The Buffalo Runners Part 18

Having delivered his harangue, Okematan sat down amid murmurs of mingled applause and disapprobation. It was evident that he had created a serious division of opinion in the camp, and it seemed as if on the impression made by the next speaker would depend the great question of peace or war.

Presently an old warrior arose, and a profound silence followed, for they held him in great respect.

"My braves," said the old man sententiously, "I have lived long, and my fighting days are nearly over. If wisdom has not acc.u.mulated on my head it must be my own fault, for I have had great experience both of war and peace--more of war, perhaps, than of peace. And the opinion that I have come to after long and very deep consideration is this: if there is something to fight for, fight--fight well; if there is nothing to fight for, don't fight--don't fight at all."

The old man paused, and there were some "Waughs" of approval, for the truth contained in his profound conclusion was obvious even to the stupidest Red-skin of the band--supposing that a stupid brave among Crees were possible!

"I have also lived to see," continued the old man, "that revenge is nothing--nothing at all, and therefore not worth fighting for."

As this was flying straight in the face of the most cherished of Red-skins' beliefs, it was received in dead though respectful silence.

"My young braves do not believe this. I know it. I have been young myself, and I remember well how pleasant revenge was to me, but I soon found that the pleasure of revenge did not last. It soon pa.s.sed away, yet the deed of revenge did not pa.s.s away, and sometimes the deed became to my memory very bitter--insomuch that the pleasantness was entirely swallowed up and forgotten in the bitterness. My young braves will not believe this, I know. They go on feeling; they think on feeling; they reason on feeling; they trust to feeling. It is foolish, for the brain was given to enable man to think and judge and plan. You are as foolish as if you were to try to smell with your mouth and eat with your nose.

But it is the way of youth. When experience teaches, then you will come to know that revenge is not worth fighting for--its pleasantness will pa.s.s away, but the bitter it leaves behind will never pa.s.s away.

"What is the meaning of revenge?" continued this a.n.a.lytical old savage.

"What is the use of it? Does it not mean that we give up all hope of getting what we want, and wildly determine to get what pleasure is still possible to us by killing those who have thwarted us? And when you have killed and got all the pleasure there is, what does it come to? Your enemy is dead, and scalped. What then? He does not know that he is dead. He does not care that he is dead and scalped. You cannot keep him alive for ever killing and scalping him. But you have made his wife and children miserable. What of that? It was not his wife and children who opposed you, therefore you have revenged yourself on the wrong persons. He does not know that you have rendered his wife and children miserable, and does not care; therefore, I ask, why are you pleased? If your enemy was a good man, your revenge has only done him a kindness, for it has sent him to the happy hunting grounds before his time, where you will probably never meet him to have the pleasure of being revenged on him there. If he was a bad man, you have sent him to the world of Desolation, where he will be waiting to receive you when you get there, and where revenge will be impossible, for men are not allowed to kill or scalp there. At least if they are I never heard of it--and I am an old man now.

"There is nothing, then, to fight for with the Palefaces of Red River, and my counsel is, like that of Okematan, that we should decide on peace--not war."

Whatever may have been the private opinion of the braves as to this new and very unexpected style of address, the effect of it was pacific; for, after a little more palaver, the peace-party carried the day--or, rather the night--and, next morning, the Cree warriors went back to their tents and hunting avocations, leaving Okematan to return to the camp of his friends the buffalo runners.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

AN EVENING IN THE CAMP.

It was daybreak when Fergus McKay galloped into camp with the startling news that an attack by hostile Indians might be expected that day or the following night. He was, of course, unaware of the fact that the peace-making Okematan had been unwittingly following his tracks at a more leisurely pace.

Some readers may think that the Indian, with his traditional power of following a trail, should have observed and suspected the fresh track of the hunter, but it must be remembered that some hundreds of buffalo runners had pa.s.sed over the same track a day or two previously, and that Hawkeye, or Pathfinder himself, would have become helpless in the midst of such trampled confusion. Besides, Okematan had no reason to suspect that he had been followed; still less that the camp of the war-party had been accidentally discovered.

"Now, boys," said Fergus, after detailing his adventures during the night, "we will hev to give up all notion o' buffalo runnin' this day an' putt the camp in a state o' defence."

There was a good deal of grumbling at this, especially among some of the younger men; for they were very keen to commence the sport, and had not much belief in the power of a small band of savages to do them harm.

Some of them even suggested that half of their number should remain behind to guard the camp while the other half should go after the buffalo. This proposal, however, was not received with favour, as it would certainly be a matter of disagreement which half was to go out, and which to remain behind!

"Where is Kateegoose?" asked Dechamp at this crisis.

"Stuffin' 'imself, of course!" said Fred Jenkins, amid a general laugh.

"I've noticed, since we set sail on this trip, that Kateegoose always turns out at daybreak, lights the galley fire, an' begins the dooties o'

the day by stuffin' 'imself."

"Ay, and I've noticed," observed one of the young hunters, "that it takes a deal o' stuffin' to fill him out properly, for he keeps on at it most part o' the day."

"Except," remarked another, "when he stops to smoke what o' the stuffin'

has been already shoved down."

"Moreover," added the seaman, "I've noticed that Francois La Certe always keeps 'im company. He's a sympathetic sort o' man is Francois, fond o' helpin' his mates--specially when they're eatin' an' smokin'."

At this moment Kateegoose, having been called, came forward. He was an ill-favoured savage, with various expressions on his ugly visage which were not so much Nature's gifts as the result of his own evil pa.s.sions.

Jealousy was one of them, and he had often turned a green eye on Okematan. There were indications about his mouth and fingers, as he came forward, that justified the commentaries on his habits, and betrayed recent acquaintance with fat pork.

"You hear the reports that have just been brought in?" said Dechamp.

"Kateegoose hears," was the laconic answer.

"Kateegoose is a Cree," continued Dechamp; "he knows the spirit that dwells in the hearts of his tribe. What does he think?"

"The thoughts of the Indian are many and deep. He has for many moons watched the behaviour of Okematan, and he has long suspected that the heart of the serpent dwells in the breast of that chief. Now he is sure."

"But what about your people?" demanded the camp-chief. "They are not at war with us. Are they all villains because one among them turns out to be bad?"

Kateegoose drew himself up with a look of dignity, and pouted his greasy lips as he replied--

"The Crees have always been a brave and true and upright people. They never attack friends until, by their conduct, these friends have become enemies. But the Crees are human. They are not perfect--neither are the Palefaces. There are bad men among them--a few; not many--as well as young men and foolish. Sometimes, when on the war-path, a clever bad man can reason with them till he blinds them, and they are ready to do wrong. It may be so now. Okematan is clever. Kateegoose does not know what to advise."

"Kateegoose was not asked to advise," returned Dechamp sternly. "He may return to his tent."

Thus summarily dismissed, this hanger-on or camp-follower returned to his pork and pipe with a feeling that somehow he had failed to make the exact impression on the leader that he desired. La Certe, however, consoled him, and helped him to continue the duties of the day.

"Come with me, McKay," said Dechamp, after giving all needful directions regarding the safety of the camp. "I don't believe that rascal Kateegoose. He's a greedy idler, something like La Certe, but by no means so harmless or good-natured. Moreover, I find it hard to believe that Okematan has turned traitor."

"I agree with you," said Fergus. "It iss ferry hard to believe that a man who has been so long among us, and got such a good character, should suddenly turn against us--an' that, too, without provocation. But what will you be sayin' to what Taniel and myself has seen with our two eyes?"

"It looks bad, I confess," answered Dechamp, as they paced to and fro in a retired part of the camp; "but you must remember that your two eyes are not your two ears, and that you heard nothing that you could understand."

"Fery true, Dechamp. But the language of the eye is sometimes as clear and understandable as the language of the ear. No wan could mistake the meanin' o' some o' the warriors when they scowled an' pointed in the direction of our camp here, an' gripped the handles o' their scalpin'

knives and tomahawks. Moreover, Okematan also pointed in the same direction, though I am bound to say he did not grip his knife. Whether he scowled or not I do not know, for he was standin' wi' his back to us."

"Well, I cannot tell. I'm not willin' to believe Okematan a traitor; but what you have seen is enough to make me put the camp in defence instead of startin' out to hunt--"

At that moment the sharp click of a gun was heard as a neighbouring sentry put his piece on full c.o.c.k.

Dechamp and Fergus hastened towards him.

"Have a care, Andre; don't be too quick with your gun," said the former.

"I see only one man coming. He can do us no harm."

As the approaching figure drew near, it was seen to be that of an Indian on horseback. He rode carelessly at a jog-trot.

"It looks like Okematan!" said Dechamp, glancing at his companion in surprise.

"It iss Okematan," returned Fergus.

Before another word could be spoken, a shot was heard in the camp, and horse and man were seen to roll upon the ground. The latter rose immediately, but the horse lay stiff--evidently shot dead. For a few seconds profound silence followed the incident, as if men were too much taken by surprise to think and act. Then, when the dismounted Indian was seen to walk leisurely, as if unhurt, towards them, there was a hubbub in the camp, while men, women, and boys ran towards the spot whence the shot seemed to have been fired, but no one was to be found there. Only a very faint puff of smoke overhead told where the marksman had stood. It had been a well-chosen spot, where a low bush or two mingled with several carts that had been rather carelessly drawn up, and several horses had been picketed together. These had afforded concealment enough for at least a few moments.

The tent of La Certe was not far from this corner. At the time the shot was heard, the self-indulgent half-breed was inside, rec.u.mbent on his back in the enjoyment of a pipe.