“Ten years and more ago,” he said, “when the chief Delaroche lay dying I gave him my word that if the need ever came I would put his daughter in the care of his kinsmen in the far south and not in that of his English kinsmen. Years went by and the call came. The chief Brito demanded her. He was a redcoat chief, an ally of Tecumseh, and you were an enemy. He was a strong man and a warrior and you were a boy. Had it not been for my word to my friend I would have given her to him gladly. But the word spoken to the dead comes not back. Therefore I sought you out and bade you come for the girl. I waited long, but you did not come. Once more I tried to keep my word to my friend. I sent the girl south, into your lines. I thought she would find you and she did. For days she travelled with you. I had kept my word to my dead friend.”
The day was brightening fast. The sky had grown brilliant with pink, and scarlet, and saffron. The sun thrust himself above the rim of the world and sent long lances of light shimmering through the damp air. The trees burned red against the horizon; the wet underbrush glistened like precious stones.
Tecumseh’s voice changed. For the moment it had grown softer, but now it grew chill as death. “Then suddenly,” he said, “she came back to me. She thought that I had sent for her. I had not. Those who told her so were liars bought by the gold of Brito. Nevertheless I had kept my word and I was free to give her where I would. Gladly would I have given her to Brito. But she said she was your wife, wedded to you by the white man’s law. She said she would die before she would go to Brito. She begged me to protect her.
“I did protect her. I did not understand. So I protected her until I could understand. She had not left you merely because she thought I had sent for her. Do I not know her and her sex? She loved you and she would not have left you at my call. A thousand times I might have called and she would not have come. Some other cause she had. What was it?”
Jack shook his head. “I do not know,” he said. “Some talk there was about a letter that came to me at the instant of my marriage. I know nothing of it. I do not even remember that it came. When I fell, stricken by my old wound, I dropped it and an enemy of mine picked it up and read something from it. I do not know what it was—what it could have been. I do not even know that Alagwa heard it. I speak of it only because I know of no other cause. Has she not told you why she left?”
“She has told me nothing. She denied that you had wronged her. She swore that your heart was good toward her. But I did not believe her. When a woman loves she will go down to the gates of h—l to bring up lies to shield her beloved. I did not believe her. But she was the daughter of my friend and to me it fell to right her wrongs, to do justice on her foes. I would not give her to the redcoat chief so long as you lived. I would not slay unjustly. Therefore I gave orders to take you alive that I might question you. Others also I sought to capture, learning little by little what part they had in my daughter’s wrongs. One by one I have gathered up the threads and woven them into the bow-string of my vengeance. At the last you have come into my hand like a bird to a trap. Now, all is ready. Tomorrow may be Tecumseh’s last on earth. But tonight he has power and will do justice.”
The speaker gestured and a warrior who stood by handed a blanket to Jack. “Wrap yourself,” ordered the chief, “and sit beside the fire. Hide your face and speak not till I give you leave.”
Greatly wondering, Jack obeyed. Nothing that Tecumseh said gave him hope, though the fact that the chief had said anything at all carried some little comfort. Very clearly Tecumseh would have been glad to give Alagwa to Brito, and very dearly he had only to take Jack’s forfeited life to make it easy to carry out his wishes. On the other hand if he meant to kill he could do so with fewer words. With mingled hope and fear the American waited.
The crackling of brush beneath a hurrying tread came to his ears and he looked up.
Through the woods a slim, young girl was coming swiftly. A moment more and Alagwa stepped into the circle of the clearing and bowed before the great chief. “My father has sent for me,” she said. “I have come.”