“Yes,” said the minister; “but for that poor creature dying upstairs, we should all of us have been murdered in cold blood.”
This conversation had taken place in Alpha kitchen, where, late at night, the two men found themselves alone for the first time: the call upon both of them from within and without had been incessant. They had not only to attend to the living, but had to arrange for the removal of the dead bodies of the killed—no light task.
Father Nat had shown unmistakable signs of life, but was still insensible. A messenger had been despatched to the nearest town for a doctor, and was expected to return next day; in the meanwhile Nokomis had brewed herbs, and, with Loïs, done what she could for the sufferers. Now Loïs was watching beside Nadjii. It was midnight, and still they had no news of the child. Where had the mother hidden it when she came to the rescue? With Marcus’ help Loïs had searched the house and outhouses, and assured herself it was not there. It lay probably in the forest in the trunk of some tree.
Evidently having become possessed of the secret of the tribe, Nadjii had travelled alone with her child through the forest, crossing rivers and rapids as only an Indian woman could, to reach the Marshes in time and warn the inmates. On the night of the attack she must have lain the child to sleep in some hidden place; but where? It would surely die if its mother could not tell.
Nadjii was wounded unto death, and Loïs knew it; a few hours at most and she would cease to live, carrying her secret away with her, and her child’s hope of life! Loïs, as she knelt beside Nadjii, seemed to hear the wailing of the infant, the helpless cry for mother’s milk and mother’s kisses. “O Father, have mercy on the innocent babe,” she prayed; “let it not die this terrible death! My poor Nadjii has been faithful and true, and has laid down her life for her husband’s people, moved by the great love she bears him.”
Truly love, the great purifier, entering this poor heathen’s heart, had taught her many things, lightening her darkness! To her, though she knew it not, had been revealed the primary laws of love, obedience, and self-sacrifice! Her husband had bidden her watch over Loïs and his mother, and report to him if harm threatened them; and she had done what she could—she had laid down her life for them. All these thoughts crowded through Loïs’ mind as she knelt and prayed. She had all the early Puritan’s faith in prayer. No conflicting doubts troubled her. God would surely hear her!
“Spare the child, O God!” she repeated again and yet again, her clasped hands stretched out over the body of the dying mother. Her eyes were closed, her pale face raised, she was as one wrestling with God. Suddenly a word fell on her ear, “Nenemoosha.”[7] She turned quickly and looked at the Indian woman. Her eyes were open, and from out the swollen lips came in a voice almost inaudible the same word repeated, “Nenemoosha.” Tears sprang to Loïs’ eyes. She understood the meaning; and, bending over Nadjii, said, “Tell me where he is and I will fetch him.” The answer came, but in quick Indian words; and though Loïs understood a few, she could not follow her.
[Footnote 7: Sweetheart.]
“Wait! I will fetch some one,” she said; but before leaving Nadjii she gave her a cordial and damped the cloth that was bound round her head, whispering, “Never fear, Nadjii; we will find Nenemoosha.” Then she left her, smiling back at her as she went, though her heart was very sore. She had thought to fetch Nokomis, but the old Indian had been called away from Father Nat’s bedside to tend another wounded man, and had left an ancient village crone in charge. Hastily Loïs ran into the kitchen, where John Cleveland the minister and Roger were together.
“Roger,” said Loïs, going up to him, “Nadjii, the squaw, has spoken, but I cannot understand her; you must come. She left her and his child somewhere in the forest when she came to our rescue. You must go for it. Come!”