CHAPTER XXIV
THE COUNCIL
The miners' cabins at Klassan were erected on a level strip of land along the Kaslo River. Upon the hill above nestled the Indian camps, secure from the wild north wind in winter, and the over-flowing stream in the springtime. At the foot of the hill was a space of ground, covered in summer with wild grass, but now denuded of every sign of vegetation. This spot was chosen by the Indians for the holding of the Council as being half way between the two settlements. Here, too, the earth was dry, free from the mud which was found so abundantly elsewhere. Near by stood several fir trees, gaunt and half dead, through whose naked branches the storms had howled for many years.
It was a bright spring day, and the sun riding high poured its hot beams upon the land. Masses of fleecy clouds drifted overhead, and early-returned birds flitted through the air or chirped and twittered among the trees. Everything in Nature spoke of peace; peace in the great blue vault above; peace in the air, and peace on earth. Most fitting was the day for men of different tongues, different races and different modes of life to meet together in sacred Council for the settling of their disputes.
No intimation was given, no sign was vouchsafed to the miners as they gathered there, that miles up the river millions of tons of water were ready to burst their bonds, and sweep down upon them their fearful besom of destruction.
It was late ere the Indians arrived, and the miners became much impatient. When at length they did appear, they seemed to the white men like an army marching to battle. The old chief led the way with uncertain steps. Behind him came scores of hunters, great, stalwart men some of them, regular Anaks in girth and stature.
They were a proud race of men, unsubdued and untarnished by contact with civilization. And good reason was there for their proud bearing and firm, elastic step as they moved along the trail. Was not the land theirs? Had they not received it from a long line of ancestors? No sword had ever conquered them, and no foreign yoke had ever been placed upon their necks. The birds of the air, the fishes of the streams, the lordly moose of the forests, and the bighorn sheep of the mountains—all were theirs. And so they came to the Council, not as suppliants, not as beggars, but as free men, in whose veins flowed the blood of a race which will break, but not bend. How many, oh, how many before them, throughout the length and breadth of North America, had drawn near in the same spirit to greet their pale-face brothers in open Council. They too had assembled with weapons laid aside, with confidence in their faces, and peace in their hearts, only to find in the end treachery for goodwill, betrayal for trust, and contempt for respect. Could these sturdy Tukudhs have looked forward to the day when their land would be flooded by thousands of greedy gold seekers, their game slaughtered, and their sons and daughters demoralized by bad whiskey, their attitude would have been very different to these fore-lopers of a foreign race.
On the ground a wolf-skin robe was placed, and upon this the old chief squatted, facing the miners. Around him gathered the hunters of his band, two hundred strong, in the form of a semicircle. There was no haste, no jostling one another as they took their various positions. Everything was done quietly and with much decorum, the younger giving the foremost places to their elders.
By the side of the chief stood Amos, who was to act as interpreter, dressed in a simple hunting costume. His face bore an expression of care, and ever and anon he cast anxious glances towards the Indians and then at the white men. To him the day had been one of severe strain, and he knew the end was not yet. In the Indian Council he had fought a hard battle against the hot-headed youths who thirsted for revenge upon the miners. With infinite patience, much tact and burning eloquence he had pleaded for the Christlike virtue of forgiveness. He listened to their harangues, settled disputes and appealed to their higher nature. He sketched their mode of living ten years before, and emphasized the changes which had taken place upon the arrival of the missionary. After hours of discussion the matter reached a deadlock, so it was left for the old chief to decide. He favoured peace, and gave as his reasons for this conclusion the Christian teaching he had received, and the friendly visit of the pale-face maiden to his lodge."
"Let the guilty men be punished," he had said in conclusion. "Let us not do it in the spirit of revenge, but only as a warning to others."
Squatting upon the wolf-skin robe the chief now scanned the miners as intently as his weak eyes would permit, and then addressed a few words to the interpreter.
"Pale-face brothers," began Amos, turning to the white men, "chief of Tukudhs give you welcome to Council. He come here with peace in heart. His hunters all leave guns in camps, dey trust white man. But white man no trust Tukudh. Dey come with guns. Dey keep guns in hand. Old chief moche sorry."
The miners looked at one another when Amos ended, uncertain what to do.
"Stack yer guns, b'ys," demanded Old Pete, who was the only one among them without a rifle. "Be fair to the Injuns an' they'll be fair to us."
"Well said," replied Caribou Sol, and suiting the action to the word, he stepped forward and laid his weapon in the open space of ground, half way between the two parties.
One by one the rest of the miners went forward, and in the same manner deposited their rifles.
A general exclamation of "Ah, ah," from the natives signified their approval of this friendly act.
But still something disturbed the chief. He looked long and intently at the white men, and again spoke to Amos.
"De chief," explained the latter to the miners, "ask if white man all here?"
"No," responded Sol, who had been requested by his companions to act as spokesman, "there are two absent, the gray-haired man up in yon cabin, and Bill Pritchen."
"De chief only want Bill," was the response. "He no want ole man in cabin on hill."
"But mebbe he won't come. Can't we git along without 'im?"
When this was communicated to the chief he shook his head.
"We wait den till Bill come," and having said this Amos moved back a few steps.
The Indians maintained a stolid silence as they watched the miners discussing the matter.
"Fetch 'im," said Old Pete. "Why should he stay away. I guess he'll be needed."
And so it was decided that several should go in search of Pritchen and bring him as quickly as possible. This was received with evident satisfaction on both sides, and operations for a time were suspended.
Pritchen was found in his cabin, and expressed himself as quite unwilling to attend the Council. His face told most plainly the state of his mind, which was far from enviable. At times the longing seized him to flee into the wilderness—anywhere would be better than Klassan he thought. But this he knew was not practicable, for the Indian hunters, with the instinct of sleuth hounds, would track him down in a short time. While he waited and listened the messengers drew near.
"I'll not go, d— you!" he cried. "Leave me alone, can't you?"
"Well, if you won't come peaceably," replied one, "we'll not try to force you now. But I think it's better for you to come quietly along with us than to have the gang to come after you. There'll be no coaxing if they come, I tell you that."
Pritchen fully realized the truth of these words, so after a few moments of hesitation he agreed to comply with the request.
As he drew near to the Council ground a nameless fear took possession of him. He saw the miners shrug their shoulders as he took his place among them. They seemed to forget his presence, however, as they turned their attention to the old chief to watch his next move. Neither did they have to wait long, for with much deliberation and many gestures, the hoary patriarch began his harangue.
First, he invoked the aid of the Great Father of Heaven upon the gathering. Then he told of the nobleness of his race, of the mighty men and warriors who had died. He described the vastness of the land which they had owned from time immemorial. He next gave an account of their wild condition before the arrival of the missionary.
"We were brutes," he said in substance, flourishing his arm in an eloquent manner. "We had many wives and treated them worse than dogs. They cut and drew our wood; they brought in the moose, when killed, into camp, and waited upon us, doing our slightest bidding. When they refused to work we beat them, and when too old to toil we turned them out to die, or left them on the trail. Our wives, dreading such a life for their little girl babies, often killed them and we thought nothing of it.
"We robbed, cheated, fought and killed one another. Our hearts were always bad, all same black bear. We were like men walking at night in a thick wood, lost and unable to find our way out. Oh, it was a bad time! Then the teacher came to us from beyond the great mountains. He lived in our midst, and learned our language. At first we treated him very badly and tried to kill him, but we could not, for something stopped us. When we shot at him the arrows and balls went wide. When we threw our knives and hatchets they did not touch him. When we broke down his cabin and stole from him, he prayed for us, and built a new house. When we were sick, he healed us. When we wanted food he shared with us of his own supply. He led us slowly out of the wood. He told us about Christ and another life. He taught us how to build good cabins, and live as true Christians. Thus the Spirit came to us like the breath of Spring, and thawed and warmed our cold hearts. New, sweet flowers of love, truth, purity and peace sprang up, which choked and killed the bad weeds. We put away our old manner of living. We cared for our children, treated our wives better, built a church, school room and store. We lived happier, with plenty to eat and to wear, and looked forward to another life after death. Then the miners came; they built cabins in our midst, dug our land for gold, and tried to ruin our young men and women. They drove away our teacher, and burnt our store. Our men have come back from the hunting grounds; they find what has been done, and are very angry.
"'Are we not men?' say they. 'We will fight and drive out the strangers.' But the Spirit conquers; it holds them back. 'Call a Council,' it says. 'Gather the white men, and let them punish the ones who injured us.'
"In your midst stands one man who has caused all the trouble. His heart is bad, like the heart of a black bear. He wronged our teacher; he stole gold; he put it in the mission house; hid it there. He said our teacher did it. He laughed at him, and drove him from Klassan. He is there! He is there!" and the chief stretched out his hand and pointed straight at Pritchen, who shrank back as from a terrific blow.
The speaker was about to proceed, but ere he could utter another word Old Pete sprang forward, and with blazing eyes confronted the Indian who had made this serious charge.
"Tell me!" he cried, "is it true? Is it true what ye say about the missionary? Is the skunk among us what done that deed? Tell me, quick!"
"Over there," replied Amos, pointing to the wretched Pritchen.
"It's a lie! A d— lie, I tell you!" shouted the latter. "I know nothing about it! The Injun hates me, and wants to ruin me. Let them prove it, if they can! They can't do it!"
Pete was about to turn towards him with angry words on his lips, when cries of rage from the miners caused him to hesitate, and to realize his position. The men were thoroughly aroused, he knew that, and ready to fall upon the villain without more ado. That the scoundrel needed a severe punishment there was no doubt, but he wished to be just and not let the base mob instinct rule.
"B'ys!" he shouted, "jist wait a leetle, afore ye do anything rash. Let the Injun prove to us first what he says is true. It may be all imagination."
"Injun speak true," said Amos somewhat indignant to think that the chief's words should be doubted.
"What ye say may be kerrect," replied Pete, "but all we ax is fer ye to show yer proof. How d'ye's know that Pritchen put the gold in the cabin?"
"Jennie see 'um."
"Jennie who?"
"Jennie. Yukon Jennie. Injun squaw. She see 'um. She tell old chief."
"Whar is she then?" and Pete looked around as if expecting to see the girl.
"Up dere," and Amos stretched out his hand towards the Indian lodges.
"Fetch her down. We'll wait."
"No squaw come to Council. Only men, hunters."
"But this ain't all Injun Council. White men here, an' they ax fer the gal."
When this was communicated to the chief, a scowl passed over his face, and a sharp discussion took place among the Indians. What they said the miners could not tell, but after much bickering Amos lifted up his voice and gave several short calls in the direction of the lodges. Soon a reply was returned, and then down the trail sped Jennie towards the Council ground. As she drew near her steps slackened, for was she not breaking a custom of long standing among her people? Encouraged by Amos, she at length reached the place, and was requested to relate her story.
So intent were the miners upon their task that they scarcely noticed the change which had taken place around them, or how the time was passing. The wind had risen, moaning gently at first, but increasing in strength, blowing in from the Yukon, and drawing up the Kaslo as through a mighty funnel. It shook and swayed the trees along the banks of the stream; it played with the old chief's blanket, causing him to clutch it firmly, and tossed Jennie's long black hair in confusion about her oval, dusky face.
Timidly the maiden stood before the expectant miners, uncertain what to say.
"Speak out, gal," encouraged Pete. "Ye needn't fear. Nothin'll harm ye."
"Hold on!" called out one of the miners. "Wouldn't it be as well for Bill to stand forth so all can see him?"
"Hear, hear!" shouted the men.
But Pritchen shrank back, and glanced around as if seeking some avenue of escape.
"No, ye don't do that, man," said Caribou Sol, interpreting his thoughts. "Not till we're through with ye, at any rate."
Pritchen was in a trap, he fully realized that, and a wild rage mingled with his fear. He reached for his revolver, but it was not there. Anyway it would have been of little use, for instantly a score of revolvers leaped from as many hip pockets, and covered him in the twinkling of an eye.
"Come out here!" roared Pete, "an' stand up like a man. Thar's no use kickin'."
There was nothing else to be done, and sulkily Pritchen stepped forward and faced the Indian girl.
"Thar, that's better. Now go ahead," continued Pete, turning to Jennie.
The latter, however, did not speak, but stood staring at Pritchen, as a bird fascinated by a serpent.
"De' ye know that man?" demanded the prospector, seeing her embarrassment.
"Yes. Me know 'um," came the low reply.
"Whar did ye fust see 'im?"
"Heem bad man; bad heart. Heem keel my modder long tam ago."
"It's a lie!" shouted Pritchen.
"Jennie no lie. Me see 'um."
A movement among the miners was quieted by Pete's next question.
"Gal, did ye see that man put the bags of gold in the missionary's cabin? Tell me that."
"Yes. Me see 'um."
"How did you see 'im do it?"
"Jennie see in windee. Heem look all around. Heem see box. Heem take wan poke, heem take two poke, all same dis," and the girl drew her hand twice from beneath her shawl, and stooped to the ground to show how it had been done.
"You lie!" snarled Pritchen. But it was easy to see from his pallid face that the girl's words were having their effect.
"Jennie no lie!" and the maiden, with fear all gone and an indignant mien, looked unwaveringly into the villain's eyes. "Me tell true. Me Clistin. Me no lie! You laugh at peegee in box. You put down cover lak dat," and she slapped her hands together. "You lock box. You trow key in stove. You laugh, bad, ugh!"
During this disclosure Pritchen had stood with his eyes fixed upon the ground, to all outward appearance abashed and confounded. But such was not the case. He was thinking hard and fast, while from the corner of his left eye he beheld a sight which filled him with a new determination. He was a desperate man, in a desperate position, and though hope had fled his heart, the spirit of revenge rankled deep. He had played his game and lost, but at any rate he would leave a mark which would be felt.
Scarcely had Jennie finished speaking, when, quick as thought, he leaped towards the pile of rifles lying on the ground, and seizing one turned fiercely upon Old Pete. The rifle was raised, his finger pressed the trigger, and the report rang out. Instead, however, of the ball touching the prospector, it bored its way into the earth, while the rifle flew from Pritchen's grasp, and a dozen hands were laid roughly upon him. He struggled, fought, and tore like a wildcat, but all to no avail. The blood in the miners' veins ran fire. They surged around their victim, overpowered him, and with a leathern belt bound his hands firmly behind his back.
"A rope! A rope!" shouted one. "There, in my cabin you'll find a strong one!"
"That tree!" yelled another. "We'll sling him up!"
Old Pete tried his best to stop them in their mad design. He shouted, pleaded, and even fought to free the captive.
"Drive 'im from Klassan!" he roared, "but don't let his blood be on our heads!"
He might as well have spoken to the wind which was roaring around them. The men were besides themselves, demented. They had reached the limit of their patience, and the wild passions surged within their breasts. In their eyes the cowardly deeds of Pritchen were without parallel. What dastardly tricks! What base, underhanded work! What designs of hell! The rope, and rope only, was the proper punishment!
Half dragged and half stumbling, the wretched man reached the tree, Nature's solid gallows, standing ghost-like and grim in the deepening darkness. He looked wildly around, and tried to free his hands.
"Mercy! For God's sake, mercy!" he cried, as the noose was slipped around his neck. "Let me go! Give me another chance, and I'll leave the country!"
"The rope'll take you to a new country, and a hot one at that, quicker than you can mush," jeered one.
"Mercy! Mercy!" pleaded the wretched man. "Spare me this once! I'll tell you all, and get out!"
"Did ye kill that Injun woman?" asked Pete, stepping near.
"Yes."
"Did ye lave young Radhurst to die in the Ibex cabin, an' stole his gold?"
"Yes."
"An' did ye steal Tim Fleeters' gold an' put it in the mission house?"
"Yes. Yes, I did it all. For God's sake, forgive me! I'm a bad man! O God, help me!"
A yell of rage was the only response to his wild pleadings, for a dozen hands had seized the rope, which had been thrown over one of the large projecting branches.
"All together, pull!" was the shout, and with a terrible, gurgling cry, Pritchen swung from the ground into the air.
And even as the men pulled, dead set upon their fearful deed, there was sweeping down upon their own heads the mighty flood of ice and water. The jam had given way and, sweeping down, was bearing all before it. The excitement of the men and the roaring of the wind up-stream prevented the noise from reaching their ears. Thus, unconscious of destruction to themselves, they were all intent upon their efforts to hurl a comrade into eternity.