The Prairie Flower: A Tale of the Indian Border

"Mother," she said, in her melodious voice, "give me those pistols you have in your hand."

"What will you do with them?" the She-wolf asked.

"Avenge my father! Was it not for that you summoned me here?"

Without replying, the She-wolf gave her the weapons. The girl, at first, threatened Natah Otann, and then, with a gesture as rapid as thought, threw them down the hill.

"Unhappy girl," Margaret yelled, "what have you done?"

"I avenge my father," she answered, with an accent of supreme dignity.

"Unhappy child, he is the assassin of your father."

"I know it; you have told me so. This man, in spite of his crimes, has been kind to me – he watched over my childhood. Although he obeyed the feeling of hatred his race entertains for the Palefaces by murdering my father, he took his place with me as far as was possible, and almost changed his Indian nature to protect and support me. The Great Spirit will judge us, He whose eye is eternally fixed on earth."

"Woe is me! Woe is me!" the She-wolf yelled, wringing her hands in despair.

The girl bent over the Chief, and cut the bonds that fettered him. Natah Otann sprang to his feet with the bound of a jaguar. The She-wolf made a movement, as if to rush upon him, but she checked herself.

"All is not over yet," she shrieked, "yes! yes! I will have my revenge, no matter at what cost."

And she rushed into the thicket, where she disappeared.

"Natah Otann," the maiden continued, turning to the Chief, who stood by her side, calmly and stoically, as if nothing extraordinary had happened; "I leave vengeance to the Great Spirit – a woman can only weep. Farewell! I loved you as that father you deprived me of. I do not feel the strength to hate you, I will try to forget you."

"Poor child," the Sachem replied, with much emotion; "I must appear to you very culpable. Alas! it is only today that I understand the atrocity of the deed of which I allowed myself to be guilty: perhaps, I may succeed one day in obtaining your pardon."

Prairie-Flower smiled sorrowfully.

"Your pardon does not depend from me," she said, "Wacondah alone can absolve you."

And, after giving him a parting glance of sadness, she withdrew slowly, and thoughtfully entered the wood.

Natah Otann looked after her for a long while.

"Can the Christians be right?" he muttered, when done; "do angels really exist?"

He shook his head several times, and, after attentively looking at the sky, in which the stars were beginning to shine, —

"The hour has arrived," he said, hoarsely; "shall I be the victor?"

CHAPTER XXVI

RED WOLF

To understand the facts we are now about to narrate, we must retrace our steps a short distance, and return to the tent which served as a temporary abode to the Count and Bright-eye.

The two white men were somewhat discontented by the way in which the interview had terminated. Still the Count was too thorough a gentleman not to allow, honourably, that on this occasion the Chief had been the victor in magnanimity. As for Bright-eye, however, he could not see so far. Furious at the check he had sustained, and especially at the slight value the Chief appeared to set on his capture, he revolved the most terrible schemes of vengeance while biting his nails savagely.

The Count amused himself for a few minutes in watching his comrade's manoeuvres, as he walked up and down the tent, growling, clenching his fists, dashing the butt of his rifle on the ground, and looking up to heaven with comic despair. At last the young man could stand it no longer, but burst into a hearty laugh. The hunter stopped in amazement, and looked around the tent, to discover the cause for such untimely gaiety.

"What has happened, Mr. Edward?" he at length asked, "Why do you laugh so?"

Naturally this question, asked with a startled air, had no other result than to augment the Count's hilarity.

"My good fellow," he said, "I am laughing at the singular faces you cut, and the strange manoeuvres you have been indulging in during the last twenty minutes."

"Oh, Mr. Edward!" Bright-eye said, reproachfully; "how can you jest so?"

"Why, my boy, you seem to take the affair seriously to heart, and to have lost that magnificent confidence which made you despise all dangers."

"No, no, Mr. Edward! you are mistaken. My opinion has been formed a long time. Look you, I am certain these red devils will never succeed in killing me; but I am furious at having been so thoroughly duped by them. It is humiliating, and I am now racking my brains to discover a way to play them a trick."

"Do so, my friend, and I would help you, were it possible; but, for the present, at least, I am forced to remain neutral – my hands are tied."

"What?" Bright-eye said, with astonishment; "you mean to remain here, and serve their diabolical jugglery?"

"I must, my good fellow; have I not pledged my word?"

"You certainly pledged it, and I do not know why. Still, a pledge given to an Indian counts for nothing. The Redskins are tribes who understand nothing about honour; and, in a similar case, I am certain that Natah Otann would consider himself in no way bound to you."

"That is possible, although I am not of your opinion. The Chief is no ordinary man. He is gifted with a great intellect."

"What good is it to him? None. Except to be more cunning and treacherous than his countrymen. Take my advice, and do not stand on any ceremony with him. Take French leave, as they say in the South, and leave them in the lurch. The Redskins will be the first to applaud your conduct."

"My good fellow," the Count said, seriously, "it is useless to discuss the point; when a gentleman has once given his word, he is a slave to it, no matter the person to whom he has given it, or the colour of his skin."

"Very good, then, Mr. Edward, pray act as you think proper. I have no right to thrust my advice on you. You are a better judge than myself of how you are bound to act. So, be easy. I will not mention it again."

"Thank you."

"All that is very good, but what are we going to do now?"

"What we are going to do? I suppose you mean what are you going to do?"

"No, Mr. Edward, I said exactly what I meant; you understand that I am not going to leave you alone in this nest of serpents, I hope!"

"On the contrary, you will do so directly."

"I?" the hunter said, with a loud laugh.

"Yes, you, my friend; you must."

"Bah! why so, pray, if you remain?"

"That is the very reason."

The hunter reflected for a moment.

"You know that I do not understand you at all," he said.

"Yet it is very clear," the Count answered.

"Hum! that is possible, but not to me."

"What, you do not understand that we must avenge ourselves?"

"Oh, of course, I understand that, Mr. Edward."

"How can we hope to succeed, if you insist on remaining here?"

"Because you remain," the hunter said, obstinately.

"With me it is very different, my good fellow. I remain, because I have given my word; while you are free to go and come, and must therefore profit by it to leave the camp. Once in the prairie, nothing can be easier for you than to join some of our friends. It is evident that my worthy Ivon, coward as he fancies himself, is working actively at this moment for my deliverance; so see him, come to an understanding with him, for though it is true I cannot leave this place, I cannot, on the other hand, prevent my friends liberating me; if they succeed, my parole will be suspended, and nothing will hinder my following them. Do you understand me now?"

"Yes, Mr. Edward; but I confess that I cannot make up my mind to leave you alone, among these red devils."

"Do not trouble yourself about that, Bright-eye; I run no danger by remaining with them; they have too much respect for me; besides, Natah Otann well knows how to defend me, should it be needful. So, my friend, start at once. You will serve me better by going, than by insisting on remaining here, where your presence, in the event of danger, would be more injurious than useful to me."

"You are a better judge than I in such a matter, sir; as you insist on it, I will go," the hunter said, with a mournful shake of his head.

"Above all, be prudent, do not expose yourself to risk in quitting the camp."

The hunter smiled disdainfully.

"You know," he said, "that the Redskins cannot harm me."

"That is true; I forgot it," the young man said, laughingly; "so, good-bye, my friend, stay no longer, but go, and joy be with you."

"Good-bye, Mr. Edward; will you not give me a shake of the hand before we part, not knowing whether we shall ever meet again?"

"Most gladly, for are we not brothers?"

"That is famous," the hunter said, joyfully, as he pressed the Count's offered hand.

The two men presently separated. The Count fell back on the pile of furs that served as his bed, while the hunter, after assuring himself that his arms were in good condition, quitted the tent. With his rifle under his arm, and head erect, he crossed the camp. The Indians did not seem at all to trouble themselves at the hunter's presence among them, and allowed him to depart unimpeded.

Bright-eye, when he had gone about two musket shots from the camp, stopped, and began reflecting on what was best to be done to liberate the Count; after a few moments' reflection, his mind was made up, and he proceeded toward the squatter's settlement with that long trot peculiar to the hunters.

When he reached the clearing, the squatter was holding a conference with Ivon and the party sent by Major Melville. His arrival was greeted with a hurrah of delight.

The North Americans were considerably embarrassed. Mrs. Margaret, in spite of the exclusive details she had obtained about Natah Otann's plans, and the movements of the Indians, had only made an incomplete report to the Major, from the simple reason, that the old Sachems of the Allied Nations kept their deliberations so secret, that Red Wolf, despite all his cleverness and craft, had himself picked up but a slight part of the plan the Chiefs proposed to follow. The scouts, sent out in all directions, had brought in startling reports about the movements of the Blackfeet; the Indians appeared resolved to strike a grand blow this time; all the Missouri nations had responded to Natah Otann's appeal; the tribes arrived one after the other, to join the coalition, so that their number now attained four thousand, and threatened not to stop then.

Fort Mackenzie was surrounded on all sides by invisible enemies, who had completely cut off the communication with the other settlements of the Fur Company, and rendered the Major's position extremely critical. Thus the hunters were greatly perplexed; and during the many hours they had been deliberating, they had only hit on insufficient or impracticable means to relieve the fortress.

The White men have only succeeded in holding their own in Western America by the divisions they have managed to sow among the aborigines of the continent; whenever the latter have remained united, the Europeans have failed, as witness the Araucanos of Chili, whose small but valiant republic has maintained its independence to the present day; or the Seminoles of Louisiana, who have only lately been conquered after a desperate contest, carried on with all the rules of modern warfare, and many other Indian nations, whose names we could easily quote, if necessary, in support of our arguments.

This time the Indians seemed to have understood the importance of open and energetic action. The several Chiefs had, ostensibly at least, forgotten all their hatred and jealousies, to destroy the common enemy. Thus the Americans, in spite of their approved bravery, trembled at the mere thought of the war of extermination they would have to sustain against enemies exasperated by a long series of vexations, when they counted their numbers, and saw how weak they were, compared to the warriors preparing to crush them. The council, interrupted for a moment by Bright-eye's arrival, immediately assembled again, and the debate was continued.

"By heaven!" John Black exclaimed, angrily, as he smote his thigh with his fist, "I confess that I have no luck, everything turns against me; hardly have I settled here, whither everything made me forebode a prosperous future, than I am dragged, in spite of myself, into a war with these vagabond savages. Who knows how it will end? It is plain to me that we shall all lose our scalps. That is a pleasant prospect for a man who is anxious to raise his family honourably by his labour."

"That is not the question at this moment," Ivon said; "we have to save my master at all risks. What! you are all afraid to fight when it is almost your trade? and you have done hardly anything else during your lives; while I, who am known to be a remarkable coward, do not hesitate to risk my scalp to save my master."

"You do not understand me, Master Ivon; I do not say that I am afraid to fight the Indians; heaven guard me from fearing these Pagans, whom I despise. Still, I believe that an honest and laborious man, like myself, may be permitted to deplore the consequences of a war with these demons. I know too well all I and my family owe to the Count, to hesitate in hurrying to his help, whatever the result may be. The little I possess was his gift, I have not forgotten it, and even were I to fall, I would do my duty."

"Bravo! that is what I call speaking," Ivon replied, joyously; "I was certain you would not hang back."

"Unfortunately," Bright-eye objected, "all this does not advance matters much. I do not see how we can serve our friends. These red devils fall upon us more numerous than locusts in June. We may kill many of them, but in the end they will crush us by their weight."

This sad truth, perfectly understood by the auditors, plunged them into dull grief, A material impossibility cannot be discussed; it must be submitted to. The Americans felt an imminent catastrophe coming on, and their despair was augmented by the consciousness of their impotence. Suddenly the cry "To arms!" several times repeated outside, made them bound on their seats. Each seized his weapons, and ran out. The cry, which had broken up the conference, was raised by William, the squatter's son.

All eyes were turned on the prairie, and the hunters perceived, with secret terror, that William was not mistaken. A large band of Indian warriors, dressed in their grand war paint, was galloping over the plain, and rapidly approaching the clearing.

"Hang it!" Bright-eye muttered, "matters are getting worse. I must confess that these most accursed Pagans have made enormous progress in military tactics. If they continue, they will soon give us a lesson."

"Do you think so?" Black asked, anxiously.

"Confound it!" the hunter replied, "it is evident to me that we are about to be attacked, I now know the plan of the Redskins as thoroughly as if they had explained it to me themselves."

"Ah!" Ivon said, curiously.

"Judge for yourselves," the hunter continued; "the Indians intend to attack simultaneously all the posts occupied by white men, in order to render it impossible for them to help one another. That is excessively logical on their parts. In that way they will have a cheap bargain of us, and massacre us in detail. Hum! the man who commands them is a rough adversary for us. My lads, we must make up our minds gaily. We are lost, that is as plain to me as if the scalping knife was already in our hair. All left to us is to fall bravely."

These words, pronounced in the cool and placid tone usual with the wood ranger, caused all who heard them to shudder.

"I alone, perhaps," Bright-eye added, carelessly, "shall escape the common fate."

"Bah!" Ivon said; "you, old hunter, why so?"

"Why?" he said, with a sarcastic smile, "because, as you are perfectly aware, the Indians cannot kill me."

"Ah!" Ivon remarked, stupefied by this reason, and gazing on his friend with admiration.

"That is the state of the case," Bright-eye ended his address, and stamped his rifle on the ground.

In the meanwhile the Redskins advanced rapidly. The band was composed of one hundred and fifty warriors at least, the majority armed with guns, which proved they were picked men. At the head of the band, and about ten yards in advance, galloped two horsemen, probably Chiefs. The Indians stopped just out of range of the entrenchments; then, after consulting together for a few minutes, a horseman left the group, and, riding within pistol shot of the palisades, he waved a buffalo robe.

"Eh! eh! Master Black," Bright-eye said, with a cunning smile, "that is addressed to you as the chief of the garrison. The Redskins wish to parley."

"Ah!" the-American said, "I have a great mind to send a bullet after that rascal parading down, as my sole answer," and he raised his rifle.

"Mind what you are about," the hunter said, "you do not know the Redskins. So long as the first shot is not fired, there is a chance of treating with them."

"Suppose, old hunter," Ivon said, "you were to do something?"

"What is it, my prudent friend?" the Canadian asked.

"Why, as you are not afraid of being killed by the Redskins, suppose you go to them. Perhaps you could arrange matters with them."

"Stay! that is a good idea. No one can say what may happen. I will go. That will be the best, after all. Will you accompany me, Ivon?"

"Why not?" the latter answered; "with you, I am not afraid."

"Well, that is settled, then. Open the gate for us, Master Black; but keep a good lookout during our absence, and, on the first suspicious movement, fire on these heathens."

"Do not alarm yourself, old hunter," the latter said, squeezing his hand cordially; "I should not like any harm to happen to you, for you are a man."

"I believe so," the Canadian said, with a laugh; "but what I say to you is more for this worthy fellow's sake than mine, for I assure you I am quite easy on my own account."

"No matter, I will watch these demons carefully."

"That can do no harm."

The gate was opened. Bright-eye and Ivon went down the hill, and went toward the horseman, who was patiently awaiting them.

"Ah! ah!" Bright-eye muttered, as soon as he drew near enough to recognize the rider; "I fancy that our affairs are not quite so well as I suspected."

"Why so?" Ivon asked.

"Look at that warrior. Do you not see it is Red Wolf?"

"That is true. Well?"

"Well, I have reasons for believing that he is not so great an enemy as he appears to be."

"Are you sure of it?"

"Silence! we shall soon see."

The three men saluted each other courteously in the Indian fashion, by laying the right hand on the heart, and holding out the other open, with the fingers apart and the palm turned outwards.

"My brother is welcome among his Paleface brothers," Bright-eye said; "does he come to sit at the council fire, and smoke the calumet in my wigwam?"

"The hunter will decide. Red Wolf comes as a friend," the Indian answered.

"Good," the Canadian remarked; "did Red Wolf then fear treachery from his friend, that he brought so large a body of warriors with him?"

The Blackfoot smiled cunningly.

"Red Wolf is a chief among the Kenhas," he said, "his tongue is not forked. The words that pass his lips come from his heart. The Chief wishes to serve his Pale friends.

"Wah!" Bright-eye said, "the Chief has spoken well. His words have sounded pleasantly in my ears. What does my brother desire?"

"To sit at the council fire of the Palefaces, and explain to them the reasons that bring him here."

"Good. Will my brother go alone among the white men?"

"No! another person will accompany the Chief."

"And who is this person in whom so great a Chief as my brother places confidence?"

"The She-Wolf of the prairies."

Bright-eye suppressed a movement of joy.

"Good," he went on, "my brother can come with the She-Wolf. The Palefaces will receive them kindly."

"My brother, the hunter, will announce the visit of his friends."

"Yes, Chief, I will go at once and do so."

The conference was over. The three men separated, after again saluting, and Bright-eye and Ivon hurried back to the entrenchments.

"Victory!" the hunter said, on arriving, "we are saved!"

All pressed round him, greedy to learn the details of the conference, and Bright-eye satisfied the general curiosity without a moment's delay.

"Ah!" Black said, "if the old lady is with them we are, indeed, saved," and he rubbed his hands joyfully.

After having failed so unluckily in the snare she had laid for Natah Otann, Mrs. Margaret, far from being discouraged, felt her desire of revenge increased; and, without losing time in regretting the check she had undergone, she immediately drew up her plans, for she had reached that pitch of rage when a person is completely blinded by hatred, and goes onward regardless of consequences. Ten minutes after leaving the Sachem, she quitted the camp, accompanied by Red Wolf, who, by her orders, led off the warriors he commanded and started for the clearing.

Bright-eye had scarce given his friends the information they desired, ere Margaret and Red Wolf entered the stockade, where they were received with the greatest affability by the trappers, and especially by Black, who was delighted to find that his clearing was not menaced, and that the storm was turning from him to burst elsewhere.

Let us now return to Fort Mackenzie, where, at this very moment, events of the utmost importance were occurring.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ATTACK

White Buffalo and Natah Otann had drawn up their strategic arrangements with remarkable skill. The two Chiefs had scarce formed their camp in the clearing, ere they assembled the Sachems of the other tribes camped not far from them, in order to combine their movement, so as to attack the Americans simultaneously from all points.

Though the Redskins are excessively cunning, the Americans had succeeded in thoroughly deceiving them, in the gloom and silence that prevailed through the fort, for not a single bayonet could be seen glistening behind its parapets. Leaving their horses concealed in the forest, the Indians lay down on the ground, and, crawling through the tall grass like reptiles, began crossing the space that separated them from the ramparts.

All was still apparently gloomy and silent, and yet two thousand intrepid warriors were crawling up in the shadow to attack a fortress behind which forty resolute men only waited for the signal to be given, and commence the attack. When all the orders had been given, and the last warriors had quitted the hill, Natah Otann, whose perspicuous eye had discovered a certain hesitation of evil omen in the minds of the allied chiefs, resolved to make that final appeal to the Count to secure his co-operation. We have already seen the result. When left alone, Natah Otann gave the signal for attack; the Indians rushed like a hurricane down the sides of the hill, and ran towards the fort, brandishing their arms, and uttering their war yell. Suddenly a heavy discharge was heard, and Fort Mackenzie was begirt with smoke and dazzling flashes. The battle had commenced.

The plain was invaded, as far as eye could trace, by powerful detachments of Indian warriors, who, converging on one point, marched resolutely toward the fort, incessantly discharging their bullets at it; while new bands could be seen constantly arriving from the place where the chain of hills abuts on the Missouri. They came up at a gallop, in parties of from three to twenty men; their horses were covered with foam, which led to the presumption that they had come a long distance. The Blackfeet were in their war attire, loaded with all sorts of ornaments and arms, with bow and quiver on their backs, and musket in hand, while their heads were crowned with feathers, some of which were the magnificent black and white eagle plumes. They were seated on handsome saddle cloths of panther skin, lined with red; the upper part of the body was naked, with the exception of a long strip of wolf skin passing over the shoulder as a cross belt, while their bucklers were adorned with feathers and cloth of various colours.

These men, thus accoutred, had something imposing and majestic about them, which affected the imagination, and inspired terror.

The struggle seemed most obstinate in the environs of the fort, and on the hill. The Blackfeet, sheltered by tall palisades planted during the night, replied to the Americans' fire with an equally rapid fire, exciting each other, with wild cries, courageously to resist the attack of their implacable foes. The defence was, however, as vigorous as the assault, and the combat did not appear destined to terminate so soon. Already many corpses lay on the ground, startled horses galloped in every direction, and the shrieks of the wounded mingled at intervals with the defiant shouts of the assailants.