THE VANGUARD
To enter a region never before trodden by white men, and to erect a fur trading Post where the sole inhabitants are uncouth Indians, means courage of no ordinary degree. And, yet, when "Ranger" Dan forced his way beyond the Rocky Mountains, with his ten companions, and built the trading Post Fort-O-Venture at the confluence of the Yukon and the Segas Rivers, the thought that he had done anything out of the ordinary never entered his mind. So accustomed had he been for long years to the perils of the wilderness that the dangers he and his men encountered in their hazardous journey were of but passing notice.
His companions did not fully understand their leader. Months before when Ranger Dan had searched long and diligently for a number of determined men to accompany him to the great river west of the Rockies, many people believed that he was taking leave of his senses. "Why," they asked one another, "should a man at his advanced age wish to undertake such a journey? Surely it was not for gain, as Dan had acquired more than ordinary of this world's goods in his years of trading with the Indians. What, then, was the object of the expedition?"
Often the traders east of the mountains had turned their eyes wistfully westward, and longed to know what lay beyond those towering snow-capped peaks. Stray rumours at times had drifted to their ears of the extent of that unknown region, with its abundance of fur-bearing animals. But hitherto no one had dared to cross those northern ranges and solve the mystery. Indians told weird tales of the wildness of the land, of treacherous rivers, foaming rapids, and natives, numerous and blood-thirsty. Little wonder, then, that Ranger Dan found it difficult to obtain enough men to accompany him on his apparently mad venture. When asked as to the purpose of the undertaking he would always give a quiet smile, and stroke his long beard before replying.
"I've something lost beyond those mountains," he would say. "It's been lost for years, and I must try to find it. I've a treasure over yon, and doesn't the Great Book say that 'where your treasure is there will your heart be also'? I guess those words apply to this world as well as to the next."
And so Dan's "treasure" story passed from mouth to mouth. "He's after furs," said some. "No, it's gold the fool's seeking," replied others. "That's the treasure he thinks he'll get over yon."
After much difficulty Dan was able to find ten men who were willing to undertake the journey. Liberal pay induced several to join the expedition; while others were lured by the spirit of adventure. All had led a roving life for years, and here was an opportunity for new and further excitement.
As the days passed Ranger Dan was enabled to learn much about his companions. Amid the dangers of the way, the hard tracking, and packing over the long portages their real natures stood out clearly defined. They were men unaccustomed to discipline, of unbridled passion, and ready to desert their leader at any critical moment. Only upon Natsatt, the reserved young half-breed, did he feel that he could fully depend.
Ranger Dan was a stern man, and during his long experience in the wilderness had ruled with a firm hand. When in charge his word was law, and he would brook no opposition. Of large build and great stature he was a man to command immediate respect. Many an offender had reason to remember the flashing gleam of his wrathful eyes, and the sledge-hammer blows of his tense knuckles. "When I'm in command," he had often said, "I'm going to be obeyed, else what's the use of having a leader." He talked but little, and at times he would stand facing the west, with a far away look in his faded grey eyes.
Each night around the camp fire Natsatt would bring forth his little mouth-organ, and play several simple tunes. Then all talking would cease and the men would lie back and listen to the familiar strains they had heard years before. Ranger Dan always enjoyed such moments, and his face would brighten as he listened, although occasionally a half-suppressed sigh would escape his lips. Natsatt often watched his leader, and felt that there was something troubling his mind of which he and his companions were not aware. He longed to know of what he was thinking as he stood gazing far off into space.
As the days passed his respect for Ranger Dan increased. He seemed to be tireless, and his knowledge of woodcraft was wonderful. But it was when they settled down to the steady work of building the Post at the mouth of the river that his respect developed into admiration.
Dan at once set the men to work preparing timber for the building. There was little time to lose, for the season was advancing, and soon cold weather would be upon them. Never once did he hesitate as to the position or size of the house. The most suitable site was chosen close to the river, and here the Post was erected, with store attached. In a few weeks the work was well under way. Built entirely of hewn logs, chinked with moss, and this covered with soft clay found along the bank of the river, it was a structure capable of withstanding the most severe weather. It seemed almost like a fort so large were the logs which had been rolled into place, and securely fastened upon one another. Glass for the small windows there was none. Caribou skins, devoid of hair, and scraped thin, were stretched across the openings, and these let in some light when the door was shut. Two large stone fire-places were erected, at which their cooking was done. These would serve to give light as well as heat, for it would be necessary to reserve their small supply of candles they had brought with them.
The building was completed none too soon, for winter swept down upon them much sooner than they had expected. The river became solid from bank to bank, snow covered the land, and the frost became stinging in its intensity. The days were short, and the nights long. It was necessary for the best hunters to scour the surrounding hills and forest for moose and mountain sheep. Natsatt had the best luck of all, and by means of his excellent marksmanship he was able to add much to their larder.
The first two months of severe weather passed away most pleasantly. There was very little for the men to do, and they enjoyed the long rest after their hard labours since leaving the eastern side of the mountains. The cheerful fires made the large room almost as light as day. Dry, soft wood was plentiful, and they burned it without stint. Cards formed the chief amusement, interspersed with singing of songs, and story telling. It was a time of general good fellowship. They were a little company alone in the vast wilderness. "What more could men desire?" they asked one another, "than a life such as this? Abundance of game, long hours of sleep, work of the lightest, and no cares to distract the mind."
During the whole of this time no Indian had visited the Post by day. Canoes had passed up and down the river during the fall, but the occupants had not disembarked to examine the new building upon the bank. If the natives came at all it must have been in the night, departing without leaving the slightest sign of their presence. Often the men discussed the matter before the open fire. There was a general impression that they were being watched; that Indians were prowling around, though keeping warily out of sight.
"It isn't natural," commented Larry Dasan, a big burly Canadian. "I've helped build a dozen trading Posts in my time, an' before we had the first logs laid the Siwashes were always around us like flies—men, women, papooses, and lean dogs galore. They were coming and going all the time. But here," and he threw out his right hand in disgust, "not a d—— redskin has set foot on the premises by day, an' it's been four months since we arrived."
"Me no savvey wat it all mean," replied Pierre Goutre, a small Frenchman. "Bad beezness dis. No Injun, no fur, no monee, hey? Ol' man heem mak' beeg meestake, me tink. Heem send Natsatt an' Tony to round up Injun. Mebbe dey'll ketch 'em."
The men generally indulged in such free conversation when Ranger Dan was not present. At times the latter would take his snow-shoes, and tramp the woods for hours. He wished to be alone—to think. To him the games and idle chat of his men were of no interest. He was playing another game in which the heart alone was concerned, and he had staked much upon the throw. He needed the trade of the Indians of this land, as the furs would reimburse him for the heavy expenditure he had made. But he could do without their trade if only they would come to the Post. If from far and near, from forest depths, mountain lakes, and turbid rivers, they would gather to look upon the white men, and the building they had erected. If once he could see them, then they might go their way without making the smallest purchase from the store. If only he could behold their dusky faces even for a few moments, he would be somewhat satisfied. He believed that somewhere in this region would come the one for whom his heart had so long been yearning. And even though she did not appear surely among all the bands of the North he would hear some word of her, whether she were dead or alive. Men had called him a fool. But what did he care? How could they understand the deep passionate longings of an old man's lonely heart?
He missed Natsatt from the Post, and anxiously awaited his return. That he and Tony would bring some word of the Indians he had no doubt. But when the storm burst over the land his anxiety developed into fear for the absent ones. When at length Tony staggered in almost exhausted from his hard battle with the raging of the elements, Ranger Dan felt sure that Natsatt had been lost, unless perchance he had found refuge in some Indian camp. This latter gave him but little comfort, for Tony had not met a single native, neither had he seen any signs of recent camp fires.
Natsatt had become very dear to the old Ranger's heart. He had conversed with him more than with the others, and they had numerous things in common. Every night Dan would lie in the bunk and listen to Natsatt playing old familiar airs. But with the young man away the days and nights seemed uncommonly long and dreary.
It was the second evening after the storm that they were all gathered about one of the fire-places. They were discussing again for the hundredth time Natsatt's probable fate. To go in search of him they knew would be useless. His tracks had long since been obliterated, and the snow was too deep to find his body should he have perished in the wilderness. Ranger Dan was about to turn into his bunk, when the door suddenly opened, and Natsatt entered. Had his ghost appeared out of the night his companions could not have been more astonished. They greeted him as one from the dead, and plied him with all sorts of questions as to his experience in the storm.
The news of vital importance Natsatt reserved for Ranger Dan alone. He waited until the others had gone to bed. Then drawing his leader aside, in a low voice he told him all he had learned about the fierce Chilcats, and what a menace they might prove to the trading Post. Dan became deeply interested in the story, and asked the young man many questions concerning the Coast tribe, and their domineering sway over the Ayana Indians.
"This is all new to me," he at length remarked. "I must have time to think it over, and decide what is the best to do. If what you have just told me is true it may help to explain something which has been puzzling me for years. You had better rest now, for you must be greatly wearied after your long trip. I am very grateful to the chief Klitonda for saving your life. He must be a remarkable man, and a very exceptional Indian."
Natsatt said nothing about the chief's daughter, Owindia. He did not wish his companions to know of the prize he had found in the wilderness. His love was too sacred a thing to be bandied about on the lips of coarse minded men. He had heard much of their conversation in the past, and knew what to expect if he divulged his great heart's secret. He had thorough knowledge of the lives of some of these men. Little respect had they for native women, considering them merely as their lawful prey. He trembled, therefore, with apprehension as he thought of Owindia. Such beauty and charm of face and form could hardly escape their hawk-like, greedy eyes. He himself had often laughed at a number of their base jokes. But now his heart grew hot within him. How could he endure such remarks about Owindia? No, they would not be repeated in his presence, he was determined about that. He would guard her to the last. Absence of several days had increased his love for the chief's daughter. The Post seemed unusually lonely and uninteresting since his return. He longed to be back again to the little cabin in the forest. He did not even mention his secret to Dan. He knew he could trust the old Ranger, but he hesitated about mentioning it now when his leader's mind was worried over the Chilcats. No, he would say nothing at present, but wait for a more favourable opportunity.
It did not take Ranger Dan long to make up his mind concerning what Natsatt had told him about the Coast tribe. One night was sufficient for him in which to decide, and the next morning he explained his position to his men. He told them how essential it would be to fortify the Post lest the Chilcats should come, and find them unprepared. He accordingly ordered the men into the forest to cut suitable trees for the barricade he intended to erect.
Thus the days of repose were at an end. Some of the men murmured at the task which confronted them. But Dan was obdurate, and commanded them to obey or to leave the Post. There was, therefore, nothing for the objectors to do but to fall in line and work, for to leave at such a season of the year would mean almost certain death.
Trees of a suitable size were felled, and drawn to the Post on a rough sled made for the purpose. They were all carefully trimmed, and their tops hewn to sharp points. As it was impossible to dig trenches in which to place the trees it was necessary to build a heavy frame work for their support. Thus day by day the work steadily advanced, and ere long one side of the Post was protected by a most formidable barricade, which was almost insurmountable for the most agile warrior.
Only for a few hours each day could the men remain at their work. At times it was bitterly cold, which often severely tested their patience. Dan worked with his men, at the same time supervising everything. As the days began to lengthen the weather grew warmer, and the work advanced more rapidly. The Post stood but several rods from the river. To the latter Dan ran two rows of trees, thus forming a narrow passage through which water could be carried in case of an attack, and also to form a means of retreat to their canoe if necessary.
Spring was upon them by the time the work was completed, and the men were thus enabled to rest awhile from their labours. As soon as the ice left the river Dan expected the Indians to arrive, if they were to come at all. It was the time after their long months of hunting when they would wish to dispose of their furs. So far no further word had been heard of the Chilcats. Dan was not surprised, for he knew that they had a long distance to travel, and the river was the only feasible route when the snow had left the ground. Every morning when he arose he partly expected to see some of the Ayana Indians before night. As the days passed, and none appeared, an anxious expression was seen upon his face. Natsatt noticed it, and sympathised with his leader. He, too, was longing for the appearance of the natives. Surely Klitonda and his daughter would be among the first to arrive. How he yearned to see Owindia. Her image had been constantly in his mind since he had left her in the little lodge long weeks before. Had she, too, been longing for him? he wondered. He found it hard to dissemble his feelings so as not to arouse the suspicion of his companions. But at times they did chaff him about his absent-mindedness, and the far-away look in his eyes. If only he could confide his secret to some one he knew it would be a great relief. Often he was on the point of telling everything to Dan. But each time an indefinable barrier seemed to rise between them, so the pent-up words which were ready to pour from his yearning heart never passed his lips.