The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

Just when her patience was about exhausted two shadowy forms glided from somewhere she could not tell, and stood before her. So suddenly did they appear that she started, and with difficulty suppressed a cry of fright.

"Come," was the brief command. "The Chilcat braves will take the Ayana maiden to the chief's son."

There was nothing for Owindia to do but to follow. Her guides led her along the edge of the wild meadow, keeping close within the shadow of the forest. She wondered somewhat as to the wariness of their movements, but asked no questions. The braves walked fast, and the maiden found it hard at times to keep up with them.

The lower part of the meadow terminated at the foot of a steep hill, covered with jack-pines, firs, and dead trees. Up the side they moved, the way becoming more difficult, owing to the underbrush, fallen logs, and the fast-gathering darkness. Having reached the summit they paused a moment to rest. Then descending the opposite side, they ere long came to a ridge of jagged rocks. From the midst of the latter a light pierced the gloom. It was a camp fire, around which several forms were gathered. It did not take them long to reach the spot, and Owindia was glad enough to warm her numb hands before the pleasant blaze. Next she looked around for the chief's son, expecting to recognise his person by the respect which would be paid to him by the others. She saw, however, only a dozen braves, who all seemed of equal importance. The men noticed her questioning look, and interpreting its meaning hastened to explain. The chief's son was beyond the hills with most of the Indians, so they told her, and would arrive at almost any time. They were to keep her until he returned.

Owindia said nothing, but she intuitively felt that they were not telling her the truth. Why were there so few of them hiding on this hillside among the rocks? It was a most unlikely spot for a large band of Indians to encamp. Then she noticed that the two braves who had guided her to the place did not remain long, but took their departure after a few moments' conversation with the rest. She racked her brain in an effort to solve the problem. Little attention was paid to her by the Indians sitting around the fire. Even when she rose to her feet and moved about they appeared not to notice her. She had come of her own free will, and had evidently believed the story they told her about the chief's son. It was therefore unnecessary to keep a strict watch upon her.

Owindia thought much of Natsatt, and wondered if he would ever know what she had done for his sake, and for her own people. What would he think and do when he could not find her at the lodge? He would go there, she was sure of that, and how surprised he would be when she was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he was there now, calling her by name. She listened intently as if expecting to hear his voice. Her heart throbbed with a longing which no resolve could quench. It was sweet even in her misery to feel that his love for her was strong and deep. No matter what her life might be in the future the memory of that time since she had first met her lover would ever remain like a light shining in the darkness.

Thinking thus she glanced toward the braves seated about the camp fire. The chief's son had not yet arrived. What was keeping him? she wondered. Was he not expecting her? Did not the messenger tell him that she was coming; that Owindia, daughter of the Ayana chief, was willing to give herself up to save those she loved? How soon would it be after she met him ere he would lead her and his band back over the mountains to the coast? Would all the warriors be willing to go? she mused. They had come a long way, and to return without driving back the white traders, and punishing the Interior Indians, simply for the sake of an Ayana squaw would be galling to their haughty natures. Some, at least, would rebel she felt certain.

A sudden thought flashed into her mind, causing her to cease her restless pacing, and to remain perfectly rigid, while her eyes stared out wildly into the blackness beyond. It was like the voice of some one standing near. "There is trouble," it seemed to say. "Those Chilcats around the fire are opposed to the action of the chief's son. They have spirited Owindia away, intending to keep her hidden for a time. They have heard what the messenger said. The chief's son is encamped near the Post, and if Owindia does not go to him to-night he will believe that she has changed her mind. He will, accordingly, fall at once upon the white traders, and attack the Ayana people."

Owindia's course now became clear. She must get away as quickly as possible, and hurry to the chief's son. Suppose she should be too late! She had not the slightest doubt about this new idea which had come to her mind. She only wondered that she had not thought about it sooner. She looked toward the fire. The men were sitting as before, talking and paying no heed to the maiden in their midst. They knew nothing of the agitation which was stirring her breast, but imagined that she was waiting impatiently for the arrival of the chief's son.

Owindia continued to move to and fro, but kept steadily edging away from the fire. Farther and farther each time she advanced, until at last with one furtive glance behind her she plunged into the thicket, and hastened up the hill among the tossed and tangled rocks. Her heart beat fast, and occasionally she paused to listen. Hearing nothing she continued on her way. Reaching the top of the hill she dropped behind a thick bush to rest. The Chilcats evidently had not missed her, so she hurried forward down the opposite side of the hill straight toward the meadow which she had so recently left. She did not mind the darkness, and never once did she stumble as she worked her way through the forest without any trail to guide her. Her feet were light even though her heart was heavy. Her one desire now urged her onward. She must reach the chief's son before he began the attack. By going back to the large rock she would be able to direct her course. At length the place was reached and once again she stopped to listen. No sound could she hear excepting the wind in the tree tops. There was no sign of any battle taking place at the Post, and nothing to tell her that the Chilcats were advancing.