At War with Pontiac Part 24

His companion nodded a.s.sent, whereupon the other exclaimed, "Thank G.o.d, there has been no fighting here!" Then he sprang forward, scattering the Canadians, who recoiled in terror at his sudden appearance, and entered the house. In another minute a bitter cry rang from the open windows, and the hearers crossed themselves at the sound.

Donald Hester had discovered his father lying in a pool of blood, from which none had dared lift him, and pierced by a dozen wounds, but still breathing.

"Father! Dear father! Speak to me. It is your own boy, Donald!"

cried the youth in pitiful accents, as he raised the prostrate form in his arms. "Tell me, father, who has done this thing."

The dying man opened his eyes, and fixed them full on the face of his son. For a few seconds he gazed on the loved features, and his lips moved as in a blessing, though no sound came from them. Then, with a smile of ineffable sweetness, and a sigh of perfect content, the light faded from the dear eyes, and the spirit of the brave old soldier pa.s.sed gently from the war-worn body into the fadeless dawn of eternity.

Very tenderly did Donald lift the lifeless body of his father to the humble pallet that had been the soldier's bed for many weeks. Then he sat beside it, keeping motionless watch over his dead, while Atoka stood silently in the doorway guarding the grief of his friend from curious intrusion.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII

THE CURSE OF THE MAGIC CIRCLE

From the moment that Donald Hester's brave shout of warning saved the schooner _Gladwyn_ from capture, he was like one who sleeps, until he awoke to consciousness amid the strange surroundings of an Indian lodge. Soft hands were bathing his throbbing brow, and when he opened his eyes they rested on a face of such loveliness, and at the same time so filled with pity, that it seemed to him but the fairest fragment of a beautiful dream. The radiant smile that greeted his restoration to life gave the face a strangely familiar look; but he was too weak to remember where he had seen it, and fell asleep from the weariness of the effort. When he next awoke he was much stronger, and gazed eagerly about with the hope that the face might prove a reality; but nowhere could he discover it, nor did it appear to him again.

He was devotedly cared for by an old squaw, the most skilled nurse in all the Ottawa tribe, and by a young warrior whom he came to know as Atoka. Others occasionally visited the lodge, but never the one he longed to see, and so he finally decided that the face had indeed come to him in a dream and not in reality.

Aided by youth and the magic of Indian simples, Donald's recovery was certain and rapid. Atoka was his constant companion, and, to while away the slow hours, each taught the other his own language. One day the Indian lad made mention of his sister Ah-mo, and Donald caught eagerly at the name. At once it was connected with his vision and with a long ago day of sunshine on the river.

"Is she not the daughter of Pontiac?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"Then you must be a son of the great chief?"

"I am his son," replied the young Indian, proudly.

"Am I, then, Pontiac's prisoner?"

"No. One bearing the sign of the Metai may be Pontiac's guest, but never his prisoner."

"Ah, yes! I forgot my symbolic marking. But tell me, Atoka, was not your sister with two white women on an island not long since?"

"She was. But they were taken to Detroit in exchange for prisoners held in the fort."

In saying this Atoka believed he was telling the truth, for he knew not that Edith still remained in the Ottawa village. From the day that Donald was placed in his charge he had not left the island, nor had any of its other occupants, save occasionally to hunt or fish, for Pontiac did not wish it generally known that a white captive was held there.

As the means of intelligent intercourse between the young men increased, Donald learned many other things of which he had been ignorant, and among them that his own father was also a prisoner, or, as Atoka said, a guest, in the Ottawa village.

"When you have recovered your full strength, then am I to take you to him, for so Pontiac has ordered," added Atoka.

Thus inspired to gain strength, Donald did so with such rapidity that, a week later, he was able to throw Atoka in a wrestling match, and the young warrior sent word to his father that he should bring his charge to the village on the following day.

Donald was so excited at the prospect of a near reunion with his beloved parent, that, to his impatience, no hours had ever seemed so long as did those of that last day of his seclusion. He retired early in order to shorten them by sleep, but was wide awake when startled by the sound of distant, though heavy and continuous firing.

"It is an attack on the Ottawa village," he said.

"Or on the fort," answered Atoka.

Both were so impatient to visit the scene of conflict that neither needed to be reminded of their purpose to go to the village on that very day. So in a few minutes they had launched a canoe and set forth, with what results, we have already learned.

As Donald watched beside his father's body, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and one whom he recognized as Pontiac stood beside him, his stern face softened by sorrow.

"He was my friend," said the chieftain. "I loved him with a love that was more than that of a brother. Now that he has gone, night has fallen, and all things are hidden in darkness. Long years ago he saved my life, and in so doing made an enemy of him who has now taken his in revenge. This man is a dog of dogs, and from this hour he is outcast among the children of the forest. With the curse of the Metai shall he be cursed, he and his forever. I, Pontiac, Chief of the Magic Circle, have said it."

"What is his name, and where may he be found?" asked Donald, eagerly.

"His name is Mahng, and he is of the Ojibwas, though where he may be found I know not yet. But found he must be, for not only is he the murderer of thy father and my friend, and a traitor to all in whose veins runs Indian blood, but he has stolen and taken with him those most dear to thee and to me, thy sister and my daughter."

"What!" cried Donald, springing to his feet. "My sister, say you? Is she not safe in the fort?"

"No," answered Pontiac, sadly. "For safety did I keep her here, with her father. Now is she gone, and with her is gone Ah-mo, my daughter, and my right hand. To recover them, and to avenge this death, I might command the Ottawa nation to follow me, and they would obey. I might destroy the Ojibwas from the face of the earth, but it may not be. In a private quarrel I may not array tribe against tribe. Nor in this case would the strength of a war-party prove of such value as the cunning of two men. The one is doubtless expected, and will be watched for, while the others may pa.s.s unnoticed. Therefore have I selected two who shall be intrusted with this mission and vengeance. They are my two sons, one of whom is of the Totem of the Bear, and the other of the Totem of the Beaver, so that two totems shall be matched against one, for Mahng is of the Totem of the Wolf. One of them is, besides, of the order of Metai, on which Mahng has no claim."

"But am I not to be allowed to take part in the rescue of my own sister? Am I to be kept here, a miserable captive, while others do the work that is rightly mine?" cried Donald.

"My son," replied Pontiac, again laying his hand gently on the young man's shoulder, "art thou not of the order of the Metai, and of my totem, the Totem of the Bear? Hast thou not been the son of my heart from the day thy baby arms clasped my neck and saved me from death? I had no thought but that thou should go as one of my messengers, and Atoka shall go with thee."

So it was planned in that chamber of death. After a while four venerable warriors, all of the Metai, were summoned; Atoka, who had as yet performed no deed to ent.i.tle him to membership, was sent outside to guard the door; and, in the presence of his dead father, Donald Hester was initiated into the dread secrets of the magic circle. It was a solemn and trying ordeal, and his face was very pale when it was ended; but his mouth was firm-set and he seemed to have gained in manliness of bearing.

A few hours later the body of Major Hester, wrapped in the flag he had served so faithfully, was laid to rest in the presence of a thousand Indians, whose friend he had ever been, and over his grave a file of Ottawa warriors fired the echoing volley that betokened their respect for his rank.

Then was Donald led away to Pontiac's own lodge, where, in pursuance of the plan already formed, his entire body was stained a rich coppery brown and he was, in other ways, carefully disguised as an Ottawa warrior. It was given out that Atoka was to be sent as a runner to announce Pontiac's recent victory to distant tribes and to solicit their aid in carrying on the war. It was also whispered that he was to be accompanied by a member of the Metai, who should proclaim the dread curse of the magic circle against Mahng, the Ojibwa, and all who should give him aid. As the proceedings of this mysterious order were always conducted in secret, no one was surprised that the ident.i.ty of its messenger was not disclosed, nor that his departure should be made at night unseen of all men save only Pontiac, chief of the Metai.

So greatly did Mahng dread the wrath of Pontiac, that from the first he took every precaution to conceal the traces of his flight. Thus Donald was obliged to set forth on this renewed search for his lost sister without an idea of what course to pursue. He only knew that the country of the Ojibwas lay to the north, and so in this direction were his steps first directed.

For many weeks did he and Atoka travel by land and over the waters of the Great Lakes, down swift rushing streams, along dim trails and through weary leagues of pathless forest, where they were only guided by that instinct of woodcraft which, in an Indian, ranks with the keenest of his senses. To Saginaw and Thunder Bay they went, to Michilimackinac and L'abre Croche, even to the far northern Sault of Ste. Marie, without finding those whom they sought. In every Indian village and camp, in every forest lodge, and to the lone hunter, whenever they crossed his trail, did they proclaim the dread message of the Metai by which Mahng, the Ojibwa, was outcast forever.

The uninitiated listened with fear and trembling; but everywhere they found brave warriors and stately chiefs, who gave the answer of the magic circle:--

"_He is cursed. Let him be cursed_," and did everything possible to speed their errand.

In all this time they found no sign, nor until they began to retrace their steps did they gain tidings of their quest. Now, here and there, they began to come across trembling wretches who had been with Mahng on that fatal night, but whom the terrible, far-reaching curse had since driven terror-stricken from him. Of these they learned that he had, from the first, made his way to the south to the country of the Shawnees, who had at first received him kindly. Then, as the dread sentence of the Metai reached those remoter parts, he was driven from camp to camp until there was none who dared give him shelter or aid.

So he turned to the far west with a purpose of joining the fierce Dacotahs beyond the great river.

Following this faint clue, Donald and Atoka crossed Lake Michigan, ascended Green bay and the swift waters of the Fox until they could portage into the wide torrent of the Wisconsin. This they purposed to descend to the Mississippi, on whose banks they hoped for further news.

One day in the late autumn they came to a place where they must needs carry around a great fall, the roar of whose plunging waters could be heard for miles through the silent forest. From their landing Donald entered the narrow trail of the carry first, bearing the canoe on his head and shoulders, while Atoka followed after a slight delay, with their rifles and scanty camp equipage. At the highest point of the carry the pathway, barely wide enough for the pa.s.sage of two persons, skirted the very brink of the awful precipice over which thundered the cataract.

Here Donald came suddenly face to face with a slight figure, bending beneath a burden, whom he instantly recognized as Ah-mo, the daughter of Pontiac. At the same moment a man emerged from behind a point of rock a few paces beyond her, whom Donald knew by instinct to be Mahng.

Hurling his burden from him, careless of its fate, and shouting the anathema of the Metai, the avenger sprang past the crouching girl to grapple with his mortal foe. But the latter did not await him. With the terrible words he had so long dreaded to hear ringing in his ears, he turned to fly, slipped on the wet rocks, clutched wildly at the empty air, and pitched headlong into the awful depths of the seething caldron a hundred feet below.