Manly Wade Wellman - Novel 1963

by The South Fork Rangers (v1. 1)

  “A ho, they are good,” said Halougra.

  He threw open his fox-skin robe, and Zack saw that he wore a gleaming military belt with a brass buckle. Two holsters hung from the belt, and from each holster jutted the handsome silver-mounted handle of a pistol.

  “To show that we are your friends and want your friendship, Fenniver will give you still more presents,” elaborated Plum. “Those small guns you wear must have their own bullets, and must be charged with better powder than the long hunting guns your warriors carry. See, he gives you a supply.”

  He whispered quickly to Fenniver, who stepped forward and from his big side pockets produced, first a silver-embossed steel powder flask, then a bullet mold, made like pincers, to contain and then release the lead poured in to form a ball. He offered these to Halougra, who took them, looked at them with grave admiration, but then set them on the bearskin beside him.

  “Mr. Fenniver, he doesn’t quite swallow all your fine talk,” said Zack in English. “He’s wiser than my own honest parents were last night, when you accepted our hospitality under false colors.”

  “Zounds, all’s fair in love and war,” replied Fenniver easily, and again produced his snuff box. “This isn’t a matter of love, Captain Harper.”

  And he carried a dainty pinch to his nostrils.

  “Hear me, white visitors,” boomed out Halougra. “First these two, then the other two, came here to our camp as guests. If your hearts are bad to each other, be silent in my hearing and act like men.”

  “Chief,” said Enoch, “we obey the good Catawba custom of peace in a peaceful camp. But give us leave, and my friend and I will go out of the camp. And we dare these two enemies to follow us and fight it out on ground away from the Catawbas.”

  “Do not talk about fighting until my own heart is made up,” Halougra bade him, “whether we are to do as these men ask: be friends and fighters on the side of their King George, or be friends and fighters on the side of you and your fathers, as you ask.”

  Plum scowled at that, and again whispered to Fenniver, who made him a muttered reply. Then Plum faced Halougra again.

  “Chief, we are your guests,” he said. “In your camp, we listen to your wisdom. But again we say, the Catawba tribe long ago swore friendship and help to King George.”

  “That is no lie,” agreed Halougra. “Yet Zack Harper says that some of King George’s warriors think he is not a good chief. They have said they do not trust him or follow him. If that has happened, there may be a good reason. We Catawbas must also decide whether to obey him or not. This is a deep matter, and will take time to understand before we know it and speak.”

  “A very deep matter,” seconded one of the older warriors.

  “If we had a medicine man, here, to speak to the wise spirits—”

  “Chief, Fenniver is a medicine man,” broke in Plum. “He speaks to spirits, and they answer him. By their help he can perform miracles and do wonders. These things he can show ! to you, that you may see that his wisdom is more than common.”

  “Miracles?” repeated Halougra. “Our eyes wait, our ears are open. Let him show his miracles, and maybe they will help us decide.”

  Plum’s sharp face was bright and happy as he conferred with Fenniver once again. Fenniver nodded and smiled. Then he moved forward and stood before the chief.

  Ceremoniously he drew back the broad loose sleeves of his greatcoat, and turned back the cuffs of his riding coat be- j neath, as though to demonstrate that he had nothing to conceal. He spread his hands wide, showing that they were empty. Then he stepped closer to Halougra, waved his right hand, and seemed to pluck a bright gold guinea from the chief’s very nose. The watching Indians muttered in admiration, and Enoch stared.

  “He was at these same mountebanking tricks with us last night,” whispered Zack.

  Almost the whole camp had gathered as Fenniver began his conjuring. His graceful right hand held the coin high, seemed to toss it into the other hand, and it vanished as though in midair. But Fenniver slapped his palms together, then held them out—each of them held several guineas.

  “You have seen, Chief,” lectured Plum. “This is King George’s money. His face is shown upon it. Among the white men it will buy many good things. Fenniver makes a gift of it to your people.”

  Halougra patted the bearskin. “Put it down here beside me,” he said, and Fenniver heaped the coins beside the powder flask and the bullet mold. Halougra stared expressionlessly. To Zack it seemed that the chief might have resented that near-tweak of his great bony nose.

  Next Fenniver doffed his cocked hat and held it toward this Indian, that Indian, finally toward Halougra, to show that it was empty. He then lifted it high, made swift fluttery passes with his free hand, and turned the hat over. Out of it fluttered a square of cloth, with one blue corner and red and white stripes—a flag such as was carried by American patriots. It fell upon the snow. Fenniver stepped forward and bent to pick it up. As he did so, he set his foot upon it.

  Zack snorted and made a quick move, almost a leap. Enoch caught his arm to restrain him.

  “Chief, you said that we were your guests,” reminded Zack angrily. “You told us to remember that guests have duties of good behavior. But this man insults my people, he treads on our flag.”

  Fenniver had picked up the flag by one corner. He ignored Zack as he showed the flag to Halougra, then to an Indian at his right, then to another at his left. He crumpled and wadded the striped cloth between his hands. He seemed to be making a ball of it. The Indians watched in silence. Suddenly he tossed the balled fabric up in the air, caught it as it came down and shook it out.

  It was the American flag no more but the Union Jack of England, with the double cross of St. George and St. Andrew on a blue field.

  “See, Catawba warriors!” cried out Plum in triumph. “The flag of King George’s disobedient sons has melted away. In its place is the flag that is carried by the good, brave white men who call King George their chief. There is a magic sign for you. It shows which side is right and which side is wrong.”

  Murmurs rose all around the group of onlookers. Plainly the warriors were impressed. Halougra alone sat graven and expressionless. At last his deep-set black eyes sought out Zack and Enoch.

  “What have our other guests to say or show for what they tell us is the true way?” he asked.

  “Chief, we say that this man plays tricks, such as are done among our people to make little children laugh,” said Zack hotly.

  “Is this true?” inquired Halougra. “Then, Zack Harper, do tricks like them. We sit here to be made to laugh.”

  Zack stifled a groan of baffled rage, but Enoch spoke up:

  “Chief, my friend and brother Zack Harper says the truth. This man Fenniver tries to deceive you with false tricks. They are insults to grown men and brave warriors. But I have true wonders to show, and there will make plain the difference between our people and Fenniver’s people.”

  “We wait to see,” said Halougra.

  Enoch approached the rock where Halougra sat. “Chief, will you let me look at the small guns our enemies gave you?”

  Halougra drew them and handed them over. Enoch took one in each hand and examined them carefully.

  “Have you made shots with these?” he asked.

  “I have shot with them,” replied Halougra. “They are good. They send bullets straight to the mark.”

  “Will they kill where they strike?” asked Enoch.

  Fenniver spoke up suddenly: “Give me one of those pistols loaded, and let either of these young woods-runners stand up in range. Fll show how good my presents are.”

  “Chief, he offers to bring down either of these boastful enemies with one shot of the small gun,” translated Plum.

  Halougra frowned. “I say that you cannot fight in my camp, and I do not want to have to say it again.”

  “Chief,” said Enoch, “I have a magic to destroy this enemy’s aim.”

  He handed the pistols back to
Halougra.

  “But night has fallen,” he elaborated impressively. “I want time to say the proper magic words and make the proper prayers.”

  Halougra gazed straight into Enoch’s eyes for a moment.

  “Then be it so,” he granted. “We shall eat together as friends. In the morning you can show whether your magic is greater than the magic of these warriors of King George.”

  5 Magic Against Magic

  The meal that night was plentiful and savory—great chunks of smoking roast venison served out on slabs of bark, with parched corn piping hot and smeared with honey, and fish freshly speared in Crowder’s Creek and grilled over the coals. Chief Halougra made a ceremony of it, causing Zack and Enoch to sit on one side of him and Fenniver and Plum on the other, while he himself slashed their portions of meat from the great roast haunch. Afterward, he pointed out two brush lodges, set well apart in the camp, and told Zack and Enoch to take one, Fenniver and Plum the other.

  “At the rising of the sun, Enoch Gilmer will show the magic of which he tells us,” Halougra decreed.

  Enoch led the way to the hut. Their horses were ready tethered outside, and Zack shook out the saddle blankets to cover them. He went into the hut, where by the light of a small fire Enoch was fumbling in the buckskin wallet he had carried on his saddle.

  “I left it behind, I left it behind,” he half moaned. “Zack, did you bring a lump of beeswax?”

  “True enough I did,” said Zack, and opened his own pouch. “Here it is, with linen thread and needles I carry for mending.”

  “Give it to me,” and Enoch fairly snatched it. “Now, we are ready with our magic.”

  “What’s this magic you boast of?”

  Enoch grinned. “Leave it to me. Let me cozen you, along with everybody else. In any case, it’s been hard riding and fighting these past weeks. Stretch out on your blanket and get some rest.”

  Zack asked no more questions, but lay down wearily. Enoch sat by the fire with his back turned, bending busily over something while Zack drifted into grateful slumber.

  The next thing he knew, it was morning and someone was shaking him. “Up with you, Zack,” said Enoch. “Here, have a handful of parched corn. There’s light enough for what Halougra asks to see.”

  “Is he waiting for us?”

  “They all wait for us. The Indians, and Fenniver and that slinking little Deevor Plum. Come, watch me top Fenniver’s juggling of last evening.”

  “You seem mighty confident,” Zack commented.

  “And why seem other than confident at such a time?” said Enoch cheerfully as they went out.

  The morning was chilly but bright. Every Indian in the camp had turned out to gather around Halougra and Fenniver and Plum. Enoch came toward the group, and it opened for him. Smiling, he nodded to Fenniver as to a friend at a backwoods gathering. Fenniver, buttoned up in his big blue coat, smiled and nodded in response.

  “Chief,” Enoch addressed Halougra, “have you kept the small guns all night?”

  “I have kept them.”

  “Then let me load them. All can watch and see that I load them well. But for me to load them, with a prayer to the spirits, is big medicine, my big magic.”

  “What does he say?” Fenniver asked, and, when Plum had translated: “I want to watch, too.”

  “Watch, then.” Enoch took one of Halougra’s pistols and the flask of powder. Carefully he poured in a charge. “Mr. Fenniver, is that enough to shoot with?”

  “A-plenty,” said Fenniver, with a tight-lipped smile. “The bullet, then.” Enoch held up a round, dark ball between his fingers, then slid it into the muzzle and with the ramrod drove it strongly home. “There, Mr. Fenniver, is the loading to your taste?”

  “Aye, and if you dare to stand my fire—”

  “I dare.” Enoch handed the pistol to Fenniver, butt foremost. “But hold, I load the other.”

  Swiftly he poured powder into the second pistol, shoved in another ball and rammed it into place. “Shall it be ten paces, Mr. Fenniver?” he inquired.

  “I cannot miss you at that distance.” Fenniver spoke grimly, but he frowned as though mystified by Enoch’s assurance. Zack knew that he, too, frowned in worried suspense.

  “Chief,” said Enoch to Halougra, “let all stand to this side and that.”

  Halougra gestured. The Indians shifted obediently, clearing a lane and thronging its sides. Enoch stood at one end of the lane, his pistol hanging at his side.

  “Pm ready, sir,” he said to Fenniver. “But suffer me to sing the magic that will protect me.”

  And he began to chant under his breath. The Indians listened in rapt respect, for mystic chants were part of their own magic ritual. Close at hand, Zack caught some of the wordsj Enoch was singing the old South Fork favorite:

  Barney O’Linn had no breeches to wear,

  So he got him a sheepskin to make him a pair—

  Fenniver paced off ten steps, his boots moving flatly in the snow. Wheeling, he stood with his right side toward Enoch, his right foot pointing the way he would aim, the pistol lifted to the level of his eye, his thumb on the hammer. It was the pose of a duelist. “Give the word,” he snapped out.

  “Chief, we wait for your order,” said Plum to Halougra.

  Halougra stood tall and expressionless, his fur robe drawn close against the morning cold. He glanced at Enoch, then at Fenniver.

  “Now! ” he boomed.

  Fenniver caught his breath, extended his arm and leveled the pistol. It was as steady as a rock, as deadly as a snake. Zack watched, tingling all over. Fenniver squeezed the trigger.

  The gun barked, flat and fierce. Fire and smoke sprang from the muzzle. Zack felt himself jump sickly, and half moved toward Enoch. But Enoch laughed loudly, as at some great joke.

  Fenniver stood, the pistol smoking in his hand, his eyes wide and his face blank. “But I aimed straight at his heart! ” he flung out.

  “Chief, this enemy did something to spoil my friend’s aim,” Plum protested to Halougra.

  “I kept both little guns inside my blanket all night,” returned Halougra. “I guarded against false tricks. If he was not struck by the bullet, he turned it away by magic.”

  Enoch flung his arms wide, his own pistol dangling from his fingers. “Come and see,” he invited the Indians around him. “No wound upon me.”

  Several of them crowded near, looking at him from head to toe. They patted his sides and arms. One knelt on the snow to explore along his legs.

  “Chief, he is not hurt,” one reported to Halougra. i(Ahoy it was a strong magic.”

  “Gilmer, you’re a lucky fool!” burst out Fenniver. “Let me have the other pistol, and I’ll wager my head—”

  “Wager nothing you’d hate to lose,” Enoch advised him. Then, in Catawba: “Chief Halougra, I have shown how feeble is the magic and the truth of King George’s men. Let me prove my own truth.”

  “You will shoot at me?” asked Fenniver, alarmed, and again Enoch laughed.

  “See him, Catawba warriors,” he urged the onlookers. “He boasted and laughed last night. Now, when I have stood like a man while he shot at me, he fears to do the same. He knows he cannot turn my bullets away as I turned his.”

  “Chief, let this young warrior shoot at King George’s man,” urged a gray-haired Indian. “Let him show if he can overcome the King George magic.”

  “Aho! Aho!y) came a chorus of approval.

  “No, my brothers,” said Enoch. “Chief Halougra has forbidden any fighting. I agreed to let my enemy shoot at me, but he fears for me to shoot at him. I hold by Chief Hal- ougra’s word.”

  An Indian laughed scornfully.

  “King George’s man is afraid,” he sneered. “He trembles like a squaw because a bullet may hit him. He is not a brave man and a true guest of the Catawba.”

  Fenniver drew himself up with an effort and folded his arms.

  “Have your fun,” he growled at Enoch. “You’ll not make me crawl before these s
avages.”

  “Chief,” Enoch addressed Halougra, “I keep peace in your camp, for you said I must. Yet I give a sign that my shooting is better than his. More magic. See!”

  He fired his pistol into the snow in front of Fenniver’s braced feet.

  From both sides Indians started forward, gazing and pointing.

  ( shouted one. “He aimed away from his enemy— but there is blood!”

  A great red splash stained the snow. Fenniver looked down too, and despite himself he sprang back and away, dropping the empty pistol from his hand. Loud rang the laughter of the Indians on all sides.

  Halougra strode forward. He stooped, touched a finger to the red stain, then straightened up and examined it.

  “It is blood,” he pronounced, and fixed his eyes upon Fenniver.

  “You asked our help on your side of this war among white men,” said the chief formally. “You made a claim of strong magic and great wisdom to prove the truth of your talk.”

  “What does he say?” Fenniver asked Plum.

  “Naught we hoped to hear,” Plum muttered.

  “We opened our ears to your words, we were ready for you to prove them,” elaborated Halougra. “A fair test was made of your magic against the magic of this young man, Enoch Gilmer. We have seen. Your magic and your word are weak. His are strong.”

  Zack stirred out of his amazement. “How did you do it?” he whispered to Enoch.

  “ ’Twas so simple you’ll be vexed to hear,” replied Enoch cheerfully. “But hold your peace, Chief Halougra is dismissing that pair of tricksters.”

  Halougra faced Zack and Enoch. “My heart is clear on this matter,” he informed them. “These men of King George asked us to help them fight. You asked us to keep peace. It shall be done as you say—the Catawbas will not fight on either side. My band will go back to our own place, and I give that word to all my people.”

  “We’ve lost our game,” Plum told Fenniver unhappily.

  “Go, then,” Halougra ordered Fenniver. “We will be peaceable to both sides. Four of my warriors will go with you and set you on your trail. These two other white men, your enemies, must stay with us in this camp until you have gone to a safe place. Then the Catawba hearts will be glad that no war has come where they can see it come.”