of the Ayana, and chief of the Ranges from a long line of ancestors, will never give up his daughter. He will die first, and Owindia will die with him. Go, leave my lodge, lest my rage get the better of me."
Silently the Chilcat reached out his hand and seized the axe. Quickly he turned, and without a glance at either the chief or his daughter left the lodge. Owindia, who was close to the entrance, slipped out after him, leaving her father standing alone, sombre and thoughtful. Klitonda did not notice her departure, for there were too many things passing through his mind. He was thinking of the white men at the Post, and also of the score of young hunters who had followed him into the forest with the blood-stained tokens. Ere long Owindia returned, and sat quietly in a corner of the lodge unnoticed by her father. Upon her face was an expression of deep determination. The light of a great resolve shone in her eyes. No longer did her body tremble with apprehension. An inward strength seemed to possess her, which calmed her every fear.
At length Klitonda dropped upon the fur-skin robe at his feet, drew his knees up to his chin, and remained a long time in deep, silent thought. Night drew on apace, and the confusion around the various camp fires gradually subsided. But deeper than all else was the silence which reigned within Klitonda's lodge, where father and daughter kept watch, each racked with wild, varying emotions.
CHAPTER XIII
A MAIDEN'S WILL
While Klitonda stood face to face with the Chilcat messenger strange, deep thoughts were surging through Owindia's nimble brain. She knew that her father did not fully comprehend the seriousness of their situation. She felt sure that what the Chilcats said they would do they would perform to the bitter end. They had been victors too long to be lightly turned aside from any object upon which they had set their hearts. Her father had contemptuously called them dogs, but she knew that they were dogs in the real sense of the term, keen, swift, and relentless. She studied as only an anxious woman can, the face of the visitor in an effort to read his thoughts. She admired his coolness, and calm indifference to danger. Were all the Chilcats as brave as this one? she wondered. If the messenger was so full of courage what must the chief's son be like who had sent him forth? What message would this man take back with him? How would he interpret her father's action, and how long would it be before the Chilcats began the attack? She thought of her father, her own people, and of her lover within the Post. The end she could easily foresee, and a tremor shook her body. They would be slain, and she herself carried away captive. With her loved ones gone what would there be in life for her? But with them alive and safe there would still be hope in her heart.
She remembered the story her mother had frequently told her of the maiden, who long ago had offered up her life to save her people. She had been thrilled by the tale, and often she had recalled it as she sat alone in the lodge out in the wilderness. At times she had thought that she herself would like to do such a deed as that, and she pictured the pride which would thrill the hearts of her own people as they related the story to their little ones around the camp fires. That was the dream; but here was the stern reality with none of the golden halo of romance.
Such were the ideas which occupied her mind as she crouched there in the corner. But when she had leaped to her feet, and diverted the blow of the descending axe she became firmly convinced as to the course she should pursue. After her father's wild action she well knew that the Chilcats would give no quarter unless something intervened, and that something must be herself. She watched the messenger receive the axe, and as he left the lodge she glided silently after him out into the night. He was moving toward the forest, but paused when he heard the light steps behind. The reflection of the fire dimly illumined his features, which expressed surprise at the sight of the maiden. For an instant Owindia's heart faltered, but seeing that the Indian looked not unkindly upon her, she took courage and glanced up beseechingly into his face.
"What does the Ayana squaw want?" the messenger questioned, noting her embarrassment.
"Will the Chilcat braves wait until to-morrow?" she asked in a low voice. "Will they stay until then from making the attack?"
"Why does the squaw request this?" was the reply. "Why should the Chilcats wait? Klukwan has the Ayana chief's answer. See, here is the token of battle," and he held forth the hunting axe.
"Ah, ah. Owindia knows. But there is another way. If the Chilcat braves will wait until to-morrow night just as the sun is sinking beyond the tops of the trees, Owindia will be at the great white rock in the valley with a different message."
"And what will that message be?" the Chilcat queried. "The chief's son must know, or else he will think that Klukwan is a sly fox, and is playing with him."
"Tell the chief's son," and here Owindia straightened herself up in a firm dignified manner, "that his heart's desire will be there."
"What! the Ayana squaw?"
"Ah, ah."
"And she will be the message?"
"Ah, ah."
"The squaw will not fail? If she does not come it will be bad for Klukwan."
"Bah! Owindia is the daughter of Klitonda; she has white blood in her veins. She does not lie. She will be there. Go!"
Re-entering the lodge Owindia sat down upon a bear-skin rug, and gave herself up to thoughts of no enviable nature. She glanced often at her father's immovable figure before her. But no help could she expect from him. She had to bear her burden alone, and even Natsatt could not assist her. To mention her purpose to either her father or her lover would only mean the defeat of her plan. How dark and terrible appeared the future. To leave the land of her birth, to forsake her own people, and never again to look upon the face of the one who had brought such rapturous joy into her young life. She would see Natsatt, no doubt, on the morrow, but that would be the last time, and she must betray nothing of her scheme to him. How she longed for her mother as she crouched there. It seemed that she had grown so old and care-worn of late. She thought of her happy girl-hood days, when she had played by the river, and rested so contentedly at night by her mother's side. Was she thinking of her? She mused, and did she know anything about her child's troubles?
Thus through the long hours she sat and thought, starting at the slightest noise, thinking that the Chilcats were upon them. Toward morning she laid her weary head upon a pillow of furs, and tired out, slept. It was late when she awoke. Her father had been long astir, and had their frugal breakfast ready. He was unusually talkative this morning, and more tender, so Owindia thought. He confided to her the plan which had been revolving through his brain during the night.
"Little one," he began, "the Chilcats are near, and will soon be upon us. There is no time to lose. Where are the tokens?"
"Safe, father," Owindia replied, going at once into the lodge, and bringing forth the score of arrows. "But what will you do with them?"
"Carry them to the hills, little one. The hunters, I believe, are fishing at the Great Lake. By travelling fast one should reach the place by night."
"And are you going yourself, father?" Owindia questioned. "Is there not a young hunter in camp who will go? What about Tesla or Atlin? Each is strong, and swift as the wild goose."
"Bah! They are no good. They make a big talk when they know they are safe. But when the Chilcats are near they are frightened at their own shadows. It is the same with most of the Ayana braves. No, Klitonda must take the tokens himself. At first he thought of sending his daughter, but that would not do. The way is too long, and there are many dangers. You stay in old Kluan's lodge to-night, but if the Coast dogs come, go into the Post; you will be safe there."
With a sad heart Owindia helped her father make ready for his journey. Then she bade him good-bye, and watched him until the shadowy forest hid him from view. She believed that she should never see him again. Amid the trees whither he had just disappeared she too would soon go, and what then?
Some time she spent within the lodge, gathering together her few belongings. Most of them were simple trinkets, several of which had been given to her by her mother. Next, she braided her long black hair, and coiled it deftly about her head in the same manner as her mother had often done. She had no mirror in which to look, and, therefore, had no idea what a pleasing picture she presented as she sat there alone. Natsatt had told her time and time again that she was very beautiful, more so in fact than any woman he had ever seen. She wanted him to admire her very much on this last day he should ever look upon her face. How would he like the way she had her hair arranged? she asked herself.
Leaving the lodge she walked slowly toward the river among the various camps pitched near. She noted that most of the Indians were packing up their belongings, and some had already taken them to their canoes. Several had departed, for the arrival of the Chilcats had stricken terror into their hearts. Reaching the bank of the river Owindia walked along the shore for some distance. She wished to be alone, to think over the step she was about to take. Seating herself at length upon a stone she gazed down pensively at the water flowing by close at her feet. It was a warm day, and the sun poured its hot beams upon her head. The birds twittered among the branches of the trees, and darted here and there through the air. Squirrels scolded, and butterflies zig-zagged to and fro. But Owindia heeded none of these. Her mind was upon other things, and she had neither eyes nor ears for the beautiful things of nature. Time did not matter to her now, for the day had to be passed somehow. There was no attraction for her at the camp since her father left. As for Natsatt, she almost dreaded meeting him. Her love was so strong and deep that she feared when in his presence her resolve might weaken. Perhaps it would be better to stay where she was away from the Post, and never see him again. She had about made up her mind to move farther up the river around a bend in the distance, and there remain hidden from view, when a step near arrested her attention. Glancing quickly around she beheld the very person of her thoughts rapidly approaching. Forgotten for the moment was her firmly-settled resolve, and a bright smile illumined her face as she rose to meet him.
"Why, little one, I have been looking everywhere for you," Natsatt cried, as he caught her in his arms. "So you have been sitting here all by yourself. What have you been doing?"
"Only thinking," the maiden replied, looking up lovingly into his face.
"Ah, that was what you were doing, eh? Thinking of me, no doubt, and wondering why I was so long in coming. But I couldn't find you for some time."
"I was thinking about you but the Chilcats would come into my mind too."
At the mention of the Chilcats Natsatt's face became grave, and his sunny smile disappeared.
"Yes, Owindia," he said, "we are in a serious position. The Coast Indians have come in strong force, and unless we can make terms with them they will be upon us in a short time, perhaps to-night. I cannot believe that they will attack us without sending some one first to have a talk with Ranger Dan. Surely they do not wish to destroy the white men, but merely force them to leave the country."
"And will the white traders go if the Chilcats demand it?" Owindia eagerly asked.
"No. Our leader would never consent to that, I am sure. Remember, we can put up a great fight behind those walls if all the men will only stand firm. But if we do go, Owindia must go too. If not, Natsatt will stay."
"The white men must go," Owindia replied, and then she told about the Chilcat messenger's visit to her father's lodge the previous night. She mentioned only two of the demands which had been made, and was careful to say nothing about herself. "They may come to-night," she said in conclusion, "and if the white traders do not go the Ayana people will be destroyed. They cannot fight long against the Chilcats. Oh, let them go while there is time!"
"Don't be afraid, little one," and Natsatt placed his arm tenderly around the maiden as he spoke. He noted that she was trembling, and attributed her fear to the presence of the enemy. "But come, I must go back and tell Dan what you have told me. It will be necessary for him to know what demands the Chilcats have made. And you must come with me, darling, into the Post. It will not do for you to stay outside, for you will be in great danger. All last night I worried about you. You will be safe within the walls. Ranger Dan and Natsatt will see to that."
But when the young man rose the maiden clung to his arm.
"Don't go yet," she pleaded. "Stay a little longer. Owindia cannot go into the Post now. She must wait awhile. Will not Natsatt make some music? Owindia's heart is full of fear, and the sweet sounds will help her to be strong."
Natsatt needed no second bidding, so drawing forth the mouth-organ he at once began to play. Forgotten for a time were the Chilcats, and as he played Owindia felt her courage rise. The chord of high resolve within her breast was again stirred. The old feeling of fear was banished, and she was willing to do, and to die if necessary for those she loved. Little did Natsatt realise what thoughts were passing through the mind of the young woman at his side. He believed that she had told him all, and that no veil separated their hearts of love. He was rapturously happy himself in the presence of Owindia. The charm of her face and manner appealed to him more than ever. And even when they rose to go Owindia delayed, threw her arms about his neck, and looked into his eyes with such beseeching tenderness that the young man was completely transported with joy. He was still in a state of bliss as he left her to make his way to the Post, promising that when night fell he would come for her to take her to a place of safety behind the wooden walls. Owindia had not said that she would go. She had merely told him to wait, and with this answer Natsatt had to be content.
Owindia walked slowly back to her father's lodge. Occasionally she turned and looked longingly toward the large door of the barricade through which her lover had gone. She paid no heed to the Indians, neither did she see the medicine man intently watching her some distance off. She did not know that he had been observing her as she walked along by Natsatt's side. She could not see the look upon the crafty creature's face, nor the malignant gleam which shone in his eyes. At the entrance of the lodge she seated herself, and watched the sun as hour after hour it dipped lower in the west. At length it swung just above the tops of the tallest fir trees, ready for its final plunge out of sight. Then Owindia rose to her feet, entered the lodge, and picking up a sharp knife slipped it within the bosom of her dress. Next she seized the small bundle she had made ready, hurried outside, gave one final glance toward the Post, and disappeared among the trees.
CHAPTER XIV
CAPTURED
When Klitonda left his lodge on that warm summer morning, he plunged at once into the forest, and struck a course straight for a mountain peak far away in the distance, towering high above its fellows. At its base lay a placid lake, abounding in fish, where he believed many of the Indians were encamped. Here he expected to find the young hunters upon whom his hopes were fixed.
A rough, crooked trail wound through the wilderness, and along this he travelled. Occasionally he paused and listened, for he knew that on his right, and not far away, the Chilcats were lying in ambush. He suspected that a number of the band would be scouring the forest for game, and it would, therefore, be necessary for him to advance with the greatest caution. Hardly a sound did he make as he glided stealthily among the trees, his eyes and ears keenly alert to every object and noise. Open wild meadows at times stretched out before him, and these he skirted, keeping well within the sheltering shadows of the friendly borders.
He was thinking deeply as he proceeded, for much was at stake, and he knew that in order to win out against the Coast tribe strategy rather than physical force would be necessary. Klitonda was no mere machine speeding through the forest, but a stern vital reality, whose breast throbbed with mingled emotions of hatred toward the Chilcats, and an intense love for his only child, and the welfare of his people.
After clearing what he believed to be the extreme outward limits of danger, he no longer paused to listen. The Chilcats would not be so far afield, so he imagined. He felt secure now, and in this sense of security lay his immediate danger. He became less cautious, and gave himself up to various plans for the overcoming of his enemies. But Klitonda might have known that he was never safe when the Coast dogs were anywhere within the borders of the country. He did not know that several of the hated tribe had been sent out to ascertain the whereabouts of the various Ayana bands. They had been travelling for some time, and coming to a little stream which purled gently through the forest, had stopped to drink, and to rest beneath the shade of a large fir tree.
All unconscious of the presence of his enemies, Klitonda was hurrying on his way. For weary miles his course took him through a region where not a drop of water could be obtained. Here the ground was parched and dry. The few trees, and what scanty vegetation there was, were stunted, and maintained a precarious existence. Fires had swept over the land years before, and large trunks stood out gaunt and lifeless amid this scene of desolation. Klitonda longed for water to cool his parched lips. The heat was almost unbearable, stifling in its intensity, with not a breath of air to give a moment's respite. In addition to this there were innumerable swarms of flies. They were persistent creatures, surrounding the traveller, and attacking him with the utmost ferocity. At times they almost blinded him as he hurried onward. He had been accustomed to these pests from infancy, but never had he known them to be as bad as they were on this day. He remembered how his parents had often built smudge fires, around which men, women, and children would crowd, preferring the blinding smoke to the torture of the insects.
Klitonda now looked eagerly forward to the little stream, which he knew was not far off. There he could stop, slake his burning thirst, and eat some of the dried moose meat he had brought with him. He had thrown aside all precaution, and with bent head speeded down the slope toward the water, which ere long he heard rippling through the forest. Reaching the bank he threw himself down upon several stones, and in this prostrate position drank eagerly of the sparkling brook. The murmuring sounds around him deadened his ears to any other noise, so he did not hear the soft footsteps of six robust Chilcats as like tigers they glided upon their prey.
Klitonda had satisfied his thirst, and had lifted his head, and was about to regain his feet, when in an instant his enemies were upon him. With a gurgling roar of rage Klitonda recoiled at the attack like some mountain grizzly suddenly startled in its den. With a terrific backward bound he bore the clinging Chilcats with him, and for one brief minute it seemed as if this giant of the forest would free himself from his adversaries. His rage was like that of a madman, and his strength appeared almost superhuman. He tossed the Chilcats about like so many playthings, and could he have laid his hand upon his axe, firmly secured in his belt, he would soon have made an end of the whole six opponents. But his arms, legs, and body were so enmeshed by merciless arms that he found it impossible to shake himself free. He staggered to his feet, but could not stand in an upright position for any length of time, and ere long he was forced to the ground, with five Chilcats seated upon his body, while the sixth securely bound his feet, and fastened his hands behind his back with strong moose-hide thongs.
When Klitonda realised that all further resistance would be in vain, he remained very quiet, and watched his captors with an air of apparent indifference. When it was possible to fight he did so with all the strength at his command. But when once overcome, and helpless, he could show his enemies how an Ayana chief could bear defeat.
The Chilcats having firmly bound their captive drew aside, and conversed together in low tones. What they said Klitonda could not tell, but presently they returned, unbound his feet, and commanded him to rise. This he did without an instant's hesitation and stood before them awaiting their further orders. Not a shadow of uneasiness marked his face, as drawn to his full height, he confronted the Chilcats. His eyes alone betrayed the tumultuous emotions which were stirring within his breast. They glowed like two living coals of fire, and well it was for the Coast braves that the chief's hands were tied. In fact so powerful did he seem standing there that the Chilcats placed another thong about his wrists for greater security. They could not well afford to lose so valuable a prisoner who had luckily fallen into their hands. Then for the first time a sarcastic smile played about Klitonda's mouth.
"The Chilcats are cowards," he said. "They are six to one. They sneak up like dogs. They are afraid to fight. They know the strength of the chief of the Ayana, and fear him when bound. They tremble as they look upon him. Their hearts are the same as jack-rabbits. Bah!"
"Let Klitonda talk," replied one. "The Chilcats care not what he says. He will do more than talk when he is taken before the chief's son. He will not sneer then. He calls the Chilcats dogs, but remember dogs can bite. But, come, it's time to be on the way, for a long trail lies ahead."
Klitonda's bow, hunting-axe, and sharp knife were taken from him. He was not surprised at this, for it was only natural that they should disarm such a noted antagonist. Only about the token arrows did he feel anxious. He had dropped them by his side as he stooped to drink, and in the struggle and excitement which ensued the Chilcats had not noticed them. If they remained there the Ayana Indians might find them, and come to his assistance. There was only a very slight possibility of their being found by the right persons. It was his only hope, however, and he felt somewhat relieved when at last they left the place and the arrows remained undisturbed where they had been dropped.
The Chilcats took special care that their prisoner should not escape. They were armed with guns, which had been supplied by the white traders along the coast. They were proud of these weapons, and by means of them they believed they were almost more than a match for the Interior Indians. In all their unscrupulous barter with the Ayana they would never trade a musket for any price no matter how tempting. It was their policy to confine the defeated people strictly to their primitive weapons, as less formidable in case of an uprising.
Klitonda walked in advance, and even if his hands had been free he would have had no chance whatsoever of evading the watchfulness of his captors. The Chilcats wished to take their prisoner back to camp alive. But rather than lose him they would not have hesitated to shoot him down. And this Klitonda well knew. The Chilcats had a number of old scores to settle with him, and shooting would be too easy a death. They had other choice punishments in reserve for this Ayana chieftain. Klitonda made no effort to escape. He walked more like a conqueror than a bound prisoner. Proudly he carried his head like some monarch of the forest. They might curb his body, but not his defiant spirit. He strode along at such a rapid pace that his captors found it difficult at times to keep up with him. He did not seem to mind the heat nor the flies now, for he had other things of a more serious nature to trouble him. He was thinking of the wreck of all his plans, and what would become of the white men, and his own people. That the former could hold out for any length of time against the overwhelming numbers of Chilcats he could scarcely believe. Their Post would be destroyed, and they themselves most likely killed. And what would become of Owindia? Who would protect her? There was little wonder that at such thoughts Klitonda should fiercely strain at the gripping thongs. Oh, to be free once more! With hands unloosed he would face the whole Chilcat horde. He did not fear death, if he could meet it in the midst of his enemies, with hunting axe in hand. But to be bound like a cur, and to endure all the insults which would be heaped upon him, with an ignominious death in the end, were like gall and wormwood to the proud chief.
Thus all through that hot afternoon they sped on their way. The sun sank low in the west, and at length disappeared behind the trees. The air became cooler, and the innumerable flies ceased their pitiless torture. The trailing light of day hung lingeringly over the land until night at length rose slowly up from forest and valley, and folded her in its diaphanous mantle. The narrow trail became lost in the deepening gloom, and the wayfarers were forced to depend upon the sense of touch rather than sight to guide them forward. Their progress became slower, and the Chilcats crowded closer to their prisoner, fearful lest they should lose him in the darkness. No stars were visible, for thick clouds had drifted in from the coast, and a plaintive wind began to moan among the trees. But steadily they pressed onward, until at length a light pierced the murky gloom straight ahead. Then the Chilcats paused, while one of them lifted up his voice, and gave a succession of short shrill calls. Soon an answer came speeding back, so without further hesitation they hurried onward out of the night toward the cheerful fire.
To Klitonda the place seemed alive with Indians crowding around the genial blaze, for the night was now chilly. They were evidently preparing to leave, for their guns were lying near, while their hunting axes and sharp knives were in their places. They were a hardy, formidable band of warriors which met Klitonda's gaze. One glance was sufficient for him to interpret the purpose of their preparations. The Post was the object of their attack, and the dark night would stand them in good stead. For themselves they had no fear. The Ayana Indians they held in such contempt, that they did not think them worthy of consideration. Instead of prowling about the Chilcat camp they believed that they were hurrying off to their mountain fastnesses. As for the white men they were not so sure. They, accordingly, had several braves lying in ambush watching the Post, who would hurry back with the news should the white traders sally forth for a night attack. The Chilcats, therefore, felt no immediate danger, and were laughing and chatting about the fire as Klitonda drew near.
At once considerable excitement ensued at the presence of the outcast chief. Forgotten for a time was the contemplated raid upon the Post, and all turned their attention to the prisoner standing in their midst.
Klitonda uttered not a word, but gazed calmly upon his enemies. He noted their leader, the chief's son, and a slight curl of contempt flickered about the corners of his mouth as he watched him. He was smaller than the ordinary Chilcat, fat, and possessed of a weak, sensual face. Stupidity and arrogance were plainly stamped upon his features. So this was the creature who made war upon the Ayana, and demanded Owindia for his wife. Better, so Klitonda thought, that his daughter should be dead than to live with such a brute. He was surprised, too, at the deference paid to him by his men, and how implicitly those around the fire obeyed his slightest word. This leader was evidently fond of pow-wows, when he could give vent to his oratorical powers.
"Bamba is pleased to see Klitonda, chief of the Ayana," he began, turning to the captive. "But where is his daughter? Why is she not here too?"
"Dog of a Chilcat," was the low growl-like response. "Why speak such soft words? Klitonda knows their worth. Owindia will never be the wife of such a cur as Bamba. The Chilcats are squaws. They are afraid of Klitonda. He stands here in their midst. Unfasten these thongs. With all his warriors about him, does he fear one Ayana brave?"
"Why does Klitonda say such things?" was the sharp reply. "Does he not know that he is in the hands of the Chilcats? Does not his heart tell him that soft words will come better from his lips?"
"Bah! Klitonda is not a jack-rabbit. He has said that the Chilcats are squaws, but no he was wrong, they are papooses."
During this conversation Klitonda was standing close to the fire, while the Coast Indians were gathered near, surrounding their leader. As the word of contempt fell from the captive's lips, Bamba turned and pointed to a tree standing in the shadows several rods away.
"Take the Ayana chief, and fasten him there," he commanded. "Bamba would talk to the Chilcat warriors. Make the dog safe, neck, body, and feet. Quick."
Klitonda was immediately seized, and hurried across the open. With his back placed against the tree he was bound as Bamba had directed. And there he was left alone facing his captors, who were now gathered about the fire in eager consultation. Klitonda knew that escape from such a situation was impossible. The thong about his neck was alone sufficient to bind him, apart from the others around his body and ankles. It drew his head back against the tree in a cramped position, forcing him to look upwards, and only with extreme difficulty could he observe the warriors sitting near the fire. The wind swayed the trees, and the cold air drifted into his face. But though his body was bound, his indomitable spirit was free. Thongs, and the power of the Chilcats could not curb that. He knew what to expect from his merciless enemies. What the outcome of their consultation would be he had not the slightest doubt. But no matter what they might do he would be Klitonda, the Ayana chief, to the bitter end.