The Trapper's Daughter Part 51

"What use is it, dear child?" she answered hesitatingly, "As you will not grant my request."

"My mother thinks so, but is not sure," she said, maliciously.

The old lady smiled.

"Have you guessed, then, what I was about to ask of you?" she said.

"Perhaps so; my mother will explain, so that I may see whether I was mistaken."

"No, it is useless; I know that my daughter will refuse."

Sunbeam broke into a fresh and joyous laugh as she clapped her little hands.

"My mother knows the contrary," she said; "why does she not place confidence in me? Has she ever found me unkind?"

"Never; you have always been kind and attentive to me, trying to calm my grief, and dissipate my fears."

"My mother can speak then, as the ears of a friend are open," Sunbeam said to her quietly.

"In truth," the old lady remarked, after some thought, "what I desire is just. Is Sunbeam a mother?" she said, meaningly.

"Yes," she quickly replied.

"Does my daughter love her child?"

The Indian looked at her in surprise.

"Are there mothers in the great island of the whites who do not love their child?" she asked; "My child is myself, is it not my flesh and blood? What is there dearer to a mother than her child?"

"Nothing, that is true." Madame Guillois sighed. "If my daughter were separated from her child, what Would she do?"

"What would I do?" the Indian exclaimed, with a flash in her black eye; "I would go and join him, no matter when, no matter how."

"Good," the old lady remarked, eagerly; "I, too, love my child, and my daughter knows it. Well, I wish to join him, for my heart is lacerated at the thought of remaining any longer away from him."

"I know it, that is natural, it cannot be opposed. The flower fades when separated from the stem, the mother suffers when away from the son she nourished with her milk. What does my mother wish to do?"

"Alas! I wish to start as soon as possible to embrace my son."

"That is right: I will help my mother."

"What shall I do?"

"That is my business. Spider is about to a.s.semble the council in order to explain his mission to the chiefs. Many of our young men are scattered through the forest, setting traps and hunting the elk to support their family. Spider will want two days to collect the warriors he needs, and he will not start till the third day. My mother can be at rest; I will speak to Spider, and in three days we will set out."

She embraced the old lady, who tenderly responded, then rose and went away, after giving her a final sign of encouragement. Madame Guillois returned to her calli, her heart relieved of a heavy weight; for a long time she had not felt so happy. She forgot her sufferings and the sharp pangs of illness that undermined her, in order to think only of the approaching moment when she would embrace her son.

All happened as Sunbeam had foreseen. An hour later, the hachesto convened the chiefs to the great medicine lodge. The council lasted a long time, and was prolonged to the end of the day. Spider's demand was granted, and twenty warriors were selected to go and join the sachem of the tribe. But, as the squaw had foretold, most of the warriors were absent, and their return had to be awaited.

During the two succeeding days Sunbeam held frequent conferences with Spider, but did not exchange a word with Madame Guillois, contenting herself, when the mother's glance became too inquiring, by laying her finger on her lip with a smile. The poor lady sustained by fact.i.tious strength, a prey to a burning fever, sadly counted the hours while forming the most ardent vows for the success of her plan. At length, on the evening of the second day, Sunbeam, who had hitherto seemed to avoid the old lady, boldly approached her.

"Well?" the mother asked.

"We are going."

"When?"

"Tomorrow, at daybreak."

"Has Spider pledged his word to my daughter?"

"He has; so my mother will hold herself in readiness to start."

"I am so now."

The Indian woman smiled.

"No, tomorrow."

At daybreak, as was agreed on the previous evening, Madame Guillois and Sunbeam set out under the escort of Spider and his twenty warriors to join Unicorn.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

THE SORCERER.

Although Spider was a Comanche warrior in the fullest meaning of the term, that is to say rash, cunning, brutal and cruel, the laws of gallantry were not entirely unknown to him, and he had eagerly accepted Sunbeam's proposition. The Indian, who, like most of his countrymen, was under great obligations to Valentine, was delighted at the opportunity to do him a kindness.

If Spider had only travelled with his warriors the journey would have been accomplished, to use a Comanche expression, between two sunsets; but having with him two women, one of whom was not only old, but a European, that is to say, quite unused to desert life, he understood, without anyone making the remark--for Madame Guillois would have died sooner than complain, and she alone could have spoken--that he must completely modify his mode of travelling, and he did so.

The women, mounted on powerful horses (Madame Guillois being comfortably seated on a cushion made of seven or eight panthers' skins) were, for fear of any accident, placed in the middle of the band, which did not take Indian file, owing to its numerical strength.

They trotted on thus during the whole day, and at sunset Spider gave orders to camp. He was one of the first to dismount, and cut with his knife a number of branches, of which he formed, as if by enchantment, a hut to protect the two females from the dew. The fires were lighted, supper prepared, and immediately after the meal, all prepared to sleep except the sentries.

Madame Guillois alone did not sleep, for fever and impatience kept her awake; she therefore spent the whole night crouched in a corner of the hut, reflecting. At sunrise they started again; as they were approaching the mountains the wind grew cold, and a dense fog covered the prairie.

All wrapped themselves up carefully in their furs until the sun gained sufficient strength to render this precaution unnecessary.

In some parts of America the climate has this disagreeable peculiarity, that in the morning the frost is strong enough to split stones, at midday the heat is stifling, and in the evening the thermometer falls again below zero.

The day pa.s.sed without any incident worth recording. Toward evening, at about an hour before the halt, Spider, who was galloping as scout about one hundred yards ahead of the band, discovered footsteps. They were clear, fresh, regular, deep, and seemed to be made by a young, powerful man accustomed to walking.

Spider rejoined his party without imparting his discovery to anyone; but Sunbeam, by whose side he was riding, suddenly tapped him on the shoulder, to attract his attention.

"Look there, warrior," she said, pointing a little to the left "does that look like a man marching?"

The Indian stopped, put his hand over his eyes as a shade, to concentrate his attention, and examined for a long time the point the chief's squaw pointed out. At length he set out again, shaking his head repeatedly.