The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

Leaving the rock she started forward in the direction she believed the Coast Indians had their camp. It was only a supposition on her part. Nevertheless she must search until she should find them. She was not so certain of her course now, and walked more cautiously. The trees became larger the farther she went and there was less underbrush to impede her progress. Had it been daytime she could have seen some distance ahead. Often she stopped and listened, hoping to hear something to direct her steps. At length she came to a sudden standstill for there right before her the light of a fire fell upon her eyes. Slowly she advanced, and ere long she was able to see many forms gathered around the place. It was a big blaze, and fiery cinders were whirling up into the night, making strange fantastic figures in their flight. The Chilcats had not made the attack. There was some comfort in the thought. But with one fear removed the old one returned. How was she to face that band of Indians? How would they treat her? What would they do to her? How helpless she felt, there in the wilderness, with her enemies so near. How she longed for the strong presence of her father. And her mother, did she know of what her only child was doing? Was her spirit near her this night? she wondered. She believed somewhat that the spirits of the departed were on earth. She had heard it so often on the lips of old Indians that it would have been remarkable if she had not been impressed with the belief.

"Mother, mother," she breathed. "Be with Owindia to-night. Let your spirit strengthen your child in her trouble."

Silently and slowly she approached the Chilcats. She did not hurry as she wished to observe them for a while before they saw her. There was no watch kept so no one opposed her progress or gave warning of her presence. Several large trees were right in front, a few rods from the squatting natives. Behind one of these she glided, and thus obtained a good view of all that was taking place. She beheld one, whom she decided was the chief's son, surrounded by his warriors. His appearance did not appeal to her, and a shiver shook her form as she thought how soon she would be his wife, and therefore his abject slave. The longer she watched the less courage she had. How could she step forth and face those men? What were they talking about in such an animated manner? she wondered, and why were they delaying the attack upon the Post? She could not understand what they were saying, but once she thought she heard the name of Klitonda mentioned. They were evidently talking about her father, and what were they saying? How she longed to leave and flee away from the place back to the Post. She turned her head and looked into the dark forest. How like a friend it seemed to her. It would shelter her from those human wolves, for it had always been her friend, and she loved it. She turned her head slowly and regretfully to look again upon the Chilcats, when an object on her left arrested her attention. It was the form of a man with his back against a large tree, and from his unnatural position she was certain that he was fast bound. The light was dim and uncertain so she was unable to distinguish his face. But something about the figure seemed familiar, especially his large size. Whoever he was he must be a prisoner, she thought, captured by the Chilcats. No doubt they were now discussing his fate as they squatted before the fire. A feeling of pity stole into her heart for this unfortunate captive. Perhaps he was one of the Ayana Indians. Suppose he were her own father! The idea came with a startling intensity. He might have been captured by the enemy and brought into camp. With Owindia to think was to act, so slipping from her concealed position she hurried across the open, fearful lest the Chilcats should observe her. She did not go straight to the tree, but with native instinct made a somewhat circular movement back into the forest and thus reached the tree behind the bound man. The latter could not see her, and if he heard her light step he paid no heed. Carefully Owindia peered around the large bole, and one quick glance was sufficient to tell her that the captive was in very truth her father.

Instinctively her hand slipped to the knife safely concealed within her jacket. She would cut the thongs which bound him fast, and set him free. She was about to stretch out her arm, when she hesitated and lowered the knife. Her father must not know that she was there. He must think it was some one else. Nothing would induce him to leave the place knowing that his own child would be left in the midst of the hated Coast wolves. A thought flashed into her mind, so placing her face close to the tree she whispered so her father was sure to hear:

"The spirit of Klota is near Klitonda. She will cut the thongs and save him from the Chilcats. Do not delay an instant but hurry back into the forest."

This done, with three swift deft strokes she severed the bonds which held him, and the captive was free.

When Klitonda heard the voice, and felt the thongs give way, he had no doubt but that it was Klota's spirit which had come to him in his time of need. Without a moment's hesitation he obeyed the command, and with the agility of a wild-cat leaped to one side and was instantly lost to view amidst the darkness of the forest depths.

No sooner had her father disappeared than Owindia took his place and stood with her back against the tree. All had happened so quickly that if the Chilcats had glanced in that direction they could have hardly detected the brief space of time when no one was standing there. When they did look they beheld what they believed to be the form of the Ayana chief securely bound as they had left him. That he should escape did not even enter their minds. They, therefore, paid little attention to him so engrossed were they with their conversation concerning what they should do with their important captive.

Owindia now determined to wait until the Chilcats should find her, and every moment would give her father time to place a long distance between him and his enemies. The coolness of the night pierced her body, and caused her to shiver and wish for the warmth of the fire. How long would the Indians remain talking? she wondered, and what would they say and do to her when they discovered what she had done? The time dragged slowly by, and her body became very weary. She had endured so much mental strain during the day and evening that she longed to lie down and rest forever. At length, however, a movement took place among the Chilcats. She saw them rise to their feet and advance to where she was standing. It did not take them many seconds to ascertain that something was wrong. They then rushed toward her, caught her by the arms and hurried her over to the fire. A wild babel of voices at once ensued as the truth dawned upon the warriors' minds. They knew they had been outwitted, and by a squaw at that! How could they ever endure such humiliation? They would be the laughing-stock of all the tribes along the coast for years to come. They found the cut thongs lying by the tree, and they needed no words from the maiden to explain who had done the deed.

Owindia stood close to the fire, to every appearance the calmest of them all. With hands clasped before her, and bent head she seemed the very embodiment of an abject slave, willing to obey the slightest command of the most menial of the whole Chilcat tribe. But such an attitude was most deceptive, and not one of the warriors realised the magnificent courage of her heart or the subtle keenness of her active brain. She saw and understood more than they imagined. When at last the confusion had subsided she was rudely pushed before the chief's son, who was standing somewhat apart from the others. He had been watching her most intently, and was mentally comparing her with women of his own tribe. He had heard that she was beautiful, but never until he now set his eyes upon her did he fully comprehend that the half had never been told him. Her flushed face, and the strange light which shone in her eyes added to her loveliness. With savage impetuosity he longed to possess this wonderful creature. What were the spoils of war, the punishing of the white traders when passion was in the balance? He had never been taught the virtue of self-restraint. Even from a child his every wish had been gratified by indulgent relatives. When he grew to manhood none thought of crossing the will of one who in course of time would be chief of the tribe. In war and conquest he delighted, especially with a defeated people who had not the spirit to oppose his exorbitant demands. He was all for self, and friend or foe he would lightly sacrifice in order to accomplish any desire upon which he had set his heart. Arrogant, voluptuous, and conceited through smooth-tongued flattery he knew little or nothing of opposition. That this maiden, even though a chief's daughter, should refuse his slightest behest never once entered his dull mind. Women of his own tribe had ever sought his favour, and his smile or word of approval had been to them like the nectar of the gods. What, therefore, should he expect from a squaw of a conquered people?