The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

The match which Natsatt held burnt down, scorched his fingers, and went out. But no physical pain did he feel. The agony and rage which possessed his heart numbed his body to any other lesser sensation. It was a terrible ten seconds as he stood there in the darkness with that picture of the one he loved burned upon his brain. Then he leaped to her side, and spoke to her, pleading with her to speak to him, and tell who had done the dastardly deed. His words were all in vain, for Owindia gave no sign that she was aware of his presence. Wondering much, Natsatt again struck a match, and peered keenly into her face. He beheld her eyes filled with a wild unnatural light, and not looking at him, but staring straight into the forest. He noted how drawn and haggard was her face, and limp and helpless her body. In an instant the truth flashed upon him, and filled him with an overwhelming dismay. Was this his own Owindia, the one he loved better than life itself? Could it be possible that her reason had deserted her? He had loved her before with all the passion of his ardent nature. But now a deep yearning pity mingled with his affection. She needed his help more than ever.

Drawing forth his hunting-knife he severed the bonds which bound her to the tree and, her body thus released slipped in a helpless heap at his very feet. Quickly stooping, he caught her in his arms. He seized her hands in his and for the first time noted how hot they were. He felt her face and found that it, too, was burning with a fire which he knew could only come from a raging fever. "Owindia, Owindia," he murmured, "speak to Natsatt. He is here." Then he lowered his head and imprinted a kiss upon those hot lips. "You are mine," he continued, "and nothing but death can separate us now. Oh, to meet the villains who treated you thus cruelly!"

Next the helplessness of his position swept upon him. What was he to do? Owindia could not walk, and how was he to get her back to the Post? The Chilcats were already before the fortification, he believed, and would surely capture him should he attempt to go in that direction. But suppose he did reach the Post how could he gain admittance? The Indians would not let him pass, and there would be no way by which he could communicate with his companions. He was certainly in a difficult position. He could not remain where he was for if the Chilcats returned and found him there his situation would not be enviable. Neither could he build a fire, for the light would surely attract any native who might be prowling near. He must get Owindia away and at once. Perhaps he could find a sheltered place beyond the ridge of rocks where he could build a fire, and thus lie in wait for an opportunity to steal back to the Post.

While these thoughts were passing through his mind Owindia was still lying quietly in his arms. She had not spoken a word since the song had died upon her lips. She was not a heavy burden, in fact her lover was surprised at the lightness of her body. He could carry her without much trouble, he felt sure of that. Scarcely had he taken a step forward than she began to talk in her wild rambling manner. Now she was urging on the Ayana people, calling to them to drive out the Chilcats. Again it was of her father she spoke. He was in danger and she was trying to get to him. Then Natsatt's name dropped from her lips, and thrilled the heart of the young man. Why did he not come to save her from the enemy? she asked. Had he forgotten her that he was so long in coming?

"Hush, darling," Natsatt replied, pressing her more closely to his breast. "Natsatt is here. Do you not feel his arms around you? He will save you. Don't be afraid, little one."

Still she babbled on, and as Natsatt struggled slowly through the darkness, his heart was heavy within him. Occasionally he stumbled, and with difficulty regained his feet. His burden which seemed so light at first became much heavier, and at times he was forced to lay her upon the ground that he might rest his arms a little. Up and up he steadily climbed to the top of the rocky ridge, then down the opposite side straight toward the river. How long the way seemed. He had never realised that the distance was so great. The trees in the valley were smaller, and much closer together, which made travelling extremely difficult. Natsatt's progress was accordingly very slow, and it seemed a long time ere he at length came near the river. Here he paused, and placing Owindia tenderly upon the ground groped around for a suitable place to build a fire. The bank of the river at this locality was steep and rugged where the ice had torn away the earth in its onward sweep during the great spring rush. In one place a huge hole had been gouged out of the embankment, and as Natsatt examined it as well as the darkness would permit, he considered it a favourable spot to make his fire. The high bank would somewhat hide the light from being seen by the Chilcats. Searching around among the trees he gathered an armful of dry boughs and sticks and soon had the satisfaction of seeing a cheerful blaze illumining the night. Next he cut a liberal supply of fresh fir boughs and made a comfortable bed near the fire. Upon these he laid Owindia, and taking off his own buck-skin jacket placed it over her body. The maiden made no attempt to move, but remained perfectly still and quiet. Then Natsatt sat down to keep watch, and to replenish the fire whenever such work was needed.

Hour after hour the young man stayed on guard. At times Owindia fell into a fitful sleep, only to awake with a cry, from which she wandered off into other worlds, babbling of them in an unconnected manner. Natsatt kept his eyes fixed most of the time upon the maiden's face. How he longed for that vacant expression to vanish, and to hear her speak to him as of old. With her in her right mind the camp in the wild would have been a most blissful spot. He wondered how long the fever would last. Suppose she should die, and leave him alone? How could he live without her? Oh, to have a doctor near, or some one who knew what to do to help her! Would Ranger Dan know? he mused. He had lived so long among the natives perhaps he had learned something from them. Owindia must not die. He looked up into the heavens, and saw the stars twinkling down upon them. He had never thought much about higher things. He had frequently attended the little churches at the mission stations on the other side of the mountains, and had listened to the words of the missionaries. But so full of strength was he that he never felt the need of other help beyond his own. To-night, however, it was different, and he began to wonder what was above those stars. Was there any one who could help him in his present trouble? He was thinking thus when the report of a gun winged through the darkness and fell upon his ears. Leaping to his feet he sprang up the bank, and listened intently. He had not long to wait, for in a few seconds the sounds of a regular fusillade reached him. Then he knew that the battle was on in earnest, and he longed to be at the Post to assist his comrades. The shots seemed quite near, and ran in a circle around the spot where the Post was situated. The Indians had evidently surrounded the place, and were making a desperate assault upon the besieged. Presently yells of derision, and at times, of pain, split the night, showing plainly that the white men were meeting the attack with spirited determination. Natsatt thought of the insufficient supply of ammunition at the Post, and he wondered how long the besiegers could be kept at bay. When the powder and balls gave out there would be nothing left but a hand to hand struggle. He shuddered as he thought of the only outcome of such an encounter. The whites would be out-numbered ten to one, and what chance would they have against such sturdy and blood-thirsty opponents? Could his companions hold out until morning? he asked himself. Glancing away to the left he saw the horizon brightening with the light of early dawn. The distant mountain peaks were catching the first faint gleam, but the world below was still lost in the mantle of night.

Natsatt piled more wood upon the fire, and sat down by Owindia's side. No change could he see in her staring eyes which often looked upon him with no mark of recognition. His heart was growing heavier, and a deep sigh escaped his lips as he listened to the firing mingled with yells in the distance. How could he ever reach the Post, and if he did the defenders would be so occupied that they would not hear him. What was he to do? Must he allow Owindia to die there by the river without making an effort to save her life. Again he made his way up the steep bank, and paced for a time to and fro in an effort to formulate some line of action. Dawn was stealing down the mountains now, and bringing into relief objects near at hand. His face was turned upstream, and he was about to discontinue his walking in order to go back to Owindia, when his eyes rested upon an object which brought him to a sudden standstill. Then a thrill of hope shot into his heart as he looked, and hurrying forward leaped down the bank. There upon the shore, securely tied with a moose-hide thong was a large canoe, which evidently belonged to the Chilcats. Only this one could he see, although he believed that there must be others not far away. He upbraided himself for not having thought of the canoes before. The Chilcats had come downstream in them, and there must be several somewhere in the vicinity. In this craft he saw the solution of the problem which had become so difficult.

He found several paddles lying in the bottom, just where they had been left by the late occupants. Quickly untying the painter, he gave the canoe a shove and sprang in. It did not take him long to reach the place where Owindia was lying. Lifting her in his arms he laid her first upon the ground. Then gathering up the fir boughs he made with them a comfortable bed in the bottom of the canoe. This done and with the maiden lying upon them, he pushed off, and the current being strong the canoe was soon speeding swiftly down the river.

Natsatt steered close to the shore, keeping as much as possible within the dark shadows of the tall trees along the bank. He knew it would not do to run any risk, as Chilcats might be skulking near the river, and especially so when he came near the Post. Presently he changed his mind, and heading the craft for mid-stream ran it across to the opposite side of the river. He felt safer now, and could obtain a better view of the Post and its surroundings. It was too dark to see far, but as he looked he could tell that the firing from the Post had ceased entirely. He was surprised at this and wondered if his companions' ammunition had given out already. Perhaps they were reserving their scanty supply for the assault upon the barricade. He knew that Dan was too wise a general to allow his men to spend their last charges in a futile fire.