“When white fellow fall down, the tall black fellow give a great jump, and shout out, only he hear nothing. Then all the blacks make straight into the lake. He look again—all gone—he hear ’possum, night-owl—that’s all.”
“And do you believe he saw anything really, Wildduck? Come now, tell the truth,” cross-examined Mark.
“Well, Charley, big one, frighten; I see that myself. But he took a bottle from the Mailman’s Arms, and he’d never wait till he saw the bottom—I know that. Here come old man Jack; he look very queer, too.”
The old savage had begun to walk up towards the spot where they had gathered rather closely together in the interest of Wildduck’s legend. There was, as she had said, something strange in his appearance.
He walked in a slow and stately manner; he held himself unusually erect. From time to time he glanced at the old encampment, then at the lake. His face lit up with the fire of strong passion, and then he would mutter to himself, as if recalling the past.
“Ask him what he is thinking about, Wildduck,” said Mark.
The girl spoke a few words to the old man. It was the philter that renews youth, the memory of the passionate past. He stalked forward with the gait of a warrior. Shaking off the fetters of age, he trod lightly upon the well-known scene of conflict, with upraised head and lifted hand. Words issued from his lips with a fiery energy, such as none present had ever witnessed in him.
“He say,” commenced Wildduck, “this the place where his tribe fight the white man, long time ago. Misser Stangrove young feller then. Many black fellow shot—so many—so many (here she spread out her open palms). By and by all run into lake.”
“Does he remember Red Bob being killed?” asked Maud.
“Red Wanding,” cried the girl, still translating the old man’s speech, which rolled forth in faltering and passionate tones, “he knew well; that debil-debil shoot picaninny belonging to him—little girl—‘poor little girl’ he say. (Here the gray chieftain threw up his arms wildly towards the sky, while hot tears fell from the eyes still glaring with unsated wrath and revenge.) He say, before that he always friend to white fellow—no let black fellow spear cattle.”