The Prairie Flower: A Tale of the Indian Border

"Have you forgotten anything?" the pioneer asked him.

"Yes," the hunter answered.

"What?"

"To say a word to you."

"Ah!" the other said, in surprise. "Go ahead, then."

"I have no time to lose; answer me as plainly as I question you."

"Very good! speak."

"Are you grateful for what the Count has done for you?"

"More than I can express."

"In case of need, what would you do for him?"

"Everything."

"Hum! that is a heavy pledge."

"It is even less than I would do; my family, my servants, all I possess, are at his disposal."

"Then you are devoted to him?"

"For life and death! Under any circumstances, by day or night; whatever may happen, at a word from him I am ready."

"You swear it?"

"I swear it."

"I hold your promise."

"I will keep it."

"I expect so. Good bye."

"Are you off already?"

"I must rejoin my companions."

"Then you have some suspicions about your Red friend?"

"You must always be on your guard with Indians," the hunter said, sententiously.

"Then you are taking a precaution?"

"Perhaps."

"In any event, count on me."

"Thanks, and good bye."

"Good bye."

The two men parted; they understood each other.

"By heaven!" the pioneer muttered, as he threw his rifle over his shoulder, and returned to the camp; "I would not be the Indian to touch a hair of the head of a man to whom I owe so much."

The Indians had stopped on the bank of a stream, which they were about to ford, when Bright-eye rejoined them. Natah Otann, busy talking with the Count, threw a side glance at the hunter, but did not say a word to him.

"Yes," the latter muttered, with a crafty smile, "my absence has bothered you, my fine fellow; you would like to know why I turned back so suddenly; but, unluckily, I am not disposed to satisfy your curiosity."

When the ford was crossed, the Canadian took his post by the Frenchman's side, and, by his presence, prevented the Indian chief renewing his conversation with the Count. An hour passed, and not a word was exchanged. Natah Otann, wearied with the hunter's obstinacy, and not knowing how to make him retire, resolved at last to give up to him: and, digging his spurs into his horse's flank, galloped forward, leaving the two white men together. The hunter watched him depart, with that caustic laugh which was one of the characteristics of his face.

"Poor horse!" he said, sarcastically, "he must suffer for his master's ill temper."

"What ill temper do you mean?" the Count said, absently.

"Why, the chief's, who is flying along over there in a cloud of dust."

"You do not seem to have any sympathy for each other."

"Indeed, we are as friendly as the grizzly bear and the jaguar."

"Which means? – "

"That we have measured our claws; and, as we find them at present of the same strength and length, so we stand on the defensive."

"Do you feel any malice against him?"

"I? not the least in the world. I do not fear him more than he does me; we are only distrustful because we know each other."

"Oh, oh!" the young man said, with a laugh; "that conceals, I can see, something serious."

Bright-eye frowned, and took a scrutinizing glance around. The Indians were galloping on about twenty paces in the rear; Ivon alone, though keeping at a respectful distance, could hear the conversation between the two men. Bright-eye leant over to the Count, laid his hand on the pommel of his saddle, and said, in a low voice – "I do not like tigers covered with a fox's skin; each ought to follow the instincts of his nature, and not try to assume others that are fictitious."

"I must confess, my good fellow," the young man replied, "that you are speaking in enigmas, and I cannot understand you at all."

"Patience!" the hunter said, tossing his head; "I will be clear."

"My faith! that will delight me, Bright-eye," the young man said, with a smile; "for ever since we have again met the Indian chief, you have affected an air of mystery, which bothers me so, that I should be charmed to comprehend you for once."

"Good! What do you think of Natah Otann

"Ah! that is where you are galled still!"

"Yes."

"Well, I will reply that this man appears to me extraordinary; there is something strange about him, which I cannot understand. In the first place, is he an Indian?"

"Yes."

"But he has travelled; he has been in white society; he has been in the interior of the United States?"

The hunter shook his head. "No," he said, "he has never left his tribe."

"Yet – "

"Yet," Bright-eye quickly interrupted him, "he speaks English, French and Spanish, as well as yourself, and perhaps better than I do, eh? Before his warriors he feigns profound ignorance; like them, he trembles at the sight of one of the results of civilization – a watch, a musical box, or even a lucifer match, eh?"

"It is true."

"Then, when he finds himself with certain persons, like yourself, for instance, sir, the Indian suddenly disappears, the savage vanishes, and you find yourself in the presence of a man whose acquirements are almost equal to your own, and who confounds you by his thorough knowledge."

"That is true."

"Ah, ah! Well, as you consider that extraordinary as I do, you will take your precautions, Mr. Edward."

"What have I to fear from him?"

"I do not know yet; but be at your ease; I shall soon know. He is sharp, but I am not such a fool as he fancies, and am watching him. For a long time this man has been playing a game, about which I have hitherto troubled myself but little; now that he has drawn us into it, he must be on his guard."

"But where did he learn all he knows?"

"Ah! that is a story too long to tell you at present; but you shall hear it someday; suffice it to say, that in his tribe there is an old chief called the White Buffalo; he is a European, and he it was who educated the Grizzly Bear."

"Ah!"

"Is not that singular! a European of immense learning; a man who, in his own country, must have held a high rank, and who thus becomes, of his own accord, chief of the savages?"

"Indeed, it is most extraordinary. Do you know this man?"

"I have often seen him; he is very aged now; his beard and hair are white; he is tall and majestic; his face is fine, his look profound; there is something about him grand and imposing, which attracts you against your will. Grizzly Bear holds him in great veneration, and obeys him as if he were his son."

"Who can this man be?"

"No one knows. I am convinced that the Grizzly Bear shares the general ignorance on this head."

"But how did he join the tribe?"

"It is not known."

"He must have been long with it."

"I told you so; he educated the Grizzly Bear, and made a European of him instead of an Indian."

"All that is really strange," the Count murmured, having suddenly grown pensive.

"Is it not so? But that is not all yet; you are entering a world you do not know, accident throws you among interests you are unacquainted with; take care; weigh well your words, calculate your slightest gesture, Mr. Edward; for the Indians are very clever; the man you have to deal with is cleverer than all of them, as he combines with Redskin craft that European intelligence and corruption with which his teacher has inculcated him. Natah Otann is a man with an incalculable depth of calculation; his thoughts are an abyss; he must be revolving sinister schemes; take care; his pressing you to promise a visit to his village; his generosity to the American squatter, the secret protection with which he surrounds you, while being the first to pretend to take you for a superior being; all this makes me believe that he wishes to lead you unconsciously into some dark enterprise, which will prove your destruction. Believe me, Mr. Edward, beware of this man."

"Thanks, my friend, I will watch," the Count said, pressing the Canadian's honest hand.

"You will watch," the latter said; "but do you know the way to do it?"

"I confess – "

"Listen to me," the hunter interrupted him; "you must first – "

"Here is the chief," the young man exclaimed.

"Confusion!" Bright-eye growled. "Why could he not stop a few minutes longer? I am sure that red devil has some familiar spirit to warn him; but no matter, I have told you enough to prevent your being trapped by false friendliness; besides, I shall be there to support you."

"Thanks. When the time comes – "

"I will warn you; but it is urgent that you should now compose your countenance, and pretend to know nothing."

"Good; that's settled; here is our man. Silence."

"On the contrary, let us talk; silence is ever interpreted either well or ill, but generally in the latter sense. Be careful to reply in the sense of my questions."

"I will try."

"Here is our man. Let us cheat the cheater."

After casting a cunning glance at the chief, who was only a few paces off at the moment, he continued aloud, and changing his tone, —

"What you ask, Mr. Edward, is most simple. I am certain that the chief will be happy to procure you that pleasure."

"Do you think so?" the young man asked, not knowing what the hunter was alluding to.

Bright-eye turned to Natah Otann, who arrived at the moment, and rode silently by their side, though he had heard the two men's last remarks.

"My companion," he said to the chief, "has heard a great deal of, and longs to see, a caribou hunt. I have offered him in your name, chief, one of those magnificent battues, of which you Redskins have reserved the scent."

"Natah Otann will be happy to satisfy his guest," the sachem replied, bowing with Indian gravity.

The Count thanked him.

"We are approaching the village of my tribe," the chief continued; "we shall be there in an hour; the Palefaces will see how I receive my friends."

The Blackfeet, who had hitherto galloped without order, gradually grew together, and formed a compact squadron round their chief. The little party continued to advance, approaching more and more the Missouri, which rolled on majestically between two high banks, covered with osier beds, whence, on the approach of the horsemen, startled flocks of pink flamingoes rose in alarm. On reaching a spot where the path formed a bend, the Indians stopped, and prepared their weapons as if for a fight; some taking their guns out of their leathern cases, and loading them; others preparing their bows and javelins.

"Are the fellows afraid of an attack?" the Count asked Bright-eye.

"Not the least in the world," the latter answered; "they are only a few minutes' ride from their village, into which they wish to enter in triumph, in order to do you honour."

"Come, come!" the young man said; "all this is charming; I did not expect, on coming to the prairies, to be present at such singular scenes."

"You have seen nothing yet," the hunter said, ironically: "wait, we are only at the beginning."

"All the better," the Count answered, joyfully.

Natah Otann made a sign, and the warriors closed up again at the same moment; although no one was visible, a noise of conchs, drums, and chichikouès was heard a short distance off. The warriors uttered their war yell, and replied by raising to their lips their war whistles. Natah Otann then placed himself at the head of the party, having the Count on his right, the hunter and Ivon on his left; and, turning towards his men, he brandished his weapon several times over his head, uttering two or three shrill whistles. At this signal the whole troop rushed forward, and turned the corner like an avalanche.

The Frenchman then witnessed a strange scene, which was not without a certain amount of savage grandeur, A troop of warriors from the village came up, like a tornado, to meet the newcomers, shouting, howling, brandishing their arms, and firing their guns. The two parties charged each other with extraordinary fury and at full speed; but when scarce ten yards apart, the horses stopped, as if of their own impulse, and began dancing, curvetting, and performing all the most difficult tricks of the riding school. After these manoeuvres had lasted a few moments, the two bands formed a semicircle opposite each other, leaving a free space between them, in which the chiefs collected. The presentations then began. Natah Otann made a long harangue to the chiefs, in which he gave them an account of his expedition, and the result he had obtained. The sachems listened to it with thorough Indian decorum. When he spoke to them of his meeting with the white men, and what had occurred, they bowed silently, without replying; but one chief, of venerable aspect, who seemed older than the rest, and appeared to be treated with great consideration by his companions, turned a profound and inquiring glance at the Count, when Natah Otann spoke of him. The young man, troubled, in spite of himself, by the fixed glance, stooped down to Bright-eye's ear, and asked him, in a low voice, who the man was.

"That is White Buffalo," the hunter answered, "the European I spoke to you about."

"Ah, ah!" the Count said, regarding him, in his turn, attentively; "I do not know why, but I believe I shall have a serious row with that gentleman before I have done."

The White Buffalo then took the word.

"My brothers are welcome," he said; "their return to the tribe is a festival; they are intrepid warriors; we are happy at hearing the way in which they have performed the duties entrusted to them." Then he turned to the white men, and, after bowing to them, continued, – "The Kenhas are poor, but strangers are always well received by them: the Palefaces are our guests, all we possess belongs to them."

The Count and his companions thanked the chief, who so gracefully did the honours of his tribe; then the two parties joined, and galloped toward the village, which was built some five hundred paces from the spot where they were, and at the entrance of which a multitude of women and children could be seen assembled.

CHAPTER XIV

THE RECEPTION

Like all the centres of Indian population near the American clearings, the Kenha village was more like a fort than an open town. As we said before, the Kenhas had only a short time previously established themselves there, by the advice of Natah Otann. The spot was magnificently selected, and owing to the precautions taken, the hill was completely protected from a sudden attack. The wigwams were built without any order, on both sides a stream, and the fortifications consisted of a sort of intrenchment formed of dead trees. These fortifications formed an inclosure, having several angles, and the gorge or open part rested on the spot where the stream fell into the Missouri. A parapet of tree stems and piled up branches, built up on the edge of a deep ditch, completed a very respectable defensive system, which few would have expected to find in the heart of the prairies.

In the centre of the village, a wide, vacant spot served as the meeting place for the chiefs. In the centre there was a wigwam of wood, in the shape of a sugar loaf. On either side of the building, maize, wheat, and other cereals kept for winter consumption were drying. A little in advance of the village were two block houses, formed of arrow-shaped intrenchments, covered with wickerwork, provided with loopholes, and surrounded by an enclosure of palisades. They were intended for the defence of the village, with which they communicated by a covered way, and to command the river and the plain. To leeward of these block houses, and about a mile to the east, might be seen a number of Machotlé, or scaffoldings, on which the Blood Indians lay their dead. At regular distances on the road leading to the village, long poles were planted in the ground, from which hung skins, scalps, and other objects offered by the Indians to the Master of Life and the first man.

The Indians made their entrance into the village amid the cheers of the women and children, the barking of dogs, and the deafening clamour of drums, shells, chichikouès, and war whistles. On reaching the square, at a signal from Natah Otann, the band halted, and the noise ceased. An immense fire had been prepared, before which stood an aged chief, still robust and upright. A shade of melancholy was spread over his face. He was in mourning, as was easily to be seen by the ragged clothes that covered him, and his hair cut short and mingled with clay. He held in his hand a Dacotah pipe, the stem of which was long and adorned with yellow glistening beads. This man was Cloven Foot, the first and most renowned sachem of the Kenhas. So soon as the band had halted, he advanced two paces, and with a majestic gesture invited the chiefs to dismount.

"My sons are at home," he said, "let them take their seats on the buffalo robes around the council fire."

Each obeyed silently, and sat down, after bowing respectfully to the sachem. Cloven Foot then allowed each to take a few puffs from his pipe, still holding it in his hand. When it was returned to him, he emptied the burning ash into the fire, and turning with a kind of smile to the strangers, said: —

"The Palefaces are our guests. There are fire and water here."

After these words, which ended the ceremony, all rose and retired without uttering a word, according to the Indian custom. Natah Otann then went up to the Count.

"Let my brother follow me," he said.

"Where to?" the young man asked.

"To the cabin I have had prepared for him."

"And my companions?"

"Other wigwams await them."

Bright-eye made a sign, immediately checked by the Count.

"Pardon, chief," he said, "but with your permission my comrades will live with me."

The hunter smiled, as a shade of dissatisfaction crossed the Indian's face.

"The young Pale chief will be uncomfortable, for he is accustomed to the immense huts of the whites."

"That is possible; but I shall be more uncomfortable if my comrades do not remain with me, in order to keep me company."

"The hospitality of the Kenhas is great. They are rich, and could give each a private cabin, even if their guests were more numerous."

"I am convinced of it, and thank them for their attention, by which, however, I decline to profit. Solitude frightens me. I should be worried to death had I not with me someone to talk with."

"Be it then as the young Pale chief desires. Guests have a right to command. Their requests are orders."

"I thank you for your condescension, and am ready to follow you."

"Come."

With that rapidity of resolution which the Indians possess in so eminent a degree, Natah Otann shut up his vexation in his heart, and not a trace of emotion again appeared on his stoical countenance. The three men followed him, after exchanging a meaning glance. A handsome, lofty cabin had been built in the square itself, near the hut of the first man, a species of cylinder formed in the earth, and surrounded with creeping plants. To this cabin the chief now led his guests. A woman was standing silently in the doorway, fixing on the newcomers a glance in which admiration and astonishment were blended. But was it a woman? this angelic creature, with her vague outline, whose delicious face, blushing with modesty and simple curiosity, turned towards the Count with anxious timidity. The young man asked himself this very question on contemplating this charming apparition, which resembled one of those divine virgins in the mythology of the ancient Sclavons. On seeing her, Natah Otann paused.

"What is my sister doing here?" he asked her, roughly.

The girl, startled from her silent contemplation by this brusque address, shuddered, and let her eyes fall.

"Prairie-Flower wishes to welcome her adopted father," she replied gently, in a sweet melodious voice.

"Prairie-Flower's place is not here, I will speak with her presently: let her go and rejoin her companions, the young maidens of the tribe."

Prairie-Flower blushed still deeper, her rosy lips pouted, and after shaking her head petulantly twice, she flew away like a bird, casting at the Count, as she fled, a parting glance, which caused him an incomprehensible emotion.

The young man laid his hand on his heart, to suppress its beating, and followed the girl with his eyes till she disappeared behind a cabin.

"Oh!" the chief muttered aside, "can she have suddenly recognized a being of that accursed race to which she belongs?"

Then turning to the white men, whose eyes he felt instinctively were fixed on him, —

"Enter," he said, raising the buffalo skin, which served as a door to the cabin.

They went in. By Natah Otann's care the cabin had been cleaned, and every comfort it was possible to find placed in it, that is to say – piles of furs to serve as a bed, a rickety table, some wooden clumsy benches, and a species of reed easy chair, with a large back.

"The Paleface will excuse the poor Indians if they have not done more to welcome him as he deserves," the chief said, with a mixture of irony and humility.

"It is all famous," the young man answered with a smile; "I certainly did not expect so much; besides, I have been on the prairie long enough to satisfy myself with what is strictly necessary."

"Now I ask the Pale chiefs permission to retire."

"Yes, go, my worthy host; do so: do not put yourself out of the way. Attend to your business. For my part I intend taking that rest I need so sadly."

Natah Otann bowed in reply, and withdrew. So soon as he was gone, Bright-eye made his comrades a sign to remain motionless, and began inspecting the place, peering into every corner. When he had ended this inspection, which produced no farther result than proving to him they were really alone, and that no spy was on the watch, he returned to the centre of the hut, and calling the Count and Ivon toward him, said in a low voice: —

"Listen: we are now in the wolfs throat by our own fault, and we must be prudent; in the prairies the leaves have eyes and the trees ears. Natah Otann is a demon, who is planning some treachery, of which he intends to make us the victims."

"Bah!" the Count said, lightly. "How do you know it, Bright-eye?"

"I do not know it, yet I feel sure of it; my instinct never deceives me, Mr. Edward. I have known the Kenhas a long time; we must get out of this as adroitly as we can."

"Eh! what use are such suspicions, my friend? The poor devils, I am convinced, only think of treating us properly; all this appears to me admirable."

The Canadian shook his head.

"I should like to know the cause of the strange respect the Indians pay you; that conceals something, I repeat."

"Bah! they are afraid of me; that's all."

"Hum! Natah Otann does not fear much in this world."

"Why, Bright-eye, I never saw you in this state before. Did I not know you so thoroughly, I should say you were afraid."

"Hang me! if I'll try to conceal it," the hunter replied, quickly. "I am afraid, and terribly so."

"You?"

"Yes; but not for myself; you know that during the time I have journeyed on the prairies, if the Redskins could have killed me, they would have done so. Hence, I am perfectly calm on my own account, and were there only myself – "

"Well?"

"I should not be at all embarrassed."

"Whom are you afraid for, then?"

"For you."

"Me!" the Count exclaimed, as he reclined carelessly in the easy chair. "You do these scamps a deal of honour. With my whip I would put all these hideous people to flight."

The hunter shook his head.

"You will not, Mr. Edward, persuade yourself thoroughly of one thing."

"What?"

"That the Indians are different men from the Europeans with whom you have hitherto had dealings."

"Nonsense, were a man to listen to you wood rangers, he would be, at every two steps, in danger of death, and it would be impossible to move, except by crawling on all fours, like the wild beasts; that is all trash, my good fellow. I fancy I have already twenty times proved to you that such precautions are useless, and that a man, who boldly meets danger, will always get the best of the most warlike Redskins."

"It is exactly the reason that makes them act toward you in that way, I wish to discover."

"You would do better to try and discover something else."

"What is it?"

"Who that charming girl is, of whom I only had a glance, and whom the chief sent away so brutally."