The Prairie Flower: A Tale of the Indian Border

Natah Otann, so soon as the signal had been given, ran off to the tent where his prisoner was.

"The moment has arrived," he said to him.

"I am ready," the Count answered, "go on. I will keep constantly at your side."

"Come on, then!"

They went out, and at once rushed into the thickest fight. The Count, as he had said, was unarmed, raising his head fiercely at each bullet that whistled past his ear, and smiling at the death which he, perhaps, invoked in his heart. In spite of his contempt for the white race, the Indian could not refrain from admiring this courage, which was so frankly and nobly stoical.

"You are a man," he said to the Count.

"Did you ever doubt it?" the latter remarked, simply.

Still the combat became, with each moment, more obstinate. The Indians rushed forward, roaring like lions, against the palisades of the fort, and were killed without flinching; their bodies almost filled up the moat. The Americans, compelled to make a front on all sides, defended themselves with the methodical and resolute impassiveness of men who know they have no help to expect, and who have made up their minds to sell their lives dearly.

From the beginning of the fight, White Buffalo had, with a picked body of men, held the hill that commanded Fort Mackenzie, which rendered the position of the garrison still more precarious, for they were thus exposed to a terrible and well-sustained fire, which caused them irreparable loss, regard being had to the smallness of their numbers. Major Melville, standing at the foot of the flagstaff, with his arms crossed on his breast, a pallid brow and compressed lips, saw his men fall one after the other, and he stamped his foot with rage at his impotence to save them.

Suddenly, a terrific shriek of agony rose from the interior of the buildings, and the wives of the soldiers and engagés rushed simultaneously into the square, flying, half mad with terror, from an enemy still invisible. The Indians, guided by White Buffalo, had turned the fortress, and discovered a secret entrance which the Major fancied known to himself alone, and which, in case of a serious attack and impossibility of defence, would serve the garrison in effecting its retreat. From this moment the Americans saw that they were lost; it was no longer a battle, but a massacre. The Major, followed by a few resolute men, rushed into the buildings, and the Indians scaled on all sides the palisades, now deprived of protection.

The few surviving Americans collected round the flagstaff, from the top of which floated the starry banner of the United States, and strove to sell their lives as dearly as possible, for they feared most falling alive into the bands of their implacable enemies. The Indians replied to the hurrahs of their foes by their terrific war cry, and bounded on them like coyotes, brandishing over their heads the blood-stained weapons.

"Down with your arms!" Natah Otann shouted, on reaching the scene of action.

"Never!" the Major replied, rushing on him at the head of the few soldiers still left him.

The mêlée recommenced, more ardently and implacable than before. The Indians rushed about in every direction, throwing torches on the roofs, which immediately caught fire. The Major saw that victory was hopeless, and tried to effect his retreat. But that was not so easy; there was no chance of climbing over the palisades; the only prospect was the gate; but before that gate, the Blackfeet, skilfully posted, repulsed with their lances those who tried to escape by it. Still there was no alternative. The Major rallied his men for a final effort, and rushed with incredible fury on the enemy, with the hope of cutting his way through.

The collision was horrible – it was not a battle, but a butchery; foot to foot, chest against chest – in which the men seized each other round the waist, killed each other with knives, or tore the foe with teeth and nails: those who fell did not rise again – the wounded were finished at once. This frightful carnage lasted about a quarter of an hour; two-thirds of the Americans succumbed; the rest managed to force a passage and fled, closely pursued by the Indians, who then commenced a horrible manhunt. Never, until this day, had the Redskins fought the Whites with such fury and tenacity. The presence among them of the Count, disarmed and smiling, who, although rushing into the thickest of the contest by the side of the Chief, appeared invulnerable, electrified them, and they really believed that Natah Otann had told them the truth – and that the Count was that Motecuhzoma they had waited so long, and whose presence would restore them for ever that liberty which the White men had torn from them. Thus they had kept their eyes constantly fixed on the young man, saluting him with noisy shouts of joy, and redoubling their efforts to secure the victory. Natah Otann rushed toward the American flag, tore it down, and wound it over his head.

"Victory – victory!" he shouted, joyfully.

The Blackfeet responded to this cry with yells, and spread in every direction to begin plundering. A few men still remained in the fort, among them being the Major, who did not wish to survive his defeat. The Indians, rushed upon him with loud yells, to massacre him, but the veteran remained calm, and did not offer to defend himself.

"Stay!" the Count shouted; and turning to Natah Otann, said, – "Will you let this brave soldier be assassinated in cold blood?"

"No," the Sachem answered, "if he consents to surrender his sword to me."

"Never!" the old gentleman said, with energy, as he broke across his knee his weapon, blood-stained to the hilt, threw the pieces at the Chief's feet, and, crossing his arms, he regarded his victor with supreme contempt, as he said —

"Kill me now; I can no longer defend myself."

"Bravo!" the Count exclaimed; and, not calculating the consequences of the deed, he went up to the Major, and cordially pressed his hand. Natah Otann regarded the two for an instant with an indefinable expression.

"Oh!" he muttered to himself, with sorrow; "we may beat them, but we shall never conquer them: these men are stronger than we; they are born to be our masters."

Then raising his hand above his head.

"Enough!" he said, in a loud voice.

"Enough!" the Count repeated, "respect the conquered."

That which the Sachem could not have obtained, in spite of the respect the Indians had for him, the Count obtained instantaneously, through the superstitious veneration he inspired them with; they stopped, and the carnage finally ceased; the Americans were disarmed in a second, and the Redskins remained masters of the fort.

Natah Otann then took his totem from the hands of the warrior who bore it, and, after swinging it several times in the air, hoisted it in the place of the American flag, in the midst of the frenzied shouts of the Indians, who, intoxicated with joy, could hardly yet believe in their victory.

White Buffalo had not lost a moment in assuring himself of the peaceful possession of a conquest which had cost the confederates so much blood and toil. When the Sachems had restored some little order among their warriors; when the fire, that threatened the destruction of the fort, had been extinguished; and all precautions taken against any renewal of the attack by the Americans – though that was very improbable – Natah Otann and White Buffalo withdrew to the apartment hitherto occupied by the Major, and the Count followed them.

"At length," the young Count exclaimed, with delight, "we have proved to these haughty Americans that they are not invincible."

"Your weakness caused their strength," White Buffalo replied. "You have made a good beginning, and now you must go on; it is not enough to conquer; you must know how to profit by that victory."

"Pardon my interrupting you, gentlemen," the Count said; "but I fancy the hour has arrived to settle our accounts."

"What do you mean, sir?" White Buffalo asked, haughtily.

"I will explain myself, sir," the Count continued, and, turning to Natah Otann, "you will do me the justice to allow that I have scrupulously kept the promise I made you; in spite of the grief and disgust I felt, I did not fail once; you ever found me cold and calm at your side. Is this not so? – answer, sir."

"It is true," Natah Otann replied, coldly.

"Very good, sir; it is now my turn to ask from you the fulfilment of the promises you made me."

"Be a little more explicit, sir," the Chief said. "During the last few hours I have been actor in and witness of so many extraordinary things, that I may possibly have forgotten what I did promise you."

The Count smiled with disdain.

"I expected such trickery," he said, drily.

"You misinterpret my words. I may have forgotten, but I do not refuse to satisfy your just claims."

"Very good; I admit that, so I will remind you of the stipulations made between us."

"I shall be glad to hear them."

"I pledged myself to remain by yourself unarmed during the action, to follow you everywhere, and ever to go in the first rank of the combatants."

"That is true, and it is my duty to allow that you have nobly performed that perilous task."

"Very well; but in doing so I only acted as my honour dictated; you, on your part, pledged yourself whatever the issue of the battle might be, to grant me my liberty, and give me an honourable satisfaction, in reparation for the unworthy treachery of which you rendered me the victim, and the odious part you forced me unconsciously to play."

"Oh, oh!" White Buffalo said, frowning, and striking the table with his fists. "Did you really make such a promise as that, child?"

The Count turned to the old man with a gesture sovereign contempt.

"I believe, sir," he said, "that you are doubting the honour of a gentleman."

"Nonsense, sir," the republican said, with a grin "How can you talk to us of honour and nobility? You forget that we are in the desert, and that you are addressing savage Indians, as you call us. Do we recognize your foolish caste distinctions here? Have we adopted your laws and absurd prejudices?"

"What you treat so cavalierly," the Count sharply retorted, "has hitherto been the safeguard of civilization, and the cause of intellectual progress; but I have nothing to discuss with you; I am addressing myself to your adopted son; let him answer me, yes or no, and I shall then know what remains for me to do."

"Be it so, sir," White Buffalo said, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Let my son answer, and, according to his reply, I shall then know what remains for me to do."

"As this affair concerns me alone," Natah Otann interposed, "I should feel mortally offended, my friend, if you interfered in any way in it."

The White Buffalo smiled with contempt, but made no reply. Natah Otann continued —

"I will employ no subterfuges with you, sir; you have spoken the truth; I promised you liberty and satisfaction, and I am prepared to keep my word."

"Oh, oh!" White Buffalo said.

"Silence!" the Chief ordered, peremptorily. "Listen, my friend; prove to these Europeans, so vain and so proud of their so-called civilization, that the Redskins are not the ferocious brutes they imagine them, and that the code of honour is the same among nations who are regarded as the most barbarous. You are free, sir, from this moment, and, if you please, I will myself lead you in safety outside the lines. As for the duel you desire, I am equally ready to satisfy you in any way you may indicate."

"Thank you, sir," the Count answered, with a bow, "I am happy to hear your determination."

"Now that affair is arranged between us, allow me to add a few words."

"I am listening to you, sir."

"Am I in the way?" White Buffalo asked, ironically.

"On the contrary," Natah Otann said, with emphasis, "your presence is at this moment more necessary than ever."

"Ah, ah! what is going to happen?" the old man went on, in a sarcastic tone.

"You will learn," the Chief said, still cold and impassive; "if you will take the trouble to listen to me for five minutes."

"Be it so; speak."

Natah Otann seemed to be collecting himself for a few moments, and said, in a voice which, spite of all his efforts to conceal it, trembled slightly, through some hidden emotion, —

"Owing to events too long to narrate here, and which I would probably possess but slight interest for you, I became the guardian of a child, who is now a charming maiden. This girl, to whom I have ever paid the greatest attention, and whom I love as a father, is known to you; her name is Prairie-Flower."

The Count quivered, and made a gesture in affirmation, but no other reply. Natah Otann continued, —

"As I am entering now on a hazardous expedition, in which I may meet my death, it is impossible for me to watch longer over this girl; it would be painful to me to leave her alone, and without support, among my tribe, if destiny were to cause my plans to fail. I know that she loves you, I entrust her to you frankly and honestly; I have full faith in your honour – will you give to her protection? I know that you will never abuse the trust I offer you; I am only a brutalized Indian, a monster, perhaps, to your civilization; but, believe me, sir, the lessons a great man has consented to give me have not been all lost, and my heart is not so dead, as might be supposed, to finer feelings."

"Good, Natah Otann," White Buffalo said, joyfully; "good, my son. Now I recognize my pupil, and I am proud of you; the man who succeeds in each a victory over self is really born to command others."

"You are satisfied," the Chief answered; "all the better. And you, sir? I await your answer."

"I accept the sacred trust you offer me, sir. I will be worthy of your confidence," the Count answered, with much emotion. "I have no right to judge your actions; but, believe, sir, that whatever may happen, there will be always one man to defend your memory, and proclaim aloud the nobility of your heart."

The Chief clapped his hands, the door opened, and Prairie-Flower appeared, led by an Indian woman.

"Child," Natah Otann said to her, nothing evincing the violence he did to his feelings, "your presence among us is henceforth impossible; this Chief of the Palefaces consents to watch over you for the future; follow him, and if at times you are reminded of your stay with the tribe of the Kenhas, do not curse them or their Chief, for all have been kind to you."

The maiden blushed, the tears rose to her eyes, a nervous tremor agitated her limbs, and, without uttering a word, she took her place by the Count's side. Natah Otann smiled sorrowfully.

"Follow me," he said, "I will escort you out of the camp."

And he went out, accompanied by the two young people.

"We shall soon meet again, I presume, noble Count?" White Buffalo called out, after his countryman.

"I hope so," the latter answered, simply.

Guided by Natah Otann, the Count and his companion left the fort, and entered the prairie, passing through groups of Redskins, who stood back respectfully to make room for them. Their walk was silent; it lasted about half an hour, until the Chief stopped.

"Here you have nothing more to fear," he said; and going to a dense thicket, and pulling back the branches, "Here are two horses I had prepared for you; take also these weapons, perhaps you will need them; and now, if you wish to fight with me, I am ready."

"No," the Count answered, nobly, "any combat is henceforth impossible between us; I can no longer be the enemy of a man whom honour orders me to esteem; here is my hand, I will never lift it against you; I offer it you frankly, and without any afterthought; unfortunately, too deep a hatred divides our two races to prevent us being ere long opposed to each other, but if I fight your brothers, I shall not the less remain personally your friend."

"I ask no more of you," the Chief replied, as he pressed the hand offered him; "farewell! be happy!"

And without adding a word, he turned away, and hurried back by the road he had come; he soon disappeared in the darkness.

"Let us go," the Count said to the maiden, who was pensively watching the departure of the man she had so long loved as a father, and whom now she did not feel strong enough to hate. They mounted and went off, after a parting glance at the scattered fire of the Blackfoot camp.

CHAPTER XXVIII

CONCLUSION

The night was gloomy, cold, and mournful; not a star shone in the sky, and the young people only forced their way with extreme difficulty through the shrubs and creepers, in which their horses' feet were continually caught. They advanced very slowly, for both were too absorbed by the strange situation in which they found themselves, and the extraordinary events of which they had been actors or witnesses, to break the silence they had maintained since leaving the fort. They went on thus for about an hour, when a great noise was suddenly heard in the bushes. Two men rushed to the horses' heads, and, seizing the bridles, compelled them to stop. Prairie-Flower gave a shriek of terror.

"Halloh, brigands!" the Count shouted, as he cocked his pistols, "back, or I fire."

"Do not do so, for goodness sake, sir, for you would run the risk of killing a friend," a voice at once answered, which the Count recognized as the hunter's.

"Bright-eye?" he said, in amazement.

"By Jove!" the latter said, "did you fancy, pray, that I had deserted you?"

"My master, my kind master!" the Breton shouted, leaving hold of Prairie-Flower's bridle, and rushing toward the young man.

"Halloh!" the Count continued, after the emotion caused by the first surprise was slightly calmed, "what on earth are you doing here in ambush, like pirates of the prairie?"

"Come to our encampment, Mr. Edward, and we will tell you."

"Very good; but lead the way."

They soon reached the entrance of a natural cavern, where, by the uncertain light of an expiring fire, they perceived a large number of white and half-bred hunters, among whom the Count recognized John Black, his son, his wife, and daughter. The worthy squatter had left the clearing under the charge of his two servants, and fearing lest his wife and daughter might not be in safety during his absence, he asked them to accompany him; and though this offer was somewhat singular, they gladly accepted it. Prairie-Flower immediately took her place by the side of the two ladies.

Bright-eye, the squatter, and above all Ivon, were impatient to learn what had happened to the Count, and how he had succeeded in escaping from the Redskin camp. The Count made no difficulty in satisfying their curiosity; the more so, as he was eager to learn for what reason his friends were ambuscaded so near the camp.

What the hunter had foreseen had really happened; scarce victors over the Americans, and masters of the fort, disunion had set in among the Redskins. Several Chiefs had been dissatisfied at seeing, to their prejudice, Natah Otann, one of the youngest Sachems of the Confederates, claim the profits of the victory, by installing himself, with his tribe, in the fort, which all had captured at such an effusion of blood; a dull discontentment had begun to prevail among them; five or six of the most powerful even spoke, hardly two hours after the victory, of withdrawing with their warriors, and leaving Natah Otann to continue the war as he thought proper with the Whites.

Red Wolf had found but slight difficulty in commencing the work of defection he meditated; thus, at nightfall, he entered the camp with his warriors, and began fanning the flame which at present only smouldered, but which must soon be a burning and devouring fire, owing to the means of corruption the Chief had at his disposal. Of all the destructive agents introduced by Europeans in America, the most effective and terrible is, indubitably, spirits. With the exception of the Comanches, whose sobriety is proverbial, and who have constantly refused to drink anything but the water of their streams, all the Indians are mad for strong liquors. Drunkenness among their primitive race is terrible, and attains the proportions of a furious mania.

Red Wolf, who burned to avenge himself on Natah Otann, and who, besides, blindly obeyed the insinuations of Mrs. Margaret, had conceived an atrocious plan, which only an Indian born was capable of forming. John Black had brought with him into the desert a considerable stock of whiskey. Red Wolf had asked for this, placed it on sledges, and thus entered the camp. The Indians, when they knew the species of merchandize he brought with him, did not hesitate to give him a hearty reception.

The Chief, while indoctrinating them, and representing Natah Otann to them as a man who had only acted from personal motives, and with the intention of satiating his own wild ambition, generously abandoned to them the spirits he had brought with him. The Indians eagerly accepted the present Red Wolf made them, and, without the loss of a moment, took hearty draughts. When Red Wolf saw that the Indians had reached that state of intoxication he desired, he hastened to warn his allies, so that they might attempt a bold coup de main on the spot.

The hunters at once mounted their horses, and proceeded toward the fortress, concealing themselves about two hundred paces from it, so as to be ready for the first signal.

Natah Otann, in crossing the camp after escorting the two young people, perceived the effervescence prevailing among his allies, and several unpleasant epithets struck his ear. Although he did not suppose that the Americans, after the rude defeat they had suffered during the day, were in a condition to assume the offensive immediately, still, his thorough knowledge of his countrymen's character made him suspect treachery, and he resolved to redouble his prudence, in order to avoid a conflict, whose disastrous results would be incalculable for the success of his career. Agitated by a gloomy foreboding, the young Chief hurried on to reach the fort; but at the moment he prepared to enter, after opening the gate, a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, while a rough voice hissed in his ear —

"Natah Otann is a traitor."

The Chief turned, as if a serpent had stung him, and wheeling his heavy axe round his head, dealt a terrible blow at this bold speaker; but the latter avoided the stroke by springing on one side, and raising his axe in his turn, he directed a blow, which the Sachem parried with the handle of his weapon, and then the two men rushed on each other. There was something singularly startling in this desperate combat between two men dumb as shadows, and in whom their fury was only revealed by the hissing of their breath.

"Die, dog!" Natah Otann suddenly said, his axe crashing through the skull of his adversary, who rolled on the ground, with a yell of agony. The Chief bent over him.

"Red Wolf," he shouted, "I suspected it."

Suddenly an almost imperceptible sound in the grass reminded him of the critical situation in which he was; he made a prodigious bound back, entered the fort, and bolted the gate after him. It was high time; he had scarce disappeared, ere some twenty warriors, rushing in pursuit of him, ran their heads against the gate, stifling cries of rage and deception. But the alarm had been given, the general combat was evidently about to begin.

Natah Otann, immediately on entering the fort, perceived, with a groan, that this victory, which he had so dearly bought, was on the point of slipping from him. The Kenhas had done within the fort what the other Blackfeet, incited by Red Wolf, had effected on the prairie.

After the capture of the fortress they spread in every direction, and the spirits did not long escape their search; they had rolled the barrels into the square, and tapped them, availing themselves of the White Buffalo being asleep, and the absence of Natah Otann, the only two men whose influence would have been great enough to have kept them in subordination. A frightful orgy had then commenced – an Indian orgy, with all its incidents of murder and massacre. As we have said, drunkenness in the Redskins is madness carried to the last paroxysm of fury and rage; there had been a frightful scene of carnage, at the end of which the Indians had fallen on the top of one another, and gone to sleep in the midst of the confusion.

"Oh!" the Chief muttered, in despair. "What is to be done with such men?"