by Kirk Munroe
CHAPTER III
CHITTA'S REVENGE
So Has-se the Sunbeam became Bow-bearer to his father, the great chiefMicco, and Chitta the Snake was disappointed of his ambition. By somemeans he became convinced that Rene de Veaux had instructed Has-se inhis newly acquired trick of wrestling; and though he had no proof ofthis, he conceived a bitter hatred against the white lad. He hadespecially included him in his muttered threat of vengeance against allthose who greeted his final overthrow with shouts of joy; but, like thewily reptile whose name he bore, he was content to bide his time andawait his opportunity to strike a deadly blow. After the games wereended he disappeared, and was seen no more that day.
His absence was hardly noted, for immediately after Has-se's victorythe entire assembly repaired to the great mound which had graduallybeen raised by the accumulation of shells, bones, broken pottery, andcharred wood that many generations of Indian feasters had left behindthem, and here was spread the feast of the day. Then followed dancingand singing, which were continued far into the night.
At length the dancers became exhausted; the men who beat the drums andrattled the terrapin shells filled with dried palmetto berries grew sodrowsy that their music sounded fainter and fainter, until it finallyceased altogether, and by two hours after midnight the whole encampmentwas buried in profound slumber. Even those whose duty it was to standguard dozed at their posts, and the silence of the night was onlybroken by the occasional hootings of Hup-pe (the great owl).
Had the guards been awake instead of dreaming, it is possible that theymight have noticed the dark figure of a man who noiselessly andstealthily crept amid the heavy shadows on the edge of the foresttowards the great granary, or storehouse, in which was kept all theripe maize of the tribe, together with much starch-root (koonti katki)and a large quantity of yams. The granary was built of pitch-pineposts and poles, heavily thatched with palm-leaves, that the summersuns had dried to a tinder.
Occasionally the dark figure skulking among the shadows came to littlepatches of bright moonlight, and to cross these he lay flat on theground and writhed his way through the grass like a snake. A closeobserver would have noticed a dull, steady glow which came from a roundobject that the skulker carried with great care. If he had been nearenough he would have seen that this was a large gourd, in which, on abed of sand, were a quantity of live coals taken from one of the firesthat still smouldered about the epola, or place of dancing. In hisother hand the man carried a few fat-pine splinters that would burnalmost like gun-powder.
At length, without having attracted attention from any one of theencamped Indians, or the drowsy guards upon whom they depended forsafety, the figure reached the granary, and disappeared amid the darkshadows of its walls. Crouching to the ground, and screening his gourdof coals with his robe, he thrust into it one end of the bundle offat-pine splinters and blew gently upon them. They smoked for aminute, and then burst into a quick blaze.
Beginning at one end of the granary, this torch was applied to the drythatch that covered it, and it instantly sprang into flame. As thefigure ran along the end of the structure, around the corner, and downthe entire length of its side, always keeping in the shadow, he appliedthe torch in a dozen places, and then flinging it on top of the lowroof, where it speedily ignited the covering, he bounded away into thedarkness, uttering, as he did so, a long-drawn, ear-piercing yell oftriumph.
By the time the nodding guards had discovered the flames and given thealarm, the whole granary was in a blaze, and the startled Indians, whorushed out from the lodges and palmetto booths, could do nothing butstand helpless and gaze at the destruction of their property. Allasked how it had happened, and who had done this thing, but not eventhe guards could offer the slightest explanation.
Meantime the author of all this mischief stopped when he had gainedwhat he considered a safe distance from the fire, and, concealed by thefriendly shadows of the forest, stood with folded arms and scowlingfeatures gazing at the result of his efforts. At length the light fromthe burning building grew so bright that even the shadow in which hestood began to be illuminated, and he turned to go away. As he did sohe shook his clenched hand towards the burning granary, and muttered,"The white man and the red man shall both learn to dread the fangs ofthe Snake, for thus do I declare war against them both."
As he spoke, a voice beside him, that he instantly recognized as thatof Has-se, exclaimed, "What! is this thy work, Chitta?"
For answer Has-se received a terrible blow, full in the face, thatstretched him, stunned and bleeding, on the ground; and Chitta, saying,"Lie there, miserable Bow-bearer, I will meet thee again," sprang outinto the forest and disappeared.
When Has-se, aroused by the shouts of the guards and the glare oflight, had rushed from the lodge in which he slept, he had seen afigure standing between him and the light, and had approached it tolearn the cause of all the excitement. He was just about to speak,when he recognized Chitta, and heard him utter the words that at oncedeclared him to be the author of the conflagration and the enemy of hispeople and their friends.
Not being able to appreciate the petty spirit of revenge thatinfluenced the Snake, Has-se gave utterance to his exclamation ofsurprise, and in return received the cruel blow for which he was solittle prepared.
When he recovered consciousness he found himself in his father's lodge,lying on a bed of deer-skins, while his sister, the beautiful Nethla,was bathing his temples with cold water.
It was now broad daylight, and the great granary, with all itscontents, had been reduced to a heap of smouldering ruins. About thelodge in which Has-se lay were gathered a great crowd of Indians,awaiting his return to consciousness, to learn what he knew of theoccurrences of the past few hours, and in what way he had beenconnected with them. By the earliest light of day a band ofexperienced warriors had tracked his assailant from the spot in whichthe young Bow-bearer had been discovered, through the tall grass andunderbrush from which the fugitive had brushed the dew in his flight tothe river's edge. Here one of the canoes that had been drawn up on thebeach was found to be missing, and search parties had been sent both upand down the river, but as yet they had not returned.
As Has-se slowly recovered consciousness, and opened his eyes, hissister bent over him and whispered, "Who dealt thee the cruel blow, oh,my brother?"
Receiving his faint answer, she sprang to her feet, and turning to herfather, who stood near, exclaimed, "'Tis Chitta the Snake who has donethis thing in revenge for our Has-se's success in the games ofyesterday."
From the entrance of the lodge the old chief proclaimed the news, andall through the great assembly were heard cries of anger against Chittathe Snake.
The destruction of this winter's supply of food was not only a seriousblow to the Indians, but to the little garrison of Fort Caroline aswell, for Laudonniere had just completed arrangements with Micco forthe purchase of the greater part of it. Only a small quantity ofprovisions remained in the fort, and though the forest contained anabundance of game, and the river teemed with fish, the French soldierswere not skilled in either hunting or fishing, and had become dependentupon their Indian neighbors for what they needed of such food. It wastherefore with feelings of surprised alarm that, on the second dayafter the burning of the granary, they noticed the absence of allIndians from the vicinity of the fort. Scouts were sent to the Indianencampment to discover the cause of this unusual state of affairs, andthey soon returned with the report that the place was wholly deserted,and that not an Indian was to be found.
Not only had all the visiting Indians disappeared, but also every soulof Micco's tribe; and, what was more significant, they had taken withthem their lodges and all portable property.
Laudonniere at once realized the full force of the situation. Hissoldiers were worn out with the labor of building the fort, and many ofthem were prostrated by a peculiar fever that racked their joints withsevere pains and unfitted them for duty. The store of provisions uponwhich he had depended to feed his m
en through the approaching winterhad been destroyed. The Indians who might have provided him with gamehad abandoned him and gone he knew not whither. His men knew nothingof the art of winning for themselves a livelihood from the wildernessthat surrounded them. Although the soldiers had been allowed to thinkdifferently, he knew that some months must still elapse before thearrival of reinforcements and supplies from France. He himself, wornout by anxiety and overwork, was beginning to feel symptoms of theapproach of the dreaded fever, and he feared that ere long he would beunfitted to perform the duties of his important position.
In this emergency, he decided to hold a council with the officers ofthe garrison, and ask their aid in deciding what was to be done. Hetherefore sent word to Soisson, his lieutenant, old Hillaire, thecaptain of artillery, Martinez, the quartermaster, Chastelleux, thechief of engineers, Le Moyne, the artist, and to Rene, his nephew,bidding them meet him in council. He added Rene to the number, for hisuncle wished him to fully comprehend the difficulties of their position.
The council met in the commandant's private room, and Laudonniere,stating the situation clearly to them, asked what was to be done. Somesuggested one thing and some another, and the discussion was long andearnest. Le Moyne, the artist, added to the perplexities of thecommandant by stating that he had heard rumors of dissatisfaction amongthe garrison, and threats that unless provisions were speedily obtainedthey would build a vessel, abandon the fort and country, and attempt tomake their way back to France.
While the discussion was at its height, two soldiers appeared at thedoor, leading between them a slender young Indian, whom Rene, with ajoyful cry, at once recognized as his friend Has-se the Sunbeam.
