FOES WITHOUT AND WITHIN
Natsatt had much to think over after he left the Ranger. He could not get the story he had just heard out of his mind. His thoughts reverted to Owindia, and what Klitonda had told him about her mother. She had white blood in her veins, and he had the dim impression that the chief had said her name was Klota. Of this, however, he was not certain. Formerly it was no more than of ordinary interest, as east of the mountains it was nothing unusual for Indians to marry half-breed women. But since he had heard Dan's story he was anxious to know more. He would make careful inquiries, however, before saying anything to the Ranger about the matter. It would be better to find out definitely before filling his old leader's mind with any false hopes.
He noticed that now his companions treated him with marked coolness. They would converse together, but whenever he approached they would either disperse or maintain a frigid silence. Larry, especially, favoured him with surly looks. Revenge was plainly written in his eyes, making Natsatt realise that here was a man who needed careful watching. Such action on the part of these men only caused the young half-breed to be more on his guard than ever. For himself he cared but little. He was accustomed to the brutal tactics of rough, heartless men. He did not fear the entire gang, as in his heart he believed they were too cowardly to offer him any bodily harm. But with regard to Owindia it was different, and he became fearful as he thought of what they might attempt to do to her.
After supper, which was eaten in unusual silence, Natsatt left the building and strolled over to Klitonda's lodge. Here he found Owindia alone, for her father was away visiting several Indian camps. She was sitting on a large bear-skin, gazing intently upon several objects before her, and did not hear Natsatt's soft footsteps. But when she at length turned her head and beheld her lover standing near, she gave a slight cry of joy, and rose quickly to her feet.
"And what is my little one doing to-night?" Natsatt asked, as he enfolded her in his arms, and imprinted a kiss upon her lips.
"Counting the tokens," was the reply. "See, they are all here, the blood-stained arrows the Ayana hunters brought. Owindia keeps them safe."
"Do you think they will ever be needed?" Natsatt questioned, at the same time stooping and picking up the arrows. "My! they are well made, and sharp too."
"But none too sharp for the Chilcats," was the low response. "Oh, that there were ten times the number! then Owindia's heart would be lighter."
"Do not worry, little one. All those Coast dogs cannot harm you now when I am here to protect you. You are not afraid, are you?"
"Not now," and Owindia turned her love-lit eyes up to the young man's face. "But sometimes I have a strange feeling of dread here," and she placed her hand to her heart as she spoke. "It is the same to-night. It tells Owindia that the Chilcats are coming, and will try to steal her away, and kill her people."
"Come, little one," Natsatt commanded, "and let us walk down by the river. You have been brooding too much about the Chilcats. The night is fine, and we will listen to the music of the water, and forget all troubles."
Owindia at once obeyed her lover's request, and together they wended their way among the various lodges until the edge of the stream was reached. They walked slowly along the bank for some distance above the village. Here they seated themselves upon an old fallen tree, and looked out upon the river flowing sullenly by. It was a balmy evening, with not a breath of wind stirring the trees. Overhead, the stars were tumbling out one by one, and twinkling down upon the young lovers. Sounds of voices drifted up from the camps, mingled with the occasional snarl or bark of a dog. But Natsatt and Owindia had neither eyes nor ears for what was taking place around them. They were too much absorbed in each other to care about anything else. They were living in a little world of their own, with not a jarring note to disturb the sweet harmony. Forgotten for the time were the maiden's fears. She felt secure in the presence of the strong man at her side. And the many things he was telling her held her spellbound. He related to her again the story of his own past life, his numerous wanderings, and the marvellous things he had seen. Some day he would take her to see them for herself, so he told her. They would have, too, a little home of their own, where fear of the Chilcats would never worry them.
"How strange it will all be," Owindia at length remarked. "I know so little of the ways of the white people that I am afraid they will laugh at me. I shall make so many stupid mistakes that you will feel ashamed of me at times."
"Never, little one," was the emphatic reply. "I shall be proud of you. Even now you are much superior to many white women I have met. You are beautiful, gentle, and remember so much of what your mother taught you. She had white blood in her veins, and was very wise, was she not?"
"Ah, ah. She seemed to know everything. She said she wanted me to grow up to be a good woman. She would often watch me for a long time without saying anything. Sometimes she had a far away look in her eyes, and when I would ask her what she was thinking about, she would give a start, and laughingly say that she was dreaming about her father and mother, and of the days when she was a little child."
"Did your mother ever tell you why she left her happy home?" Natsatt eagerly asked, feeling sure that now he was to find an answer to the question which had been puzzling Ranger Dan for long years.
"Ah, ah. She told me something, but not all. She said she had been stolen away by a band of cruel Coast Indians one bright summer afternoon, as she was wandering in the forest near her father's home. She had pleaded with them, but they had only laughed at her tears, and had hurried her forward. Then they met an Ayana Indian, my father, who rescued her. That is about all I know."
"But why did not your father take your mother back?" Natsatt questioned. "Did she never wish to return to her old home? Did she not know how her father and mother would grieve about her?"
"Ah, but she did go back. My father took her; but the old home was deserted. Some Indians they met told her that her mother was dead, and that her father had gone never to come back again."
"Oh, I see," Natsatt mused, half to himself. "So there was nothing for your mother to do but to return with her husband?"
"Nothing."
"And your mother often talked about her parents?"
"Ah, ah. Very much; but mostly about her father. She said he was so kind, and she loved him dearly."
"Would you like to meet your mother's father some day, little one?" Natsatt asked. "Have you ever thought about him?"
Owindia looked up quickly into her lover's face, but under the pall of night she could detect no hidden meaning there.
"Have I thought of him?" she at length slowly replied. "I have dreamed of him by night and by day. I have always believed that he is living yet, and that sometime we shall meet. Maybe when we go beyond the great mountains of the rising sun I shall see him. But how sorry he will be when he hears that his daughter Klota is dead. He will grieve sorely, for he loved her."
To these words Natsatt made no response. He was thinking deeply of what he had just heard. There was no doubt now, and he would be able to tell Dan all he had learned. But there was a difficulty in the way. He knew that the Ranger would feel badly when he heard about Klota's death, and that would be only natural. But would he at once abandon the Post, and go back beyond the mountains? In that case Owindia would have to go too, and would she be willing to leave her father so soon?
"Why is Natsatt so still? Why does he not speak?" a voice pleaded at his side, which roused him from his reverie.
"I was thinking, little one," he replied, "and for a moment forgot where I was. But, come, we had better go back. It is dark, and your father will wonder where you are, should he return to the lodge and not find you there."
Together they slowly retraced their steps along the river. On their left stretched the great forest, black and silent. Ahead they could see the lights of the numerous camp fires. Not a thought of danger entered their minds so much taken up were they with each other. They were passing close to a heavy thicket of trees, when, without the least warning, two forms leaped upon Natsatt, and bore him to the ground. A half-smothered cry of fright escaped Owindia's lips, telling plainly that something, perhaps a hand was placed over her mouth.
Natsatt at once realised the cowardly nature of the attack, and the hot blood of a hundred generations surged madly through his veins. In falling he had partly loosened his assailants' grip, and before they could fully recover he dealt one a savage blow with his clenched fist, and sent him reeling backwards. Springing nimbly aside he met the second with a kick that doubled him up, causing him to give vent to a deep groan of pain. Not waiting for another charge Natsatt bounded to Owindia's side, as she was being borne away among the trees. He could see very little, but could hear the noise her captor was making. No lioness bereft of her cub could have hurled herself forward with greater impetuosity than did the enraged lover. He reached the maiden's side, and ripped away the arms which were holding her fast. Dropping his burden the cowardly cur turned to face the half-breed. But he was as a child in the clutch of that passion-inflamed man. Natsatt's hands reached for the villain's throat, and gripped with the suddenness and intensity of a steel-trap. For a few seconds there was a wild struggle, a gurgling, choking noise, and then the sound of a form dropping heavily to the earth.
"Lie there, you dog," at length came from Natsatt's lips, as he groped his way to where Owindia was standing. "Where are you, little one? Come quick, and let's get out of this. There's no time to lose."
Finding the maiden, he hurried with her as fast as possible through the rough and night-enshrouded forest. He breathed a sigh of relief when at last the lights of the camp fires twinkled among the trees. His first impulse was to take Owindia to her father's lodge, and then hasten to the Post to appraise Dan of the base attack which had just been made. This idea, however, was soon banished from his mind, for upon reaching the open where the Indians were encamped he found them all greatly agitated, and talking in a most excited manner.
"What is it?" he asked of the first Indian he met.
"The Chilcats have come!" was the terrified reply. "They are over there in the forest. They are hiding, ready to attack us!"
Natsatt waited to hear no more. He went with Owindia to her father's lodge, where he found the chief sitting calmly at the entrance of the rude abode, as if nothing unusual was taking place. He tried to persuade Klitonda to come with his daughter into the Post. But the former shook his head. No, he preferred to remain where he was. He did not fear the Chilcat dogs.
"Then let Owindia come," the young man pleaded. "Let her be safe, anyway."
The maiden looked first into the face of her lover, and then at her father. A struggle was going on within her breast. There were tears in her eyes, when at last she took Natsatt's hand in hers, and placed it to her lips.
"Owindia must stay with her father," she simply said. "He will need her now more than ever."
Natsatt realised that her words were final, and that no inducement could shake her resolve. Dan would need him at this critical moment, he well knew, so he must not delay longer. Bidding farewell to the chief and Owindia, he left the lodge, and hurried across the open toward the Post.