Menotah Part 23

'I have a gift for you,' she said.

'You have given it already. You shall not take yourself back again,' he replied laughingly.

She patted his mouth with a soft palm and laughed back into his eyes.

'It is something nicer than me,' she said. 'I had it with me in the storm; now it lies in the hut. There are many beautiful stones, which were given to my father by the hunter who found them. That was before I lived.'

He saw she was referring to the willow box. 'What is your gift, _cherie_?'

'Yellow stones. They are wonderful as sunshine,' she replied.

This was a matter of far greater interest. He drew himself up eagerly to ask, 'From where did they come?'

'I will tell you how the hunter of our tribe found them long ago. He travelled far, tracking the moose, and struck in a new direction, until he came to a strange land, which no man had knowledge of. He went through much forest, then came out to a country of rocks, where great red hills overtopped the largest trees; and still he travelled on, down the rock paths and through the deep clefts. At length he stood upon lofty cliffs, and looked upon what must once have been a great river, like our mighty Saskatchewan-G.o.d. But then it was dry, while the bed of sparkling sand, overstrewn with small sh.e.l.ls, showed no mark of footsteps. So he wondered greatly, and let himself down the cliff front, over rocks the like of which his eyes had never rested on. For they were white as snow. Then he came upon the ancient river bed and his feet sank amid the brittle sh.e.l.ls. Into the warm sand he worked his hands, then, behold! bright stones lay there, glittering beneath the sun as though made of fire. Also he chipped fragments from the white rocks, and saw wondrous yellow patterns traced upon the heart of the stone. So he came away with many of the bright creatures in his pemmican bag. When he returned, after much wandering, he gave them to the Chief.'

Lamont had given this narrative breathless attention. 'Where is that river bed?'

Menotah laughed. 'Do you wish to walk along the soft sand as well? You cannot, for none knows where it lies. That hunter has long been dead, nor could he ever find his way there again. The Spirit brought him to it, and it was after many weary days of travel. No man could lead you there. Do you wish to travel through the lone land?'

'I will tell you after I have seen the stones,' was the somewhat mercenary answer.

'You will meet me to-night, when the moon tips the black rock ledge.

Then I will bring the little box and give it you.'

He agreed; but as he kissed her soft mouth, he thought more upon the glittering sands, so jealously guarded by Nature, than the upturned face of sweet beauty and the trusting heart that throbbed so happily against his breast.

But Menotah had flitted among the trees, and disappeared with a glad song upon her lips. Scarce had Lamont reached the open, when a shrunken form approached slowly from the direction of the river. He stopped, and, leaning against a rock, waited for the old Chief to come up.

The latter had perceived his daughter as she pa.s.sed at a short distance, with scantest form of recognition. He groaned and struck his staff upon the ground in the bitterness of his heart. The white oppressor had taken from him everything, save only the light of his eyes. And now, even the heart of his child had been turned against her own. Especially did the old man hate Lamont, who had dealt destruction in the fight, who, as he now shrewdly imagined, might have some knowledge regarding the disappearance of Muskwah. So he would have pa.s.sed without a word, had not the young man caught a fold of his blanket and brought him to a standstill.

Then he turned his bleared eyes and deeply wrinkled countenance to inject the question, 'Did you see her, who left me as you came up?'

Quickly the other found words. 'Can a man see the sun at noon? Who could wish for beauty when Menotah stands by?'

'You're right enough,' said Lamont, carelessly. 'She is--'

'What is she to you?' broke in the old Chief violently. 'No longer will she look upon those of the tribe as equals, no longer does she respect the needs of her sire. When I call for her, the answer comes, "She is absent; she has gone to the forest." When I search, failure but mocks my efforts. What have you done to her? Why have you turned her against her own people?'

'She is a good deal to me,' said Lamont. 'I am going to make her my wife.'

The old Chief clasped claw-like hands and trembled to his knees.

'Leave me this, only this,' he wailed pitifully. 'See, I would not bow myself to the white man for a small matter. But now I will humble myself for Menotah's sake. The white man has taken everything from me. He stole my land, driving me back to the forest, which is worthless to him; he killed the buffalo,[3] and took away our life support. Now, if we rise to reclaim our own, he takes away our life. White man--give me back my daughter. Take not away the only gladness of my last days.'

'Get up,' said Lamont, scornfully. 'What are you grovelling about there for? I am as good a man as any of yours.'

'May the Great Spirit aid me. May he save my child from her fate.'

'I guess your G.o.d will listen, if you shout loud enough; but he certainly can't stop me from making Menotah my bride.'

The aged Chief rose in feeble manner, a strange picture of crushed humanity. 'What good can come from such a marriage?' he quavered. 'Does the crow mate with the gull? Nature herself teaches you to take a wife from your own tribe. Yet, I tell you this, should you treat her wrongly, an old man's curse shall follow you to death. The earth will hate you, and the wind shall blow poison through your veins.'

The other laughed cynically. 'Good!' he exclaimed. 'You talk well, old man; it is a pity you will not live to see my downfall.'

'I do not wish to. I have seen much sorrow, and now look for sleep. It is the great love for what I may call my own that speaks in me.'

'Well, I have told you--I love her, too.'

'With the white man's constancy. No true fire burns within your heart. I know the white man's fair promise and the white man's love. You change, as the day in early summer. At one time all is bright, but even while you gaze black clouds roll up, the tempest beats. So will the love sunshine turn to dark forgetfulness before another moon has grown round.'

The young man smoothed his fair moustache. 'Have you done?' he asked listlessly.

'The wind will receive my prayers and carry them to the Spirit. He will act between you and me. White man, for the last time I plead to you.

Give me back my daughter, the warmth of my life, the pleasure of my failing eyes. This is all I ask.'

Lamont's lips curled into a slow smile. Then he leaned forward, until his face came near the ancient head. 'You ask for your daughter. Have you never thought I might be unable to return her to you?'

The old man breathed thickly. 'What is the meaning in your words? I am aged, and the sense is feeble.'

The smile grew deeper as the words came deliberately. 'Perhaps it is already too late.'

Then he burst into mocking laughter, and turned towards the fort with swinging step.

But the Chief lifted two dim eyes upward, while the great sorrow consumed his ebbing life. Pitifully he cried and wailed to the peaceful nature encircling him, 'The G.o.d has spoken. Be it good or evil, what matters it? Yet, when he makes known his will, what have men to do but bow the head?'

[1] 'Stay within when the darkness falls, for the night is bad. The evil one has his power.'--Cree proverb. The dogma is interesting, as to it the t.i.tle 'Manitobah' (now Manitoba) owns derivation.

[2] Spirits may only travel on the south wind.

[3] Though it has frequently been denied, the Hudson's Bay Company are alone responsible for the extinction of the buffalo.

CHAPTER VI

DENTON'S DESCENT

Abandoned by Lamont, the Factor discharged a few duties in the store, made a selection of heterogeneous entries in his books, then set forth for the hut beneath the cliff. Here the Icelander, considerately left by Dave for 'planting,' was sheltered, watched over by the taciturn and skilful Justin.

The petty king of the district walked by the outlying scrub for some distance, then turned sharply and worked his great body with extraordinary agility down the almost perpendicular cliff. This was a journey he had often made before, chiefly for the sake of enjoying the breathless exercise of a somewhat hazardous climb. Presently he came to the bush-covered roof of the one-roomed hut. Here he veered off again, dropped from the overhanging ledge, and without ceremony kicked in the door.

Directly opposite the entrance lay the sick man, stretched upon a pile of sacking; Justin's stunted form moved to and fro; while, squatting on the floor, with an open Bible across his knees, and an odour of hypocrisy emanating from his very garments, appeared no less a personage than Peter Denton.

The latter was not antic.i.p.ating a visit from his natural enemy, though he was quite prepared to act on emergency. Feigning complete ignorance of the Factor's presence--somewhat of an exaggeration in the restricted s.p.a.ce--he bent over the book, and drawled forth in his nasal tones a portion of the Lamentations that happened to come handy. He could have done nothing, as he knew well enough, to more effectually arouse McAuliffe's ire. Nor did the latter lose any time in acquainting him of that fact.

'Quit that noise now, or I'll fire you outside; and darned quick, too.

What are you doing here, anyway?'