CHAPTER SEVEN.
BIG TIM'S METHOD WITH SAVAGES.
"I sincerely hope," said the wounded man, with a look of anxiety, "thatthe plan you speak of does not involve the slaughter of these men."
"It does not" replied Big Tim, "though if it did, it would be servingthem right, for they would slaughter you and me--ay, and even Softswanthere--if they could lay hold of us."
"Is it too much to ask the son of my old friend to let me know what hisplans are? A knowledge of them would perhaps remove my anxiety, which Ifeel pressing heavily on me in my present weak condition. Besides, Imay be able to counsel you. Although a man of peace, my life has beenbut too frequently mixed up with scenes of war and bloodshed. In truth,my mission on earth is to teach those principles which, if universallyacted on, would put an end to both;--perhaps I should have said, mymission is to point men to that Saviour who is an embodiment of theprinciples of Love and Peace and Goodwill."
For a few seconds the young hunter sat on the floor of the cave insilence, with his hands clasped round his knees, and his eyes cast downas if in meditation. At last a smile played on his features, and helooked at his questioner with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.
"Well, my white father," he said, "I see no reason why I should notexplain the matter to my daddy's old friend; but I'll have to say my saysmartly, for by the stamping and yells o' the rep--o' the Blackfeetoverhead, I perceive that they've got hold o' my case-bottle o' rum, an'if I don't stop them they'll pull the old hut down about their ears.
"Well, you must know that my daddy left the settlements in his youngdays," continued Big Tim, "an' took to a rovin' life on the prairies an'mountains, but p'r'aps he told you that long ago. No? Well, he servedfor some time at a queer sort o' trade--the makin' o' fireworks; themrediklous things they call squibs, crackers, rockets, an' Roman candles,with which the foolish folk o' the settlements blow their money intosmoke for the sake o' ticklin' their fancies for a few minutes.
"Well, when he came here, of course he had no use for sitchtomfooleries, but once or twice, when he wanted to astonish the natives,he got hold o' some 'pothicary's stuff an' wi' gunpowder an' charcoalconcocted some things that well-nigh drove the red men out o' theirsenses, an' got daddy to be regarded as a great medicine-man. Of coursehe kep' it secret how he produced the surprisin' fires--an', to saytruth, I think from my own experience that if he had tried to explain itto 'em they could have made neither head nor tail o't. For a long timearter that he did nothin' more in that way, till one time when theBlackfeet came an' catched daddy an' me nappin' in this very hut and webarely got off wi' the scalps on our heads by scrambling down theprecipice where the reptiles didn't like to follow. When they left theplace they took all our odds an' ends wi' them, an' set fire to the hut.Arter they was gone we set to work an' built a noo hut. Then daddy--who's got an amazin' turn for inventin' things--set to work to concoctsuthin' for the reptiles if they should pay us another visit. It was atthat time he thought of turnin' this cave to account as a place o'refuge when hard pressed, an' hit on the plan for liftin' the big stoneeasy, which no doubt you've obsarved."
"Yes; Softswan has explained it to me. But what about your plan withthe Indians?" said the preacher.
"I'm comin' to that," replied the hunter. "Well, daddy set to work an'made a lot o' fireworks--big squibs, an' them sort o' crackers, I forgetwhat you call 'em, that jumps about as if they was not only alive, butpossessed with evil spirits--"
"I know them--zigzag crackers," said the preacher, somewhat amused.
"That's them," cried Big Tim, with an eager look, as if the mere memoryof them were exciting. "Well, daddy he fixed up a lot o' the big squibsan' Roman candles round the walls o' the hut in such a way that they allp'inted from ivery corner, above an' below, to the centre of the hut,right in front o' the fireplace, so that their fire should all meet, soto speak, in a focus. Then he chiselled out a lot o' little holes inthe stone walls in such a way that they could not be seen, and in everyhole he put a zigzag cracker; an' he connected the whole affair--squibs,candles, and crackers--with an instantaneous fuse, the end of which hetrained down, through a hole cut in the solid rock, into this here cave;an' there's the end of it right opposite to yer nose."
He pointed as he spoke to a part of the wall of the cavern where a smallpiece of what seemed like white tape projected about half an inch fromthe stone.
"Has it ever been tried?" asked the preacher, who, despite his weak andwounded condition, could hardly restrain a laugh as the young hunterdescribed his father's complicated arrangements.
"No, we han't tried it yet, 'cause the reptiles haven't bin here since,but daddy, who's a very thoroughgoin' man, has given the things acomplete overhaul once a month ever since--'cept when he was away onlong expeditions--so as to make sure the stuff was dry an in workin'order. Now," added the young man, rising and lighting a piece of tinderat the torch on the wall, "it's about time that we should putt it to thetest. If things don't go wrong, you'll hear summat koorious overheadbefore long."
He applied a light to the quick-match as he spoke, and awaited theresult.
In order that the reader may observe that result more clearly, we willtransport him to the scene of festivity in the little fortress above.
As Big Tim correctly surmised, the savages had discovered the hunter'sstore of rum just after eating as much venison as they could comfortablyconsume. Fire-water, as is well known, tells with tremendous effect onthe excitable nerves and minds of Indians. In a very few minutes itproduced, as in many white men, a tendency to become garrulous. Whilein this stage the savages began to boast, if possible, more than usualof their prowess in chase and war, and as their potations continued,they were guilty of that undignified act--so rare among red men and socommon among whites--of interrupting and contradicting each other.
This condition is the sure precursor of the quarrelsome and fightingstage of drunkenness. They had almost reached it, when Rushing Riverrose to his feet for the purpose of making a speech. Usually the formof the chief was as firm as the rock on which he stood. At this time,however, it swayed very slightly to and fro, and in his eyes--which wereusually noted for the intensity of their eagle glance--there was justthen an owlish blink as they surveyed the circle of his braves.
Indeed Rushing River, as he stood there looking down into the upturnedfaces, observed--with what feelings we know not--that these bravessometimes exhibited a few of the same owlish blinks in their earnesteyes.
"My b-braves," said the chief; and then, evidently forgetting what heintended to say, he put on one of those looks of astonishing solemnitywhich fire-water alone is capable of producing.
"My b-braves," he began again, looking sternly round the almostbreathless and expectant circle, "when we left our l-lodges in them-mountains this morning the sun was rising."
He paused, and this being an emphatic truism, was received with anequally emphatic "Ho" of assent.
"N-now," continued the chief, with a gentle sway to the right, which hecorrected with an abrupt jerk to the left, "n-now, the sun is about todescend, and w-we are _here_!"
Feeling that he had made a decided point, he drew himself up andblinked, while his audience gave vent to another "Ho" in tones whichexpressed the idea--"waiting for more." The comrade, however, whoseveins were fired, or chilled, with the few drops of white blood,ventured to assert his independence by ejaculating "Hum!"
"Bounding Bull," cried the chief, suddenly shifting ground and glaring,while he breathed hard and showed his teeth, "is a coward. His daughterSoftswan is a chicken-hearted squaw; and her husband Big Tim is askunk--so is Little Tim his father."
These remarks, being thoroughly in accord with the sentiments of thebraves, were received with a storm of "Ho's," "How's," "Hi's," and"Hee's," which effectually drowned the cheeky one's "Hum's," and greatlyencouraged the chief, who thereafter broke forth in a flow of languagewhich was more in keeping with his name. After a few boastfulreferences to the deeds of himself a
nd his forefathers, he went into anelaborate and exaggerated description of the valorous way in which theyhad that day stormed the fort of their pale-face enemies and driven themout; after which, losing somehow the thread of his discourse, he fellback on an appallingly solemn look, blinked, and sat down.
This was the signal for the recurrence of the approving "Ho's" and"Hi's," the gratifying effect of which, however, was slightly marredwhen silence was restored by a subdued "Hum" from the cheeky comrade.
Directing a fierce glance at that presumptuous brave, Rushing River wasabout to give vent to words which might have led on to the fightingstage, when he was arrested, and, with his men, almost petrified, by astrange fizzing noise which seemed to come from the earth directly belowthem.
Incomprehensible sounds are at all times more calculated to alarm thansounds which we recognise. The report of a rifle, the yell of a foe,could not have produced such an effect on the savages as did thatfizzing sound. Each man grasped his tomahawk, but sat still, and turnedpale. The fizzing sound was interspersed with one or two cracks, whichintensified the alarm, but did not clear up the mystery. If they hadonly known what to do they would have done it; what danger to face, theywould have faced it; but to sit there inactive, with the mysterioussounds increasing, was almost intolerable.
Rushing River, of all the band, maintained his character for recklesshardihood. He sat there unblenched and apparently unmoved, though itwas plain that he was intensely watchful and ready. But the foeassailed him where least expected. In a little hole right under thevery spot on which he sat lay one of the zigzag crackers. Its firstcrack caused the chief, despite his power of will and early training, tobound up as if an electric battery had discharged him. The second cracksent the eccentric thing into his face. Its third vagary brought itdown about his knees. Its fourth sent it into the gaping mouth of thecheeky one. At the same instant the squibs and candles burst forth fromall points, pouring their fires on the naked shoulders of the red menwith a hiss that the whole serpent race of America might have failed toequal, while the other zigzags went careering about as if the hut werefilled with evil spirits.
To say that the savages yelled and jumped, and stamped and roared, werebut a tame remark. After a series of wild bursts, in sudden and violentconfusion which words cannot describe, they rushed in a compact body tothe door. Of course they stuck fast. Rushing River went at them like abattering-ram, and tried to force them through, but failed. The cheekycomrade, with a better appreciation of the possibilities of the case,took a short run and a header right over the struggling mass, _a laharlequin_, and came down on his shoulders outside, without breaking hisneck.
Guessing the state of things by the nature of the sounds, Big Timremoved the table from under the ponderous weight, lifted there-adjusted trap-door, and, springing up, darted into the hut just intime to bestow a parting kick on the last man that struggled through.Running to the breastwork, he beheld his foes tumbling, rushing,crashing, bounding down the track like maniacs--which indeed they werefor the time being--and he succeeded in urging them to even greaterexertions by giving utterance to a grand resonant British cheer, whichhad been taught him by his father, and had indeed been used by him morethan once, with signal success, against his Indian foes.
Returning to the cavern after the Indians had vanished into their nativewoods, Big Tim assisted the preacher up the ladder, and, taking him intothe hut after the smoke of the fireworks had cleared away, placed him inhis own bed.
"You resemble your father in face, Big Tim, but not in figure," said themissionary, when he had recovered from the exhaustion caused by hisrecent efforts and excitement.
"My white father says truth," replied the hunter, with slightly humorousglances at his huge limbs. "Daddy is little, but he is strong--uncommonstrong."
"He used to be so when I knew him," returned the preacher, "and I daresay the twenty years that have passed since then have not changed himmuch, for he is a good deal younger than I am--about the same age, Ishould suppose, as my old friend Whitewing."
"Yes, that's so," said the hunter; "they're both about five-an'-forty orthere-away, though I doubt if either o' them is quite sure about hisage. An' they're both beginning to be grizzled about the scalp-locks."
"Your father, although somewhat reckless in his disposition," continuedthe preacher, after a pause, "was a man of earnest mind."
"That's a fact, an' no mistake," returned Big Tim, examining a pot ofsoup which his bride had put on the fire to warm up for their visitor."I doubt if ever I saw a more arnest-minded man than daddy, especiallywhen he tackles his victuals or gets on the track of a grizzly b'ar."
The missionary smiled, in spite of himself, as he explained that theearnestness he referred to was connected rather with the soul and thespiritual world than with this sublunary sphere.
"Well, he is arnest about that too," returned the hunter. "He has oftentold me that he didn't use to trouble his head about such matters longago, but after that time when he met you on the prairies he had been ledto think a deal more about 'em. He's a queer man is daddy, an' puttsthings to ye in a queer way sometimes. `Timmy,' says he to me once--hecalls me Timmy out o' fondness, you know--`Timmy,' says he, `if youcomed up to a great thick glass wall, not very easy to see through, wi'a door in it, an' you was told that some day that door would open, an'you'd have to go through an' live on the other side o' that glass wall,you'd be koorious to know the lie o' the land on the other side o' thatwall, wouldn't you, and what sort o' customers you'd have to consort wi'there, eh?'
"`Yes, daddy,' says I, `you say right, an' I'd be a great fool if Ididn't take a good long squint now an' again.'
"`Well, Timmy,' says he, `this world is that glass wall, an' death isthe door through it, an' the Bible that the preacher gave me long ago isthe Book that helps to clear up the glass an' enable us to see throughit a little better; an' a Blackfoot bullet or arrow may open the door toyou an' me any day, so I'd advise you, lad, to take a good squint nowan' again.' An' I've done it, too, Preacher, I've done it, but there'sa deal on it that I don't rightly understand."
"That I do not wonder at, my young friend; and I hope that if God sparesme I may be able to help you a little in this matter. But what ofWhitewing? Has he never tried to assist you?"
"Tried! He just has; but the chief is too deep for me most times. Heseems to have a wonderful grip o' these things himself, an' many a longpalaver he has wi' my daddy about 'em. Whitewing does little else, infact but go about among his people far an' near tellin' them about theirlost condition and the Saviour of sinners. He has even ventur'd tovisit a tribe o' the Blackfeet, but his great enemy Rushin' River hassworn to scalp him if he gets hold of him, so we've done our best tohold him back--daddy an' me--for it would be of no use preachin' to sucha double-dyed villain as Rushin' River."
"That is one of the things," returned the preacher, "that you do notquite understand, Big Tim, for it was to such men as he that our Saviourcame. Indeed, I have returned to this part of the country for the verypurpose of visiting the Blackfoot chief in company with Whitewing."
"Both you and Whitewing will be scalped if you do," said the younghunter almost sternly.
"I trust not," returned the preacher; "and we hope to induce your fatherto go with us."
"Then daddy will be scalped too," said Big Tim--"an' so will I, for I'mbound to keep daddy company."
"It is to be hoped your gloomy expectations will not be realised,"returned the preacher. "But tell me, where is your father just now?"
"Out hunting, not far off," replied the youth, with an anxious look."To say truth, I don't feel quite easy about him, for he's bin awaylonger than usual, or than there's any occasion for. If he doesn'treturn soon, I'll have to go an' sarch for him."
As the hunter spoke the hooting of an owl was distinctly heard outside.The preacher looked up inquiringly, for he was too well acquainted withthe ways of Indians not to know that the cry was a signal from a bipedwithout wings. He saw that
Big Tim and his bride were both listeningintently, with expressions of joyful expectation on their faces.
Again the cry was heard, much nearer than before.
"Whitewing!" exclaimed the hunter, leaping up and hastening to the door.
Softswan did not move, but continued silently to stir the soup in thepot on the fire.
Presently many footsteps were heard outside, and the sound of menconversing in low tones. Another moment, and a handsome middle-agedIndian stood in the doorway. With an expression of profound sorrow, hegazed for one moment at the wounded man; then, striding forward, kneltbeside him and grasped his hand.
"My white father!" he said.
"Whitewing!" exclaimed the preacher; "I little expected that our meetingshould be like this!"
"Is the preacher badly hurt?" asked the Indian in a low voice.
"It may be so; I cannot tell. My feelings lead me to--to doubt--I wasgoing to say fear, but I have nothing to fear. `He doeth all thingswell.' If my work on earth is not done, I shall live; if it isfinished, I shall die."
The Prairie Chief Page 7
