AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.—REGINALD PREPARES TO FOLLOW THE TRAIL.

For two days the band of Crows hovered round the encampment, sometimes showing themselves on the adjacent heights, at others drawing off to a distance, in hopes of enticing some of Reginald’s party to venture into the open country; but although he himself chafed and fretted like an impatient steed, he was sensible of the risk that must attend any error or imprudence while in the neighbourhood of an enemy so crafty and so strong in numbers, and he never permitted the watchfulness of his little garrison to be relaxed for a moment: the horses were driven to feed under the guard of two armed Delawares, and were not sent to a distance whence their return could be intercepted, and the watches were regularly set and relieved during the whole night.

On the third day the Crows, finding that all their endeavours to draw their cautious enemy from the covert were vain, held a council of war, after which three or four of their principal chiefs approached the encampment, making, as they advanced, signs of amity and truce. Reginald went out to meet them, accompanied by Baptiste and Atto, leaving orders with the remainder of his party to hold themselves in readiness against any attempt at treachery: halting at a spot not more than eighty yards from the wood, he awaited the Crow leaders, who came forward to meet him without any apparent suspicion or treacherous design.

They had taken the precaution to bring with them the youth to whom Reginald had already shown kindness, and whose presence they rightly conjectured would facilitate the amicable nature of their mission.

Reginald acknowledged with a smile the friendly greeting of his young protÉgÉ, and then drawing himself up to his full height, awaited in silence the opening of the parley.

The Crow partisan[56] first glanced his keen eye over the persons of those whom he was about to address, as if scanning them for the purpose of ascertaining their qualities and character, and whether he should best succeed by endeavouring to circumvent or to overawe them. Keen as he was, his penetration was here at fault; for although no three persons could be more dissimilar than those before him, yet, whether taken collectively or severally, they looked like men who would not be easily over–reached: his eye first rested on the spare sinewy frame and impenetrable countenance of Atto; thence it glanced to the muscular frame and shrewd hard features of the guide; and turning from them, it found but little encouragement in the bright bold eye and commanding form of Reginald Brandon.

Perceiving with the intuitive sagacity of an Indian that the latter was the leader of his party, the partisan opened the parley by pointing his forefinger at Reginald, and then pressing the closed fingers against his own breast: he then pointed to himself with the same finger, and afterwards stretching both arms horizontally, moved them up and down with a vibrating motion, concluding his pantomime by again raising the forefinger of his right hand vertically to the height of his forehead. Reginald, who could not understand these gestures, turned to Atto, saying, “Does my brother know what the stranger speaks?—if so, let him explain.”

“He says,” replied the Delaware, “that he wishes to be friends with you, and he tells you by the last signs that he is an Upsaroka, and a chief.”[57]

“Tell him,” said Reginald, “that if his heart is true, and his tongue not forked, we also wish to be friends with him and his people.”

The Crow replied by making the conventional sign for “good,” adding to it that for “truth.”

On this being explained to Reginald, the latter desired Baptiste to bring from the camp some tobacco, a pipe, and a few trinkets for distribution among the Crows. On the return of the guide, the whole party took their seats, Reginald placing the partisan on his right, and the young prisoner whom he had released on his left. After the pipe had been smoked with due gravity and decorum, he divided among his guests some beads and other fanciful ornaments, according to their rank, with which they seemed highly delighted; the chief in particular testified his satisfaction by repeated gesticulations of friendship and affection towards his white–brother, whom he invited to go and feast with him and his braves: this invitation Reginald begged leave to decline; but he desired Atto to explain to his guest that he would visit him on some other occasion.

While these civilities were passing between the respective parties, a great commotion was observed among the Crows stationed on the neighbouring hill, some of whom were seen galloping to and fro, as if communicating some unexpected intelligence. The partisan arose, and took his leave with courteous dignity, explaining by signs that he wished to ascertain what was passing among his people.

As he withdrew, the youth whose life Reginald had spared, turned his head and gave the latter a look which he understood to convey a warning, but it was so rapid that he could not feel assured that he had rightly construed its meaning. Reginald remained for some time on the spot watching the motions of the Crows, who had now gathered in their scattered horsemen, and were evidently awaiting with some impatience the return of their chief. Reginald’s eye was still fixed upon them, when Atto, pointing to the eastward, whispered,

“Men are coming!”

Turning his head in the direction indicated, Reginald thought he perceived a moving object in the distance.

“I see something in that quarter, but not distinctly; are you sure it is a party of men?”

“Sure.”

“Mounted, or on foot?”

“Both,” replied the Delaware, without removing his bright keen eye from the object: “they are upon our trail,” he added; “if they are not friends, we had better return to the camp.”

Meanwhile Reginald unslung his telescope, and having at length brought it to bear upon the advancing party, he exclaimed—

“By Heaven! there are white men as well as Indians, their horses, and loaded mules!”

“How many?” inquired Baptiste.

“They seem to me to be fifteen or twenty strong: should their intentions appear suspicious, we are near enough to retire into our camp; if they are friends, they will soon see us, and approach without fear or hesitation.”

The guide shook his head as if distrusting all new comers in that remote region; but they were within rifle–shot of the covert, and could, if necessary, retire thither under the protection of the fire of those within it.

The Crows still hovered upon the summit of the adjoining hill, and several minutes of breathless interest elapsed ere the approaching band emerged from a hollow, upon a point of the valley where they were now clearly distinguishable, and proved to be, as Reginald had said, a mixed party of Indians and white men.

He was not aware that among the latter was a telescope as good, and a horseman whose eye was more practised in the use of it than his own; that horseman galloped out in front of his band, and advanced at full speed to the spot where Reginald stood, and almost before the latter could rightly use his faculties of sight or speech, that horseman flung himself from his horse, and Reginald was in the arms of Ethelston.

There is nothing that stirs the heart to its very depths, more than the meeting of a friend after a long separation; not such a friend as is found in the ordinary intercourse of worldly society, but a friend whom we really esteem and love, a friend whom we have learnt to cherish in our bosom’s core,—this must have been felt by all (alas! they are not very many) who have deserved and obtained such a blessing in life. How, then, must these stirrings of the heart be increased if such a friend comes to our aid and comfort when we thought him thousands of miles distant, when we are in anxiety and peril, when he brings us the latest tidings of our home! We will not attempt to describe the meeting of the two long–separated and loving friends under such circumstances, nor to relate one hundredth part of the inquiries which each had to make and to reply to.

The reader is already in possession of the information which they had to communicate to each other, and can easily understand how Ethelston and his party, guided by the young Delaware, had followed the trail on which they had been preceded by the bands of MahÉga and of Reginald: the latter greeted with cordial pleasure Paul MÜller, who now advanced to offer him his friendly salutation, while Pierre Baptiste, and Bearskin, who had weathered many a stormy day by flood and field together, interchanged the grasp of their horny hands with undisguised satisfaction.

In the meeting between the two bands of the Delawares there was less demonstration, but it may be doubted whether there was less excitement, as the last comers narrated to their comrades the bloody vengeance which they had taken on some of their foes, and dilated upon that which they anticipated in pursuit of MahÉga.

Ethelston’s party being provided with some coffee, sugar, biscuits, and other luxuries, which had been long strange to Reginald’s camp, the evening of their arrival was devoted to a great merry–making, Monsieur Perrot undertaking the office of chief cook and master of the ceremonies, both of which he executed with so much skill and good–humour as to win the favour of all present. In the midst of the feasting, the security of the encampment was never endangered by the omission of due precautions; for the horses were driven in and the sentries posted, as on the preceding night, Reginald being well aware of the treacherous character of his Crow neighbours, and his suspicions aroused by the slight, but significant look given to him at parting by the youth whose life he had spared.

While they were seated round a blazing fire enjoying the good cheer which Perrot had provided, Pierre, fixing his eyes upon the bear–claw collar worn by Atto, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and springing from his seat, went to examine it closer; having done so, he pronounced slowly and with emphasis a name as long as a Sanscrit patronymic.

“What does that mean, Pierre?” inquired Ethelston, who had found in the latter a guide of great shrewdness and experience.

“It is the name of the Upsaroka to whom that collar belonged, in our tongue, ‘The man whose path is red.’ I saw it upon his neck last year, when I was at the post near the Upper Forks. He came to trade with us for a few knives and blankets—he was a great war–chief, and had killed more Black–feet than any man in his tribe.”

“Well, Pierre, his own turn has come now; he will kill no more Black–feet, nor white men either,” said Baptiste to his comrade.

“Did yonder LenapÉ kill him, and in fair fight, man to man?”

“He was killed in fair fight, man to man; not by Atto, but by a young war–chief whom the LenapÉ call Netis,” replied the guide.

Pierre fixed his quick grey eye upon the athletic figure of Reginald Brandon, who coloured slightly as he encountered at the same time the glance of Paul MÜller.

“It is true,” he said, “I had foolishly separated myself from the rest of my party; I was intercepted in attempting to return, and only escaped paying the penalty of my carelessness by the speed of my horse. The Crow chief was better mounted than the rest of his tribe, and as soon as I paused to breathe my horse he attacked, and slightly wounded me; in defending myself, I killed him.”

“My son,” observed the missionary, “he died as he had lived, reckless and brave; it rejoices me to hear you speak of the deed as one of necessity and self–preservation.”

“I know not,” muttered Pierre, “what he calls necessity; but it’s a fine feather in the youth’s cap, and our Delawares shall know it too.”

One of the most remarkable features in the character of this man was the facility with which he acquired the habits and languages of the different tribes among whom his roving life had thrown him; moreover, he had the faculty of remembering with unerring certainty, any face, or spot, or tree, or path, that he had once seen—so that his services as guide and interpreter were highly valued; and as Pierre, though a good–humoured fellow, was shrewd enough in matters of business, he usually exacted, and had no difficulty in obtaining a liberal remuneration from the rival leaders of the fur–trade companies; he was tolerably well versed in the language of the Crows and the Black–feet, the two great nations inhabiting the vast region between the upper waters of the rivers Platte and Missouri; and there were few of the roving tribes upon either bank of the latter among whom he could not make himself understood. As an interpreter, he dealt fairly by his employer, although he hated the Black–feet, in consequence of a warrior of that tribe having carried off an Indian belle to whom Pierre was paying his addresses. This offence he had never forgiven, and it gave him in all subsequent transactions, a natural leaning towards the Crows, the mortal and hereditary foes of his successful rival’s tribe.

While Pierre related, in an under tone, to those Delawares of his party who did not understand English, the victory obtained over the great war–chief of the Crows by Reginald Brandon, the latter kept up a long and interesting conversation with Ethelston, whom he found already informed by the missionary of his engagement to Prairie–bird.

On this subject, Reginald, who knew the prudence of his friend’s usual character, scarcely expected his sympathy or concurrence; he was therefore the more agreeably surprised when he found him disposed to enter into all his plans for the recovery of his betrothed, with a zeal and enthusiasm almost equal to his own.

“The good missionary,” said Ethelston, “has told me much of the early life, as well as of the character and qualities of Prairie–bird. I cannot tell you how deeply she has engaged my interest; my own feelings towards your sister render me capable of appreciating yours; and I pledge my faith, dear Reginald, that I will spare neither toil nor exertion, nor life itself, to aid you in this precious search.”

Reginald grasped his hand,—there was no need of words of gratitude between them,—and ere long both turned to consult with Paul MÜller, as to their further proceedings. After due deliberation, they agreed that on the following morning they should pursue the trail, regardless of their Crow neighbours, whom they had now little cause to fear, and that previous to starting they would hold a council, at which Reginald should propose the distribution of their respective posts, on the line of march, in the event of their wishing him to retain that of leader.

The night having passed without any alarm, Reginald summoned a general council of war before daybreak: as soon as they were assembled he told them, through Baptiste, who acted as interpreter, that they were now strong enough to pursue the trail, without fear of interruption from the Crows; and that if the latter were foolish enough to make an attack, they would soon have cause to repent it. He then added that War–Eagle their chief being absent on the war–path, it was necessary for some one to act as leader until his return; and, as his party had been joined by so many warriors of experience, he would gladly place himself under the advice and guidance of the man whom they might select.

When Baptiste had finished this speech, the oldest warrior of Ethelston’s party arose and said: “Is it not true that War–Eagle, when he went, appointed Netis leader in his place?” (A murmur of assent came from the lips of Atto and his party.) “Is it not true,” continued the Indian, “that Netis is a brave and skilful warrior?—one who need not be silent when the braves strike the war–post? His heart is true to the LenapÉ, and he will tell them no lies. If the white men are content with Netis, the LenapÉ wish no other leader. I have spoken.”

As the scarred and weather–beaten warrior resumed his seat, another and a general murmur of approbation broke from the Delawares; and Ethelston having spoken a few words of similar import to the white men, Reginald found himself by universal acclamation chosen leader of the party.

After modestly thanking them for their good opinion, his first act was to appoint Atto as guide upon the trail, desiring him to select any two whom he might wish to assist him, in the event of its becoming forked, or otherwise difficult to follow; Monsieur Perrot, with the provisions and loaded mules, occupied the centre of the line of march, in which comparatively secure post he was accompanied by Paul MÜller, the main body of the hunters and the Delawares being distributed before and behind the baggage.

For himself Reginald reserved the rear–guard, where he retained Ethelston, Baptiste, and a young Delaware, whom he might despatch upon any emergency to communicate with the front. He also appointed four of the best mounted of his men, two on each side of his party, to protect the flanks against any sudden attack, Pierre being sent forward to render any assistance to Atto that he might require.

These arrangements being complete, and made known to the respective parties, they were about to set forth on their journey, when Atto informed Reginald that the Crow youth was coming swiftly across the valley towards the encampment, pursued at a distance by several horsemen of his tribe; the lad was riding one of the swiftest and most untamed of the wild horses with which that region abounds, yet he had neither bridle nor saddle, guiding the animal with a leather thong, which he had thrown round its nose, and urging it to its utmost speed with a bow which he held in his right hand. A few minutes brought the foaming little steed and its rider to the edge of the thicket, where the latter, still holding the leather thong, stood in silence before Reginald; his eyes were literally sparkling with indignant rage, and he did not even deign to look behind him to see whether his pursuers approached: the latter, however, did not choose to venture near the encampment; but as soon as they saw that he had gained its shelter, they gave a few loud and discordant yells, and disappeared behind the hill.

The services of Pierre were now put into requisition; and as soon as the youth found an ear that could understand his tale, he told it with a rapidity and vehemence that showed the strong excitement of his feelings: the story, as interpreted by Pierre, was briefly thus:—

The youth was present on the preceding day at a war–council, where the Crows proposed a plan for inveigling the white men to a feast, and then attacking them unawares, at the same time desiring him to use the favour that he had found in their eyes as an additional means for entrapping them: this he positively refused to do, and boldly told the assembled chiefs that their counsels were wicked and treacherous, and that he would in no wise aid or abet them. Indignant at this remonstrance from a stripling, the partisan had ordered him to be whipped severely with thongs, and to be tied hand and foot; the sentence was executed with the utmost cruelty; but he had contrived early in the morning to slip off his bands, and springing to his feet, he seized the fleetest horse belonging to the partisan, and, leaping on its back, galloped off to warn his protector against the meditated treachery.

The truth of the tale required no confirmation, for the glow of resentment burnt too fiercely in his eye to be dissembled, and the light covering of antelope skin which he had thrown across his shoulders, was saturated with his blood. Reginald’s first natural impulse was to punish the perpetrators of this outrage, but he checked it when he remembered the magnitude of the stake that bound him to the trail, “Tell him, Pierre,” said he, “that I thank him for his single tongue, and I love him for his honest brave heart. Ask him if there is anything that I can do for him.”

“Nothing,” replied the youth to this question: “tell him that I have warned him against the forked tongues of my tribe, because he gave me my life, and was good to me, but I must not forget that his hand is red with my father’s blood. The day is very cloudy; the Great Spirit has given a hard task to the son of the fallen chief; his back is marked like the back of a slave; he has lived enough.”

The voice of the youth faltered as he pronounced the last words; the thong dropped from his feeble grasp, and as he fell to the ground, the wild horse broke away and galloped across the valley. “He is dying,” said Reginald, bending over him; “see, here below his hunting shirt is the broken shaft of an arrow, which one of his pursuers has shot with too true an aim.” While he spoke the young Crow breathed his last.