The red feathers

Wind Lake was entered early in the evening of the second day of the journey. The voyagers did not land at sunset, but continued to paddle up the long, narrow lake until they reached a point on the western shore where a wooded valley opened on the water, between two wooded hills. By the time all the canoes were unloaded and the people settled for sleep, it was long past midnight.

This was the place where Run-all-day had spent the last four winters, his lodge standing alone in that warm and sheltered valley, with an outlook on the white lake, and with good hunting country on three sides; but now the owners of the other canoes and families begged him to allow them to build their winter lodges beside his.

“Let us stay near you,” said an old man named Green Bow on the morning after their arrival. “The visit of Bright Robe has filled us with trembling, and our dreams with black visions. You are brave. You shall be chief of the village and master of the chase, if only we may camp in your valley and keep our hearts up with the sight of your courage; for who can say at what time Bright Robe may visit us again?”

“My heart ran to water in the presence of Bright Robe,” replied Run-all-day. “My muscles were no more than the muscles of a woman. I did his bidding like a child and trembled at the sound of his voice. And yet,” he concluded, wonderingly, “you ask me to inspire you with my courage.”

“Your eyes remained steady,” replied the old man. “I think there was still a flame of courage in the bottom of your heart.”

Run-all-day looked from the old man to the others of the party, and a new and delightful sensation took possession of him. Here was recognition of his prowess, surely. They looked to him for protection from the great and wicked magician. Well, he would do what he could, as he had always done in humbler matters.

“Friends,” said he, “I am willing to be your chief and to let you hunt and live in this valley. But I am not a magician, and I greatly fear that the courage of a hunter would prove of no avail against the evil strength of Bright Robe. But, my friends, I am well liked by one who does not fear Bright Robe. Wise-as-a-she-wolf has claimed me for a relative; has partaken of my cooking-pot; has even made a gift to my littlest warrior.”

Now this was a trifle more than even Lazy Bear could believe. As for old Green Bow, he frowned at Run-all-day. “This is a new thing to our ears,” he said. “May I ask, chief, how long it is since you began to keep such fine company?”

The new-made chief was stung to anger.

“You do not believe my word,” he cried. “Then I will give you proof of it.”

He put his hand on Green Bow’s shoulder. “Where did you have your lodge, during the summer?” he asked, sternly.

“At the mouth of the River of Three Fires, on a knoll on the northern shore, under three great pines,” answered the old man.

“And did you leave any familiar possession behind you?”

The old man nodded.

“I forgot my best skinning-knife,” he replied. “It is somewhere in my wigwam, chief.”

“Then,” said Run-all-day, gazing proudly around him at the puzzled faces of his people, “I shall start for the mouth of the river to-night,—and in the morning the knife will be in your hand.”

“Ah-ha,” cried Green Bow. “Then you are a magician after all. Why did you not lift your club, two nights ago, and deal Bright Robe a whack on the head?”

“So you continue to doubt me,” said Run-all-day. “But I do not wonder at that. I am an honest fisherman and hunter. I have no knowledge of magic. But if I fail to bring you your knife by sunrise to-morrow, then you may choose another chief and Run-all-day will take his family from this valley and seek another home.”

The braves were still incredulous. Though of great endurance and speed, how could their comrade make a four days’ journey in one night?

“Perhaps you have the moccasins of the wind hidden in your lodge?” said Lazy Bear.

“Or the red feathers?” suggested a youth named Little Fox.

Green Bow placed his fingers on his lips. “Would you have Bright Robe back again?” he whispered, sharply. “Keep your thoughts behind your tongues, if your minds run on such things.”

“The old man is right,” said Run-all-day. “If I make a long journey in the night-time, to prove to you that I still speak the truth, let not so much as a hint of it go beyond the warriors of this new village.”

Run-all-day worked busily with the others, at the building of the lodges. But the furtive glances and whisperings of his companions kept him in a bad humour; and thought of the awful journey he had so boastfully undertaken, weighed on his spirit. He did not doubt, for a moment, the ability of the red feathers to take him to the mouth of the river and home again; but fear of the terrific speed and the great magic gripped his heart.

When the evening meal was finished and the warriors began to draw around the central fire, the new chief entered his lodge and whispered his trouble in the ear of Red Willow.

“You may not withdraw from your promise,” she said. “If these are truly the magic feathers they will not fail you. Fly high and straight, tarry at Green Bow’s camp only long enough to find the knife, and return without again alighting. It is well that you planned to make the journey in the night-time; for, doubt not, sharp eyes would mark your flight by day, eager tongues would carry word of it far and wide, and the ears of powerful persons would hear of it. Now, since the visit of Bright Robe, I, too, fear this gift for the littlest warrior. But it is our duty to keep the feathers safely. Wise-as-a-she-wolf may need them again. We must never allow them to pass into the hands of one of his enemies.”

Run-all-day placed one of the slim, red feathers in each of his moccasins, with shaking fingers. Then, for several hours, he sat in the lodge, listening to the chatter of his family, and struggling with the fear that ran like ice in his veins. At last he stepped softly through the doorway, followed by Red Willow. The night was black, unlit by any star, and a low wind crawled in the tree-tops.

The woman pointed northward. “That is the road,” she whispered.

Run-all-day drew a deep breath, hesitated for a moment, and then sprang into the air. He saw the dark mass of the forest under his feet, and the glow of the camp-fire around which the warriors still sat. The four quarters of the sky lay black and vast around him, and the prowling wind blew against his moccasins. Then, with a second desperate resolve, he ran northward along the currents of the air.

Dawn was breaking along the east when Run-all-day entered his lodge with Green Bow’s knife in his hand. He was breathless. Snow had commenced to fall when he had but begun his return journey, and he had lost his way and been forced to descend twice to earth. He returned the feathers to Red Willow with a sigh of relief.

When the sun crawled up in a clear sky, he stepped from the lodge and approached the group of braves already assembled in the centre of the encampment. The experience of the night had left a pallor on his face; and every man noticed it.

“You have not slept well,” said old Green Bow, peering up at him with a secret glance.

“Have you worried about your good hunting-ground?” inquired Little Fox.

For answer, Run-all-day took the knife from his belt and tossed it to Green Bow.

“Is that your wonderful skinning-knife?” he asked, sharply.

The old man recovered the weapon from the ground, examined it closely and uttered a hoarse cry of amazement. The others crowded around him; only the chief held aloof.

“It is the knife,” cried one.

“He left it at the mouth of the river, four days’ journey from here,” cried another.

“I keep my promises,” said Run-all-day, and stalked back to his lodge.