CHAPTER XVII
THE PRICE OF BLOOD
How many shapeless terrors can spring from the mind of man I never knewtill Eric and the priest left me alone in the Mandane village. Ever, onclosing my eyes, there rolled and rolled past, endlessly, without goingone pace beyond my sight, something too horrible to be contemplated.When I looked about to assure myself the thing was not there--could notpossibly be there--memory flashed back the whole dreadful scene. Upstarted glazed eyes from the hearth, the floor, and every dim nook inthe lodge. Thereupon I would rush into the village road, where theshamefaced greetings of guilty Indians recalled another horror.
If I ventured into Le Grand Diable's power a fate worse than La RobeNoire's awaited me. That there would be a hostile demonstration over theSioux messenger's death I was certain. Nothing that I offered couldinduce any of the Indians to act as scouts or to reconnoiter the enemy'sencampment. I had, of my own will, chosen to remain, and now I foundmyself with tied hands, fuming and gnashing against fate, conjuring upall sorts of projects for the rescue of Miriam, and butting my headagainst the impossible at every turn. Thus three weary days draggedpast.
Having reflected on the consequences of their outrage, the Mandanesexhibited repentance of a characteristically human form--resentmentagainst the cause of their trouble. Unfortunately, I was the cause. Fromthe black looks of the young men I half suspected, if the Sioux chiefwould accept me in lieu of material gifts, I might be presented as apeace-offering. This would certainly not forward my quest, and prudence,or cowardice--two things easily confused when one is in peril--counseleddiscretion, and discretion seemed to counsel flight.
"Discretion! Discretion to perdition!" I cried, springing up from amidnight reverie in my hut. Every selfish argument for my own safety hadpassed in review before my mind, and something so akin to judiciouscaution, which we trappers in plain language called "cowardice," wasinsidiously assailing my better self, I cast logic's sophistries to thewinds, and dared death or torture to drive me from my post. Whence comesthis sublime, reasonless _abandon_ of imperiled human beings, whichcasts off fear and caution and prudence and forethought and all thatgoes to make success in the common walks of life, and at one blind leapmounts the Sinai of duty? To me, the impulse upwards is as mysterious asthe impulse downwards, and I do not wonder that pagans ascribe one toOrmuzd, the other to Ahriman. 'Tis ours to yield or resist, and Iyielded with the vehemence of a passionate nature, vowing in thedarkness of the hut--"Here, before God, I stay!"
Swift came test of my oath. While the words were yet on my lips,stealthy steps suddenly glided round the lodge. A shuffling stopped atthe door, while a chilling fear took possession of me lest the mutilatedform of my other Indian should next be hurled through the window. I hadnot time to shoot the door-bolt to its catch before a sharp click toldof lifted latch. The hinge creaked, and there, distinct in thestarlight, that smote through the open, stood Little Fellow, himself,haggard and almost naked.
"Little Fellow! Good boy!" I shouted, pulling him in. "Where did youcome from? How did you get away? Is it you or your ghost?"
Down he squatted with a grunt on one of the robes, answering never aword. The gaunt look of the man declared his needs, so I prepared tofeed him back to speech. This task kept me busy till daybreak, for thefilling capacity of a famishing Indian may not be likened to any otherhungry thing on earth without doing the red man grave injustice.
"Hoohoo! Hoohoo! But I be sick man to-morrow!" and he rubbed himselfdown with a satisfied air of distension, declining to have his platereloaded for the tenth time. I noticed the poor wretch's skin was cut tothe bone round wrists and ankles. Chafed bandage marks encircled theflesh of his neck.
"What did this, Little Fellow?" and I pointed to the scars.
A grim look of Indian gratitude for my interest came into the stolidface.
"Bad Indians," was the terse response.
"Did they torture you?"
He grunted a ferocious negative.
"You got away too quick for them?"
An affirmative grunt.
"Le Grand Diable--did you see him?"
At that name, his white teeth snapped shut, and from the depths of theIndian's throat came the vicious snarl of an enraged wolf.
"Come," I coaxed, "tell me. How long since you left the Sioux?"
"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one sleep," and rising, he enacted a hobblinggait across the cabin in unison with the rhythmic utterance of hiswords.
"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one."
"Traveled at night!" I interrupted. "Two nights! You couldn't do it intwo nights!"
"Walkee--walkee--walkee--one sleep," he repeated.
"Three nights!"
Four times he hobbled across the floor, which meant he had come afootthe whole distance, traveling only at night.
Sitting down, he began in a low monotone relating how he had returned toLa Robe Noire with the additional ransom demanded by Le Grand Diable.The "pig Sioux, more gluttonous than the wolverine, more treacherousthan the mountain cat," had come out to receive them with hootings. Theplunder was taken, "as a dead enemy is picked by carrion buzzards." He,himself, was dragged from his horse and bound like a slave squaw. LaRobe Noire had been stripped naked, and young men began piercing hischest with lances, shouting, "Take that, man who would scalp theIroquois! Take that, enemy to the Sioux! Take that, dog that's friend tothe white man!" Then had La Robe Noire, whose hands were bound, sprungupon his torturers and as the trapped badger snaps the hand of thehunter so had he buried his teeth in the face of a boasting Sioux.
Here, Little Fellow's teeth clenched shut in savage imitation. Then wasLe Grand Diable's knife unsheathed. More, my messenger could not see;for a Sioux bandaged his eyes. Another tied a rope round his neck. Thus,like a dead stag, was he pulled over the ground to a wigwam. Here he layfor many "sleeps," knowing not when the great sun rose and when he sank.Once, the lodges became very still, like many waters, when the windslumbers and only the little waves lap. Then came one with the soft,small fingers of a white woman and gently, scarcely touching him, as thespirits rustle through the forest of a dark night, had these hands cutthe rope around his neck, and unbound him. A whisper in the Englishtongue, "Go--run--for your life! Hide by day! Run at night!"
The skin of the tent wall was lifted by the same hands. He rolled out.He tore the blind from his eyes. It was dark. The spirits had quenchedtheir star torches. No souls of dead warriors danced on the fire plainof the northern sky! The father of winds let loose a blast to drown allsound and help good Indian against the pig Sioux! He ran like a hare. Heleaped like a deer. He came as the arrows from the bow of the greathunter. Thus had he escaped from the Sioux!
Little Fellow ceased speaking, wrapped himself in robes and fell asleep.
I could not doubt whose were the liberator's hands, and I marveled thatshe had not come with him. Had she known of our efforts at all? Itseemed unlikely. Else, with the liberty she had, to come to LittleFellow, surely she would have tried to escape. On the other hand, herimmunity from torture might depend on never attempting to regainfreedom.
Now I knew what to expect if I were captured by the Sioux. Yet, givenanother stormy night, if Little Fellow and I were near the Sioux withfleet horses, could not Miriam be rescued in the same way he hadescaped? Until Little Fellow had eaten and slept back to his normalcondition of courage, it would be useless to propose such a hazardousplan. Indeed, I decided to send him to some point on the northern trail,where I could join him and go alone to the Sioux camp. This would bebetter than sitting still to be given as a hostage to the Sioux. If theworst happened and I were captured, had I the courage to endure Indiantortures? A man endures what he must endure, whether he will, or not;and I certainly had not courage to leave the country without one blowfor Miriam's freedom.
With these thoughts, I gathered my belongings in preparation for secretdeparture from the Mandanes that night. Then I prepared breakfast, sawLittle Fellow lie back in a dead sleep, and strolled out among thelodges.<
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Four days had passed without the coming of the avengers. The villagerswere disposed to forget their guilt and treat me less sulkily. As Isauntered towards the north hill, pleasant words greeted me from thelodges.
"Be not afraid, my son," exhorted Chief Black Cat. "Lend a deaf ear tobad talk! No harm shall befall the white man! Be not afraid!"
"Afraid!" I flouted back. "Who's afraid, Black Cat? Only white-liveredcowards fear the Sioux! Surely no Mandane brave fears the Sioux--ugh!The cowardly Sioux!"
My vaunting pleased the old chief mightily; for the Indian is nothing ifnot a boaster. At once Black Cat would have broken out in loud tirade onhis friendship for me and contempt for the Sioux, but I cut him shortand moved towards the hill, that overlooked the enemy's territory. Agreat cloud of dust whirled up from the northern horizon.
"A tornado the next thing!" I exclaimed with disgust. "The fates areagainst me! A fig for my plans!"
I stooped. With ear to the ground I could hear a rumbling clatter as ofa buffalo stampede.
"What is it, my son?" asked the voice of the chief, and I saw that BlackCat had followed me to the hill.
"Are those buffalo, Black Cat?" and I pointed to the north.
As he peered forward, distinguishing clearly what my civilized eyescould not see, his face darkened.
"The Sioux!" he muttered with a black look at me. Turning, he would havehurried away without further protests of friendship, but I kept pacewith him.
"Pooh!" said I, with a lofty contempt, which I was far from feeling."Pooh! Black Cat! Who's afraid of the Sioux? Let the women run from theSioux!"
He gave me a sidelong glance to penetrate my sincerity and slackened hisflight to the proud gait of a fearless Indian. All the same, alarm wasspread among the lodges, and every woman and child of the Mandanes werehidden behind barricaded doors. The men mounted quickly and rode out togain the vantage ground of the north hill before the enemy's arrival.
Another cross current to my purposes! Fool that I was, to havedilly-dallied three whole days away like a helpless old squaw wringingher hands, when I should have dared everything and ridden to Miriam'srescue! Now, if I had been near the Sioux encampment, when all thewarriors were away, how easily could I have liberated Miriam and herchild!
* * * * *
Always, it is the course we have not followed, which would have led onto the success we have failed to grasp in our chosen path. So we salvewounded mistrust of self and still, in spite of manifest proof to thecontrary, retain a magnificent conceit.
I cursed my blunders with a vehemence usually reserved for other men'serrors, and at once decided to make the best of the present, lettingpast and future each take care of itself, a course which will save a mangray hairs over to-morrow and give him a well-provisioned to-day.
Arming myself, I resolved to be among the bargain-makers of the Mandanesrather than be bargained by the Sioux. Wakening Little Fellow, I toldhim my plan and ordered him to slip away north while the two tribes wereparleying and to await me a day's march from the Sioux camp. He told meof a wooded valley, where he could rest with his horses concealed, andafter seeing him off, I rode straight for the band of assembled Mandanesand surprised them beyond all measure by taking a place in the forefrontof Black Cat's special guard. The Sioux warriors swept towards us in atornado. Ascending the slope at a gallop, whooping and beating theirdrums, they charged past us, and down at full speed through the village,displaying a thousand dexterities of horsemanship and prowess to striketerror to the Mandanes. Then they dashed back and reined up on thehillside beneath our forces. The men were naked to the waist and theirfaces were blackened. Porcupine quills, beavers' claws, hooked bones,and bears' claws stained red hung round their necks in ringlets, oradorned gorgeous belts. Feathered crests and broad-shielded mats ofwillow switches, on the left arm, completed their war dress. The leadershad their buckskin leggings strung from hip to ankle with small bells,and carried firearms, as well as arrows and stone lances; but themajority had only Indian weapons. In that respect--though we were notone third their number--we had the advantage. All the Mandanes carriedfirearms; but I do not believe there was enough ammunition to averagefive rounds a man. Luckily, this was unknown to the Sioux. I scannedevery face. Diable was not there.
Scarcely were the ranks in position, when both Sioux and Mandane chiefsrode forward, and there opened such a harangue as I have never heardsince, and hope I never may.
"Our young man has been killed," lamented the Sioux. "He was a goodwarrior. His friends sorrow. Our hearts are no longer glad. Till now ourhands have been white, and our hearts clean. But the young man has beenslain and we are grieved. Of the scalps of the enemy, he brought many.We hang our heads. The pipe of peace has not been in our council. Thewhites are our enemies. Now, the young man is dead. Tell us if we areto be friends or enemies. We have no fear. We are many and strong. Ourbows are good. Our arrows are pointed with flint and our lances withstone. Our shot-pouches are not light. But we love peace. Tell us, whatdoth the Mandane offer for the blood of the young man? Is it to be peaceor war? Shall we be friends or enemies? Do you raise the tomahawk, orpipe of peace? Say, great chief of the Mandanes, what is thy answer?"
This and more did the Sioux chief vauntingly declaim, brandishing hiswar club and addressing the four points of the compass, also the sun, ashe shouted out his defiance. To which Black Cat, in louder voice, madereply.
"Say, great chief of the Sioux, our dead was brought into the camp. Thebody was yet warm. It was thrown at our feet. Never before did it enterthe heart of a Missouri to seek the blood of a Sioux! Our messengerswent to your camp smoking the sacred calumet of peace. They were sons ofthe Mandanes. They were friends of the white men. The white man is likemagic. He comes from afar. He knows much. He has given guns to ourwarriors. His shot bags are full and his guns many. But his men, yeslew. We are for peace, but if ye are for war, we warn you to leave ourcamp before the warriors hidden where ye see them not, break forth. Wecannot answer for the white man's magic," and I heard my power overdarkness and light, life and death, magnified in a way to terrify my owndreams; but Black Cat cunningly wound up his bold declamation by askingwhat the Sioux chief would have of the white man for the death of themessenger.
A clamor of voices arose from the warriors, each claiming somerelationship and attributing extravagant virtues to the dead Sioux.
"I am the afflicted father of the youth ye killed," called an oldwarrior, putting in prior claim for any forthcoming compensation andenhancing its value by adding, "and he had many feathers in his cap."
"He, who was killed, I desired for a nephew," shouted another, "and anivory wand he carried in his hand."
"He who was killed was my brother," cried a third, "and he had a new gunand much powder."
"He was braver than the buffalo," declared another.
"He had three wounds!" "He had scars!" "He wore many scalps!" came thevoices of others.
"Many bells and beads were on his leggings!"
"He had garnished moccasins!"
"He slew a bear with his own hands!"
"His knife had a handle of ivory!"
"His arrows had barbs of beavers' claws!"
If the noisy claimants kept on, they would presently make the dead man agod. I begged Black Cat to cut the parley short and demand exactly whatgift would compensate the Sioux for the loss of so great a warrior.After another half-hour's jangling, in which I took an animated part,beating down their exorbitant request for two hundred guns with beadsand bells enough to outfit the whole Sioux tribe, we came to terms.Indeed, the grasping rascals well-nigh cleared out all that was left ofmy trading stock; but when I saw they had no intention of fighting, Iheld back at the last and demanded the surrender of Le Grand Diable,Miriam and the child in compensation for La Robe Noire.
Then, they swore by everything, from the sun and the moon to the cow inthe meadow, that they were not responsible for the doings of Le GrandDiable, who was an Iroquois. Moreover, t
hey vowed he had hurriedly takenhis departure for the north four days before, carrying with him theSioux wife, the strange woman and the white child. As I had no object inarousing their resentment, I heard their words without voicing my ownsuspicions and giving over the booty, whiffed pipes with them. But I hadno intention of being tricked by the rascally Sioux, and while they andthe Mandanes celebrated the peace treaty, I saddled my horse and spurredoff for their encampment, glad to see the last of a region where I hadsuffered much and gained nothing.
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