The White Squaw Part 42

His sleep lasted until a hand upon his shoulder, along with a summons to awake, aroused him.

It was one of his guards of yesterday who addressed him.

"Come!"

"Is that you, old Dummy?" asked he, recognising the Indian. "I can't say I'm glad to see yur, since yur've broke in on the pleasantest dream I've had for a long time. But never mind, how shed you know that you whar a doing it, you poor savage critter you, that don't know nothin'

but to handle a tomahawk, and raise the hair off a human head? What do you want with me now?"

"The warriors are a.s.sembled!"

"Air they? Wal, that's kind of them, only they needn't have put themselves out o' the way to get up so early on my account; I could ha'

waited."

"Come."

"Wal, I'm comin'; d'ye think I'm afraid, durn yur? D'ye think I'm afraid of you or all the warriors of your tribe, or of your chief, Wacora, either?"

"Wacora is not here."

"Not here! Where is he?"

"I cannot answer the pale-face's questions. I came to bring you before the council."

"Wal, I'm ready to go afore the council."

As they were about to emerge from the house, a sudden idea seemed to strike Carrol, and he stopped his conductors.

"Stay, friend, will you tell me one thing?"

"Speak!"

"Whar are we?"

"At Oluski's town."

Carrol's face beamed with a sudden joy.

"And his son Nelatu--is this _his_ home?"

"It is."

"Hurray! Now, I dare say you wonder at my bein' struck all of a heap wi' delight. But I'll tell you one thing, red-skin--no offence, not knowin' your name--you and yur three partners have taken a most uncommon sight o' trouble all for nothin'."

"What do you mean?"

"Just this--go and tell Nelatu that Cris Carrol is the party as you sneaked up to and took prisoner, and arter that, streak it for your precious lives."

"Nelatu?"

"Yes, Nelatu, he's a friend o' this ole c.o.o.n, and one that'll prove himself so, too, in givin' you skunks as took me a deal more nor you bargained for."

"Nelatu is not here."

"Not here? Why, didn't you tell me just now that this war his father's town?"

"I did; but Nelatu is not here."

"Not now, perhaps; but I s'pose he'll be here?"

"He will not return for weeks."

Carrol's countenance fell.

"Then, dog-gone yur skin, lead on! I throw up the pack of cards now that the trump's out of 'em. It's my luck, and it's the darndest luck I ever seed; there's no standin' agin it. I s'pose I must give in."

Without another word he followed his guards.

They entered the council chamber, where the a.s.sembled warriors awaited them.

With his foot upon the threshold, his manner entirely changed from the light, jeering hilarity he had exhibited to that of a calm and dignified bearing.

He saw in an instant that he was foredoomed.

The stern expression of his judges told him as much.

The mock ceremonial of examination was proceeded with, and a vain attempt made to extract from him intelligence of the movements of the whites, especially of the numbers and disposition of the Government troops, some of whom had by this time arrived in the peninsula.

His disdainful refusal to betray his own race did him no service.

True, he was already sentenced to die, but the manner of his death might inflict horror on him who had no fear of dying.

Though the questions were skilfully put to him, the old hunter saw through them all.

He did not, indeed, possess much knowledge of the military invasion; but had he been in the secret of the commanding officer himself, he could not have been more reticent in his replies.

Utterly foiled in their questions, the warriors played their last card, and with threats of the most terrible tortures endeavoured to wring from his fears what his honour would not reveal.

Vain effort on their part.

Cris did, indeed, wince when they first spoke of torture; but, recovering himself, he became more proudly defiant than before.

"Ye may shake my old body with rackin' pains. I know you've got devil's inventions, and I don't deny but they're awful; but there's somethin'

about me that ye can't make tremble, not if all the imps o' h.e.l.l war yer slaves--that's my soul. It'll come out of yer fiery ordeal as calm as it is now; and with its last thoughts it'll despise and dare ye! Cris Carrol arn't bin backwoods hunter for a matter goin' on forty year to be skeart at burnin' sticks or hot lead; and he'll die as he has lived, an honest man!"

A mingled murmur of admiration and anger ran through the a.s.sembled crowd, and it was evident that many of the warriors would have given their consent to his being set free.

There is something about TRUE courage which extorts admiration even from an enemy.

A hurried consultation took place among the head men in council.