The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

With a deep sigh of relief Owindia closed her eyes, and was soon off into a calm refreshing slumber. Natsatt watched her for a few minutes with a great joy and thankfulness in his heart. He wished to tell some one of the good news. He must speak and let others share his happiness. He rose to his feet to leave the room to arouse Dan. But as he turned there stood the Ranger at the door. The sound of the music had awakened him, and he had come to see what was the matter. He had just reached the door when Owindia opened her eyes. He had said nothing, but had remained a silent witness of it all.

There was no sleep for these two delighted men that night. They now knew that the crisis was passed, and with care Owindia would recover. They sat and talked in subdued tones about their plans for the future. Hitherto they had been silent concerning this subject. Now, however, it was different.

As the days passed Owindia made steady progress. Ere long she was able to leave her cot, and take short walks out in the fresh open air. Natsatt was always with her, and supported her feeble steps. She was much interested in everything she saw. The Post was a wonder in her eyes, and she asked Natsatt if the houses beyond the mountains of the rising sun were anything like it. The Indians, too, were different from any she had ever seen. They were kind to the sick girl, and were always pleased when she came to visit them in their lodges. They had heard the story of her terrible experience among the Chilcats, and had discussed it among themselves. The white men of the Fort were pleased to have the sweet-faced, gentle maiden among them, and treated her with the greatest courtesy. Natsatt mentally noted how different was their treatment of Owindia from the men who had deserted the Post up river. The Factor became fond of the maiden, and when he found that Natsatt was her lover he heartily congratulated the young man. Thus their stay at the Fort was most pleasant, a blessed relief after the terrible experiences through which they had passed.

But notwithstanding her happiness with Natsatt there was a cloud upon Owindia's mind. She longed to know about her father. It had been thought best not to tell her about his death until she was stronger in health. Several times her question had been evaded. She had learned something about the defeat of the Ayana, and the attack upon the Post. A fear pressed upon her heart, that something had happened to her father. She brooded over it by day, and would lie awake at night for hours wondering what had become of him.

One day as she and Natsatt were walking along the bank of the river, talking and gathering wild flowers, they sat down in a quiet little spot under the shelter of a large fir tree. The water of the Yukon flowed swiftly past, and fascinated Owindia. She could not keep her eyes away from that stream, and became unusually silent.

"What is it, little one?" Natsatt asked, noting her pre-occupied manner. "Are you not feeling well to-day? I hope nothing is the matter, for we are planning to leave this place next week. Boats of the Company are to start up the Porcupine River with their loads of furs, and they have kindly offered to take us with them. You will then be able to see what the world is like beyond the great mountains. I hope you will be able to go."

"I am feeling stronger every day," Owindia replied. "I have heard that we are to go, and I suppose I shall never see this river again. But when I look upon it I feel sad. It was by its side so far away where I played as a little child, and my mother used to sit near and watch me. Her grave is far up there," and she threw out her left arm in an eloquent gesture. "It was there that the Chilcats tried to steal me away, and my father saved me. How he loved me, and would do anything for me. Tell me, oh, tell me, Natsatt, what has happened to him."

For a while Natsatt was silent, and sat gazing steadily before him out upon the river. How could he tell her? He had been dreading that question for days, and now it had come and had to be answered. Owindia noticed his silence, and with the quick intuition of her race divined the meaning.

"You do not answer," she breathed, while a deep sigh escaped her lips. "You do not wish to tell me what you know. But I know now, as if you spoke the words."

"I did not wish to see you grieve," Natsatt returned. "You were so weak that if I told you it might do you harm. The truth was kept from you because I love you so. Don't you believe me, darling?"