  “We’re coming into an Indian village,” Dick called to Sandy, when the party reached the top of a long ridge. Sandy, who was some distance in the rear, hurried up and joined Dick. A village of nearly a score of tepees lay ahead, the smoke of a number of campfires rising here and there. Sergeant Brewster, who had taken command, explained that he was about to enlist the tribe’s aid in an effort at retaking Fort Good Faith. “Chief Black Dog is a good friend of the mounted,” said Sergeant Brewster, “and he’ll let us have a few warriors. I suppose Henderson has tried to get the old fellow on his side, but chief is loyal.” They entered the village, and had some trouble with the numberless Indian dogs that rushed out savagely from behind the tepees and attacked the huskies. Presently several Indians came and called off the dogs, throwing stones and sticks at them. Sergeant Brewster addressed one of the braves: “Tell Chief Black Dog a man from the Great White Father has come to see him.” The buck hurried away, and soon returned, saying the chief would be glad to see him, in fact had invited them all to his council tepee. Leaving Toma to look after the dogs, Dick and Sandy followed Malemute Slade and the policemen to a tepee much larger than the rest. The entrance was so high that even Malemute Slade entered erect. “Gosh, it’s dark,” whispered Sandy, when the tepee flap closed behind them. The only light in the tepee was a tiny fire glowing in the center. Before this Dick and Sandy could make out three shadowy figures. The one in the center was an aged Indian with snow white hair. He was Chief Black Dog. “The white brother comes from the Great White Father. It is good. Peace with white brother,” the old chief spoke. “We bring presents from the great chief to the big chief,” Sergeant Brewster announced, drawing from his mackinaw pockets a fine pocket knife and a shining tobacco box. Dick and Sandy could see the old chief’s eyes glitter as they fell upon the gifts. “It is good,” said Chief Black Dog, accepting the presents. The sergeant also gave something to each of the two chiefs seated on either side of Chief Black Dog, for which they muttered thanks. “What will the white brother have?” the chief spoke again. “We wish help to fight the bad outlaw, Bear Henderson,” answered the sergeant. “He has taken Fort Good Faith from the good factor Walter MacClaren.” “It is good. My warriors are brave. They go with you.” Sergeant Brewster thanked the old chief, then waited for dismissal. Chief Black Dog sat looking into the fire for a time, his deep eyes meditative. The boys watched curiously. The chief seemed to be thinking. At length he spoke: “The red man would know how many braves the bad chief Henderson fights with. Some my warriors, young and foolish, with Henderson. I send warrior in night. He go make believe join Henderson. He find his brothers there. He find out how many braves hold fort. Come tell me. He find where big chief MacClaren in prison. We know how to fight better then.” “The red man’s words are wise,” replied the sergeant. “It is good,” the chief said, turning to the chief on his left and speaking swiftly in his native tongue. The other chief rose and quietly left the tepee. “White brother’s men stay, wait for spy, when he come back. One night maybe. Then we know all.” He waved a withered hand in dismissal. Dick and Sandy welcomed the open air, when once again they stepped into the sunlight. At the sergeant’s orders they helped Toma unharness the dogs. Chief Black Dog assigned two tepees to the party from Fort Dunwoody. Dick, Sandy and Toma took one, the mounted policemen the other. An hour later the boys watched the spy leave for Fort Good Faith, while the war drums of the tribe summoned the braves to battle. It was an exciting evening the boys passed, watching the warriors in their fantastic dances. When at last they went to their tepee to rest, they were tired, but could not sleep. The wait for news from Fort Good Faith was proving to be a trying one. So near Sandy’s uncle, yet under orders to remain idle, the boys chafed and worried. “I can’t stand it,” Sandy cried. “I want to get there and have it over with.” “I know just how you feel,” sympathized Dick. “I want to smell powder too. But I believe the chief made a wise move, at that. What do you think, Toma?” Toma’s dark face, lighted by the fire, brightened. “Him wise chief,” said Toma. “My father know him long ago when they hunt on Saskatchewan River.” “Tell us a story about the old days, Toma,” Dick pleaded, as he squatted by the fire, “—an Indian story.” “Yes, do,” Sandy chimed in. The young guide seemed to be looking far away as he stared into the glowing coals. Outside, the war drums and the cries of the dancing warriors echoed in the forest aisles. “I tell story my father tell me long ago, when I little boy,” Toma began. “Big medicine man tell my father. It is story of Saskatchewan River and Great Bear, mighty hunter of the Crees. “Long ago, by Saskatchewan live big tribe. One hunter, one Great Bear, he mightier than all big hunters. Him not like Saskatchewan country. Him want travel far, far—where sun goes down. “Big medicine man, one Two-Horns-in-the-Bone not want lose Great Bear, great hunter. Him try keep Great Bear home. But Great Bear don’t care. He go anyway, he say. “Then Great Bear get ready go far away. When start, Two-Horns-in-the-Bone go ’long little way with Great Bear, so Great Spirit be with him in far lands. They stop on bank of Saskatchewan, mighty river. Great Bear, lie thirsty. He kneel down, fill up with water. Two-Horns-in-the-Bone make sign over him, big medicine sign. When Great Bear get up, medicine man say: “‘They who drink waters of Saskatchewan shall return before they die.’ “Great Bear, him laugh. Him think Two-Horns-in-the-Bone make fun. Great Bear young, strong; he laugh at Great Spirit, like him laugh at grizzly. Him leap in Saskatchewan an’ swim across. Him wave spear goodbye to medicine man, an’ turn back on Saskatchewan. “Two-Horns-in-the-Bone go back to tepee. Say nothing. Him very wise. “Many moons pass. Great Bear go far, far away—to Big Sea, to desert, to other side of sunset. He fight many battles, always win. “Medicine man by Saskatchewan, him wait an’ smoke long pipe. Twenty winters gone by, then spring come. Two-Horns-in-the-Bone walk down to Saskatchewan. He wait all day. When sunset come he see old man walking. Old man all bent over, white hair, hobble on stick. Two-Horns-in-the-Bone watch. Old man come down to edge of water. Him kneel down and drink. Then he go back and lay down. “Two-Horns-in-the-Bone go to old man. Him speak, him look in face. Old Indian, him Great Bear. Old medicine man raise face to sky. ‘The Great Spirit has spoken,’ say Two-Horns-in-the-Bone. ‘They who drink waters of Saskatchewan shall return before they die.’” Toma’s voice died out. The young Indian seemed to be in another land, as he thought of his father’s people. Dick and Sandy sat spell-bound. “It is the Legend of the Saskatchewan,” Dick said in a hushed voice. “It sure was a good story,” said Sandy. “Tell us another one, Toma.” But Toma shook his head. Dick and Sandy saw a certain sadness in his face, that the legend had aroused, and they did not urge him. Presently they rolled into their blankets. Once asleep, they did not awaken until summoned by Sergeant Brewster. As they hurried from the tepee on the morning of that day which was to mean so much, an inspiring sight greeted their eyes. |
|
