FORT MACKENZIE.
Fort Mackenzie, built in 1832 by Major Mitchell, Chief Agent to the North American Fur Company, stands like a menacing sentry, about one hundred and twenty paces from the north bank of the Missouri, and seventy miles from the Rocky Mountains, in the midst of a level plain, protected by a chain of hills running from north to south. The fort is built on the system of all the outposts of civilization in the western provinces; it forms a perfect square, each side being about forty-five feet in length: a ditch, eight fathoms in depth and about the same in width; two substantial blockhouses; and twenty guns—such are the defensive elements of this fortress. The buildings contained in the enceinte are low, with narrow windows, in which parchment is substituted for glass. The roofs are flat, and covered with turf. The gateways of the fort are solid, and lined with iron. In the middle of a small square, in the centre of the fort, rises a mast, from which floats the star-spangled banner of the United States, while two guns are stationed at the foot of the mast. The plain surrounding Fort Mackenzie is covered with grass, rarely more than three feet high. This plain is almost constantly invaded by Indian tribes, that come to traffic with the Americans, especially the Blackfeet, Assiniboins, Mandans, Flatheads, Gros-ventres, Crows, and Koutnikés.
The Indians displayed a repugnance in allowing the white men to settle in their domains, and the first agent the Fur Company sent to them had a narrow escape with life. It was only by dint of patience and cunning that they succeeded in concluding with the tribes a treaty of peace and barter, which the latter were disposed, indeed, to break, through the slightest pretext. Thus the Americans were always on the watch, considering themselves in a perpetual state of siege. It still happened at times, in spite of the Indians' protestations of amity, that some engagé or trapper of the Company was brought to the fort scalped and murdered, and they were obliged, through policy, to refrain from taking vengeance for such murders, which, however, were becoming rare. The Indians, with their greedy instincts, at length understood that it was better to live in good intelligence with the Palefaces, who supplied them with abundant provisions, spirits, and money, in exchange for their furs.
In 1834, Fort Mackenzie was commanded by Major Melville, a man of great experience, who had spent nearly his whole life among the Indians, either fighting or trafficking with them, so that he was thoroughly versed in all their habits and tricks. General Jackson, in whose army he had served, put great reliance in his courage, skill, and experience. Major Melville combined with uncommon moral energy rare physical strength; he was the very man to keep in check the fierce tribes with which he had to deal, and to command the trappers and hunters in the Company's service, thorough ruffians, only understanding the logic of the rifle and the bowie knife; he based his authority on inflexible severity and an irreproachable justice, which had contributed greatly to maintain the good relations between the inhabitants of the fort and their crafty friends. Peace, with the exception of the mutual distrust that was its basis, appeared for some few years past to be solidly established between the Palefaces and the Redskins. The Indians camped annually before the fort, and generally exchanged their peltry for spirits, clothes, gunpowder, &c. The seventy men who formed the garrison had gradually relaxed their usual precautions, for they felt so confident of having induced the Indians to renounce their plundering inclinations by kind treatment and concessions. Such was the respective positions of the whites and the Redskins on the day when the exigencies of our story take us to Fort Mackenzie.
The scenery round the fort is exquisite and charmingly varied. On the day after that in which the events we have described took place in the Kenha village, a leather canoe, manned by only one rower, descended the Elk river, in the direction of the American fort. After following the numerous bends of the stream, the canoe at length entered the Missouri, and coasted the northern bank, studded with magnificent prairies at least thirty miles in depth, on which countless herds of buffaloes, antelopes, and bighorns were grazing, which, with ears erect and startled eyes, watched the silent boat pass with gloomy dissatisfaction. But the person, man or woman, in the boat seemed too anxious to reach the destination, to waste any time in firing at these animals, which it would have been easy to do.
With his eyes imperturbably fixed ahead, and bowed over the paddles, the rower redoubled his energy the nearer he approached the fort, uttering at times hoarse exclamations of anger and impatience, though never checking the speed of the boat. At length an "ah!" of satisfaction escaped his lips on turning one of the numberless bends of the river: a magnificent scene was suddenly displayed before him.
Gentle slopes, with varied summits, some rounded, others flat, of a pleasant green colour, occupied the centre of the picture. In the foreground were tall forests of poplars of a vivid green, and willow trees on the banks of the river, which meandered through a prairie to which the twilight had given a deep olive hue. A little further on, on the top of a grassy mound, stood Fort Mackenzie, where the handsome flag of the United States floated in the breeze, gilded by the parting beams of the setting sun; while on one side an Indian camp, on the other, herds of horses, tranquilly grazing, animated the majestic tranquillity of the scene.
The canoe drew nearer and nearer to the bank, and at last, when arrived under the protection of the guns, was run gently ashore. The individual occupying it then leaped on the sand, and it was easy to see that it was a woman. It was the mysterious being to whom the Indians gave the name of the She-wolf of the Prairies, and who has already appeared twice in this story. She had altered her dress. Although still resembling that of the Indians in texture, as it was composed of elk and buffalo skins sown together, it varied from it in shape; and if, at the first glance, it was difficult to recognize the sex of the person wearing it, it was easy to perceive that it was a white, through the simplicity, cleanliness, and, above all, the amplitude of the folds carefully draped round the strange being hidden in these garments.
After leaving the canoe, the She-wolf fastened it securely to a large stone, and without paying further attention to it, walked hastily in the direction of the fort. It was about six in the evening; the barter with the Indians was over, and they were returning, laughing and singing, to their tents of buffalo hide; while the engagés, after collecting the horses, led them back slowly to the fort. The sun was setting behind the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountains, casting a purple gleam, over the heavens. Gradually, as the planet of day sank in the distant horizon, gloom took possession of the earth. The songs of the Indians, the shouts of the engagés, the neighing of the horses, and the barking of the dogs, formed one of those singular concerts which in these remote regions impress on the mind a feeling of melancholy reflection. The She-wolf reached the gate of the fort at the moment when the last engagé had entered, after driving in the laggards of his troop.
At these frontier posts, where momentary vigilance is necessary to foil the treachery constantly lurking in the shadows, sentinels especially appointed to survey the gloomy and solitary prairies, that stretch out for miles around their garrisons, stand watching day and night with their eyes fixed on space, ready to signalize the least unusual movement, either on the part of animals or of men, in the vast solitudes they survey. The She-wolf's canoe had been detected more than six hours before, all its movements carefully watched, and when the She-wolf, after fastening her boat up, presented herself at the gate of the fort, she found it closed and carefully bolted; not because she personally caused the garrison any alarm, but because the order was that no one should enter the fort after sunset, except for overpowering reasons.
The She-wolf repressed with difficulty a gesture of annoyance at finding herself thus exposed to spend the night in the open air; not that she feared the hardship, but because she knew the importance of her news, and desired no delay. She did not allow herself to be defeated, however, but stooped, picked up a stone, and struck the gate twice. A wicket immediately opened, and two eyes glistened through the opening it left.
"Who's there?" a rough voice asked.
"A friend," the She-wolf replied.
"Hum; that's very vague at this hour of the night," the voice continued, with a grin that augured ill for the success of the mediation the She-wolf had commenced.
"Who are you?"
"A woman, and a white woman too, as you can see by my dress and accent."
"It may be, but the night is dark, and it is impossible for me to see you: so if you have no better reasons to give, good night, and go your ways; tomorrow we will meet again at sunrise."
And the speaker prepared to close the wicket, but the She-wolf checked him with a firm hand.
"One moment," she said.
"What's up now?" the other remarked, ill-temperedly; "I cannot pass the night in listening to you."
"I only want to ask you one question, and one favour."
"Plague take it!" the man went on; "well, you are going on at a fine rate; that's nothing, eh? Well; let me hear it; that binds me to nothing."
"Is Major Melville in the fort at this moment?"
"Perhaps."
"Answer, yes or no."
"Well, yes; what then?"
The She-wolf gave a sigh of satisfaction, hurriedly drew a ring from her right hand, and passing it through the wicket to the unknown speaker, said—
"Carry that ring to the Major; I will wait for your answer here."
"Mind what you are about; the Commandant does not like to be disturbed for nothing."
"Do as I tell you. I answer for the rest."
"That's a poor bail," the other growled; "but no matter—I'll risk it. Wait."
The wicket closed. The She-wolf seated herself on the side of the moat, and with elbows resting on her knees, buried her head in her hands. By this time night had completely set in; in the distance, the fires lighted up by the Indians on the prairies shone like lighthouses through the gloom; the evening breeze soughed hoarsely through the tops of the trees, and the howls of the wild beasts were mingled at intervals with the strident laughter of the Indians. Not a star sparkled in the sky, which was black as ink; nature seemed covered with a cerecloth; all presaged an approaching storm. The She-wolf waited, motionless, as one of those patient sphynxes which have watched for thousands of years at the entrance of the Egyptian temples. A quarter of an hour elapsed, then a sound of bolts was heard, and the gates of the fort slightly opened. The She-wolf sprung up, as if moved by a spring.
"Come!" a voice said.
She entered, and the door was immediately closed after her. An engagé—the same who had spoken to her through the wicket—stood before her with a torch in his hand.
"Follow me," he said to her.
She walked after her guide, who crossed the entire length of the courtyard, and then turning to the She-wolf, said—
"The Major is waiting for you here."
"Rap," she said.
"No, do so yourself; you no longer need me; I will return to my post."
And, after bowing slightly, he withdrew carrying the torch with him. The She-wolf remained alone in the darkness; she passed her hand over her damp forehead, and making a supreme effort—
"I must," she muttered, hoarsely.
She then struck the door.
"Come in," a voice said from within.
She turned the key, pushed open the door, and found herself in the presence of an elderly man, dressed in uniform, and seated near a table, who gazed fixedly at her. This man, by the position he occupied, and the way in which the light was arranged, could see her perfectly; while, on the other hand, the She-wolf could not distinguish his features, hidden as they were by the gloom. The She-wolf walked resolutely into the room.
"Thanks for having received me," she said; "I was afraid you had utterly forgotten."
"If that is meant for a reproach, I do not understand you," the officer said, sternly; "and I should feel obliged by a clear explanation."
"Are you not Major Melville?"
"I am."
"The way in which I entered the fort proves to me that you recognised the ring I sent you."
"I recognized it; for it reminds me of a very dear person," he said, with a suppressed sigh; "but how is it in your hands?"
The She-wolf regarded the Major sadly for a moment, then walked up to him, gently took his hand, which she pressed in hers, and replied, with an accent full of tears—
"Harry, I must be changed by suffering, if you do not even recognise my voice."
At these words a livid pallor covered the officer's face; he rose with a movement quick as lightning; his body was agitated by a convulsive tremor, and seizing, in his turn, the woman's hands, he exclaimed madly—
"Margaret! Margaret! my sister! Have the dead come from the tomb? Do I find you again at last:"
"Ah!" she said, with an expression of joy impossible to render, as she sank in his arms, "I was certain he would recognise me."
But the shock she had received was too strong for the poor woman, whose organization was worn out by sorrow; accustomed to suffering, she could not endure joy, and fell fainting into her brother's arms. The Major carried her to a species of sofa that occupied one side of the room, and, without calling anyone to his aid, paid her all that attention her case required. The She-wolf remained for a long time insensible; but she gradually came to herself again, opened her eyes, and, after muttering a few incoherent words, burst into tears. Her brother did not leave her for a moment, following, with an anxious glance, the progress of her return to life. When he perceived that the height of the crisis was past, he took chair, sat down by his sister's side, and by gentle words sought to restore her courage. At length, the poor woman raised her head, dried her eyes—reddened by tears, and hollowed by fever—and turning to her brother, who watched her every movement, said in a hoarse voice—
"Brother, for sixteen years I have been suffering an atrocious martyrdom, which never ceased for an instant."
The Major shuddered at this fearful revelation.
"Poor sister!" he muttered. "What can I do for you?"
"All, if you will."
"Oh!" he exclaimed, with energy, as he struck the woodwork of the sofa with his fist, "could you doubt me, Margaret?"
"No, since I have come," she answered, smiling through her tears.
"You will avenge yourself, I think?" he went on.
"I will."
"Who are your enemies?"
"The Redskins."
"Ah! ah!" he said, with a bitter smile; "I, too, have an old account to settle with those demons. To what nation do your enemies belong?"
"To the Blackfeet. They are the Kenha tribe."
"Oh," the Major continued, "my old friends, the Blood Indians; I have long been seeking a pretext to give them an exemplary punishment."
"That pretext I now bring you, Harry," she answered, passionately; "and do not fancy it a vain pretext invented by hatred. No, no! 'tis the revelation of a plot formed by all the Missouri Indians against the whites, which must break out within a few days, perhaps tomorrow."
"Ah!" the Major observed, thoughtfully, "I do not know why, but, for the last few days, suspicions have invaded, my mind; my presentiments did not deceive me, then. Speak, sister, at once, I conjure you; and since you have come to me, in order to appease your hatred of these red devils, I promise you a vengeance, the memory of which will make their grandsons shudder."
"I thank you for your promise, brother, and will not forget it," she answered. "Listen to me, then."
"One word first."
"Speak, brother."
"Has the narrative of your sufferings any connexion with the conspiracy you are about to reveal to me?"
"An intimate one."
"Well, it is scarce ten o'clock, we have the night before us; tell me all that has happened to you since our separation."
"You wish it?"
"Yes, for it will be by your narrative that I shall regulate my treatment of the Indians."
"Listen, then, brother, and be indulgent to me, for I have suffered bitterly, as you are about to hear."
The Major pressed her hand; he took a chair, sat by her side, and after bolting the door, to prevent any interruption of the story, he said—
"Speak, Margaret, and tell me everything; I do not wish to be ignorant of any of the tortures you have endured during the long years that have elapsed since our parting."