OUT FROM THE HILLS
When Klitonda saw what had happened and that thirty warriors were ready to follow him against the Chilcats, a smile of satisfaction brightened his face. His heart was lighter than it had been for months. After years of waiting and hard work something had been accomplished. With thirty men to support him, aided by the whites, he believed that the enemy could be defeated and driven back crushed. He at once gave the order to have his hands freed. When the thongs were cut he looked upon the blood upon his wrists and knuckles, and stood for a moment in silence. Then he glanced toward the water as if intending to wash away the stains.
"No," he said aloud, "let the blood stay. There will be more blood upon them before the sun is high again in the heavens. Let the blood of the Chilcats mingle with that of the chief of the Ranges."
Klitonda's hands were numb from their cramped position, and it was some time ere the full feeling returned. He ate the meal which had been prepared for him, at the same time talking to the men who were gathered near. He had much to say to them about the white men, and his capture by the Chilcats.
"The Coast dogs are many," he said in conclusion, "and they will not easily be beaten. Great care must be used, and the hearts of the Ayana warriors must not fail. Now is the time of struggle. Now is the only chance left of freeing our land from the invaders."
Supper ended, Klitonda asked for weapons; bow, arrows, and axe. His own had been taken by the Chilcats. Several bows were brought, and when the chief had tested them he found they were all too weak for his powerful arm.
"Are these the strongest?" he asked. "Klitonda cannot use them. He must have a bow like the one he lost. He cannot go into battle with such as these."
His men looked at one another, but made no response. Then an old squaw, who had been listening intently to the conversation, entered a brush lodge nearby, and shortly returned bearing in her hand a bow larger than the rest. It was seven feet in length and big around at the middle as a man's arm. It had been carefully made, and was partly wound with the finest of caribou sinew. She held it out to Klitonda who received it with surprise.
"Where did this come from?" he asked, as he examined it, and felt its smooth surface. "No Ayana warrior ever bent such a bow as this."
"It was used by my father's father," the old woman replied. "He fought with it at the great Tagish battle when the Ayana were defeated by the Chilcats. He died with it in his hand. Nasheesh was a little girl then, and her mother gave it to her. It was found on the battle-field after the Chilcats had gone away. It was a strong arm that bent that bow, and no one has used it since my father's father died. Let the chief now try it."
"Klitonda will see," was the reply. "Bring the strongest sinew in camp for the old one is weak."
After some delay the bow was fitted with a twanging cord, and the longest arrow chosen. Then Klitonda grasped the bow, and standing erect drew the arrow full to the head, and sent it straight to the limb of a tree fifty yards away. The slender twig trembled for an instant, and then fell to the ground, severed as if by a keen knife. A murmur of admiration rose from the onlookers. Never before had they realised the strength of their chief's arm, although they had talked much about it.
"It will do," Klitonda said, as with much satisfaction he looked around upon his men. "As this bow saw the defeat of the Ayana in the great Tagish battle may it soon see their victory against the Chilcats. But come, it is time to be on the move. The day is almost gone, and the night is all too short in which to reach the Ayan River."
"But is not the chief weary?" asked one of the men. "Will he not take a little sleep first?"
"Klitonda will not sleep," was the emphatic reply. "He will not sleep until after the battle. And if he sleeps then it will be only as a conqueror. If not as a conqueror he will sleep with his own people in the Happy Hunting Ground."
The next question to be settled was the route they were to follow. To go by the way of the trail over which Klitonda had recently travelled would take too long a time, and the warriors would be weary after the difficult march. The alternative route was down the swift river leading from the lake, and thence down the Segas River to the Post. By this they could make much better progress, and reach the Great River by early dawn. It did not take them long to decide upon this latter route, and then preparations were made for a speedy departure.
Darkness had deepened over the land as two canoes left the shore and pointed straight across the lake. There were no cries or murmurings from the women, children, and the few old men who were left behind. It would be unbecoming on their part to make any lamentation, and thus weaken the hearts of the warriors. But as those left behind stood upon the shore until the canoes had disappeared from view, they felt that they had seen the last of their sons and husbands who had gone forth on behalf of their land.
With much skill the Indians guided their canoes down the swift and dangerous stream. There were rocks to avoid, and in one place they had to shoot a foaming rapid. But at length all was passed and in about an hour's time they swept out upon the less dangerous Segas River. They now settled down to hard paddling. The current was fairly swift but not swift enough for the leader who longed for the wings of eagles that he and his men might fly over the forest straight to their destination.
Thus hour after hour they bent to their paddles and in grim silence advanced. Klitonda's thoughts were with Owindia. What had happened to her? he wondered. Was she at the Post? Had the Chilcats made the attack, and if so what was the outcome? Would they be in time? He believed that the assault would be made at night, and if the white men could keep back the Chilcats for a while they might be able to get there before the end came.
The two canoes were in mid-stream, and the banks lined with thick trees were in complete darkness. They did not see, therefore, a canoe drawn upon the shore on their right as they sped by, nor the forms of several men crouching among the trees. Had they known that the deserters from the Post were there waiting with almost bated breath until the unknown canoes had passed, Klitonda would no doubt have forced them to give a quick account of their strange actions. But they knew nothing of what had happened so continued on their way. Hardly a sound did they make as their paddles cleaved the water. Slowly the night wore on and edged into the dawn of a new day, a day which was to mean much for the Ayana people. The trees along the shore became more distinct, and stood shivering from the coolness of the night and the filmy mist which hung like a long thread over the stream. The still weirdness of early morn exerts a peculiar influence upon the heart. It is the time when all the little creatures of forest and air are silent, and the quietness seems to portend future events. It affected the superstitious hearts of the Indians in the canoes. They knew that shortly the Post would be reached, and the struggle with their merciless foes could not be delayed much longer. It was only natural that the paddles should not move with their former swiftness, and that a number of the men should have grave doubts as to the wisdom of the undertaking.
But no such thoughts disturbed the mind of Klitonda. His paddle never for a single moment ceased that mighty sweep which his gigantic arm alone could give. He appeared to be tireless. After what he had experienced it was wonderful to his men how he could continue paddling hour after hour the freshest one of them all. An expression of great determination lighted his face. His eyes gleamed with a far away look. He was fighting the battle with his enemy. He was dealing terrific blows, and levelling the Chilcats to the ground long before the Post was reached.
At length he gave the order in a low tone to run the canoes ashore, and when all had disembarked he gave his men a few words of instruction. He did not consider it advisable to go down into the open and thus expose themselves to the Chilcats should they have taken possession of the place. They must separate into three bands, and spread off into the forest, and thus come up behind the enemy in three different directions. By this manœuvre Klitonda hoped to frighten the Chilcats into believing that a very large band of Ayana Indians had come up against them. Having given careful instructions to his men Klitonda chose five to go with him, and the rest were sent over toward the enemy's camp. At once Klitonda with his followers struck straight through the forest for the Post. They had not gone far ere a faint sound fell upon their ears, which brought them to a sudden standstill. They looked at one another, and without a word sped forward. Well did they know the meaning of that sound. The attack had been made and they would be in time. A feeling of exultation thrilled Klitonda's heart. The spirit of generations of warriors was beating within his breast. He longed to be at his enemy, to have a hand in the fight. It was the wild volcano of rage and hatred which had been threatening for so long, which had now burst forth. No longer could it be restrained. His blood was up, and what to him were a thousand Chilcats? His companions could not keep up with their hurrying chief. His feet seemed scarcely to touch the ground. The sounds of shooting became much more distinct as they advanced.
Reaching the edge of the forest Klitonda became more cautious. He peered forth from among the trees, and seeing the Chilcats swarming at the gate of the Post the truth flashed upon him in the twinkling of an eye. They had broken down the barrier and were upon the white men. The sound of shooting had ceased, but he could hear the savage yells, and at times cries of pain. His men were by his side now. Quickly fitting an arrow to the sinew he drew the bow to its full capacity and sent a missive of death right into that scrambling band of Indians. His companions did the same, but their arrows fell short of their marks. A yell of pain and surprise followed Klitonda's shot. The Chilcats looked toward the forest and as they looked, from two other directions came a rain of arrows, most of which found lodging in the bodies of the besiegers.
The Chilcats now made a wild rush for the cover of the forest, and as they hurried across the open were met by another shower of arrows from the concealed Ayana warriors. But some remained at the Post, and hoped to find shelter behind those wooden walls when they had overcome the two lone defenders. It would not do to let their enemy get possession first.
Klitonda, seeing how matters stood, and that the white men were being hard pressed, stepped forth from his place of concealment. He believed that Owindia was within the Post, and now that the gate had been battered down she would be in great danger from the Chilcats. He surmised that the defenders were hard pressed as they were doing no shooting and seemed to be engaged in a hand to hand struggle with their opponents. With a call to his men to follow he dashed across the open, and with axe in hand fell upon the struggling Chilcats. So sudden was the attack that for a minute the besiegers were taken by surprise, and daunted by the towering form which had leaped so suddenly upon them. But the fear was only temporary, for when they recognised the chief of the Ayana they gave a yell and turned upon him.
Klitonda had only his axe in his hand, but as his enemies rushed toward him he levelled them one by one with the terrible sweep of his right arm. They came two and three at a time, and fearful was the struggle which then took place. Backwards and forwards they surged and swayed. Now Klitonda was forced back step by step, and again he made his opponent retreat. The ground around him was strewn thick with the bodies of dead and wounded Chilcats. Out of the dozen who had set upon him only three were at length left. These seeing how little was their chance of winning against the gigantic chief, turned and fled. One of them ere he left seized a musket which was lying upon the ground, and lifting it to his shoulder aimed it straight at Klitonda and fired. There was a deafening report. The chief staggered, threw up his hands wildly into the air and fell forward upon the ground right across the body of a dead Chilcat.
Klitonda's five companions had attempted to follow their leader to the Post. But as they were some distance behind they were met by a band of Chilcats, and so were forced to retreat to the shelter of the forest. And here amid the trees began a desperate struggle. From tree to tree they fought, both sides watching for the slightest opportunity. The Ayana fought with great bravery, and endeavoured to make every arrow tell. Ere long their quivers were empty, and they had nothing but their axes left. The Chilcats on the other hand not only out-numbered the Ayana, but their weapons were superior. Armed with muskets they were able to pour a withering fire upon their opponents. Their supply of ammunition was abundant, and they were able to keep their enemy from coming to close quarters. Could the Ayana have engaged in a hand to hand encounter even though the odds were against them they would have had a good chance of winning the fight. But whenever they appeared from behind the trees they were met by a shower of bullets. At length only two of the five were left, and they, seeing that their case was hopeless, made a frantic effort to escape. They turned to flee, but had taken only a few steps when they fell to the ground, pierced by several balls.
And the fate which befell these five overtook the rest of the Ayana. Their arrows which were soon spent could not contend with the more destructive muskets. Soon most of them were lying dead or wounded upon the ground, while only a few escaped and made their way back to the lake with the terrible tale of death and defeat. The Ayana warriors had made a determined struggle for freedom. But they had not counted upon the overwhelming power of the muskets which the Chilcats carried. Their primitive weapons, no matter how powerful, were no match for the deadly guns of modern civilisation.