Jacques opened his eyes a little. “Then do you think, master, that a man should never tell a lie, no matter what fix he may be in?”
“I think not, Jacques.”
The hunter paused a few minutes, and looked as if an unusual train of ideas had been raised in his mind by the turn their conversation had taken. Jacques was a man of no religion, and little morality, beyond what flowed from a naturally kind, candid disposition, and entertained the belief that the end, if a good one, always justifies the means—a doctrine which, had it been clearly exposed to him in all its bearings and results, would have been spurned by his straightforward nature with the indignant contempt that it merits.
“Mr Charles,” he said at length, “I once travelled across the plains to the head waters of the Missouri with a party of six trappers. One night we came to a part of the plains which was very much broken up with wood here and there, and bein’ a good place for water we camped. While the other lads were gettin’ ready the supper, I started off to look for a deer, as we had been unlucky that day—we had shot nothin’. Well, about three miles from the camp I came upon a band o’ somewhere about thirty Sioux (ill-looking, sneaking dogs they are, too!) and before I could whistle they rushed upon me, took away my rifle and hunting-knife, and were dancing round me like so many devils. At last a big, black-lookin’ thief stepped forward, and said in the Cree language, ‘White men seldom travel through this country alone; where are your comrades?’ Now, thought I, here’s a nice fix! If I pretend not to understand, they’ll send out parties in all directions, and as sure as fate they’ll find my companions in half an hour, and butcher them in cold blood (for, you see, we did not expect to find Sioux, or indeed any Injins, in them parts); so I made believe to be very narvous, and tried to tremble all over and look pale. Did you ever try to look pale and frightened, Mr Charles?”
“I can’t say that I ever did,” said Charley, laughing.
“You can’t think how troublesome it is,” continued Jacques, with a look of earnest simplicity. “I shook and trembled pretty well, but the more I tried to grow pale, the more I grew red in the face; and when I thought of the six broad-shouldered, raw-boned lads in the camp, and how easy they would have made these jumping villains fly like chaff, if they only knew the fix I was in, I gave a frown that had well-nigh showed I was shamming. Hows’ever, what with shakin’ a little more and givin’ one or two most awful groans, I managed to deceive them. Then I said I was hunter to a party of white men that were travellin’ from Red River to St. Louis, with all their goods, and wives, and children, and that they were away in the plains about a league off.
“The big chap looked very hard into my face when I said this, to see if I was telling the truth; and I tried to make my teeth chatter, but it wouldn’t do, so I took to groanin’ very bad instead. But them Sioux are such awful liars nat’rally that they couldn’t understand the signs of truth, even if they saw them. ‘Whitefaced coward,’ says he to me, ‘tell me in what direction your people are.’ At this I made believe not to understand; but the big chap flourished his knife before my face, called me a dog, and told me to point out the direction. I looked as simple as I could, and said I would rather not. At this they laughed loudly, and then gave a yell, and said if I didn’t show them the direction they would roast me alive. So I pointed towards a part of the plains pretty wide o’ the spot where our camp was. ‘Now, lead us to them,’ said the big chap, givin’ me a shove with the butt of his gun; ‘an’ if you have told lies—’ he gave the handle of his scalpin’-knife a slap, as much as to say he’d tickle up my liver with it. Well, away we went in silence, me thinkin’ all the time how I was to get out o’ the scrape. I led them pretty close past our camp, hopin’ that the lads would hear us. I didn’t dare to yell out, as that would have showed them there was somebody within hearin’, and they would have made short work of me. Just as we came near the place where my companions lay, a prairie wolf sprang out from under a bush where it had been sleepin’; so I gave a loud hurrah, and shied my cap at it. Giving a loud growl, the big Injin hit me over the head with his fist, and told me to keep silence. In a few minutes I heard the low, distant howl of a wolf. I recognised the voice or one of my comrades, and knew that they had seen us, and would be on our track soon. Watchin’ my opportunity, and walkin’ for a good bit as if I was awful tired—all but done up—to throw them off their guard, I suddenly tripped up the big chap as he was stepping over a small brook, and dived in among the bushes. In a moment a dozen bullets tore up the bark on the trees about me, and an arrow passed through my hair. The clump of wood into which I had dived was about half a mile long; and as I could run well (I’ve found in my experience that white men are more than a match for redskins at their own work), I was almost out of range by the time I was forced to quit the cover and take to the plain. When the blackguard got out of the cover, too, and saw me cuttin’ ahead like a deer, they gave a yell of disappointment, and sent another shower of arrows and bullets after me, some of which came nearer than was pleasant. I then headed for our camp with the whole pack screechin’ at my heels. ‘Yell away, you stupid sinners,’ thought I; ‘some of you shall pay for your music.’ At that moment an arrow grazed my shoulder, and looking over it, I saw that the black fellow I had pitched into the water was far ahead of the rest, strainin’ after me like mad, and every now and then stopping to try an arrow on me; so I kept a look-out, and when I saw him stop to draw, I stopped too, and dodged, so the arrows passed me, and then we took to our heels again. In this way I ran for dear life till I came up to the cover. As I came close up I saw our six fellows crouchin’ in the bushes, and one o’ them takin’ aim almost straight for my face. ‘Your day’s come at last,’ thought I, looking over my shoulder at the big Injin, who was drawing his bow again. Just then there was a sharp crack heard: a bullet whistled past my ear, and the big fellow fell like a stone, while my comrade stood coolly up to reload his rifle. The Injins, on seein’ this, pulled up in a moment; and our lads stepping forward, delivered a volley that made three more o’ them bite the dust. There would have been six in that fix, but, somehow or other, three of us pitched upon the same man, who was afterwards found with a bullet in each eye and one through his heart. They didn’t wait for more, but turned about and bolted like the wind. Now, Mr Charles, if I had told the truth that time, we would have been all killed; and if I had simply said nothin’ to their questions, they would have sent out to scour the country, and have found out the camp for sartin, so that the only way to escape was by tellin’ them a heap o’ downright lies.”
Charley looked very much perplexed at this.
“You have indeed placed me in a difficulty. I know not what I would have done. I don’t know even what I ought to do under these circumstances. Difficulties may perplex me, and the force of circumstances might tempt me to do what I believed to be wrong. I am a sinner, Jacques, like other mortals, I know; but one thing I am quite sure of—namely, that when men speak it should always be truth and never falsehood.”
Jacques looked perplexed too. He was strongly impressed with the necessity of telling falsehood in the circumstances in which he had been placed, as just related, while at the same time he felt deeply the grandeur and the power of Charley’s last remark.