Camp-fire and Wigwam Part 24

Could the melancholy croaking of frogs in the distance have fallen on the ears of the boy, he would have had all the factors that go to bring on the most absolute loneliness of which a human being is capable.

Unfortunately Jack did not need that addition to render his misery complete, for it was furnished by his own condition and situation.

"I am many long, long miles from home," he reflected, as a sharp pain gyrated through his brain, and the flickering fire seemed to be bobbing up and down and back and forth in a witches' dance; "and little hope is there of my ever seeing mother again. Ah, if I was only there now!"

He let his head fall back and heaved a deep sigh. He recalled his plain but comfortable bed, which became the most deliciously comfortable the mind can conceive, when his mother shoved the blankets in about him, or "tucked him up," as she never failed to do every evening he was at home; the good-night kiss from those affectionate lips; the magic touch of those fingers which pushed back the hair from his forehead, ere she bent over him with the last salute; the loving, caressing care when he was threatened with the slightest illness, which made the boy long for illness for the sake of such care: these and other blessed memories came back with a power which caused the eyes to overflow with sorrow.

Ah, fortunate is that boy, even though his years carry him to the verge of full manhood, who has his mother to watch over his waking and sleeping hours, and her prayers to follow his footsteps through life.

The pattering rain, the sighing wind, and the ghostly, semi-darkness soothed the sachem and his wife, but Jack Carleton was as wide awake as when pushing across the Mississippi in the half overturned canoe, with the fierce Shawanoes firing at him and his friends. Probably, in the entire Indian village, he was the only one who was awake. Had a band of Sioux or Iroquois stolen through the woods and descended on the Sauks they would have been found defenceless and unprepared.

Through one of the crevices behind Jack, came a draught of wind which, striking him on his shoulders, caused him to shiver. He moved a little distance away, and drew the bison robe closer about him, for though a raging fever was coursing through his veins, he knew the danger of subjecting himself to such exposure.

He was consumed with thirst, and seeing the clumsy gourd by the side of the sleeping squaw, he crawled forward on his hands and knees in the hope of finding water in it. Fortunately there was an abundance and he took a long, deep draught of the fluid, which was not very fresh nor cold, but which was the most refreshing he had ever swallowed.

Creeping back to his primitive couch, he continued a deep mental discussion of the question whether the best thing he could do was not to steal out of the lodge and make a break for home. There could be little, if any doubt, as to the ease with which such a start could be made. He had only to rise to his feet, pa.s.s through the deer-skin door, which was merely tied in position, and he could travel miles before morning and before his absence would be noted. The falling rain would obliterate his trail, so that the keen eyes of the Sauks would be unable to follow it, and he could make a.s.surance doubly sure by taking to the water until a bloodhound would turn up his nose in disgust. Furthermore, he was confident that he would be able to obtain possession of his rifle and enough ammunition with which to provide himself food on the way home.

This was what may be called the rose-colored view of the scheme, which had a much more practical side. While under ordinary circ.u.mstances Jack would have been able to take care of himself at a much greater distance from home, and in a hostile country, yet the alarming fact remained, that he was seriously ill and such exposure was almost certain to drive him delirious, with the certainty of death to follow very speedily.

Though he took such a gloomy view of his own position among the Sauks (whose tribal name, of course, he had not yet learned), he was not without a certain degree of hope. He had suffered no harm thus far and it is always the unexpected which happens. While he had declared to himself that Ogallah was simply training him for the torture, as it may be expressed, yet it might be the chieftain being without children, meant to adopt him as a son. If such was his intention, manifestly, the best thing for Jack to do was to lie still and prayerfully await the issue of events. No doubt if you or I were in his sad predicament, that is the course that would have been followed, but Jack could not bring himself to submit to such inactivity when the prospect of liberty was before him. Allowance, too, must be made for the condition of the boy.

He was scarcely himself, when, compressing his lips, he muttered,

"I won't stay here! They mean to kill me and I may as well die in the woods! I will take my gun and go out in the night and storm, and trust in G.o.d to befriend me as He has always done."

Aye, so He had; and so He will always befriend us, if we but use our opportunities and fly not in His face.

Carefully he rose to his feet, and, gathering the bison robe around his fevered frame, glanced at the two unconscious figures, and then at the form of his rifle leaning against the side of the lodge and dimly revealed in the flickering firelight.

As he stepped forward to recover his gun, everything in the room swam before his eyes, a million bees seemed to be humming in his brain, and, clutching the air in a vague way, he sank back on his couch with a groan, which awakened Ogallah and his squaw. The chief came to the sitting position with a surprising quickness, while the wife opened her eyes and glared through the dim firelight at the figure. The dog slumbered on.

Ogallah seeing that it was only the captive who was probably dying, lay back again on the bare earth and resumed his sleep. The woman watched the lad for several minutes as if she felt some interest in learning whether a pale face pa.s.sed away in the same manner as one of her own race. Inasmuch as the sick boy was so long in settling the question, she closed her eyes and awaited a more convenient season.

From the moment Jack Carleton succ.u.mbed, helpless in the grasp of the fiery fever, he became sick nigh unto death. Those who have been so afflicted need no attempt to tell his experience or feelings. Why he should have fallen so critically ill, cannot be judged with certainty, nor is it a question of importance; the superinducing cause probably lay in the nervous strain to which he was subjected.

He instantly became delirious and remained so through the night. He talked of his mother, of Deerfoot, of Otto, and of others; was fleeing from indescribable dangers, and he frequently cried out in his fright.

The chief and his squaw heard him and understood the cause, but never raised their hands to give him help.

Jack became more quiet toward morning and fell into a fitful sleep which lasted until the day was far advanced. Then, when he opened his eyes, his brain still somewhat clouded, he uttered a gasp of dismay and terror.

Crouching in the lodge beside him was the most frightful object on which he had ever looked. It had the form of a man, but was covered with skins like those of a bear and bison, and a long thick horn projected from each corner of the forehead. The face, which glared out from this unsightly dress, was covered with daubs, rings and splashes of red, white and black paint, applied in the most fantastic fashion. The black eyes, encircled by yellow rings, suggested a resemblance to some serpent or reptilian monster. The figure held a kind of rattle made of hollow horn in either hand, and was watching the countenance of the sick boy with close attention. When he saw the eyes open, he made a leap in the air, began a doleful chant, swayed the rattles and leaped about the lodge in the most grotesque dance that can be imagined. Ogallah and his squaw were not present, so Jack had the hideous creature all to himself.

Enough sense remained with the boy for him to know that he was the Medicine Man of the tribe, whom the chieftain had been kind enough to send to his help. Instead of giving the youth the few simple remedies he required, he resorted to incantation and sorcery as has been their custom for hundreds of years. The barbarian fraud continued to chant and rattle and dance back and forth, until Jack's eyes grew weary of following the performance. The mind, too, which was so nigh its own master in the morning, grew weaker, and finally let go its hold.

Sometimes the waltzing Medicine Man suddenly lengthened to the height of a dozen yards; sometimes he was bobbing about on his head, and again he was ten times as broad as he was long, and hopping up and down on one short leg. From the other side of the lodge he often made a bound that landed him on the bison skin, which lay over the breast of the sick boy, where he executed a final tattoo that drove the last vestige of consciousness from him.

It was all a torturing jumble of wild and grim fancies, with occasional glimmerings of reason, which led Jack to clutch the air as if he would not let them go; but they whisked away in spite of all he could do, and a black "rayless void" descended upon and gathered round about him, until the mind was lost in its own overturnings and struggles, and all consciousness of being departed.

CHAPTER XXIX.

CONVALESCENCE.

As nearly as can be ascertained, Jack Carleton lay the major part of four days in the Indian lodge, sick nigh unto death, with his brain topsy turvy. During that time he never received a drop of medicine, and scarcely any attention. The chief was gone most of each day, and the squaw spent many hours out doors, looking after her "farm." When the patient became unusually wild, she would give him a drink of water and attend to his wants. A few of the Indians peeped through the door, but as a whole they showed surprising indifference to the fate of the captive. Had he died, it is not likely he would have been given even Indian burial.

Several times the Medicine Man put in an appearance, and danced and hooted and sounded his rattles about the lodge, after which he took himself off and would not be seen again for many hours.

On the fourth day, while Jack was lying motionless on his bison skin and looking up to the composite roof, his full reason returned to him.

Indeed, his brain appeared to have been clarified by the scorching ordeal through which it had pa.s.sed, and he saw things with crystalline clearness. Turning his head, he found he was alone in the lodge, and, as nearly as he could judge, the afternoon was half gone. The fire had died out, but the room was quite warm, showing there had been a rise of temperature since the night of the rain. Peering through the crevices nearest him, he observed the sunlight was shining, and could catch twinkling glimpses of Indians moving hither and thither; but there was no outcry or unusual noise, and business was moving along in its accustomed channel.

With some trepidation and misgiving, Jack rose on his elbow and then carefully a.s.sumed the sitting position. Every vestige of dizziness had fled, and his head was as clear as a bell. He was sensible, too, of a faint and increasing desire for food; but he was equally conscious that he was very weak, and it must be days before he could recover his normal strength.

After sitting for a few minutes, he threw the bison skin from him, and rose to his feet. Having held the p.r.o.ne position so long, he felt decidedly queer when he stood erect once more. But he walked back and forth, and knew within himself that the crisis of his illness had pa.s.sed and he was convalescent.

Of course it was Jack's vigorous const.i.tution and the recuperating power of nature which, under Heaven, brought him round. The medicine man had no more to do with his recovery than have many of our modern medicine men, who, sit beside the gasping patient, feel his pulse, look at his tongue and experiment with the credulous dupe.

Jack Carleton possessed enough sense to appreciate his condition. Very little sickness had he ever known in life, but there had been plenty of it around him, and his mother was one of those nurses, whose knowledge far exceeded that of the ordinary physician, and whose presence in the sick room is of itself a balm and blessing.

The boy knew, therefore, from what he had learned from her, that the time had come when he must be extremely careful what he ate and how he conducted himself. Moving over to the unattractive table, he found some sc.r.a.ps of meat left. They were partly cooked, but likely as good for him as anything could have been. He ate considerable, chewing it finely, and finding his appet.i.te satisfied much sooner than he antic.i.p.ated.

But that for which Jack longed above everything else was a plunge in the cool water. His underclothing sorely needed changing, and he would have been absolutely happy could he have been in the hands of his tidy mother if only for a brief while.

However, there was no help for him, and he could only wait and hope for better things. After he had resumed his seat on the bison skins, a project took shape in his mind, which was certainly a wise and prudent one, with promises of good results. Knowing he was recovering rapidly, he resolved to keep the fact from his captors. While still gaining strength and vigor, he would feign weakness and illness, on the watch for a chance that was sure to come sooner or later, and which he would thus be able to improve to the utmost.

Convalescence revived with ten-fold force the desire to end his Indian captivity and return home. Uncertain as he was of the time that had pa.s.sed since starting on his hunt, he knew that it was long enough to awaken the most poignant anguish on the part of his loved mother, who must suffer far more, before, under the most favorable circ.u.mstances, he could return.

When it was growing dark, Ogallah and his squaw entered. The latter quickly had the fire going and, as its glow filled the room, both looked inquiringly at the patient on the other side the lodge. He in turn a.s.sumed, so far as it was possible, the appearance of a person in the last collapse, and took care that the expression of his countenance should show no more intelligence and vivacity than that of an idiot.

The couple exchanged a few words, probably referring to Jack, but they seemed to care little for him, and he was glad that he excited so slight interest, since they were less likely to suspect the deception he was practicing upon them. The squaw, after cooking the meat, brought a piece over to Jack, who stared in an absurd fashion before shaking his head, and she turned about and resumed her place by the table, after which she lit her pipe and squatted near the fire.

The patient soon fell into a refreshing sleep, which lasted until it began growing light, when he awoke, feeling so well that it was hard to keep from leaping in the air with a shout, and dashing out doors. He was sure that he could hold his own in a game of _gah-haw-ge_, if the chance were only given.

But he resolutely forced down his bounding spirits, though he could not suppress the feeling of hunger which was fast a.s.suming a ravenous intensity. When the squaw offered him a half cooked piece of meat, he s.n.a.t.c.hed at it with such wolf-like fierceness that the squaw recoiled with a grunt of dismay. Jack made sure he had secured the prize, when he devoured every particle, which luckily was enough fully to satisfy his appet.i.te.

Whenever the boy saw the chief or his squaw looking at him, he a.s.sumed the role of a dunce, and it must be confessed he played it with unquestionable fidelity to nature. He probably afforded considerable amus.e.m.e.nt to the royal couple who could have had no suspicion that the hopeful youth was essaying a part.

When the forenoon was well along, the chief and his squaw went out, the latter probably to do the manual labor, while the former occupied himself with "sitting around" and criticising the style in which she ran the agricultural department of the household. The dog rose, stretched, yawned and then lay down again and resumed his slumber. Jack was meditating what was best to do, when the door was pushed aside, and the frightful-looking Medicine Man crouched to the middle of the lodge and glared at the patient, who looked calmly back again, as though he felt no special interest in him or anything else, but all the same Jack watched him with more entertainment than he had ever felt before.

First of all, the man with the horns and rattles, took amazingly long steps on the toes of his moccasins around the apartment between the two "columns" which supported the roof, as though afraid of awaking the baby. At the end of each circ.u.mambulation, he would squat like a frog about to leap off the bank into the water, and glare at the boy, the corners of whose mouth were twitching with laughter at the grotesque performance.

When tired of this, the Medicine Man stopped in the middle of the apartment, and all at once began using his rattles to the utmost, and dancing with the vigor of a howling dervish. He accompanied, or rather added to the racket, by a series of "hooh-hoohs!" which were not loud, but exceedingly dismal in their effect.

The sudden turmoil awoke the canine, which raised his head, and surveying the scene for a moment, rose, as if in disgust, and started to trot outdoors to escape the annoyance. As he did so, he pa.s.sed directly behind the Medicine Man, who, of course, did not see him. At the proper moment he made a backward leap, struck both legs against the dog, and then tumbled over him on his back, with his heels pointing toward the roof. The angered pup, with a yelp of pain and rage, turned about, inserted his teeth in the most favorable part of the body, and then limped out of the wigwam with a few more cries, expressive of his feelings. The Medicine Man gave one frenzied kick and screech as the teeth of the canine sank into his flesh, and, scrambling to his feet, dashed out of the lodge with no thought of the dignity belonging to his exalted character.

Jack Carleton rolled over on his back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks and he could scarcely breathe. It was the funniest scene on which he had ever looked, and the reaction, following his long mental depression, shook him from head to foot with mirth, as he had never been shaken before. He could not have restrained himself had his life been at stake. After awhile, he would rub the tears from his eyes, and break forth again, until, absolutely, he could laugh no more.

Laughter is one of the best tonics in the world, and that which convulsed Jack Carleton was the very medicine he needed. Though still weak, he felt so well that he could not have felt better.