THE PAWN IN THE GAME
When morning at length broke over the land there was an unusual scene outside of the Post. A large band of Ayana Indians had arrived during the night. They had drifted in from the forest, men, women, children, and dogs, and were encamped in little groups along the river, and among the trees. It was an animated sight which met Natsatt's eyes as he wended his way toward the spot where Klitonda had erected his temporary lodge. He moved slowly, for the natives interested him. The curiosity of the children as they watched the white man did not disturb him. It was Nagu, the crafty medicine man, who arrested his attention. The creature was squatting before a small fire, with his knees drawn up almost to his chin, looking first at the Post, and then away to Klitonda's lean-to. In his eyes burned a fire of hatred, mingled with jealousy. Natsatt knew nothing of the vindictiveness of Nagu's heart toward Klitonda, and he wondered at the fierce expression he now beheld. But could he have looked deeper and have read the tumult raging within the breast of the medicine man, his own calmness would have disappeared.
Nagu feared the coming of the white men. To him they were portents of evil. Over them he had no control. He possessed no charm whereby he could bring these newcomers under his sway. He blamed Klota for turning Klitonda against him. And if a woman, who was only half white, could exert such an influence over her husband, who was a chief, what could he expect from people who were all white? He remembered only too well Klota's sharp tongue, and how she had laughed at his vain pretensions. Would not these white traders do the same, and cause him to be despised by his own people? He was, therefore, in no enviable frame of mind as he sat this morning by his smouldering camp fire brooding over his troubles. His eyes followed Natsatt as he proceeded on his way toward Klitonda's lodge. What thoughts the presence of the young man brought to Nagu's mind would be hard to divine. But at length his head drooped low until his face touched his knees. Thus he remained for some time, unheeding everything that was taking place around him.
Meanwhile Natsatt had arrived at the little lean-to, and found Klitonda and his daughter busily engaged with a pile of skins, sorting them out and laying them in various heaps near by. A smile of joy broke over Owindia's face when she saw her lover standing before her. Natsatt shook hands with the chief, and then taking a step forward caught the maiden in his arms, and imprinted a kiss upon her lips. There were no scoffing white men to witness this greeting. There was only Klitonda, who gazed with wonder at what he beheld. At once Natsatt caught Owindia's hand in his, and stood with her before the astonished father.
"Great chief of the Ayana," he began, "Natsatt loves your daughter. Will Klitonda give Owindia to Natsatt as his wife? He will be good to her. Surely the great chief will not refuse."
Klitonda looked first into his daughter's happy face, and then upon the young man standing by her side. Immediately the light of uncertainty cleared from his eyes, giving way to an expression of pleasure. He caught their disengaged left hands, and brought them together.
"The chief of the Ayana gives his daughter to the young white man," he said. "Let their hearts be one. But," and here he hesitated, "will the white man take Owindia far away beyond the mountains of the rising sun? Klitonda will miss Owindia. His heart will be very sad and lonely."
"Natsatt will not take Owindia away yet," was the reply. "He will stay here awhile, and maybe he will stay always. Would that please the chief?"
"Ah, ah," Klitonda responded. "That will be good. When the Chilcats are driven back, and the Ayana are free once more, this land will smile all the time, and Klitonda will be happy."
Thus for over an hour Natsatt stayed at the lodge, and assisted the chief and his daughter with the furs. To be near Owindia, to look into her eyes, and to watch the varying expression of joy upon her face was supreme happiness. Owindia's heart was too full of rapture to allow her to say much. The occasional glances she gave the young man were more eloquent than many words. How could he ever bear to be separated from her? he asked himself over and over again. How could he live if anything happened to her? Suppose the Chilcats should steal her away? Or his companions, what if they should try any of their base tricks, which they had practised elsewhere, so he had heard them boast? His hands clenched firmly together, and a fierce expression leaped into his eyes, which caused Owindia to start in surprise.
"It is nothing, little one," he laughed. "I was just wondering how I could ever live without you, and what I should do if any one tried to take you from me."
"I'm not afraid of anything now," was the gentle reply. "I know you will protect me always, always."
Natsatt walked back to the Post with a light heart. The fear of what his companions might do or say could not quench the spirit of elation which dominated his very being. He moved forward with a firm step, and head held high. His chest expanded, and he drank in great draughts of the fresh morning air. How good it was to be alive, he mused. How marvellously everything had changed since Owindia's arrival. The spot seemed no longer dull and commonplace. The atmosphere breathed peace, the sun smiled its warm radiance, and the few early-returned birds twittered their joy. Everything in Nature was rejoicing with the young lover.
He found Dan standing in the door-way, looking forth upon him as he approached. Since early that morning the old Ranger had watched with the keenest interest the arrival of the natives at the store. He had sat on a stool behind the counter and noted every movement of the Indians. At first sight it would seem as if his mind was intent upon business, and anxious for barter. But it was soon evident that something else engaged his attention. He paid little or no heed to the men, but gazed earnestly upon the women. Whenever a squaw crossed the threshold he riveted his eyes upon her face. He seemed to be expecting some special person, and each time his countenance expressed disappointment as he turned away his head to observe a newcomer.
The Indians had brought no furs with them, and said nothing about trade. They examined everything in the store, however, and left apparently satisfied with their first visit. Dan waited until all had departed. Then he went to the door of the stockade and watched them moving away to their various lodges. He knew they would return and perhaps bring back valuable furs. He was accustomed to the ways of the Indians, so their silence did not trouble him.
For some time he remained almost motionless, his heavy form bulking large in the door-way. His right hand clutched at his long shaggy beard, while his faded grey eyes gazed off among the trees in an abstracted manner. His face was unusually grave, telling plainly of some weight which was pressing upon his heart. Had he not waited months for the coming of the Indians? Had he not anxiously counted the days before their expected arrival? And they had come, he had looked upon them, and had learned nothing. He knew there would be others, and the thought gave him some comfort. But this first disappointment was somewhat hard to bear.
It was a beautiful morning. Not a breath of wind stirred the tapering points of the fir trees and jack pines, whose long trailing shadows lay sprawling upon the ground. Squirrels scolded, and birds warbled as they flitted here and there. Spring had come in reality, bringing with it the great renewal of earth and air.
But Dan had eyes for none of these, neither were his ears attuned to Nature's dulcet harmonies. He was living, as he had often lived, in the past. It was a vision he beheld of a similar spring day years before. He saw another trading Post, and a fair, lithesome form walking up the trail, and humming catches of an old song. Her dark, clear eyes were sparkling with animation as she held out to him a handful of wild flowers, several sprays of which she had wreathed in her jet black hair. Oh, but she was fair to look upon, the very embodiment of health, beauty, and joy. He had something to live for then, and the days passed like an Elysian summer. But now he was old, and she was nowhere near to comfort his declining years. Where was she? What had become of her since that spring over twenty years before?
The vision suddenly faded, and in its stead Natsatt stood before him. The far away expression disappeared from his eyes, and the old look returned. He was the commander once again.
"Where are the rest of the men?" he asked. "I haven't seen any of them for some time."
"I don't know," was the reply. "I haven't seen them, either. Perhaps they are strolling about among the lodges having friendly chats with the Indians. I myself have just been over to see the chief."
"Have a care, lad," and Dan laid a heavy hand upon the young man's shoulder as he spoke. "There is to be no fooling, remember, with the Indian women out yon. By heavens! if I catch any of you men meddling with those squaws I'll shoot you like dogs that have been worrying sheep. I've never had any Post degraded when I was in command, and I'm determined that this won't be the first. My word is law here, and I'll be judge and executioner combined if necessary. When I wanted a woman from the camp I took her, and we were lawfully joined together. But I strongly advise you to leave them alone entirely. There should be some white woman beyond the mountains who'd be only too glad to marry such a lad as you."
During this speech, which was a long one for the Ranger to make, Natsatt's face at first flushed with anger. This, however, gradually faded, as he noted the pathos in Dan's voice.
"I hope you don't take me for a human bloodhound," he replied. "I am not a saint by any means, but I have never harmed a squaw yet, and I have always lived in the North. My mother, as you know, was an Indian woman, and for her sake at least should I not respect the women of her own race?"
"Sure, sure," responded Dan. "But—"
"Will you please hear me through?" Natsatt interrupted. "I might as well tell you now as at any other time what is on my mind. I visited the chief's lodge this morning for the purpose of seeing his daughter, Owindia. Of all maidens I have ever met she is the fairest, and I believe the noblest. I love her, and I know she loves me. Why should we not, therefore, marry when the opportunity arrives?"
Ranger Dan looked keenly into the animated face before him, and his heart warmed toward the young man more than ever. He reached out and seized Natsatt's hand in his.
"Lad," he said, "I believe your heart is right, and that you love the maiden. It would be no use, I see, to try to turn you from your purpose. But wait until you can be joined in holy wedlock. I have seen too many unholy unions, and they never prosper. They must be sealed in the presence of the Great Father above. I must see the lass myself."
"But did you not see her, sir?" Natsatt questioned. "She was standing near her father last night by the bank of the river."
"Was she? Well, I didn't notice her. But come, lad, I have something to say to you to-day. My heart and mind have been deeply stirred by what you have just told me. Come into the store where no one will hear us. We must be alone."
Somewhat surprised, Natsatt followed his leader into the building and seated himself upon a stool by Dan's side.
"You have wondered," the Ranger began, "why a man at my advanced age should undertake such a work as this. Why should I wish to spend so much money upon building a fort in the wilderness with so many odds against me? But, lad, this Post is only a pawn in the game I am playing. There is a purpose back of it which is very near my heart. Listen and I will tell you.
"Years ago I maintained a trading Post among the Indians far to the south, right amidst the mountains. My wife was a native woman whom I had married years before. We had several children born to us, but only one lived—Klota we called her. She was the pride of my heart, and as I watched her grow and develop into all the charms of maidenhood, my cup of joy was full to overflowing. We were great companions, and her voice was like the sweetest music to my ears. Often she would ramble about the forest, and return bringing beautiful wild flowers she had gathered. Then one day never to be forgotten, she disappeared so mysteriously as not to leave a trace behind. She had been away as usual, and when she did not return at night we became greatly alarmed. Search was made, but all in vain. Days passed into weeks and weeks into months, but no word ever came of our darling Klota. The blow was a heavy one to my wife. She faded, and at length left me. I laid her to rest there by the trading Post, and abandoned the place. No longer would I live amid scenes where I had experienced such mingled joy and sorrow. From that time I devoted my life in seeking to find some trace of my lost child. At times I believed that some accident had befallen her, that either she had been drowned, or torn to pieces by bears, for savage grizzlies were common in those parts. But my principal conviction led me to think that she had been stolen away by marauding Indians. Never for a moment did I imagine that she had been taken westward. What seemed to be an impassable range of mountains barred the way, and beyond was an unknown region. No, she had not gone in that direction I felt certain. Either South, East or North could she have been taken, if taken at all. I, therefore, determined to scour the land in the vague hope of finding my child.
"Thus for almost twenty years I spent most of my time in visiting the numerous camps. No band of Indians was too isolated for me to ferret out. I was looked upon as eccentric by the white traders and trappers. They gave me the name of "Ranger" Dan, a title which has stuck to me ever since. They thought I was travelling for trading purposes, and little realised the object of my lonely wanderings. At length when the last spark of hope had almost died, a ray of light pierced the gloom which gave me new heart to continue my search.
"I had penetrated some distance into the interior, and while there I met several Indians who had ventured far westward beyond the Rocky Mountains. They gave me the first information I had ever received of this region, and of the great river flowing through the land, which the natives called the 'Ayan.' They related, among many interesting things, the story of a maiden who had been stolen away from a trading Post years before by a band of Indians from a savage tribe living along the coast. As they were hurrying along with the girl they suddenly met a powerful Ayana Indian. The captive had thrown herself at his feet and pleaded with him to save her. This he did by hurling himself upon the Coast Indians, and killing every one. The victor had then taken the maiden to himself as his wife, and her beauty and charm of manner were known by all the Ayana people."
Here Dan paused and remained lost in thought.
"And was she your daughter?" Natsatt eagerly asked. "Was it Klota?"
"I am not certain," was the reply. "I could learn nothing more from the Indians. However, the more I thought about it the more I became convinced that the stolen maiden was my own darling child. But there is one thing which has sorely puzzled my mind. If Klota was that captive, why did she never come back?"
"Perhaps the Indian who married her refused to let her do so," Natsatt suggested.
"I have thought of that," Dan replied, while a sigh escaped his lips. "It is hard to tell of the many things which have been beating through my brain. Anyway, this expedition, and the erection of the Post are the outcome of what I heard. Nothing may come of it all, and in that case I shall be the heavy loser. But it was my last hope. A trading Post would be the only way by which the Indians could be speedily gathered. Thus, you see, this Post is merely a pawn, though an important one, in the great heart game I am playing. But, there, we have talked enough for to-day. You know my secret, and may be able to give me much assistance in my search. God grant that we may hear some word soon."