IV—THE TRAIL
Alone upon the river bank, under a tree, Storm opened the book. So long a time had passed since he had last seen the written word, the white man's greatest magic, that all he could do was to spell out letters and make syllables aloud, forgetting the beginnings of a line before he reached its end. So reading he fell into a doze, and presently into deep sleep, dreaming true. In his dream he stood once more among funereal and torchlike pines upon a level tract of old gray snow. There were the tracks quite fresh of a white man's boots, which following, he came to the edge of the snow-clad plateau. Thence he looked down a thousand feet or so of corkscrew trail among dark junipers, and at the foot of the hill he saw Rain's sacred tipi. The tracks led down the trail, and halfway to the tipi lurched a man who carried pack and gun. Storm recognized the beaver cap, the deerskin hunting shirt, the breeches with long fringes down the seams, the long boots gone over at the heels. So there went the only white man save himself in all the Kutenais, for this was American trapper Hunt-the-girls. Evening was closing in, and down there the hearth fire made Rain's tipi glow, while a thin thread of smoke went up as from an altar. So Hunt-the-girls would seek for hospitality at the Sacred Lodge.
In his dream Storm went directly to the lodge, where he saw Rain at her evensong. Storm would not venture to make his presence known at such a time, but stood behind her joining his prayer to hers. A few days more, after a lifetime of waiting and years of self-denial, he would come there in the body, to be joined with Rain in wedlock. Both of them prayed that the time might be shortened until they were man and wife.
When Hunt-the-girls came to the tipi he drew aside the door flap and entered. He seemed a little daunted at finding a woman at prayer, but presently Rain stood up, gave him a kindly greeting, helped to take off his pack, then let him have tobacco to smoke while she made supper. They talked a little in the Kutenais, of the weather, the trails, the hunting, and the beaver, but all the while the white man, fascinated, enthralled, gazed at the woman, desire in his eyes, while she, kneeling at the work, her back turned, grew more and more uneasy. Storm saw her loose the dagger in her belt sheath, and tried to let Rain know that he was present, but could not reach her mind. He wanted with all his might to restrain the white man, to frighten him, to drive him away, or even in the last resort to kill, but Storm's spiritual presence might have no influence upon the material body of this felon, nor hands invisible defend the woman he loved, in the extremity of her peril. She was praying in desperation. At her summons her mother, Thunder Feather, and Storm's mother, Catherine, were present instantly, and presently the great spirit Hiawatha. These joined Storm, and by agreement all of them bent their wills to daunt the trapper, while they inspired Rain to coolness, skill, and daring in her defense.
The mad beast passion had called up demons also until a crowd of evil spirits urged the trapper on so that Rain's friends could not avail to hold him from his purpose. The trapper leaped at Rain, flung her headlong beside the little fire on the hearth, then dragged her across the floor, laying her on the bison robes against the back rest. There they fought long, desperately, until at last Rain's strength failed. She seemed to have fainted, yet her eyelids parted almost invisibly as she got ready. Only she opened her eyes wide when she struck, driving the dagger home into the white man's lungs. It seemed but a minute later that she dragged the wounded man abreast of the hearth fire, rolled him face downwards across the belt of red-hot coals, and stood holding him there with her foot, until the awful vengeance was accomplished.
Then Storm remembered her words of long ago: "If a woman will not defend her honor, with her weapons defend her honor, with all that she is, all that she has, defend her honor, then let her not think that she shall dare the Wolf Trail. She shall not climb the Wolf Trail to the land of the Blessed Spirits."
So be it. Her honor was defended, and avenged. Henceforth he who had offended her, if he should live, so long as he should live should have but one name, No-man.
And the dream faded.
* * * * * * *
The dusk had fallen, the lamp was alight in the chief factor's room at the Fort.