The Heart of Unaga

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER VIII

  BIG CHIEF WANAK-AHA

  The enclosure of the fort was at last cleared of snow. It was now ready,waiting for the elements to render abortive in a few short hours thelabour of many days. Julyman and Steve had spent the brief daylight insetting up a snow-break before the open sheds which housed the sleds andcanoes. Oolak was at the quarters of the train dogs at the back of thestore. These were his charge. He drove them, he fed them, and cared forthem. And his art lay in his nimble manipulation of the club, at oncethe key to discipline, and his only means of opening up a way to theirsavage intelligence. Steve shared in every labour and none knew betterthan he the value of work and discipline under the conditions of theirlong imprisonment upon the bitter plateau.

  Daylight had merged into twilight, and the cold blaze of the Northernnight had again enthroned itself. It was on the abandonment of his ownlabours that Steve's attention was at once drawn to others going onbeyond the wall of the stockade. And forthwith he passed out of thegates to investigate.

  That which he discovered brought a smile to his eyes. From the summit ofa drift, which stood the height of the timbered walls, he found himselfgazing down upon the quaintly associated figures of little Marcel andhis nurse. They were busy, particularly the boy. Amidst a confusion ofcoiled, rawhide ropes An-ina, hammer in hand, was securing a rope endto the angle of the wall, while Marcel, with tireless vocal energy, wasencouraging and instructing her to his own complete satisfaction.

  The sturdy, busy little figure, so overburdened with its bulk of furs,was always a sight that delighted Steve. The childish enthusiasm was soinspiriting, so heedless, so lost to everything but the sheer delight ofexistence.

  While he stood there the rope was made secure and the squaw's effortsceased. Instantly the scene changed. The high spirits of the boy soughtto forestall the next move. With unthinking abandon he flung himselfupon the pile of ropes, and manfully struggled to gather them into hisbaby arms. The result was inevitable. In a moment hopeless confusionreigned and An-ina was to the rescue disentangling him. It was in themidst of this that Marcel became aware of Steve's presence. The momenthe was successfully freed he abandoned his nurse for the object of hisnew worship.

  "Us makes life-line," he panted, scrambling up the snow-drift. "Boy fixit all a way through the forest to 'Sleeper' men."

  Steve reached out a helping hand, and hauled the little fellow up to hisside.

  "Ah. I was guessing that way," he said. "And An-ina was helping boy,eh?"

  "Oh, 'ess. An-ina help. An-ina always help boy. And boy help UncleSteve."

  Steve led the way down. An-ina was waiting with smiling patience.

  "Setting out a line to the Sleepers' camp?" he said, as they reached thewoman's side.

  An-ina nodded and began to coil the ropes afresh.

  "It much good," she said. "Bimeby it storm plenty. So. Each day An-inamak headman hut. When him wake then white man officer go mak big talk.Storm, it not matter nothin'. No."

  "Fine," Steve agreed warmly. "You're a good squaw, An-ina."

  His approval had instant effect.

  "Him good? An-ina glad," she observed contentedly.

  An-ina moved on towards the forest bearing her burden of ropes, payingout the line as she went.

  Steve watched her, his steady eyes full of profound thought.

  "Us helps An-ina, Uncle Steve?" enquired the boy doubtfully.

  The man had almost forgotten the mitted hand he was still clasping. Nowhe looked down into the up-turned, enquiring eyes.

  "I don't guess An-ina needs us for awhile," he said. Then, after apause: "No," he added. "Boy's worked hard--very hard. Maybe we'll goback to the fort. And--Uncle tell boy a story? Eh?"

  Steve had no need to wait for the torrent of verbal appreciation thatcame. The boy's delight at the prospect was instant. So they forthwithabandoned the snow-drifts for the warm interior of the store.

  Their furs removed, Steve settled himself on the bench which stoodbefore the stove. The room was shadowed by the twilight outside, but hedid not light a lamp. There was oil enough for their needs in thestores, but eventualities had to be considered, and rigid economy in allthings was necessary.

  The picture was complete. The dimly lit store, with its traffic counterdeserted, and its shelves sadly depleted of trade. The staunch,plastered and lime-washed walls, which revealed the stress of climate inthe gaping cracks that were by no means infrequent. The hard-beatenearth floor swept clean. The glowing stove that knew no attention fromthe cleaner's brush. Then the two figures on the rough bench, which wasworn and polished by long years of use.

  The completion of the picture, however, lay in the personalities forwhich the rest was only a setting. Steve, in his buckskin shirt andmoleskin trousers, which divested him of the last sign of hisrelationship to the force which administered the white man's law. Hisyoung face so set and weather-tanned, so full of decision and strength,and his eyes, far gazing, like those of the men of the deep seas. Andthe boy upon his knee, his little hands clasping each other in his lap.With his curling, fair hair, and his wide, questioning eyes gazing upinto the man's face. With his small body clad from head to foot in thebeaded buckskin, which it was his nurse's joy to fashion for him. Therewas a wonderfully intimate touch in it all. It was a touch thatpowerfully illustrated the lives of those who are far removed from theluxury of civilization, and who depend for every comfort, even for theirvery existence, upon those personal physical efforts, the failure ofwhich, at any moment, must mean final and complete disaster.

  "Tell boy of bears, an' wolves, an' Injuns, an' debble-men, wot An-inahers scairt of."

  The demand was prompt and decided.

  "An-ina scared of devil-men?" Steve smilingly shook his head. "It's onlystupid 'Sleeper' men scared of devil-men. Anyway there's no devil-men.Just wolves, and bears, that boy'll hunt and kill when he grows up."

  "But hers says ther's debble-men," the boy protested, his eyes wide withawe.

  Steve shook his head.

  "No," he said firmly. "Uncle Steve knows. He knows better than Indians.Better than An-ina. Boy always remember that."

  "Oh, 'ess, boy 'members."

  The child impulsively thrust an arm about the man's neck and Steve's armtightened unconsciously about the little body.

  "Tell us 'tory," the child urged.

  Steve's contemplative eyes were upon the glowing stove.

  "What'll it be about?" he said at last. Then, as though suddenlyinspired, "Why, I know, sure. It's about a little boy. A real brightlittle boy. Oh, I guess he was all sorts of a boy--like--like Marcel."

  "Wot's 'all sorts'?" the child demanded.

  "Why, just a sample of all the good things a boy can be. Same as you."

  The explanation seemed sufficient, and Marcel's eyes were turneddreamily upon the red patch on the side of the stove.

  "'Ess," he agreed.

  "Well, Uncle Steve travelled a great, long way. It was dreadful hard.There were bears, and wolves, I guess, and queer Indian folk, andrivers, and lakes, and forests; forests much bigger and darker thanboy's ever seen."

  "Wos thems bigger than the Sleepers' forest?" The challenge wasinstantly taken up.

  "Oh, yes."

  "An' darker, an' fuller of debble-men?"

  "Much darker, and there were no devil-men, because there just aren'tany."

  "No. Course not," the boy agreed readily.

  "That's so. Well, Uncle Steve came a long, long way, and his dogs weretired, and his Indians were tired----"

  "Wos thems like Julyman an' Oolak?"

  "Yes. That's who the Indians were. Uncle always has Julyman and Oolak.Well, he came to a valley where he found a little boy. All sorts of aboy. And he liked the little boy, and the little boy liked him. Didn'the?"

  "'Ess."

  "Well, the little chap was alone."

  "Didn't hims have no An-ina?"

  "Oh, yes. He had his nurse. But his Pop had gone away, and so had hisMummy. So he was kind of alon
e. Well, the little boy and Uncle Stevebecame great friends. Oh, big friends. Ever so big. And Uncle Stevedidn't want ever to leave the little boy. And I don't guess the littleboy ever wanted to leave Uncle Steve. But then you see there was the Popand Mummy, who'd gone away, and of course the boy liked them ever somuch. So Uncle Steve was in a dilemma."

  "Wot's 'd'lemma'?"

  "Why just a 'fix.' Like boy was in when he got all mussed up with theropes just now."

  "Wos you mussed up with ropes?"

  "Oh, no. Only in a 'fix.'"

  "'Ess." The briefest explanations seemed to satisfy.

  "Well, Uncle Steve guessed the Pop an' Mummy wouldn't come back for everso long, maybe not till the boy was grown up. So he guessed he'd takethe little boy--such a jolly little chap--with him, back to his home,where there was a nice Auntie, and a little baby cousin. A little girl,such a pretty little dear, all eyes, and fat cheeks, that sort of tellyou life's the bulliest thing ever. Well, he took him to his home, sucha long, long way, over snow, and over rivers and lakes, where there'sfishes, and through forests where there's wolves, an' bears----"

  "Does hims see any debble-mens?"

  "No. Because Uncle Steve says there just aren't any."

  "But An-ina sezes ther' is."

  "An-ina's a squaw."

  "'Ess."

  "Well, after long time this funny little fellow finds his new Auntie,and he loves his little cousin right away, and he has such a bully timewith her. They play together. Such games. She pulls his hair and laughs,and the boy, who's such a bright little kid, likes it because she's alittle girl, and they grow, and grow up together, and then--andthen----"

  "Does hims marry her, an' live happy ever after?"

  The question was disconcerting. But Steve did his best.

  "Well, I can't just say, old fellow," he demurred. "You see, I hadn'tfixed that."

  "But they allus does in my Mummy's 'tories," came the instant protest.

  "Do they? Well, then I guess these'll have to," the man agreed. "We'llfix it that way."

  "'Ess. An' then----"

  But the prompting failed in its purpose.

  "An' then? Why--I guess that's just all. You see, when folks getmarried, and live happy ever after, there's most generally no more storyto tell. Is there?"

  "No." Then the child sat up. His appetite had been whetted. "Tell boy'nother 'tory. Great big, long one. Ever so long."

  Steve shook his head.

  "Guess Uncle Steve's not great on yarns," he admitted. "You see, I waskind of thinking. Say, how'd boy like to go with Uncle Steve, and seethe nice Auntie, and the little dear, with lovely, lovely curly hair andblue eyes, and cheeks like--like----"

  "'Ess. Us goes," the child cried, with a sudden enthusiasm. "Us findsall the lakes, an' rivers, an' forests, an' wolves, an' bears, an' thelittle dear. Boy likes 'em. Us goes now?"

  The headlong nature of the demand set Steve smiling.

  "Well, I guess we can't go till winter quits," he said. "We'll need towait awhile till it's not dark any more. Then we'll take An-ina. AndJulyman. And Oolak. And the dogs. How's that? Then, after awhile, whenboy's Pop and his Mummy come back, then maybe we'll come right back,too. Eh?"

  The anticipation of it all was ravishing to the child mind, and the boyresettled himself.

  "'Ess," he agreed, with a great sigh. "An' the little dear, an' the niceAuntie. Us all come back." Then with infantile persistence he returnedto his old love. "More 'tory," he demanded. "'Bout debble-mens." Then,as an after-thought: "Wot isn't, cos Uncle says they doesn't, an' An-inasays him is when he wasn't, cos he can't be."

  Steve sprang to his feet with a great laugh, bearing the little fellowin his strong arms. He had accomplished his task and all was well.

  "No more 'tory," he cried setting him on the ground. "All us men havework to do. We need to help An-ina. Come on, old fellow."

  And with a great feeling of relief and contentment he began there-adjustment of the furs which protected the little life which hadbecome so precious to him.

  * * * * *

  For all the nights were almost interminable, and the days so desperatelyshort time passed rapidly. It was nearly three weeks later that thepatient, indefatigable An-ina brought the word Steve awaited.

  The daylight had passed, engulfed by the Arctic night which had added adull, misty moon to its splendid illumination. The temperature hadrisen. Steve knew a change was coming. The signs were all too plain. Heknew that the period of peace had nearly run its course, and theelements were swiftly mobilizing for a fresh attack.

  He was standing in the great gateway considering these things whenAn-ina came to him. She appeared abruptly over the top of the greatsnow-drift, which had been driven against the angle of the stockade. Thesoft "pad" of her moccasined feet first drew his attention, andimmediately all thought of the coming storm passed from his mind.

  "Him big chief wake all up," she announced urgently, as she reached hisside.

  "Did you speak to him?"

  The man's enquiry was sharpened by responsive eagerness. The squawnodded.

  "An-ina say, 'Boss white man officer come mak big talk with big chief,Wanak-aha. Him look for dead white man by the big water. Yes.' Him bigchief say, 'White man officer? Him not know this man. Who?' An-ina saymuch--plenty. Big chief all go mad. Oh, much angry. Then An-ina mak bigtalk plenty. She say, 'Big Chief not mak big talk, then boss white manofficer of Great White Chief come kill up all Indian man.' Big chiefvery old. Him all 'fraid. Him shake all over like so as seal fat. Muchscare. Oh, yes." She laughed in her silent fashion. "So him say, 'Bosswhite man officer come, then Big Chief Wanak-aha mak plenty big talk.'Then him sleep. Oh, yes."

  The woman's amusement at the chief's panic was infectious. Steve smiled.

  "I guess we'll go right along," he said. Then he indicated the moon withits misty halo. "Storm."

  Again An-ina nodded.

  "Him storm plenty--sure," she agreed. "Boss come quick?"

  "Right away."

  A moment later An-ina was leading the way up the long slope of thesnow-drift, returning over the tracks which her own moccasins had left.

  * * * * *

  The atmosphere of the hut was oppressive. It reeked with the smoke ofwood fire. It was nauseating with a dreadful human foulness. But overall hung the sickly sweet odour of the Adresol drug, which oppressed thebrain and weighted down the eyelids of those who had just left the purecold air beyond the curtained doorway.

  Steve was not without a feeling of apprehension. He was in the presenceof the active operation of the subtle drug. He had read the deadchemist's papers. He knew the deadly exhalations of the weed whengrowing, or when in an undried state. He also knew that distillationrobbed it of its poisonous effect, but for all that, the sicklyatmosphere left him with a feeling of nausea.

  He and An-ina were sitting beyond one of the two wood fires that hadbeen replenished. The old chief, Wanak-aha, was squatting on hishaunches amongst his frowsy fur robes at the opposite side. He was ashrivelled, age-weazened creature whose buckskin garments looked neverto have been removed from his aged body. His years would have beenimpossible to guess at. All that was certain about him was that hismahogany face was like creased parchment, that his eyes peered out inthe dim light of the hut through the narrowest of slits, that he wasalert, vital to an astounding degree, and that he suggested a foulnesssuch as humanity rarely sinks to.

  An-ina was speaking in the tongue native to the old man, who wasreplying in his monosyllabic fashion while he kept all his regard forthe stern-eyed white man, who, the squaw was explaining, represented allthe unlimited power of the white peoples.

  Steve waited in patience for the completion of these necessarypreliminaries, and acted his part with the confidence of wideexperience. And presently An-ina turned to him. Her eyes were serious,but there was a smile behind her words.

  "Him say him much big friend for white man," she said, in her brokenway. "H
im love all white man so as a brother. White man mak plenty goodtrade with Indian man. It much good. So him big chief plenty friend. Oh,yes."

  Steve inclined his head seriously.

  "Tell him that's all right," he said. "Tell him white man good friend,too. White man love all Indian man. Tell him all white man children ofGreat White Chief. When they die Great White Chief know. If Indian mankill white man then Great White Chief send all thunder and lightning andkill up all Indian man. Tell him Great White Chief know that two whitemen all killed dead by great waters. He know Chief Wanak-aha's young menfind them. Great White Chief knows Indian man didn't kill them, but, ashe knows where they are, he must show the Great White Chief's Officerwhere they are, so he can take their bones back to their own country, orbury them as he sees fit. If Chief Wanak-aha does not tell WhiteOfficer, and his young men don't show him this place, then the thundersand lightning will come and kill up all Indian 'Sleeper' men."

  An-ina interpreted rapidly. And by the length of her harangue, and bythe attitude of the old man, Steve shrewdly suspected she was addingliberal embellishments such as her own savage mind suggested as beingsalutory. It was always so. An Indian on the side of the police wasmerciless to his own people.

  The old man replied with surprising energy, and it was obvious to Stevethat panic had achieved all he desired. So he was content to watchsilently while the soft-voiced woman, with unsmiling eyes, spurred thelittle, old, great man to decisions which it is more than probable onlyreal fear could have hastened.

  At last An-ina ceased speaking. She turned to Steve who received the netresults she had achieved in concrete form.

  "It much good," she said, without permitting the smallest display offeeling before the watchful eyes of the old chief. "Him say all asAn-ina tell boss white man officer. Young men find dead white men allkill up. In great, deep place by big waters. So. Him say when winter himall go then young men take boss white man officer, show him all. Helphim much plenty. All him dog-train, all him young man for boss white manofficer. Yes. Not so as snow him not go. Not find. All kill dead, sure.'Sleeper' man sleep plenty. Then him all wake. Boss white man say 'go.'Yes."

  The purpose of the visit was achieved. Steve desired nothing more. TheseIndians would take him to the place where the two white men had foughtout the old, old battle for a woman. Yes, he was convinced now thatAn-ina's original story was the true one. His visit to these squalidcreatures had served a double purpose. The old man's willingness tocomply with his demands amply convinced him that the wife's belief hadno foundation in the facts. Had the Indians murdered Marcel Brand andhis partner, the whole attitude of the chief must have been verydifferent.

  It was some moments before he replied. It was necessary that he shouldplay his part to the end. So he appeared to consider deeply before heaccepted the chief's offer.

  At length he raised his eyes from the flickering blaze of the fire. Hegazed round the dimly lit room where the Indians lay about in theirdeathlike slumber. There was a stirring as of waking in a far corner,and for awhile he contemplated the direction. Then, at last, his eyescame back to the crumpled face of the old man awaiting anxiously hisreply.

  "Tell him," he said, addressing the squaw without withdrawing his gazefrom the face of the old man, "that the officer of the Great White Chiefwill wait till the snow goes. Tell him he'll need to have his young menready then to make the trail. And when they've shown the officer allthey've found, and told him all they know, then the officer will tellthe Great White Chief that the 'Sleeper' men are good men, who deserveall that is good. Tell him, there will be no thunder or lightning. Andif white men come again to the fort and find it as it has been left,nothing taken, nothing destroyed, then maybe they'll bring good tradefor the Indian men, and presents for the big chief. But if they come andfind that one little thing has been destroyed or stolen, then thethunder and lightning will speak, and there'll be no more Indians."

  * * * * *

  When Steve and An-ina emerged from the woods utter and complete darknessreigned. The world had been swallowed up under an inky pall. The moon,the brilliant stars, the blazing northern lights--all were extinguished,and not a ray of light was left to guide them the last few hundred yardsto safety. Furthermore snow was falling. It was falling in great flakeshalf as big as a man's hand.

  The life-line which the woman had set up was all that stood between themand complete disaster.