The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

Natsatt had become very dear to the old Ranger's heart. He had conversed with him more than with the others, and they had numerous things in common. Every night Dan would lie in the bunk and listen to Natsatt playing old familiar airs. But with the young man away the days and nights seemed uncommonly long and dreary.

It was the second evening after the storm that they were all gathered about one of the fire-places. They were discussing again for the hundredth time Natsatt's probable fate. To go in search of him they knew would be useless. His tracks had long since been obliterated, and the snow was too deep to find his body should he have perished in the wilderness. Ranger Dan was about to turn into his bunk, when the door suddenly opened, and Natsatt entered. Had his ghost appeared out of the night his companions could not have been more astonished. They greeted him as one from the dead, and plied him with all sorts of questions as to his experience in the storm.

The news of vital importance Natsatt reserved for Ranger Dan alone. He waited until the others had gone to bed. Then drawing his leader aside, in a low voice he told him all he had learned about the fierce Chilcats, and what a menace they might prove to the trading Post. Dan became deeply interested in the story, and asked the young man many questions concerning the Coast tribe, and their domineering sway over the Ayana Indians.

"This is all new to me," he at length remarked. "I must have time to think it over, and decide what is the best to do. If what you have just told me is true it may help to explain something which has been puzzling me for years. You had better rest now, for you must be greatly wearied after your long trip. I am very grateful to the chief Klitonda for saving your life. He must be a remarkable man, and a very exceptional Indian."

Natsatt said nothing about the chief's daughter, Owindia. He did not wish his companions to know of the prize he had found in the wilderness. His love was too sacred a thing to be bandied about on the lips of coarse minded men. He had heard much of their conversation in the past, and knew what to expect if he divulged his great heart's secret. He had thorough knowledge of the lives of some of these men. Little respect had they for native women, considering them merely as their lawful prey. He trembled, therefore, with apprehension as he thought of Owindia. Such beauty and charm of face and form could hardly escape their hawk-like, greedy eyes. He himself had often laughed at a number of their base jokes. But now his heart grew hot within him. How could he endure such remarks about Owindia? No, they would not be repeated in his presence, he was determined about that. He would guard her to the last. Absence of several days had increased his love for the chief's daughter. The Post seemed unusually lonely and uninteresting since his return. He longed to be back again to the little cabin in the forest. He did not even mention his secret to Dan. He knew he could trust the old Ranger, but he hesitated about mentioning it now when his leader's mind was worried over the Chilcats. No, he would say nothing at present, but wait for a more favourable opportunity.

It did not take Ranger Dan long to make up his mind concerning what Natsatt had told him about the Coast tribe. One night was sufficient for him in which to decide, and the next morning he explained his position to his men. He told them how essential it would be to fortify the Post lest the Chilcats should come, and find them unprepared. He accordingly ordered the men into the forest to cut suitable trees for the barricade he intended to erect.

Thus the days of repose were at an end. Some of the men murmured at the task which confronted them. But Dan was obdurate, and commanded them to obey or to leave the Post. There was, therefore, nothing for the objectors to do but to fall in line and work, for to leave at such a season of the year would mean almost certain death.

Trees of a suitable size were felled, and drawn to the Post on a rough sled made for the purpose. They were all carefully trimmed, and their tops hewn to sharp points. As it was impossible to dig trenches in which to place the trees it was necessary to build a heavy frame work for their support. Thus day by day the work steadily advanced, and ere long one side of the Post was protected by a most formidable barricade, which was almost insurmountable for the most agile warrior.

Only for a few hours each day could the men remain at their work. At times it was bitterly cold, which often severely tested their patience. Dan worked with his men, at the same time supervising everything. As the days began to lengthen the weather grew warmer, and the work advanced more rapidly. The Post stood but several rods from the river. To the latter Dan ran two rows of trees, thus forming a narrow passage through which water could be carried in case of an attack, and also to form a means of retreat to their canoe if necessary.

Spring was upon them by the time the work was completed, and the men were thus enabled to rest awhile from their labours. As soon as the ice left the river Dan expected the Indians to arrive, if they were to come at all. It was the time after their long months of hunting when they would wish to dispose of their furs. So far no further word had been heard of the Chilcats. Dan was not surprised, for he knew that they had a long distance to travel, and the river was the only feasible route when the snow had left the ground. Every morning when he arose he partly expected to see some of the Ayana Indians before night. As the days passed, and none appeared, an anxious expression was seen upon his face. Natsatt noticed it, and sympathised with his leader. He, too, was longing for the appearance of the natives. Surely Klitonda and his daughter would be among the first to arrive. How he yearned to see Owindia. Her image had been constantly in his mind since he had left her in the little lodge long weeks before. Had she, too, been longing for him? he wondered. He found it hard to dissemble his feelings so as not to arouse the suspicion of his companions. But at times they did chaff him about his absent-mindedness, and the far-away look in his eyes. If only he could confide his secret to some one he knew it would be a great relief. Often he was on the point of telling everything to Dan. But each time an indefinable barrier seemed to rise between them, so the pent-up words which were ready to pour from his yearning heart never passed his lips.