SHROUDED LIGHT
A feeling of despair swept over Owindia as the forest hid the Post from view, for she believed she had seen it for the last time. She knew that the Chilcats would be very angry at her for what she had done. She saw them emerge from the trees where they had been hidden. With what fierce eyes they beheld her, and she would not have been surprised had they fallen upon her in their fury and torn her to pieces. They were cruel and blood-thirsty for such a deed, so she thought. Instead, however, they hurried her back to their camping place, where they forced her to sit upon the ground while they surrounded her in a formidable, menacing circle.
The clouds of night had passed, and the sun was slanting down among the numerous tree tops. The day was bright and warm, but Owindia shivered as she sat there awaiting the verdict of her enemies. Her head ached, and her entire body was weary. The strain of the excitement through which she had passed, and the want of sleep were plainly visible upon her face and form. Her eyes stared forth with an unnatural light, which at first the Indians did not notice. Strange thoughts were rushing through her brain. The babble of voices about her fell meaningless upon her ears. She heard nothing of the harsh words of condemnation which came from the lips of the baffled Chilcats. Gradually the dusky figures at her side were transformed, and she saw in their stead a band of her own people, all armed ready to drive back the invaders. She was watching them as they crept through the forest. She heard the cries of death, and the yells of victory. She saw her father leading his warriors, and beheld the look of triumph upon his face as he saw the Chilcats fleeing before the attack. Her heart thrilled with pride, and she gave vent to a laugh, a loud laugh of joy to think that at last their land was free from the enemy. She sprang to her feet and began waving her arms in the wildest excitement. And he was there, too, Natsatt her lover, driving the Coast tribe before him. How he was fighting, and she was cheering him on.
The strange look in Owindia's eyes, and her excited manner startled the Chilcat warriors. They ceased their talking and stared upon the maiden standing before them. Well did they know the meaning of that expression upon her face, and the rapid words which were pouring from her lips. They shrank back with superstitious awe and dread, and more than one Indian laid his hand upon his gun. An evil spirit had entered into this Ayana squaw, so they believed, and was possessing her whole being. To them this incident was most disconcerting. The bad spirit was abroad and had entered into this woman. It had evidently been surrounding them for days, and had been working against them. No doubt the white men had something to do with the matter, and were inciting the spirit against the Chilcats. It would be necessary, therefore, to get rid of this evil one as speedily as possible. Already a feeling of fear was spreading among the warriors. Every time Owindia spoke or approached them they drew back and looked apprehensively around as if expecting that hideous creatures were about to emerge from the forest depths. Those braver than the rest realised that unless some action was immediately taken the courage of the Indians would soon ebb away, and their hope of defeating the white traders would be at an end.
It was a pathetic sight to see Owindia standing in the midst of these men, talking at random, and occasionally pointing among the trees, and calling their attention to imaginary foes.
"Ha, ha," she laughed, "the Chilcats are running away. They are afraid of the Ayana warriors. Look, look, the chief's son has fallen; he is no more. Never again will he trouble Owindia."
These words, added to what she had already said, caused more than a score of warriors to seize their guns, and train them upon the maiden. They determined to delay no longer. The evil spirit must be driven out, and the only way to do it would be to put the maiden to death. The beautiful picture she made with flushed face, and form drawn to her full height caused them to hesitate for a few moments. Never before had they seen such a squaw so full of grace and perfect loveliness. Hardened though they were their hearts were not altogether unresponsive to a certain pleasure in true beauty. They could worship it in the surge of the ocean, in the ripple of the streams, in the glory of the sunset, and in the laughter of the flowers. It was, therefore, but natural that they should shrink from taking the life of one of whom they had heard so much, and their own eyes had seen.
And as they hesitated, and Owindia's life hung by a thread, Klukwan, the messenger, stepped forward, and raised his arm for his companions to desist. He had been a silent witness of the whole proceeding, and his heart stirred within him at the idea of putting the maiden to death. In fact ever since she had entered the camp he had found it almost impossible to keep his eyes away from her face. How he longed to possess her for his own. She appealed to him not only for her beauty, but for her courage and modest demeanour.
"Kill not the squaw," he began. "Why should she be put to death? When did Chilcat warriors ever do such a thing? If the evil spirit had entered into an Ayana brave Klukwan would not say a word. But this is a squaw, daughter of a great chief. That chief is the Chilcats' enemy, but he is a brave warrior, and has a strong heart. The Chilcats honour a brave man, even though he is their enemy. This maiden has a strong heart. She saved Klukwan's life in Klitonda's lodge, and Klukwan cannot forget. The evil spirit is in her, and it must not be allowed to get away or it will do harm to the Chilcats. Bind the squaw fast to a tree, that she may be safe. The spirit cannot get away from her body now that it has taken up its abode there."
Stepping up to the maiden Klukwan placed his right hand upon her arm.
"Does the Ayana squaw dream?" he asked. "Does she see strange sights? Is the evil spirit speaking through her lips?"
Owindia turned and looked upon the brave, although she saw him not. A far away expression shone in her dilated eyes, as lifting her hand she pointed out among the trees.
"See, they come!" she cried. "The Chilcats are among the Ayana people; they will steal the women, and kill the men."
Then she began to sing in the monotonous Indian fashion a fragment of a song she had often heard around the camp fire at night. It was but one of the numerous compositions which had been handed down from generation to generation. Each had added something to the various pieces, legends, deeds of bravery, and love, until in some cases the crazy jumbles were of great length, requiring often an hour or more for their rendition. Owindia learned only the ones which appealed to her heart and mind, especially those telling of the deeds of her forefathers, and their heroism in days gone by. It was only natural, therefore, that her favourite piece should be sung when her mind was so wildly excited.
"Hark! I hear the Chilcats coming.
They are coming o'er the ranges;
They will steal our wives and daughters,
They will slay our sons and husbands.
Rouse, Ayana, to the battle,
Drive the Chilcats o'er the ranges,
Free our land and save our people,
Come, Ayana, come, come!"
Having ended these words in the long drawn wail of the Indian manner, a sudden fancy seemed to seize Owindia's mind. She began to sing snatches of songs and hymns which her mother had taught. Some were bright, and gay; others were sombre, and full of much pathos. Her voice was as clear and full of sweetness as when Natsatt had first heard it out in the lodge in the wilderness.
The Chilcat warriors were now more firmly convinced than ever that the maiden was possessed of the evil spirit. They were not accustomed to such singing, and the tunes of the English songs and hymns made no appeal to their hearts. The singer must not be allowed to abide among them. Nothing but harm would come from her presence. Death was the only remedy. Such was the opinion of all the Chilcats when they had considered the matter except Klukwan, the messenger. He would not agree to such a proposition, and appealed to the chiefs son, who had taken but little part in the discussion.
"Klukwan will stand by the Ayana squaw," he said. "She shall not be put to death. Let any warrior raise his gun against her and he will answer to Klukwan. Make the squaw fast to a tree, so she cannot escape. Let the chiefs son speak."
Thus appealed to, and with the eyes of his men turned upon him there was nothing for the weak vacillating creature to do but to give voice to his thoughts. He knew only too well that what Klukwan said he would do would be carried out to the bitter end. He did not wish to have friction among his band at such a critical moment, when unity was needed in their attack upon the whites. He believed, too, that some of the warriors would side with Klukwan, and disastrous might be the result. According to the superstitious idea which had been instilled into him from childhood he felt that the maiden should die. But he wished to delay her death now, and put off the performing of it in order to keep peace. Something might happen, so he thought, which would not make it necessary. She might get well, or Klukwan might change his mind and consent to her death. That she should recover he earnestly desired for he wished to possess the maiden, and take her back in triumph to the coast. Such a beautiful creature added to his list of wives would make him the envy and admiration of other tribes far and near, as well as among those of his own people. He accordingly gave it as his opinion that the possessed squaw should be taken to the very tree where her father, Klitonda, had been bound, and there made fast.
Owindia made no attempt to resist the rough hands which were laid upon her. She permitted herself to be led to the tree where she was securely tied. She continued to talk, however, about the coming of the Chilcats, and occasionally she would sing. But as the day wore away she became silent, and her head drooped. She made no effort to support herself, but allowed her whole weight to bear upon the moose-hide thongs with which she was bound. Her face was hot and flushed, which even the air of evening could not cool. It was the heat of fever which was raging through her whole body. When night shut down she was left alone, all the warriors having gone to surround the Post. But she knew nothing of time or events. She was living in that strange world of wild unrealities, where the mind seems to depart from its earthly tenement and roams through vast vistas of unknown regions. As the darkness deepened, and the air grew colder her ravings returned. She called for Natsatt, and implored him to come to her. Now she was with her father out upon the trail, and again she was a little child playing by the side of her mother along the river's bank. She sang, too, not the songs of the Indians, but the ones her mother had taught her. Night, desolate night, covered her form, but a darkness more terrible shrouded her mind, though it could not silence the music of her voice which floated forth among the trees clear, sweet, and plaintive.