Cameron of Lochiel
rivers ran with blood, but they knew not how to yield. The war would
have been going on still but for a traitor who warned the English that
nine Scotch chiefs, having gathered in a cavern to drink fire-water,
had fallen to sleep there like our brother Talamousse."
"The red-skins," said Grand-Loutre, "are never traitors to their own
people. They deceive their enemies, but never their friends. Will my
brother tell me how it comes that there are traitors among the pale
faces?"
Dumais, a little puzzled to answer this question, went on as if he had
not heard it.
"The nine chiefs were taken to a great city and condemned to be hung
within a month. On this sad news fires were lighted on all the hills
of Scotland to summon a grand council of all the warriors. The wise
men spoke fine words for three days and three nights, but came to no
conclusion. Then they consulted the spirits, and a great medicine-man
declared that the Manitou was angry with his children, and that they
must bury the hatchet forever. Twenty warriors with blackened faces
betook themselves to the chief town of the English, and before the
gates they uttered a death-cry for every captive chief. A great council
was held, and Ononthio granted peace on condition that they should
give hostages, that they should deliver up their strongholds, that
the two nations should henceforth be as one, and that the English and
Scotch warriors should fight shoulder to shoulder against the enemies
of the great Ononthio. A feast was made which lasted three days and
three nights, and at which so much brandy was drunk that the women took
away all the tomahawks. Had they not done so the war would have broken
out anew. The English were so rejoiced that they promised to send the
Scotch all the heads, feet, and tails of the sheep which they should
kill in the future."
"The English must be generous, indeed," said the Indian.
"My brother must see by this," continued Dumais, "that a Scotch warrior
would rather be burned than hung, and he will sell me his share of the
prisoner. Let my brother fix his price, and Dumais will not count the
cost."
"Grand-Loutre will not sell his share of the prisoner," said the
Indian. "He has promised Taoutsi and Katakoui to hand him over
to-morrow at Petit-Marigotte, and he will keep his word. The council
will be assembled, and Grand-Loutre will speak to the young men. If the
young men consent not to burn him, it will then be time to hand him
over to D'Haberville."
"My brother knows Dumais," said the Canadian. "He knows that he is rich
and a man of his word. Dumais will pay for the prisoner six times as
much as Ononthio pays the Indians for every one of his enemies' scalps."
"Grand-Loutre knows," said the Indian, "that his brother speaks the
truth, but he will not sell his share of the prisoner."
The eyes of the Canadian shot flame, and instinctively he grasped his
hatchet; but, suddenly changing his mind, he assumed an indifferent
air, and knocked the ashes out of the bowl of his tomahawk, which
served the Canadians as well as the savages for tobacco-pipe when on
the march. Although the first hostile movement of the Canadian had
not escaped the keen eye of his companion, the latter went on smoking
tranquilly.
The words of Dumais had revived the spark of hope in Archie's heart. In
spite of his bitter remorse, he was too young to bid farewell without
regret to all that made life dear. Could he, the last of his race,
willingly suffer the shield of the Camerons to go to the tomb with a
stain? Could he endure to die, leaving the D'Habervilles to think that
they had cherished a viper in their bosom? He thought of the despair
of Jules, the curses of the implacable captain, the silent grief of
the good woman who used to call him her son, the sorrow of the fair
girl whom he had hoped one day to call by a tenderer name than that of
sister. Archie was, indeed, young to die; and with the renewal of hope
in his heart, he again clung desperately to life.
He had followed with ever-increasing anxiety the scene that was passing
before him. He endeavored to comprehend it by watching the faces of
the speakers. Dark as was the night, he had lost nothing of the hate
and scorn which were flashed upon him from the cruel eyes of the
savages. Knowing the ferocity of the Indians when under the influence
of alcohol, it was not without surprise he saw Dumais passing them the
bottle; but when he saw one refuse to drink and the other stretched
in drunken stupor on the sand, he understood the Canadian's tactics.
When he heard the name of Wallace, he remembered that during Dumais's
illness he had often entertained him with fabulous stories about his
favorite hero, but he was puzzled to guess the Canadian's purpose in
talking about the deeds of a Scottish warrior. If he had understood the
latter part of Dumais's story, he would have recalled the chaffing of
Jules in regard to the pretended delicacies of his countrymen. When he
saw the angry gleam in the Canadian's eyes, when he saw him grasp his
tomahawk, he was on the point of crying not to strike. His generous
soul foresaw the dangers to which his friend would be exposed if he
should kill an Indian belonging to a tribe allied with the French.
The Canadian was silent for some time. He refilled his pipe, began to
smoke, and at length said quietly:
"When Grand-Loutre, with his father, his wife, and his two sons, fell
sick of the small-pox over by South River, Dumais sought them out. At
the risk of bringing the disease upon himself and family, he carried
them to his own wigwam, where he nursed them for three moons. It was
not the fault of Dumais if the old man and the two boys died; Dumais
had them buried like Christians, and the Black Robe has prayed to the
Great Spirit for their souls."
"If Dumais," replied the Indian, "if Dumais and his wife and his
children had fallen sick in the forest, Grand-Loutre would have
carried them to his wigwam, would have fished for them and would have
hunted for them, would have bought them the fire-water which is the
Frenchman's medicine, and would have said, 'Eat and drink my brothers,
and recover your strength.' Grand-Loutre and his squaw would have
watched day and night by the couch of their French friends; and never
would Grand-Loutre have said, 'Remember that I fed you and took care
of you and bought fire-water for you with my furs.' Let my brother take
the prisoner," continued the Indian, drawing himself up proudly; "the
red-skin is no longer in debt to the pale face!" And he calmly resumed
his smoking.
"Listen, my brother," said the Canadian, "and pardon Dumais that he has
hidden the truth. He knew not thy great heart. Now he is going to speak
in the presence of the Great Spirit himself, in whose presence he dare
not lie."
"That is true," said the Indian, "let my brother speak."
"When Grand-Loutre was sick two years ago," continued the Canadian,
"Dumais told him about his adventure when the ice went out that spring
at the Falls of St. Thomas, and how he was saved by a young Scotchman
who had arrived that very evening at the house of the Seigneur de
Beaumont."
"My brother has told me," said the Indian, "and he has shown me the
little island suspended over the abyss, whereon he awaited death.
Grand-Loutre knew the place and the old cedar to which my brother
clung."
"Very well!" replied Dumais, rising and taking off his cap, "thy
brother swears in the presence of the Great Spirit that the prisoner is
none other than the young Scotchman who saved his life!"
The Indian gave a great cry which went echoing wildly round the lake.
He sprang to his feet, drew his knife, and rushed upon the captive.
Lochiel thought his hour had come and commended his soul to God. What
was his surprise when the savage cut his bonds, grasped his hands with
every mark of delight, and pushed him into the arms of his friend.
Dumais pressed Archie to his breast, then sank upon his knees and
cried:
"I have prayed to thee, O God, to extend the right arm of your
protection over this noble and generous man. My wife and my children
have never ceased to make the same prayer. I thank thee, O God, that
thou hast granted me even more than I had dared to ask. I thank thee, O
God, for I should have committed a crime to save his life, and should
have gone to my grave a murderer."
"Now," said Lochiel, after endeavoring to thank his rescuer, "let us
get off as quickly as possible, my dear Dumais; for if my absence from
camp is perceived I am ruined utterly. I will explain as we go."
Just as they were setting foot in the canoe the cry of the osprey was
heard three times from the lake shore opposite the island. "It is the
young men from Marigotte coming to look for you, my brother," said
Grand-Loutre, turning to Lochiel. "Taoutsi and Katakoui must have met
some of them, and told them they had an English prisoner on the island;
but they will shout a long time without awakening Talamousse, and as
to Grand-Loutre, he is going to sleep till the Canadian gets back.
_Bon voyage_, my brothers." As Archie and his companion directed their
course toward the north they heard for a long time the cries of the
osprey, which were uttered at short intervals by the Indians on the
south shore.
"I fear," said Archie, "that the young Abénaquis warriors, foiled
in their amiable intent, will make a bad quarter of an hour for our
friends on the island."
"It is true," replied his companion, "that we are depriving them
of a very great pleasure. They find the time long at Marigotte,
and to-morrow might have been passed very pleasantly in roasting a
prisoner."
Lochiel shuddered in spite of himself.
"As for the two _canaouas_ (red rascals) we have left, do not trouble
yourself for them, they will know how to get out of the scrape. The
Indian is the most independent being imaginable, and renders account to
nobody for his actions unless it suits him. Moreover, the worst that
could happen to them in the present instance would be, using their own
expression, to cover the half of the prisoner with beaver skins or
their equivalent--in other words, to pay their share in him to Taoutsi
and Katakoui. It is more probable, however, that Grand-Loutre, who is
a kind of a wag among them, would choose rather to raise a laugh at
the expense of his two disappointed comrades, for he is never without
resource. He will say, perhaps, that Talamousse and he had a perfect
right to dispose of their half of the prisoner; that the half which
they had set free had run away with the other half; that they had
better hurry after him, for the prisoner was loaded with their share of
himself and therefore could not travel very fast; with other waggery
that would be hugely relished by the Indians. It is more probable,
however, that he will speak to them of my adventure at the falls of St.
Thomas, which the Abénaquis know about, and will tell them that it was
to your devotion I owed my life. Then, as the Indians never forget a
good turn, they will cry, 'Our brothers have done well to set free the
savior of our friend the pale face!'"
Lochiel wished to enter into full details in order to excuse himself in
the eyes of Dumais for his cruel conduct on the day preceding; but the
latter stopped him.
"A man like you, sir," said the Canadian, "need make me no explanation.
I could hardly suspect a heart so noble and so self-forgetful of
failing at all in the sentiments of humanity and gratitude. I am
a soldier, and I know all the duties imposed upon one by military
discipline. I have assisted at hideous performances on the part of
our barbarous allies, which in my position as sergeant I might have
been able to prevent had not my hands been tied by the orders of my
superiors. It is a hard calling for sympathetic hearts, this profession