"No; we must not remain here, the place is too open, and we should have no shelter if the Indians attacked us."
"The Indians!" the young man said, with a laugh; "why, we have not seen a single one the whole day."
"Yes; what you say, William, is correct, the Redskins have disappeared; but shall I tell you my real thoughts? It is really this disappearance, which I do not understand, that troubles me."
"Why so, father?"
"Because, if they are hiding, they are preparing some ambuscade, and do not wish us to know the direction where they are."
"Come, father, do you really believe that?" the young man remarked in a light tone.
"I am convinced of it," the emigrant said earnestly. The two servants bowed their heads in affirmation.
"You will pardon me, father, if I do not share your opinion," the young man continued. "For my own part, on the other hand, I feel certain that these red devils, who have been following us so long, have eventually understood that they could gain nothing from us but bullets, and, like prudent men, have given up following us further."
"No, no; you are mistaken, my son, it is not so."
"Look ye, father," the young man continued, with a certain amount of excitement, "allow me to make an observation which, I think, will bring you over to my way of thinking."
"Do so, my son; we are here to exchange our opinions freely, and select the best: the common interest is at stake, and we have to act for the safety of all: under circumstances so grave as the present, I should never forgive myself for neglecting good advice, no matter from whom it came; speak, therefore, without timidity."
"You know, father," the young man went on, "that the Indians understand honour differently from ourselves; that is to say, when the success of an expedition is not clearly proved to them, they have no shame about resigning it, because what they seek in the first place is profit."
"I know all that, my son; but I do not see yet what you are driving at."
"You will soon understand me. For nearly two months, from sunrise, the moment we set out, to sunset, which is generally the time of our halt, the Redskins have been following us step by step, and we have been unable to escape for a single moment these most troublesome neighbours, who have watched our every movement."
"That is true," John Black said, "but what do you conclude from that?"
"A very simple thing: they have seen that we were continually on our guard, and that if they attempted to attack us, they would be beaten; hence they have retired, that is all."
"Unfortunately, William, you have forgotten one thing."
"What is it?"
"This: the Indians, generally not so well armed as the white men, are afraid to attack them, especially when they suppose they shall have to deal with persons almost as numerous as themselves, and in the bargain, sheltered behind wagons and bales of merchandise; but that is not at all the case here: since they have been watching us, the Indians have had many opportunities of counting us, and have done so long ago."
"Yes," Sam said.
"Well, they know that we are only four they are at least fifty, if they are not more numerous. What can four men, in spite of all their courage, effect against such a considerable number of enemies? Nothing, The Redskins know it, and they will act in accordance; that is, when the opportunity offers, they will not fail to seize it."
"But " the young man objected.
"Another consideration to which you have not paid attention," John Black quietly continued, "is that the Indians, whatever the number of their enemies may be, never quit them without having attempted, at least once, to surprise them."
"In truth," William answered, "that astonishes me on their part: however, I am of your opinion, father; even if the precautions we propose taking only serve to reassure my mother and sister, it would be well not to neglect them."
"Well spoken, William," the emigrant remarked, "let us therefore set to work without delay."
The party broke up, and the four men, throwing their rifles on their shoulders, began making active preparations for the encampment. Sam collected the oxen by the aid of the dogs, and led them down to the river to drink. John, in the meanwhile, went up to the wagon.
"Well, my love," his wife asked him, "why this halt, and this long discussion? Has any accident occurred?"
"Nothing that need at all alarm you, Lucy," the emigrant answered; "we are going to camp, that is all."
"Oh, gracious me! I do not know why, but I was afraid lest some misfortune had happened."
"On the contrary; we are quieter than we have been for a long time."
"How so, father?" Diana asked, thrusting her charming face from under the canvas which concealed her.
"Those rascally Indians, who frightened us so much, my darling Diana, have at length made up their minds to leave us; we have not seen a single one during the whole day."
"Oh, all the better!" the girl said quickly, as she clapped her dainty palms together; "I confess that I am not brave, and those frightful Red men caused me terrible alarm."
"Well, you will not see them again, I hope," John Black said, gaily; though while giving his daughter this assurance to appease her fears, he did not believe a word he uttered. "Now," he added, "have, the goodness to get down, so that we may unload the wagon."
"Unload the wagon," the old lady remarked, "why so?
"It is just possible," the husband answered, anxious not to reveal the real reason, "that we may remain here a few days, in order to rest the cattle."
"Ah, very good," she said; and she got out, followed by her daughter.
The two ladies had scarce set foot on ground, ere the men began unloading the wagon. This task lasted nearly an hour. Sam had time enough to lead the cattle to water, and collect them on the top of the hill.
"Are we going to camp, then?" Mrs. Black asked.
"Yes," her husband answered.
"Come, Diana," the old lady said.
The two women packed up some kitchen utensils, and clomb the hill, where, after lighting the fire, they began preparing supper. So soon as the cart was unloaded, the two labouring men, aided by William, pushed it behind, while John Black, at the head of the team, began flogging the horses. The incline was rather steep, but owing to the vigour of the horses and the impatience of the men, who at each step laid rollers behind the wheels, the wagon at last reached the top. The rest was as nothing, and within an hour the camp was arranged as follows.
The emigrants formed, with the bales and trees they felled, a large circle, in the midst of which the cattle were tied up, and then put up a tent for the two women. When this was effected, John Black cast a glance of satisfaction around. His family were temporarily protected from a coup de main thanks to the manner in which the bales and trees were arranged, and the party were enabled to fire from under cover on any enemy that might attack them, and defend themselves a long time successfully.
The sun had set for more than an hour before these various preparations were completed, and supper was ready. The Americans seated themselves in a circle round the fire, and ate with the appetite of men accustomed to danger an appetite which the greatest alarm cannot deprive them of. After the meal, John Black offered up a prayer, as he did every evening before going to rest; the others standing, with uncovered heads, listened attentively to the prayer, and when it was completed, the two ladies entered the hut prepared for them.
"And now," Black said, "let us keep a careful watch the night is dark, the moon rises late, and you are aware that the Indians choose the morning, the moment when sleep is deepest, to attack their enemies."
The fire was covered, so that its light should not reveal the exact position of the camp; and the two servants lay down side by side on the grass, where they soon fell asleep: while father and son, standing at either extremity of the camp, watched over the common safety.
CHAPTER IV
THE GRIZZLY BEAR
All was calm in the prairie; not a sound disturbed the silence of the desert. On the sudden appearance of the Indian, whatever the emotion Bright-eye might feel, it was impossible for Natah Otann to perceive anything: the hunter's face remained calm, and not a muscle moved.
"Ah!" he said, "the sachem of the Piékanns is welcome: does he come as a friend or an enemy?"
"Natah Otann comes to sit by the fire of the palefaces, and smoke the calumet with them," the chief replied, casting a searching glance around him.
"Good: if the chief will wait a moment, I will light the fire."
"Bright-eye can light it, the chief will wait: he has come to talk with the palefaces, and the conversation will be long."
The Canadian looked fixedly at the Redskin; but the Indian was impassive like himself, and it was impossible to read anything on his features. The hunter collected a few handfuls of dry wood, struck a light, and soon a bright flame sprung up, and illumined the mount. The Indian drew near the fire, took his calumet from his girdle, and began grimly smoking. Bright-eye not wishing to remain in any way behindhand, imitated his every movement with perfectly feigned indifference, and the two men sat for several moments puffing clouds of smoke at each other. Natah Otann at length broke the silence.
"The pale hunter is a warrior," he said; "why does he try to hide himself like the water rat?"
Bright-eye did not consider it advisable to reply to this insinuation, and continued smoking philosophically, while casting a side-glance at his questioner.
"The Blackfeet have the eye of the eagle," Natah Otann continued, "their piercing eyes see all that happens on the prairie."
The Canadian made a sign of assent, but did not yet reply; the chief continued:
"Natah Otann has seen the trail of his friends the palefaces, his heart quivered with pleasure in his breast, and he has come to meet them."
Bright-eye slowly removed his pipe from his lips, and turning towards the Indian, examined him carefully for an instant, and then answered
"I repeat to my brother that he is welcome: I know that he is a great chief, and am happy to see him."
"Wah!" the Indian said, with a cunning smile: "is my brother so satisfied as he says at my presence?"
"Why not, chief?"
"My brother is angry still that the Blackfeet fastened him to the stake of torture."
The Canadian shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, and coldly answered:
"Nonsense, chief! why do you fancy I am angry with you or your nation? war is war; I have no reproaches to make to you. You wished to kill me, I escaped; so we are quits."
"Good: does my brother speak the truth? has he really forgotten?" the chief asked with some vivacity.
"Why not?" the Canadian answered cautiously. "I have not a forked tongue, the words my mouth utters come from my heart: I have not forgotten the treatment you made me undergo, I should lie if I said so: but I have forgiven it."
"Ochi! my brother is a greatheart: he is generous."
"No: I am merely a man who knows Indian customs, that is all: you did no more and no less than all the Redskins do under similar circumstances: I cannot be angry with you for having acted according to your nature."
There was a silence; the two men went on smoking. The Indian was the first to interrupt it.
"Then my brother is a friend," he said.
"And you?" the hunter asked, answering one question by another.
The chief rose with a gesture full of majesty, and threw back the folds of his buffalo robe.
"Would an enemy come like this?" he asked, in a gentle voice.
The Canadian could not repress a movement of surprise; the Blackfoot was unarmed, his girdle was empty: he had not even his scalping knife, that weapon from which the Indians part so unwillingly. Bright-eye offered him his hand.
"Shake hands, chief," he said to him. "You are a man of heart: now speak, I am listening to you: and, in the first place, will you have a draught of firewater?"
"The firewater is an evil counsellor," the chief replied, with a smile; "it makes the Indians mad: Natah Otann does not drink it."
"Come, come, I see that I was mistaken with regard to you, chief; that pleases me: speak, my ears are open."
"What I have to say to Bright-eye other ears must not listen to."
"My friends are in a deep sleep, you can speak without fear; and even if they were awake, as you know, they do not understand your language."
The Indian shook his head.
"Glass-eye knows everything," he replied, "the Grizzly Bear will not speak before him."
"As you please, chief: still, I would remark that I have nothing to say to you: you can speak, therefore, or be silent at your ease."
Natah Otann seemed to hesitate for an instant, and then continued:
"Bright-eye will follow his friend to the river bank, and there listen to the words of the Blackfoot chief."
"Hum!" the hunter said, "and who will watch over my companions during my absence? No, no," he added, "I cannot do that, chief. The Redskins have the cunning of the opossum: while I am near the river, my friends may be surprised. Who will respond for their safety?"
The Indian rose.
"The word of a chief," he said, in a proud voice, and with a gesture full of majesty.
The Canadian looked at him attentively. "Listen, Redskin," he said to him, "I do not doubt your honour, so do not take in ill part what I am going to say to you."
"I listen to my brother," the Indian answered.
"I must watch over my companions. Since you insist on speaking to me in secret, I consent to follow you, but on one condition, that I do not lay aside my weapons; in that way, should one of those things happen, which are too common in the prairie, and which no human foresight can prevent, I shall be able to face the danger and sell my life dearly: if what I propose suits you, I am ready to follow you; if not, not."
"Good," the Indian said, with a smile, "my pale brother is right, a true hunter never quits his weapons. Bright-eye may follow his friend."
"Very well, then," the Canadian said, resolutely, as he threw his rifle on his shoulder.
Natah Otann began descending the hill. While gliding noiselessly through the shrubs and thickets, the Canadian walked literally in his footsteps; but though pretending the most perfect security, he did not omit carefully examining the vicinity, and lending an ear to the slightest sound, but all was calm and silent in the desert, and after some ten minutes' walk the two men reached the riverside.
The Mecha-Chebe rolled its waters majestically in a bed of golden sand, while at times a few vague shadows appeared on the bank: they were wild beasts coming to drink in the river. Two leagues from them, at the top of the hill, sparkled the last flames of an expiring fire, which appeared at intervals between the branches. Natah Otann stopped at the extremity of a species of small promontory, the point of which advanced some distance into the water. This spot was entirely free from vegetation: the eye could survey the prairie for a great distance, and detect the slightest movement in the desert.
"Does this place suit the hunter?" the chief asked.
"Capitally," Bright-eye replied, resting the butt of his rifle on the ground, and crossing his hands over the muzzle: "I am ready to hear the communication my brother wishes to make me."