The Big Otter, Robert Michael Ballantyne [book recommendations TXT] 📗

We were therefore prepared to lend effective aid to any whom we thought it right to succour.

Scarcely had our arrangements been made when the lithe agile form of Mozwa glided into the camp and stood before Lumley. The lad tried hard to look calm, grave, and collected, as became a young Indian brave, but the perspiration on his brow and his labouring chest told that he had been running far at the utmost speed, while a wild glitter in his dark eye betrayed strong emotion. Pointing in the direction whence he had come, he uttered the name--"Big Otter."

"All right. I understand you," said Lumley, springing up. "Now, boys, sharp's the word; we will go to the help of our guide. But two of you must stay behind to guard our camp. Do you, Donald Bane and James Dougall, remain and keep a bright look-out."

"Is it to stop here, we are?" asked Bane, with a mutinous look.

"Yes," exclaimed our leader so sharply that the mutinous look faded.

"An' are we to be left behind," growled Dougall, "when there's fightin' to be done?"

"I have no time for words, Dougall," said Lumley in a low voice, "but if you don't at once set about preparation to defend the camp, I'll give you some fighting to do that you won't relish."

Dougall had no difficulty in understanding his leader's meaning. He and his friend at once set about the required preparations.

"Now then, Mozwa," said Lumley.

The young Indian, who had remained erect and apparently unobservant, with his arms crossed on his still heaving chest, turned at once and went off at a swift trot, followed by all our party with the exception of the ill-pleased Highlanders, who, in their eagerness for the fray, did not perceive that theirs might be a post of the greatest danger, as it certainly was one of trust.

"Tonald," said Dougall, sitting down and lighting his pipe after we were gone, "I wass vera near givin' Muster Lumley a cood threshin'."

"Hum! it's well ye didn't try, Shames."

"An' what for no?"

"Because he's more nor a match for ye."

"I don't know that Tonald. I'm as stout a man as he is, whatever."

"Oo ay, so ye are, Shames; but ye're no a match for him. He's been to school among thae Englishers, an' can use his fists, let me tell you."

At this Dougall held up a clenched hand, hard and knuckly from honest toil, that was nearly as big as a small ham. Regarding it with much complacency he said, slowly:--

"An' don't you think, Tonald, that I could use my fist too?"

"Maybe you could, in a kind o' way," returned the other, also filling his pipe and sitting down; "but I'll tell ye what Muster Lumley would do to you, Shames, if ye offered to fight him. He would dance round you like a cooper round a cask; then, first of all, he would flatten your nose--which is flat enough already, whatever--wi' wan hand, an' he'd drive in your stummick wi' the other. Then he would give you one between the two eyes an' raise a bridge there to make up for the wan he'd destroyed on your nose, an' before you had time to sneeze he would put a rainbow under your left eye. Or ever you had time to wink he would put another under your right eye, and if that didn't settle you he would give you a finishin' dig in the ribs, Shames, trip up your heels, an' lay you on the ground, where I make no doubt you would lie an' meditate whether it wass worth while to rise up for more."

"All that would be verra unpleasant, Tonald," said Dougall, with a humorous glance from the corners of his small grey eyes, "but I duffer with ye in opeenion."

"You would duffer in opeenion with the Apostle Paul if he wass here," said the other, rising, as his pipe was by that time well alight, and resuming his work, "but we'll better obey Muster Lumley's orders than argufy about him."

"I'll agree with you there, Tonald, just to convince you that I don't always duffer," said the argumentative Highlander, rising to assist his not less argumentative friend.

The two men pursued their labour in silence, and in the course of an hour or so had piled all the baggage in a circle in the middle of the open lawn, so as to form a little fortress, into which they might spring and keep almost any number of savages at bay for some time; because savages, unlike most white men, have no belief in that "glory" which consists in rushing on certain death, in order to form a bridge of dead bodies over which comrades may march to victory. Each savage is, for the most part, keenly alive to the importance of guarding his own life, so that a band of savages seldom makes a rush where certain death awaits the leaders. Hence our two Highlanders felt quite confident of being able to hold their little fort with two guns each and a large supply of ammunition.

Meanwhile Mozwa continued his rapid trot through wood and brake; over swamp, and plain, and grassy mound. Being all of us by that time strong in wind and limb, we followed him without difficulty.

"Lads, be careful," said Lumley, as we went along, "that no shot is fired, whatever happens, until I give the word. You see, Max," he continued in a lower tone, "nothing but the sternest necessity will induce me to shed human blood. I am here to open up trade with the natives, not to fight them, or mix myself up in their quarrels. At the same time it would be bad policy to stand aloof while the tribes we have come to benefit, and of which our guide is a member, are assailed by enemies. We must try what we can do to make peace, and risk something in the attempt."

Arrived at the Indian camp, we found a band of braves just on the point of leaving it, although by that time it was quite dark. The tribe--or rather that portion of it which was encamped in leathern wigwams, on one of the grassy mounds with which the country abounded--consisted of some hundred families, and the women and children were moving about in great excitement, while the warriors were preparing to leave. I was struck, however, by the calm and dignified bearing of one white-haired patriarch, who stood in the opening of his wigwam, talking to a number of the elder men and women who crowded round him. He was the old chief of the tribe; and, being no longer able to go on the war-path, remained with the aged men and the youths, whose duty it was to guard the camp.

"My children," he said, as we came up, "fear not. The Great Spirit is with us, for our cause is just. He has sent Big Otter back to us in good time, and, see, has He not also sent white men to help us?"

The war-party was detained on our arrival until we should hold a palaver with the old chief and principal braves. We soon ascertained that the cause of disagreement between the two tribes, and of the declaration of war, was a mere trifle, strongly resembling in that respect the causes of most wars among civilised nations! A brave of the one tribe had insultingly remarked that a warrior of the other tribe had claimed the carcase of a moose-deer which had been mortally wounded, and tracked, and slain by him, the insulter. The insulted one vowed that he shot the deer dead--he would scorn to wound a deer at all--and had left it in hiding until he could obtain assistance to fetch the meat. Young hotheads on both sides fomented the quarrel until older heads were forced to take the matter up; they became sympathetically inflamed, and, finally, war to the knife was declared. No blood had yet been shed, but it was understood by Big Otter's friends--who were really the injured party--that their foes had sent away their women and children, preparatory to a descent on them.

"Now, Salamander," said Lumley, who, although he had considerably increased his knowledge of the Indian language by conversing with the guide during our voyage, preferred to speak through an interpreter when he had anything important to say, "tell the old chief that this war-party must not go forth. Tell him that the great white chief who guides the affairs of the traders, has sent me to trade furs in this region, and that I will not permit fighting."

This was such a bold--almost presumptuous, way of putting the matter that the old red chief looked at the young white chief in surprise; but as there was neither bluster nor presumption in the calm countenance of Lumley--only firmness coupled with extreme good humour--he felt somewhat disconcerted.

"How will my white brother prevent war?" asked the old chief, whose name was Muskrat.

"By packing up my goods, and going elsewhere," replied Lumley directly, without an instant's hesitation, in the Indian tongue.

At this, there was an elongation of the faces of the men who heard it, and something like a soft groan from the squaws who listened in the background.

"That would be a sad calamity," said old Muskrat, "and I have no wish to fight; but how will the young white chief prevent our foes from attacking us?"

"Tell him, Salamander, that I will do so by going to see them."

"My young braves will be happy to go out under the guidance of so strong a warrior," returned Muskrat, quite delighted with the proposal.

"Nay, old chief, you mistake me, I will take no braves with me."

"No matter," returned Muskrat; "doubtless the white men and their guns will be more than a match for our red foes."

"Still you misunderstand," said Lumley. "I am no warrior, but a man of peace. I shall go without guns or knives--and alone, except that I will ask young Mozwa to guide me."

"Alone! unarmed!" murmured the old man, in astonishment almost too great for expression. "What can one do against a hundred with weapons?"

"You shall see," said Lumley, with a light laugh as he turned to me.

"Now, Max, don't speak or remonstrate, like a good fellow; we have no time to discuss, only to act. I find that Muskrat's foes speak the same dialect as himself, so that an interpreter is needless. I carry two revolvers in the breast of my coat. You have a clasp-knife in your pocket; make me a present of it, will you? Thanks. Now, have our men in readiness for instant action. Don't let them go to rest, but let them eat as much, and as long, as they choose. Keep the old chief and his men amused with long yarns, about what we mean to do in these regions, and don't let any one follow me. Keep your mind easy. If I don't return in three hours, you may set off to look for me, though it will I fear be of no use by that time; and, stay, if you should hear a pistol-shot, run out with all our men towards it. Now, Mozwa, lead on to the enemy's camp."

The young Indian, who was