The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

Each night around the camp fire Natsatt would bring forth his little mouth-organ, and play several simple tunes. Then all talking would cease and the men would lie back and listen to the familiar strains they had heard years before. Ranger Dan always enjoyed such moments, and his face would brighten as he listened, although occasionally a half-suppressed sigh would escape his lips. Natsatt often watched his leader, and felt that there was something troubling his mind of which he and his companions were not aware. He longed to know of what he was thinking as he stood gazing far off into space.

As the days passed his respect for Ranger Dan increased. He seemed to be tireless, and his knowledge of woodcraft was wonderful. But it was when they settled down to the steady work of building the Post at the mouth of the river that his respect developed into admiration.

Dan at once set the men to work preparing timber for the building. There was little time to lose, for the season was advancing, and soon cold weather would be upon them. Never once did he hesitate as to the position or size of the house. The most suitable site was chosen close to the river, and here the Post was erected, with store attached. In a few weeks the work was well under way. Built entirely of hewn logs, chinked with moss, and this covered with soft clay found along the bank of the river, it was a structure capable of withstanding the most severe weather. It seemed almost like a fort so large were the logs which had been rolled into place, and securely fastened upon one another. Glass for the small windows there was none. Caribou skins, devoid of hair, and scraped thin, were stretched across the openings, and these let in some light when the door was shut. Two large stone fire-places were erected, at which their cooking was done. These would serve to give light as well as heat, for it would be necessary to reserve their small supply of candles they had brought with them.

The building was completed none too soon, for winter swept down upon them much sooner than they had expected. The river became solid from bank to bank, snow covered the land, and the frost became stinging in its intensity. The days were short, and the nights long. It was necessary for the best hunters to scour the surrounding hills and forest for moose and mountain sheep. Natsatt had the best luck of all, and by means of his excellent marksmanship he was able to add much to their larder.

The first two months of severe weather passed away most pleasantly. There was very little for the men to do, and they enjoyed the long rest after their hard labours since leaving the eastern side of the mountains. The cheerful fires made the large room almost as light as day. Dry, soft wood was plentiful, and they burned it without stint. Cards formed the chief amusement, interspersed with singing of songs, and story telling. It was a time of general good fellowship. They were a little company alone in the vast wilderness. "What more could men desire?" they asked one another, "than a life such as this? Abundance of game, long hours of sleep, work of the lightest, and no cares to distract the mind."

During the whole of this time no Indian had visited the Post by day. Canoes had passed up and down the river during the fall, but the occupants had not disembarked to examine the new building upon the bank. If the natives came at all it must have been in the night, departing without leaving the slightest sign of their presence. Often the men discussed the matter before the open fire. There was a general impression that they were being watched; that Indians were prowling around, though keeping warily out of sight.

"It isn't natural," commented Larry Dasan, a big burly Canadian. "I've helped build a dozen trading Posts in my time, an' before we had the first logs laid the Siwashes were always around us like flies—men, women, papooses, and lean dogs galore. They were coming and going all the time. But here," and he threw out his right hand in disgust, "not a d—— redskin has set foot on the premises by day, an' it's been four months since we arrived."

"Me no savvey wat it all mean," replied Pierre Goutre, a small Frenchman. "Bad beezness dis. No Injun, no fur, no monee, hey? Ol' man heem mak' beeg meestake, me tink. Heem send Natsatt an' Tony to round up Injun. Mebbe dey'll ketch 'em."

The men generally indulged in such free conversation when Ranger Dan was not present. At times the latter would take his snow-shoes, and tramp the woods for hours. He wished to be alone—to think. To him the games and idle chat of his men were of no interest. He was playing another game in which the heart alone was concerned, and he had staked much upon the throw. He needed the trade of the Indians of this land, as the furs would reimburse him for the heavy expenditure he had made. But he could do without their trade if only they would come to the Post. If from far and near, from forest depths, mountain lakes, and turbid rivers, they would gather to look upon the white men, and the building they had erected. If once he could see them, then they might go their way without making the smallest purchase from the store. If only he could behold their dusky faces even for a few moments, he would be somewhat satisfied. He believed that somewhere in this region would come the one for whom his heart had so long been yearning. And even though she did not appear surely among all the bands of the North he would hear some word of her, whether she were dead or alive. Men had called him a fool. But what did he care? How could they understand the deep passionate longings of an old man's lonely heart?

He missed Natsatt from the Post, and anxiously awaited his return. That he and Tony would bring some word of the Indians he had no doubt. But when the storm burst over the land his anxiety developed into fear for the absent ones. When at length Tony staggered in almost exhausted from his hard battle with the raging of the elements, Ranger Dan felt sure that Natsatt had been lost, unless perchance he had found refuge in some Indian camp. This latter gave him but little comfort, for Tony had not met a single native, neither had he seen any signs of recent camp fires.