The Prairie Chief, Robert Michael Ballantyne [best ereader for graphic novels .TXT] 📗

haven of rest. Your words seem to imply that you had half expected to find me, though how you came to know of my case at all is to me a mystery."

"My white father," returned Big Tim, referring as much to the preacher's age and pure white hair as to his connection with the white men, "finds mystery where the hunter and the red man see none. I went out a-purpose to see that it was not my daddy the Blackfoot reptiles had shot and soon came across your tracks, which showed me as plain as a book that you was badly wounded. I followed the tracks for a bit, expectin' to find you lyin' dead somewheres, when the whoops of the reptiles turned me back. But tell me, white father, are you not the preacher that my daddy and Whitewing used to know some twenty years agone?"

"I am, and fain would I meet with my former friends once more before I die."

"You shall meet with them, I doubt not," replied the young hunter, arranging the couch of the wounded man more comfortably. "I see that my soft one has bandaged you up, and she's better than the best o' sawbones at such work. I'll be able to make you more comfortable when we drive the reptiles out o'--"

"Call them not reptiles," interrupted the preacher gently. "They are the creatures of God, like ourselves."

"It may be so, white father; nevertheless, they are uncommon low, mean, sneakin', savage critters, an' that's all that I've got to do with."

"You say truth, Big Tim," returned the preacher, "and that is also all that I have got to do with; but you and I take different methods of correcting the evil."

"Every man must walk in the ways to which he was nat'rally born," rejoined the young hunter, with a dark frown, as the sound of revelry in the hut overhead became at the moment much louder; "my way wi' them may not be the best in the world, but you shall see in a few minutes that it is a way which will cause the very marrow of the rep--of the _dear_ critters--to frizzle in their bones."


CHAPTER SEVEN.


BIG TIM'S METHOD WITH SAVAGES.

"I sincerely hope," said the wounded man, with a look of anxiety, "that the plan you speak of does not involve the slaughter of these men."

"It does not" replied Big Tim, "though if it did, it would be serving them right, for they would slaughter you and me--ay, and even Softswan there--if they could lay hold of us."

"Is it too much to ask the son of my old friend to let me know what his plans are? A knowledge of them would perhaps remove my anxiety, which I feel pressing heavily on me in my present weak condition. Besides, I may be able to counsel you. Although a man of peace, my life has been but too frequently mixed up with scenes of war and bloodshed. In truth, my mission on earth is to teach those principles which, if universally acted on, would put an end to both;--perhaps I should have said, my mission is to point men to that Saviour who is an embodiment of the principles of Love and Peace and Goodwill."

For a few seconds the young hunter sat on the floor of the cave in silence, with his hands clasped round his knees, and his eyes cast down as if in meditation. At last a smile played on his features, and he looked at his questioner with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, my white father," he said, "I see no reason why I should not explain the matter to my daddy's old friend; but I'll have to say my say smartly, for by the stamping and yells o' the rep--o' the Blackfeet overhead, I perceive that they've got hold o' my case-bottle o' rum, an' if I don't stop them they'll pull the old hut down about their ears.

"Well, you must know that my daddy left the settlements in his young days," continued Big Tim, "an' took to a rovin' life on the prairies an' mountains, but p'r'aps he told you that long ago. No? Well, he served for some time at a queer sort o' trade--the makin' o' fireworks; them rediklous things they call squibs, crackers, rockets, an' Roman candles, with which the foolish folk o' the settlements blow their money into smoke for the sake o' ticklin' their fancies for a few minutes.

"Well, when he came here, of course he had no use for sitch tomfooleries, but once or twice, when he wanted to astonish the natives, he got hold o' some 'pothicary's stuff an' wi' gunpowder an' charcoal concocted some things that well-nigh drove the red men out o' their senses, an' got daddy to be regarded as a great medicine-man. Of course he kep' it secret how he produced the surprisin' fires--an', to say truth, I think from my own experience that if he had tried to explain it to 'em they could have made neither head nor tail o't. For a long time arter that he did nothin' more in that way, till one time when the Blackfeet came an' catched daddy an' me nappin' in this very hut and we barely got off wi' the scalps on our heads by scrambling down the precipice where the reptiles didn't like to follow. When they left the place they took all our odds an' ends wi' them, an' set fire to the hut. Arter they was gone we set to work an' built a noo hut. Then daddy-- who's got an amazin' turn for inventin' things--set to work to concoct suthin' for the reptiles if they should pay us another visit. It was at that time he thought of turnin' this cave to account as a place o' refuge when hard pressed, an' hit on the plan for liftin' the big stone easy, which no doubt you've obsarved."

"Yes; Softswan has explained it to me. But what about your plan with the Indians?" said the preacher.

"I'm comin' to that," replied the hunter. "Well, daddy set to work an' made a lot o' fireworks--big squibs, an' them sort o' crackers, I forget what you call 'em, that jumps about as if they was not only alive, but possessed with evil spirits--"

"I know them--zigzag crackers," said the preacher, somewhat amused.

"That's them," cried Big Tim, with an eager look, as if the mere memory of them were exciting. "Well, daddy he fixed up a lot o' the big squibs an' Roman candles round the walls o' the hut in such a way that they all p'inted from ivery corner, above an' below, to the centre of the hut, right in front o' the fireplace, so that their fire should all meet, so to speak, in a focus. Then he chiselled out a lot o' little holes in the stone walls in such a way that they could not be seen, and in every hole he put a zigzag cracker; an' he connected the whole affair--squibs, candles, and crackers--with an instantaneous fuse, the end of which he trained down, through a hole cut in the solid rock, into this here cave; an' there's the end of it right opposite to yer nose."

He pointed as he spoke to a part of the wall of the cavern where a small piece of what seemed like white tape projected about half an inch from the stone.

"Has it ever been tried?" asked the preacher, who, despite his weak and wounded condition, could hardly restrain a laugh as the young hunter described his father's complicated arrangements.

"No, we han't tried it yet, 'cause the reptiles haven't bin here since, but daddy, who's a very thoroughgoin' man, has given the things a complete overhaul once a month ever since--'cept when he was away on long expeditions--so as to make sure the stuff was dry an in workin' order. Now," added the young man, rising and lighting a piece of tinder at the torch on the wall, "it's about time that we should putt it to the test. If things don't go wrong, you'll hear summat koorious overhead before long."

He applied a light to the quick-match as he spoke, and awaited the result.

In order that the reader may observe that result more clearly, we will transport him to the scene of festivity in the little fortress above.

As Big Tim correctly surmised, the savages had discovered the hunter's store of rum just after eating as much venison as they could comfortably consume. Fire-water, as is well known, tells with tremendous effect on the excitable nerves and minds of Indians. In a very few minutes it produced, as in many white men, a tendency to become garrulous. While in this stage the savages began to boast, if possible, more than usual of their prowess in chase and war, and as their potations continued, they were guilty of that undignified act--so rare among red men and so common among whites--of interrupting and contradicting each other.

This condition is the sure precursor of the quarrelsome and fighting stage of drunkenness. They had almost reached it, when Rushing River rose to his feet for the purpose of making a speech. Usually the form of the chief was as firm as the rock on which he stood. At this time, however, it swayed very slightly to and fro, and in his eyes--which were usually noted for the intensity of their eagle glance--there was just then an owlish blink as they surveyed the circle of his braves.

Indeed Rushing River, as he stood there looking down into the upturned faces, observed--with what feelings we know not--that these braves sometimes exhibited a few of the same owlish blinks in their earnest eyes.

"My b-braves," said the chief; and then, evidently forgetting what he intended to say, he put on one of those looks of astonishing solemnity which fire-water alone is capable of producing.

"My b-braves," he began again, looking sternly round the almost breathless and expectant circle, "when we left our l-lodges in the m-mountains this morning the sun was rising."

He paused, and this being an emphatic truism, was received with an equally emphatic "Ho" of assent.

"N-now," continued the chief, with a gentle sway to the right, which he corrected with an abrupt jerk to the left, "n-now, the sun is about to descend, and w-we are _here_!"

Feeling that he had made a decided point, he drew himself up and blinked, while his audience gave vent to another "Ho" in tones which expressed the idea--"waiting for more." The comrade, however, whose veins were fired, or chilled, with the few drops of white blood, ventured to assert his independence by ejaculating "Hum!"

"Bounding Bull," cried the chief, suddenly shifting ground and glaring, while he breathed hard and showed his teeth, "is a coward. His daughter Softswan is a chicken-hearted squaw; and her husband Big Tim is a skunk--so is Little Tim his father."

These remarks, being thoroughly in accord with the sentiments of the braves, were received with a storm of "Ho's," "How's," "Hi's," and "Hee's," which effectually drowned the cheeky one's "Hum's," and greatly encouraged the chief, who thereafter broke forth in a flow of language which was more in keeping with his name. After a few boastful references to the deeds of himself and his forefathers, he went into an elaborate and exaggerated description of