The Chief of the Ranges: A Tale of the Yukon

by H. A. Cody

Although Klitonda was well aware how prone his people were to exaggerate such tales, and at times to make out matters really worse than they were, he felt, nevertheless, there must be some truth at the bottom of such reports. He had fully expected that the Chilcats would bestir themselves over the death of the ten braves, and had often wondered what course of action they would take to obtain satisfaction.

He was thinking seriously over what he had heard as he pressed steadily forward through the storm on this late mid-winter afternoon. His alert attitude, and the restless roving of his eyes among the trees plainly showed that the stories were not without their effect. He longed to catch sight of the runners now. There would be no more prowling around his lodge.

At length he came to a sudden standstill, and gazed down intently upon the snow. There before him were snow-shoe tracks recently made. From the impressions left Klitonda knew that it was not one of his own tribe who had passed that way. It must have been a stranger, and who else would be prowling around in such a storm but one of the Chilcat spies?

Dropping the cord of his sled the chief unslung the bow from off his back, drew forth a sharp pointed arrow from the moose-hide quiver, and looked keenly ahead. Then he started cautiously forward upon the trail of the unknown traveller. As he advanced he noted that the marks in the snow became more crooked, and it seemed as if the person who made them was staggering heavily. In one place he saw where he had evidently fallen, and only after a struggle had regained his feet. Henceforth the tracks were more zig-zag than ever. Wondering as to the meaning of it all Klitonda now stepped on more rapidly, and soon through the storm he caught a glimpse of a reeling figure some distance beyond. That he was a Chilcat he had not the slightest doubt, and his one desire was to approach quietly and dispatch him as quickly as possible. No feeling of pity stirred Klitonda's heart at the sight of the unfortunate man lost in such a storm. He was a spy, his merciless enemy who had come to seek him out.

The staggering man never once looked back. His head was bent forward, and he seemed to be groping his way as if in the darkest night. Klitonda had the arrow fitted to the string, and was about to draw it full to the head when the stranger, with a pitiful cry of despair, threw up his hands, and fell full length upon his face in the soft yielding snow. Seeing that he did not move, or make any attempt to rise, Klitonda stepped warily toward him, still keeping the bow and arrow in readiness for any sudden emergency. When a few feet from where the fallen man was lying he paused and studied him most carefully. Then he stepped nearer and peered down close in an effort to obtain a view of the man's face. Next he laid aside his bow and arrow, seized the man and turned him over upon his back. As he did so a grunt of surprise escaped Klitonda's lips. He was not a Chilcat spy, but one of another race, a white man. Klitonda did not begin to conjecture as to the purpose of the stranger's visit. It was sufficient for the present to know that the man was not a Chilcat enemy. For the whites he had the greatest respect and admiration. White blood had flowed in the veins of his own dead wife, and for her sake, at least, he must be good to this wayfarer.

Stooping, he lifted the unconscious man in his arms, and retraced his steps over the trail he had just traversed. It was no light burden he bore, but a dead weight of not less than one hundred and seventy pounds. Reaching the place where he had left the sled, Klitonda turned somewhat to the left, and plunged rapidly forward. Every moment was precious. Night was shutting down early, and the storm showed no sign of abatement. But not once did Klitonda hesitate as to the course he was to pursue, and ere long a log cabin loomed up suddenly out of the storm a few rods ahead. Several long strides brought him to the building. Then kicking off his snow-shoes, he drew aside a deer skin flap hanging over an opening, and entered. As he did so a draught of cold air rushed through, and vigorously fanned the fire burning brightly within.

This structure was a typical Indian abode, erected for winter use. It was stoutly made and had the appearance of having been pulled apart, leaving an open scope several feet wide in the middle. This latter was the place for the fire, the smoke escaping through the large opening overhead. At the sides, where the logs were parted, were deer-skin hangings which kept out the wind and the cold. The space on each side of the fire was as cozy and comfortable as fir boughs and skins could make it. From a kettle, resting close to the red hot embers, drifted the appetising smell of cooking meat. The interior was bright and warm, a pleasing contrast to the raging of the elements outside.

But brighter than all else within that lodge was Owindia, as she sat on a large soft bear skin, her fingers busily engaged upon a piece of beaded-work. Her black hair was smoothed back over her broad though not high forehead. Her dress of the softest and finest of native tanned deer skin fitted perfectly her lithe form. Around her neck hung the slender chain, with locket attached, which had once belonged to her mother.

Something, however, had been disturbing Owindia's peace of mind this evening. In her eyes dwelt an expression of anxiety, and at every violent gust of wind she would pause and listen intently. When the deer-skin flaps shook more than usual she always gave a distinct start. Why was her father so long in coming? she wondered. Had something happened to him? Since the day of her mother's death she had never felt safe when left alone. She imagined that the Chilcats were prowling around, trying to steal her away. This feeling was greatly intensified whenever a storm was sweeping over the land.

A bright smile illumined her face, and the anxious look faded from her eyes when at last she heard her father approach, draw back the flap to the right, and enter. But when she saw the limp form in his arms she gave a slight cry of surprise, sprang lightly to her feet, and hastened to his side.