IN THE FOREST DEPTHS
When Natsatt started upon his perilous task he knew how necessary it would be for him to proceed with the greatest caution. He believed that the Post was being watched by Chilcats who were lying in ambush. He, therefore, slipped quietly out of the door in the barricade, and crept by the side of the wall until he came to the river. Along the bank of this he swiftly moved until he had gained the shelter of the forest some distance above. Here he paused and listened most intently. The night was very dark, and he could observe nothing astir. With the greatest care he skirted the edge of the woods, passed the chief's lodge, and down to the wild meadow below. He knew the region well, as he had hunted all over the place, and had a good idea where the Chilcats were encamped. He found it difficult to move without making any noise, and his progress was accordingly slow. He did not cross the meadow as he knew what sharp eyes Indians had. Instead, he made a long detour around the upper end and came down on the opposite side until he reached the rock where Owindia had waited for the Chilcats. Here he stopped to get his bearings, and then began to thread his way to the left through the dark and silent forest. He little realised that he was following the same course, in fact almost the exact route which Owindia had taken but a short time before.
No sense of fear came into his heart as he moved steadily forward. He was so accustomed to the forest that almost instinctively he directed his steps. How far he was from the camp he could not tell, but he believed it to be somewhere straight ahead. He expected that the Chilcats would have a number of men stationed among the trees to give warning in case any one should approach. It would be necessary to escape these if he should ever get close to the main body of Indians. His progress, therefore, became much slower the farther he advanced. Nothing could he observe for some time, and he began to think that after all he might be astray, when a faint glimmer of a light broke through the night. He stood perfectly still for a while, and then step by step he proceeded. Larger grew the light, which he was soon able to tell came from a camp fire. His action became now more cautious than ever. He glided from tree to tree, pausing for a brief space behind each to make sure that no one was near, and that he had not been observed.
Ere long he was but several rods away, and he was enabled to obtain a good view of the whole camping ground. He was surprised not to see a large band of Indians clustered around the fire. But looking carefully he found that they were there lying upon the ground apparently asleep. Only one person could he see sitting before the burning logs, and his heart gave a great leap when he saw that it was Owindia. She was seated upon a stone, her head bent forward, and her eyes fixed intently upon the burning coals at her feet. Natsatt's blood tingled, and his hand closed hard upon his musket. How he longed to rush forward, seize her in his arms, and bear her away. He felt sure that she was not there of her own accord, but had been carried away captive. He was not afraid to face the whole band if it would do any good. But what could he do against such a number of Chilcats. No doubt some of them were asleep, but a few would be awake. He wondered, too, why no watch was kept upon Owindia. No one seemed to notice her, and how easy it would be for her to slip away into the forest and escape. If she only knew that her lover was not far off watching her, he believed that she would make the attempt. But how could he attract her attention without waking the Indians?
A sudden thought flashed into his mind. It was a risky thing to do, but he was willing to make the attempt. Placing his hand beneath his buck-skin jacket he brought forth his little mouth-organ, and raised it to his lips. Then out upon the night air floated a low sweet tune, which he had often played for Owindia, and one she loved most dearly.
No sooner had the first notes sounded out than a weary head by the fire was raised, and a pair of startled eyes searched the dark forest depths. Owindia recognised that sound, and it brought a new hope into her heart. She had never expected to hear it again, and it brought back memories of happy days. Then a great fear came upon her. The Chilcats would hear it, and her lover would be in great danger. Oh, if he would only stop, and go away. Why should he risk his own life for her sake? What could she do to warn him?
It was not long before a movement took place among the sleepers, and head after head was raised to listen to the strange sound which had disturbed their slumbers. But the music suddenly ceased. Natsatt saw what was taking place, and lowered the instrument from his lips. In truth he somewhat relished the wonder he had aroused among the natives, and only with an effort could he resist the temptation of giving them a little more excitement. But he knew that further music would bring them to their feet, and that would mean an end to all his hope of getting Owindia away. He, therefore, watched and waited to see if she would make an attempt to come to him when the Indians were again in slumber deep. That they had taken the music for the song of some unfamiliar bird was quite evident from their readiness to resume their disturbed slumbers.
With Owindia, however, it was different. Her heart was beating wildly, and when the music ceased, and she saw the warriors once more asleep she breathed a sigh of relief. How she longed to leave the fire, and go to Natsatt. But she had given her word that she would remain until the morning, and the Chilcats had promised to take her back. She would keep her promise no matter what the others might do. Lifting her hand she made the motion for Natsatt to go away. She also shook her head as a sign that she could not go with him.
The eager, watchful lover saw the signal, and it puzzled him. What can she mean? he asked himself. It would be very easy for her to come to me now, and why does she not do so? Then the medicine man's story came into his mind. Was there truth in it after all? Had she come to this place of her own free will? But where was the chief's son? He could not see him near her side. Where else would he be if she had become his wife? Perhaps he was waiting to take her back to the coast, that the Indian marriage ceremony might be performed there in the presence of all the tribe. That Owindia did not make any effort to leave the Chilcats and come to him when she knew that he was near, gave him good ground for his suspicion. If such was the case he might as well go back to the Post. There was nothing more for him to do. He could not carry her away by main force, and neither would he attempt it. If she preferred the chief's son to him he would make no further effort to save her. This was one voice which spoke to him. There was another, however, which he could not silence. It told him there must be some reason connected with the affair; that Owindia loved him still, and would gladly flee to his arms for protection if she could. There was something holding her back. There was a purpose in her strange action. It was this idea which stayed his feet, and kept him at his watch amid the trees. He could not take his eyes away from that form crouching before the fire. Why does she not lie down? he asked himself. She must be very weary. At times she would lift her head and look straight toward the concealed lover. He knew that she could not see him, but it thrilled his heart to know that she was thinking of him.
How long Natsatt remained in that one place he could not tell. He only knew that night was speedily advancing, and that the early northern dawn would ere long be breaking upon the far-off mountain peaks. The fire was still burning, for occasionally Owindia had risen and replenished it from a pile of dry wood lying near. Natsatt believed he could see another reason in this besides that of warmth. She evidently dreaded the darkness among those Indians. She needed the fire for protection as well as for comfort.
At length he determined to quit the place and go back to the Post. The Indians would shortly be stirring and it would not be well for him to be found lurking near. But just as he took one long lingering look upon the maiden, and was about to turn away, he saw a form moving slowly forward from the background. Natsatt stayed his steps, and his hand grasped more firmly the musket. As he saw the figure of an Indian emerge into the fire light and bend over the maiden he quickly brought the weapon to his shoulder. But in a few seconds he lowered it and stood watching the scene before him. The Indian had spoken to Owindia and she had risen to her feet, and was facing the brave. What they said Natsatt could not tell, as he was too far away and their voices were low. When, however, a strong arm reached out and was placed around the maiden he had no doubt as to the object of the man's visit. It must be the chief's son, he thought, endeavouring to draw Owindia aside while the others slept. But the maiden had thrown off the arm which had been placed about her, and stood defiantly before the intruder. Suddenly a knife gleamed in Owindia's hand which she held threateningly before her. At this the brave retreated a step, and then in a twinkling of an eye he reached out, gripped the maiden's wrist, and wrenched the shining steel from her grasp.
What would have followed is hard to say had not Natsatt acted upon the impulse of the moment. He longed to shoot the villain where he stood, and if it came to the worst he would be forced to do so. But another idea had come into his mind. He would try the effect of his mouth organ upon the Chilcat brave. Again bringing it forth he placed it to his lips, and produced a series of such plaintive, doleful sounds that the Indian paused and looked wonderingly into the forest. As the notes continued, growing more uncanny all the time, an expression of superstitious fear overspread his face. The whole band of Chilcats by this time were thoroughly aroused, and had leaped to their feet. Trained from early days to believe in strange apparitions, and weird, ghostly inhabitants of forest, mountain, and glen, it was but natural for them to imagine that now they were surrounded by unseen creatures who belonged to this northern region. Had it been a war-whoop which had aroused them from sleep they would have rushed forward with shouts of defiance. Physical courage they did not lack, but what Chilcat brave could face those horrible invisible beings, who only made their presence known by the doleful sounds they emitted from time to time?
On almost any other occasion Natsatt would have been much amused by the consternation he was causing among the proud and arrogant Chilcats. As it was it brought much satisfaction to his heart to see them standing huddled together like a flock of dazed sheep. Where were the glory of warrior, and the thrill of battle in the presence of that unseen power so full of mystery and awe? Owindia alone seemed unaffected by the sounds which were disturbing the stillness of the night. The chief's son had shrunk away from her, and had flung the knife amid the trees that his men might not see what he had been doing. He, too, stood like the rest and listened apprehensively to the wails which were falling upon their ears. It was only when the sounds ceased that the Chilcats aroused from their temporary fright, and began to talk to one another in an animated manner. They remembered how they had been awakened during the early part of the night, when they had imagined it was a northern bird singing among the trees. Now they believed it was the same creature which had been hovering near through the hours of darkness. Several suggested that the white men had much to do with the noise, and that they were exercising some evil power against the Chilcats.
Natsatt, in the meantime had retreated swiftly and silently away from the place. He knew that he could be of no further assistance to Owindia. He had done her one good turn, and had learned the strength of the enemy. After a while he walked less cautiously, for he felt sure that the Chilcats would not attempt to follow. So engrossed was his mind with what he had seen that he forgot all about the braves whom he believed were watching the Post. In fact he had never been certain that any were there; it was only a supposition on his part.
He did not as before skirt the wild meadow but moved boldly across the open. He had gained the opposite side and had plunged again into the forest, when, without the slightest warning a form leaped upon him out of the night. Recoiling as from an electric shock he felt the brush of cold steel against his face, and knew that he had escaped the deadly blow of a hunting axe as if by a miracle. Then with a bound he grappled with his adversary, caught him about the body, and endeavoured to hurl him to the ground. It was no weakling, however, who had thus so treacherously assailed him, but one whose thews were like whips of steel. That he was a Chilcat Natsatt had not the slightest doubt. A burning rage filled his heart, and nerved him to almost superhuman effort. He realised that it was a struggle to the death, and he must not give his opponent the slightest advantage. He must be wary, and reserve his strength as much as possible. Not a word was spoken as there in the darkness they strained and wrestled with each other. The hard panting of the men told of the desperate struggle which was taking place. Backward and forward they reeled and staggered. A small root or a twig tripping one or the other would soon have ended the conflict. But each kept his feet with marvellous dexterity. Presently Natsatt's right hand was brought in sudden contact with the Indian's face, and with a lightning movement his fingers dropped to the coarse throat, and closed. There was no escaping that grip, which never relaxed for an instant. The native endeavoured to tear away that death-dealing clutch, but in vain. The more he struggled the firmer the fingers seemed to press. His breath came in short fitful gasps. His body weakened, his knees trembled, and soon Natsatt was able to force him to the earth, still holding tenaciously to the throat like a determined bull-dog.
Natsatt did not wish to kill the Indian, and in the darkness he could not tell how much injury the fallen man had received. For a few seconds he maintained his merciless grip, and then let his fingers slowly relax. He sat for a while upon the prostrate form, ready any instant should the Chilcat arouse to renew the contest. But the defeated brave exhibited no sign of further wish to fight. That he was not dead Natsatt could tell by the breathing he could now distinctly hear. He might be unconscious, he thought, and will recover later. He wished to leave the place and get back to the Post. But he desired to have a parting word with his opponent, if he were in a fit condition to understand anything.
"Who are you?" he demanded in the Indian tongue, "and what are you doing here at this time of night?"
Receiving no answer to his question, he continued:
"Speak and tell me who you are, or else I will kill you where you lie."
He had no intention of putting his threat into practice; he only wished to make the man speak. And in truth his words had the desired effect, for after a slight pause there rasped forth the one word "Chilcat."
"Ah, ah, so that's who you are," Natsatt remarked with a sneer. "Nice warrior you are, to lie in wait and leap upon a man without giving him a chance. But you found your mistake this time, didn't you? It was not such an easy job after all, was it? Now look here, Chilcat dog that you are, you've met more than your match to-night. I could kill you here and leave your dead body upon the ground, which is what you really deserve. But I'm not going to do that. I want you to go back to your chief and tell them what the white men are like. That they can fight like grizzlies, and know not what it means to be defeated. Tell him, too, that if he wants to attack the Post he will have a harder job than he expected. There are men over there stronger than I am, and if you had got into their clutches instead of mine they would have had you torn to pieces by this time."
The Chilcat made no reply to these words but lay perfectly still as if he had heard nothing.
"Why don't you speak?" Natsatt demanded. "Why don't you say something? I've a sharp knife here in my belt which is just anxious to do more than tickle your ribs. I'm thinking that would make you speak. Maybe it'll be well to have it handy if you try any of your tricks."
"Ugh!" grunted the Chilcat.
"That makes you say something, does it? Well, I want you to say more than that. Now tell me at once, and no fooling about it either. What is Klitonda's daughter doing over there in the Chilcat camp? How did she get there?"
To these questions the Chilcat deigned no reply until he felt the sharp point of steel pressing his side right over his heart. He then gave a struggle, and attempted to rise.
"None of that," Natsatt ordered. "Try it again and I'll drive this knife into your measly carcass up to the hilt. Tell me, did the chief's daughter go to the Chilcat camp of her own free will?"
"Ah, ah," the native replied.
"And did she go to become the wife of the Chilcat chief's son?"
"Ah, ah."
"What did she do that for? Why did she leave her own people to go there? Did not the Chilcats kill her mother? Has she forgotten that?"
"The Ayana squaw wished to save her people and the white traders."
"In what way?" Natsatt queried, while a faint light of comprehension began to glimmer in his mind.
"The chief's son promised to go back to the coast at once if Klitonda's daughter would be his wife," was the reply.
"Whew! I see," broke from the half-breed's lips. "So that's it, is it? And will the chief's son go away now? Will he leave the white traders and the Ayana people alone?"
"The chief's son will not go away," was the slow response. "His warriors will not let him. They wish to drive out the white traders."
"And what, then, will the Chilcats do with Klitonda's daughter? Will they send her back to her own people?"
To this question came no answer, and from his captive Natsatt could learn nothing more. But he had heard enough to give him cause for much thought. His heart thrilled as he mused upon what Owindia had done. She was willing to sacrifice herself to save those she loved. He felt somewhat friendly to this prostrate Indian for what he had told him. It lifted a great weight from his mind. To know that she whom he loved better than life itself had not been untrue to him, but had taken this step with the noblest motive, brought him much joy. But why did she not come to him when she knew he was waiting for her among the trees? he wondered. It was something he could not understand, although he believed now that Owindia did it for some good reason.
At length Natsatt rose slowly from off the Chilcat's body. He still held the knife in readiness lest the native should renew the attack. Away on the mountain tops the dawn of a new day was breaking. The light stole down silently and gradually among the secret forest ways. It showed quite distinctly the form of the defeated Chilcat lying upon the ground.
"Get up," Natsatt commanded, "and go back to your chief, and tell him what has happened to you this night. Tell him, also, to beware of the white men, for they are swift, merciless, and strong."
The Chilcat waited for no second bidding. He leaped to his feet and without stopping to recover his hunting-axe dashed into the forest, and disappeared from view. Natsatt also turned and with the light of triumph shining upon his face walked swiftly back to the Post.