The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

CAPTURED

When Klitonda left his lodge on that warm summer morning, he plunged at once into the forest, and struck a course straight for a mountain peak far away in the distance, towering high above its fellows. At its base lay a placid lake, abounding in fish, where he believed many of the Indians were encamped. Here he expected to find the young hunters upon whom his hopes were fixed.

A rough, crooked trail wound through the wilderness, and along this he travelled. Occasionally he paused and listened, for he knew that on his right, and not far away, the Chilcats were lying in ambush. He suspected that a number of the band would be scouring the forest for game, and it would, therefore, be necessary for him to advance with the greatest caution. Hardly a sound did he make as he glided stealthily among the trees, his eyes and ears keenly alert to every object and noise. Open wild meadows at times stretched out before him, and these he skirted, keeping well within the sheltering shadows of the friendly borders.

He was thinking deeply as he proceeded, for much was at stake, and he knew that in order to win out against the Coast tribe strategy rather than physical force would be necessary. Klitonda was no mere machine speeding through the forest, but a stern vital reality, whose breast throbbed with mingled emotions of hatred toward the Chilcats, and an intense love for his only child, and the welfare of his people.

After clearing what he believed to be the extreme outward limits of danger, he no longer paused to listen. The Chilcats would not be so far afield, so he imagined. He felt secure now, and in this sense of security lay his immediate danger. He became less cautious, and gave himself up to various plans for the overcoming of his enemies. But Klitonda might have known that he was never safe when the Coast dogs were anywhere within the borders of the country. He did not know that several of the hated tribe had been sent out to ascertain the whereabouts of the various Ayana bands. They had been travelling for some time, and coming to a little stream which purled gently through the forest, had stopped to drink, and to rest beneath the shade of a large fir tree.

All unconscious of the presence of his enemies, Klitonda was hurrying on his way. For weary miles his course took him through a region where not a drop of water could be obtained. Here the ground was parched and dry. The few trees, and what scanty vegetation there was, were stunted, and maintained a precarious existence. Fires had swept over the land years before, and large trunks stood out gaunt and lifeless amid this scene of desolation. Klitonda longed for water to cool his parched lips. The heat was almost unbearable, stifling in its intensity, with not a breath of air to give a moment's respite. In addition to this there were innumerable swarms of flies. They were persistent creatures, surrounding the traveller, and attacking him with the utmost ferocity. At times they almost blinded him as he hurried onward. He had been accustomed to these pests from infancy, but never had he known them to be as bad as they were on this day. He remembered how his parents had often built smudge fires, around which men, women, and children would crowd, preferring the blinding smoke to the torture of the insects.

Klitonda now looked eagerly forward to the little stream, which he knew was not far off. There he could stop, slake his burning thirst, and eat some of the dried moose meat he had brought with him. He had thrown aside all precaution, and with bent head speeded down the slope toward the water, which ere long he heard rippling through the forest. Reaching the bank he threw himself down upon several stones, and in this prostrate position drank eagerly of the sparkling brook. The murmuring sounds around him deadened his ears to any other noise, so he did not hear the soft footsteps of six robust Chilcats as like tigers they glided upon their prey.

Klitonda had satisfied his thirst, and had lifted his head, and was about to regain his feet, when in an instant his enemies were upon him. With a gurgling roar of rage Klitonda recoiled at the attack like some mountain grizzly suddenly startled in its den. With a terrific backward bound he bore the clinging Chilcats with him, and for one brief minute it seemed as if this giant of the forest would free himself from his adversaries. His rage was like that of a madman, and his strength appeared almost superhuman. He tossed the Chilcats about like so many playthings, and could he have laid his hand upon his axe, firmly secured in his belt, he would soon have made an end of the whole six opponents. But his arms, legs, and body were so enmeshed by merciless arms that he found it impossible to shake himself free. He staggered to his feet, but could not stand in an upright position for any length of time, and ere long he was forced to the ground, with five Chilcats seated upon his body, while the sixth securely bound his feet, and fastened his hands behind his back with strong moose-hide thongs.

When Klitonda realised that all further resistance would be in vain, he remained very quiet, and watched his captors with an air of apparent indifference. When it was possible to fight he did so with all the strength at his command. But when once overcome, and helpless, he could show his enemies how an Ayana chief could bear defeat.

The Chilcats having firmly bound their captive drew aside, and conversed together in low tones. What they said Klitonda could not tell, but presently they returned, unbound his feet, and commanded him to rise. This he did without an instant's hesitation and stood before them awaiting their further orders. Not a shadow of uneasiness marked his face, as drawn to his full height, he confronted the Chilcats. His eyes alone betrayed the tumultuous emotions which were stirring within his breast. They glowed like two living coals of fire, and well it was for the Coast braves that the chief's hands were tied. In fact so powerful did he seem standing there that the Chilcats placed another thong about his wrists for greater security. They could not well afford to lose so valuable a prisoner who had luckily fallen into their hands. Then for the first time a sarcastic smile played about Klitonda's mouth.