[CHAPTER XII]
THE MESSENGER
Klitonda knew of the news which was agitating his people, for he had been the first to see two terrified Ayana Indians speeding by his lodge with the tidings of dire woe. But he had asked no questions, and did not even go forth to discuss the matter with his people. That they would huddle together in fear, and then speed away like frightened rabbits he was well aware. Of what use, therefore, would it be to talk to them, and try to arouse them to definite determined action? All of his talking in the past had seemed in vain, so of what avail would words be now with the enemy so near? Only upon the white men did he feel that he could depend for assistance. But how few they were. It was true, they had their strong barricade, and deadly guns would guard every loop-hole. But the Chilcats were wily, and if they had come in great numbers it would be impossible to withstand them for any length of time. His mind turned to the score of young hunters who had made their vow of allegiance, and had given their tokens. With their support a strong stand could be made. He believed that they were not far off, awaiting for the blood-stained arrows. But whom could he send? He looked toward Owindia, seated just within the entrance of the lodge. She was watching her father's face, and trying to interpret the thoughts which were beating through his brain. A small fire outside made it possible for her to see his features quite distinctly.
His eyes glowed with a fierce light, such as she had seen there the night her mother had been killed. He sat bolt upright, with every muscle of his body tense and rigid. He was not like the tiger waiting for the onset of the hunters, and ready to spring forth with savage destruction. He was more like a scarred veteran of a hundred fights, not afraid of the conflict, yet cautious, and wary. He wished to strike, but only at the right moment, with such force and suddenness as to repulse his adversaries with overwhelming confusion.
"Little one," he suddenly began, "have you the tokens safe?"
"Ah, ah, father. They are over there," and the maiden pointed to a corner of the lodge. "Do you want them?"
"We must use them now, Owindia," her father replied. "The Chilcats are near, and some one must take them to the young hunters. I cannot go, as I must stay and help the white men. Will you—?"
The question died upon his lips, for suddenly without a sound there appeared at the door of the lodge an Indian of the dreaded Chilcat tribe. One lightning glance was sufficient for Klitonda to realise the identity of the stranger. He leaped to his feet, and seized his hunting axe which was lying near. Owindia shrank fearfully back into a corner of the lodge at the terrible expression upon her father's face.
The visitor neither moved nor exhibited the least sign of alarm. He stood calmly in the door-way, watching Klitonda's infuriated demeanour. His coolness caused the chief to hesitate as he was in the act of raising the weapon for the blow. Had the man betrayed the slightest degree of fear Klitonda would have smitten him to the ground without the least compunction. But brave himself, he always admired it in others, even though they were his most deadly enemies. He paused, and glared upon the intruder.
"Why does not the chief strike?" the Chilcat queried in a quiet voice.