The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

"Oh, yes, I know you love me. But I am stronger now, and want to hear everything. If my father is dead I know he died like a true warrior."

"Indeed he did," Natsatt replied. "He fought bravely to the last. You should have seen the bodies of the dead and wounded Chilcats lying on the ground. The Coast dogs would have been defeated if the Ayana had been armed with muskets, but they could do very little against the guns."

"And did you leave my father where he fell?" Owindia asked. "Are you sure he was dead? Perhaps he was only wounded, and the Chilcats have taken him away to torture him. The thought is terrible."

"No, we did not. We brought him with us, and he died in the canoe on our way down the river. His last word was about you."

"My poor father," and Owindia sighed as she spoke. "How hard he struggled to free his land, and now it is all over. The Chilcats will be more cruel to the Ayana than ever. Perhaps it is just as well that my father is gone. His heart was always heavy, but I am sure it would break if he were alive to see how his people will be treated. They will never have courage to rise again to free their land."

Her head drooped, her bosom heaved with the intensity of her emotion, and the tears began to steal slowly down her cheeks. Natsatt placed his arm around her in an effort to soothe her. Her form shook, and her sobbing increased. Her lover let her weep, well knowing that the tears would relieve her surcharged feelings, and that she would feel better after the storm of grief was over.

"Would you like to see your father's grave?" Natsatt at length asked.

"What! did you bring his body all the way to this place?" and Owindia lifted her tear-stained eyes to his face.

"Yes. We could not leave him behind. We knew how badly you would feel."

Without another word the maiden placed her hand in his, and rising, he led her to the Indian burying ground on a hill back of the Post. There were many graves here, and over each one had been erected quaint shelters. Some were covered with little cotton tents, while others had houses made of logs and brush. In the midst of these was one covered with new earth. It was surrounded by neat palings, made from small fir saplings, stripped of their bark. At the head of the grave a rude cross had been erected, on which several words had been carved, telling of the chief who was lying beneath.