Fortunately for all parties, Okématan presented himself just then, having, while at work in the garden, seen the party of Sioux arrive. He did his best to act the host, explaining to the visitors the cause of Dan’s weakness, and, by Dan’s directions, offering them tobacco and pipes.
While they were thus engaged, old McKay entered.
“I saw you comin’, lads,” he said, heartily. “What cheer? what cheer?” he added, shaking hands with them all round.
The Sioux were obviously much pleased with their reception, especially when Mrs Davidson, Jessie, and Elspie, who had been out walking, returned and joined the party.
After showing the Indians everything in the house, old McKay—who constituted himself their guide,—took them out to see the live stock and the farm. He led them first into the garden.
It chanced at this time that there was a “snake in the grass” not far off. This was no other than the bad Indian Kateegoose.
Why some people are what we call naturally bad, like Kateegoose, while others are what we call naturally good, like Okématan, is a mystery the investigation of which we propose postponing to a more convenient season. Of course no sane person will maintain that this mystery frees fallen man from responsibility. If it did, we could no longer hang for murder. It would be the bounden duty of every judge, in that case, to acquit every murderer with “Poor fellow, it was his fate; he could not help it!” and send him away with a pat on the shoulder, and an order for coffee and buns, perhaps, in his pocket. As none but sane persons, however, will read my book, it is not necessary to enlarge further on this head.
Certain it is that Kateegoose was “bad”—obdurately bad—had been so from his very cradle, if he ever had one, which is doubtful, and bade fair to continue so to his grave. Sutherland had button-holed him more than once, but apparently in vain. It is only fair to the savage to say that he listened patiently to the Elder’s remonstrances, and attentively to his exhortations, and assumed an aspect of mild contrition that might or might not have been sincere—as far as appearance went.
Now, it unfortunately happened that among the Sioux braves there was a man who had done Kateegoose a deadly injury of some sort, which nothing short of blood could wipe out. Kateegoose, in familiar parlance, spotted him at once, and dogged his steps through the Settlement, watching his opportunity for revenge. In savage life this dogging process would not have been possible, but in a comparatively crowded settlement, and in the midst of all the surprising novelties that surrounded the Palefaces, it was all too easy; for Kateegoose took care to keep as much as possible in the background, and well under cover of houses, cottages, carts, stacks, and wigwams; besides which he had painted his face in such a manner, and so modified his costume, that his own acquaintances among the settlers—he had no friends—failed to recognise him. They, in their comparative ignorance of savage life, set him down as one of the visitors, while the visitors, if they noticed him at all, esteemed him one of the cross-breeds of the Settlement.
The only man who saw through the disguise of Kateegoose was Okématan, who could not understand why he had adopted it, and who resolved to keep a sharp eye on him.