THE MESSENGER
Klitonda knew of the news which was agitating his people, for he had been the first to see two terrified Ayana Indians speeding by his lodge with the tidings of dire woe. But he had asked no questions, and did not even go forth to discuss the matter with his people. That they would huddle together in fear, and then speed away like frightened rabbits he was well aware. Of what use, therefore, would it be to talk to them, and try to arouse them to definite determined action? All of his talking in the past had seemed in vain, so of what avail would words be now with the enemy so near? Only upon the white men did he feel that he could depend for assistance. But how few they were. It was true, they had their strong barricade, and deadly guns would guard every loop-hole. But the Chilcats were wily, and if they had come in great numbers it would be impossible to withstand them for any length of time. His mind turned to the score of young hunters who had made their vow of allegiance, and had given their tokens. With their support a strong stand could be made. He believed that they were not far off, awaiting for the blood-stained arrows. But whom could he send? He looked toward Owindia, seated just within the entrance of the lodge. She was watching her father's face, and trying to interpret the thoughts which were beating through his brain. A small fire outside made it possible for her to see his features quite distinctly.
His eyes glowed with a fierce light, such as she had seen there the night her mother had been killed. He sat bolt upright, with every muscle of his body tense and rigid. He was not like the tiger waiting for the onset of the hunters, and ready to spring forth with savage destruction. He was more like a scarred veteran of a hundred fights, not afraid of the conflict, yet cautious, and wary. He wished to strike, but only at the right moment, with such force and suddenness as to repulse his adversaries with overwhelming confusion.
"Little one," he suddenly began, "have you the tokens safe?"
"Ah, ah, father. They are over there," and the maiden pointed to a corner of the lodge. "Do you want them?"
"We must use them now, Owindia," her father replied. "The Chilcats are near, and some one must take them to the young hunters. I cannot go, as I must stay and help the white men. Will you—?"
The question died upon his lips, for suddenly without a sound there appeared at the door of the lodge an Indian of the dreaded Chilcat tribe. One lightning glance was sufficient for Klitonda to realise the identity of the stranger. He leaped to his feet, and seized his hunting axe which was lying near. Owindia shrank fearfully back into a corner of the lodge at the terrible expression upon her father's face.
The visitor neither moved nor exhibited the least sign of alarm. He stood calmly in the door-way, watching Klitonda's infuriated demeanour. His coolness caused the chief to hesitate as he was in the act of raising the weapon for the blow. Had the man betrayed the slightest degree of fear Klitonda would have smitten him to the ground without the least compunction. But brave himself, he always admired it in others, even though they were his most deadly enemies. He paused, and glared upon the intruder.
"Why does not the chief strike?" the Chilcat queried in a quiet voice.
"What does the dog want in Klitonda's lodge?" came the fierce reply. "Does he come here to mock the chief of the Ayana? Are the Coast dogs waiting outside to kill their enemy, and steal his daughter? They will never have her, no, not while Klitonda has breath in his body."
"Let the chief of the Ayana put aside his axe," the Chilcat responded. "Let him sit down. Klukwan has come with a message from his leader who is waiting for his return."
"No, Klitonda will stand. He will not sit while a Chilcat dog is within his lodge. Whatever you have to say, say it at once. Speak."
"Does the chief of the Ayana know that the Chilcats are near; that they are lying among the trees? Does he know how many, and how strong they are? Does not his heart tremble as he hears this? The Chilcats have come from far. They know that the white men are here, and would take the pelts from the Ayana Indians. They know, too, that Klitonda's heart is one with the traders from beyond the mountains of the rising sun. Will the Chilcats allow this? Will they hide like jack-rabbits among the trees, and let the white men take the furs? No. They have come for revenge. They are ready to drive back the white people. Then let the chief of the Ayana beware, for he cannot escape them. The Chilcats are swift as wolves, and their fangs are long and sharp."
"Klitonda does not fear the Coast dogs," was the savage reply. "They are not wolves; they are dogs. Let them come; let them bark, that is all they can do. The Chilcats have no heart. They crawl among the trees, they sneak up in the night. Their hearts are like water. Why should Klitonda be afraid of papooses? Bah!"
"The Ayana chief is surely talking wind," the visitor responded. "The Chilcats are no dogs, and their hearts are not weak. Were their hearts weak when they drove back the Ayana braves in the great battle at Tagish Lake? Does Klitonda wish to meet them to-night? Does he long to see the Chilcats come from among the trees like hungry wolves? Does he wish to see his people killed around him, and he himself carried as a captive back to the Coast? How could the proud Klitonda endure that?"
"The Chilcat dogs will never take Klitonda beyond the mountains," was the fierce rejoinder.
"How can he help it?"
"He will fight, and the white men will fight too. Has Klukwan seen how strong the white traders are behind their wooden walls?"
"Bah! What do the Chilcats care for a row of trees? Walls of stone cannot stop them, and how then can those sticks?"
"But there are men behind those walls who know how to fight. Their guns roar like thunder, flash lightning, and vomit death from their mouths."
"Bah! What do the Coast tribe care for thunder, lightning, or death? The Great Spirit will fight for them. He will rend the rocks in pieces to help the Chilcats, for they are his children."
Klitonda did not at once reply to these words, but stood gazing upon the stranger as if lost in thought.
"Then for what purpose has Klukwan come to the lodge of the chief of the Ranges?" he at length demanded. "Is it to mock him? If the Chilcats are so strong what are they waiting for? Why do they send one of their number to Klitonda? Go back and tell your leader that he is nothing but a cowardly dog."
"Klukwan has come," was the slow response, "with a message from his chief's son. He would tell Klitonda how strong are the Chilcats, and how useless it is for him to fight against them. But the chief's son is brave and noble. He does not wish to kill Klitonda, and his people. He would spare them."
"What does the chief's son want?" Klitonda asked, while his brow darkened and he turned toward Owindia. The Chilcat saw the look, and the expression upon the father's face.
"Ah, ah. The chief of the Ayana has thought aright," the messenger returned. "Let him give his daughter to the son of the Chilcat chief, and Klitonda will be safe. But the white traders must go, and never come back again. The Ayana Indians, chief and all must trade only with the Chilcats. Such is the message. Klukwan has spoken."
During these words Owindia had risen partly to her feet. In her eyes had leaped a look of wild fear. Her whole body trembled. The Chilcat brave seemed to fascinate her, like a bird charmed by a serpent. She glanced alternately at Klitonda and then at the stranger. She noted the look upon her father's face, and well knew what his answer would be. She saw him raise his arm, and beheld the hunting axe lifted to strike. Then with a sudden bound she sprang to her feet, and caught the arm as it was in the act of descending. The weapon fell not upon the head of the visitor but upon one of the poles supporting the lodge, which snapped in twain as if it had been a match. The Chilcat stood as if rooted to the spot. He had not even tried to evade the blow, and not a sign of fear could be detected upon his face. But his eyes, looking straight into Owindia's, shone with the light of gratitude. Brave himself he could appreciate, savage though he was, bravery in others, and especially in a woman. Her beauty appealed to him. He noted every movement of her graceful body, the long, slender arm which reached up to stay the fatal axe, and the deep flush mantling her nut-brown cheeks. He had heard much about this maiden, and he realised now how true were the reports concerning her which had drifted over the mountains to the coast. Little wonder, then, that the chief's son desired to possess her. What Chilcat brave who would not be willing to fight, nay even to die for her.
For an instant Klitonda looked into his daughter's face, and his rage was somewhat subdued by surprise.
"Child! Child!" he demanded. "What do you mean? Why didn't you let me finish the Chilcat dog?"
"Would you kill a defenceless man, father?" she replied. "Has he not come into our lodge? When did Klitonda ever do such a thing before? Surely he is not himself to-night."
For a few brief heart beats the chief looked intently upon his daughter. Then his face softened, and the muscles of his body relaxed.
"You are right, little one," he assented. "Klitonda forgets himself to-night. But, oh, there was reason. They would steal Owindia, my only child, away from me, and they have sent this dog with the message.
"See," and he turned fiercely upon the Chilcat, "take this axe to the chief's son. Show him how heavy and sharp it is. Tell him that Klitonda, chief of the Ayana, and chief of the Ranges from a long line of ancestors, will never give up his daughter. He will die first, and Owindia will die with him. Go, leave my lodge, lest my rage get the better of me."
Silently the Chilcat reached out his hand and seized the axe. Quickly he turned, and without a glance at either the chief or his daughter left the lodge. Owindia, who was close to the entrance, slipped out after him, leaving her father standing alone, sombre and thoughtful. Klitonda did not notice her departure, for there were too many things passing through his mind. He was thinking of the white men at the Post, and also of the score of young hunters who had followed him into the forest with the blood-stained tokens. Ere long Owindia returned, and sat quietly in a corner of the lodge unnoticed by her father. Upon her face was an expression of deep determination. The light of a great resolve shone in her eyes. No longer did her body tremble with apprehension. An inward strength seemed to possess her, which calmed her every fear.
At length Klitonda dropped upon the fur-skin robe at his feet, drew his knees up to his chin, and remained a long time in deep, silent thought. Night drew on apace, and the confusion around the various camp fires gradually subsided. But deeper than all else was the silence which reigned within Klitonda's lodge, where father and daughter kept watch, each racked with wild, varying emotions.