Menotah Part 22

They disappeared within the log fort, while the silence and desolation grew again.

Through the fresh dampness of the forest came Menotah, with her wonted happiness and joy of heart. Her hair was unbound as usual; she wore a tiny pair of beaded and gra.s.s-worked moca.s.sins, with dainty leggings of fringed buckskin. Light notes of joyous music dropped from her smiling lips as she danced along with scarce a limp or a pause--for the old Antoine, with the miraculous native art of healing, had rubbed an ointment upon the wounded foot.

She pa.s.sed along like a b.u.t.terfly floating with the wind, threading an unmarked track for some distance, then glided through torn and rugged bush, to finally emerge at the edge of a gloomy swamp, where strange creatures croaked and crawled, where poisonous herbs reared fetid heads aloft.

Here an unmistakable odour permeated the air. A thick film coated nauseous puddles of silent water, where circles of bright colour curled and twisted beneath the bright sunlight. A colossal fortune, open gift of Nature, lay beneath that lonely wilderness, only awaiting someone to seize upon it. Yet neither the old Antoine, nor the light-hearted girl, the two who alone knew of the place, ever had the imagination troubled with the golden vision of an oil king's dream.

Black rocks pressed closely upon the limit of this slimy expanse, which spread away to the distance, broken by occasional solemn bushes, or gaunt stone ma.s.ses like huge creatures of mythology. Between this cliff and the precarious edge Menotah picked her light-footed way, until she came to an open spot fronted by a thick bush clump, which seemed to bar all further progress.

She stepped across and pulled at a pliant bough. It came back, and she pa.s.sed through a dark aperture, the branch closing behind her with considerable force, like a spring door. Ahead lay another smaller clearing, with three trees in the centre, growing to form an almost perfect equilateral triangle. These had been utilised as corner posts for a small hut constructed out of thick kanikanik rods, overlaid with white reeds plaited with red wands of the same bush. The roof was thatched in by layers of leaves and dry gra.s.s, the whole being sheltered by pendulous tresses of the overhanging trinity of pines. At the forest side a roughly-cut aperture did duty for a window, where a cloth was stretched across at night, to exclude, as far as possible, the noxious vapours and the no less unpleasant insects.

Menotah had reached her destination. She stopped and hooted thrice in soft cadence. Scarce had the low cry pa.s.sed drearily over the swamp, when the reed door was pushed back, while a figure, bent and completely enveloped in a sweeping black cloak, crawled forth slowly. This apparition the girl regarded with every sign of complacent satisfaction.

'I have come early,' she began in glad tones, 'for last evening I could not find you. I came to the hut before the storm arose, but it was empty.'

The figure raised a thin, bearded face, and spoke in a weak voice. 'I went into the forest--to escape the stench of the swamp for a few hours.

I thought I knew the way, but it gave me trouble to return.'

'You should not have left this place. Some might see you.'

'Don't fear, my girl. I shall lie quiet, till the strength comes. I sha'n't show my face till the proper time. No one comes here?'

'None can, but old Antoine, for they do not know the path. He comes but seldom, to gather foul plants and collect creatures from the mud. Then he makes great medicines and strong poison. Are you not satisfied here?'

The figure s.h.i.+vered, and drew the mantle more closely round his lean shoulders. 'It is an awful place at night--especially on a quiet night.

Mists rise and hang upon yonder dark pools, while blue lamps shudder along the marsh.'

Menotah gave a fearful little laugh. 'But you should not venture forth when the cold moon s.h.i.+nes.[1] The _Mutchi-Manitou_ is then abroad, and his home is in the swamp. He it is who lights those fires, that you may come to the edge and gaze upon them. Then he would drag you in to feed upon your blood, while your soul would make another blue lamp. But the dim shadows are powerless to harm, for they are only poor spirits who have been sent to the other world without food or light by the way. So they have lost the right path, and must search through the long night for it.'

The huddled figure, who already seemed overridden by superst.i.tion, bent still lower in a fit of coughing. Menotah, with her inborn knowledge of the unseen, had no idea of easing his mind.

'You have not seen that which the Spirit has shown to me,' she continued, in a half whisper. 'When I was younger, I would sometimes be very foolish, and would even walk by the edge of the swamp when the moon was cold and round. I wished to learn some of the mysteries of the future. So as the night grew older and the south wind blew more strongly,[2] there rose around me groanings, with louder cries of souls in torture. Fires darted from side to side, while shadow figures floated in such numbers that the sky became hidden. Sometimes, when I came by a black pool, where red patches lay without motion, a blue-veined hand darted upward, making horrible clutches with bony fingers at the life air, which the body might not reach from the bondage of death. Then a ghastly head, with starting eyes and awful features, would be cast up at my feet, only to roll back into the slime with fearful cries. I could see the agony in the eyes as the dark water closed around. Also, voices would call my name, and feet tread beside me as I trembled along.

Invisible hands pulled at me, while hollow eyes rolled and burnt in the air at my side. Yet I kept to the path and never lost courage. Had I done so, one of those blue lamps which now frighten you at night would mark that spot where I had made entry into the other world.'

'You imagined this!' cried the figure. 'It was a dream. I have seen nothing like that--'

'Because the Spirit has not given you the double vision,' she said eagerly. 'Some may see more than others can even imagine. These have an inner pair of eyes with which they may look into the mysteries, to read the future and the fate of others, though we may never find or learn our own.'

'Have you the double pair?'

'I cannot tell yet; I am still so young. But I can see very well, and I know--I know--'

She stopped, then widened her l.u.s.trous eyes and gazed on him with a smile, in which there was certain pride.

'Now I must go,' she said suddenly. 'See how the sun is creeping up from the low ridge of cloud. Is there anything I should bring you?'

'No. Only keep your tongue as you have managed so far. Then everything ought to turn out well.'

She stepped back to the leafy wall. 'Last night there was a moose brought into the camp. I have cut off some nice pieces for you, and will bring them this evening. Do not lose yourself again.'

She nodded with a radiant smile, the bushes closed behind her flowing hair as a last bright note of farewell floated back to the stagnant swamp pools. Then her happy steps turned lightly in the direction of the dismal death tree, where she was to meet the one to whom she had dedicated her fresh young heart.

Quickly she came across him, stretched at his ease in the soft green shade beneath the tinted light. She came to him, full of that love and trust which is in itself a thing of perfect beauty, yet which so often proves a serpent to its owner. She knelt by his side, under the interlacing tangle of boughs, to throw her warm young arms around his neck in the pa.s.sion of her innocent devotion. Her tantalising hair waved round his neck and fondled each feature. It intoxicated the sense, so he returned her embrace, drew her down beside him, whispering soft words into her ear, caressing the flushed face with the careless touch of a man who understands a woman's weakness.

Jealousy had awakened the love flame in his heart. Now the opposer had been destroyed, and no further obstacle stood in his path. Menotah was for him. He had but to put forth his hand and receive a bride--surely she was worth the taking. What mattered the stiff body drifting down an unknown reach of the Saskatchewan? That could no more interfere between him and desire. For the time he was sincere. This warmth at the heart _was_ love; the beautiful being then caressing him with soft fingers had been the kindling of it.

Nor had she any great consideration for the dead Muskwah. He himself had explained the truth, when he said that none could think of the moon while the sun gave light. She breathed within a golden flood of ecstasy, in which time and season were empty phrases. The warmth and beauty of that summer day had been created for her alone, while she, in her turn, had been brought to the world that she might bring joy and satisfaction to another. Had not the heart been free from sorrow all the days of life? And now the happiness had been idealised. How magnificent, how wonderfully coloured, how fantastic and exquisitely enervating was this supreme intensity of heart joy!

She murmured to him softly, 'You have given me love. I know what it is now. And the more you give me, more I shall ask for.'

'You shall have it, _cherie_!'

'It is my life now. I should die if I looked for it--and it never came.'

He turned her face up inquiringly and gazed into it.

'Ah! You do not understand that. But, if I thought you had ceased to love me, it would kill me. You may not live without a heart. We are given but one, and we cannot part with our best more than once.'

'But when it is returned to you?'

'No; it is a different thing. You then offer that which belongs to another.'

Lamont looked long into her serious eyes. '_Ma mie_,' he said tenderly, 'all of your age and s.e.x speak so. They mean it, when they give the thought utterance, yet in a short time they will gladly transfer affection, and call it again love.'

'I do not understand the world ways. I do not wish to, if such is custom. Such women cannot possess hearts, or know truth.'

'It is nothing,' he said carelessly. 'Husbands tire of wives, wives desert husbands. It happens every day.'

'But what comes after that?'

'Often they separate.'

Menotah shuddered, while her face grew very grave. 'When you speak such words, a cold pain pa.s.ses over me. It makes me lonely and unhappy. But tell me more; when the wife is deserted for another woman, what does she do?'

Lamont shrugged his shoulders and laughed. 'Takes somebody else,' he said lightly.

Yet he was astonished at her manner of receiving his words. She pushed him away with a sudden impulse, while her bosom heaved and the bright eyes flashed.

'Surely she would seek after vengeance? She would punish him?'

'You do not understand the workings of the world, Menotah,' came the careless answer.

'No--I go higher. For I know the call of Nature. If animals seek to obey the will of the Spirit, why should men and women do less? I will tell you what I myself saw last spring. Many herons nested among the river reeds, and I would watch them often while they fas.h.i.+oned homes and brought up their young. But one day a female deserted her mate and chose another. What do you think happened then? The others would not allow themselves to be thus disgraced; for they were wiser than those men and women of whom you speak. They waited, until the female bird came to the encampment, then set upon her, and tore her body in pieces. After that they turned upon her mate and beat him from the camp. All this I saw with my own eyes.'

Lamont s.h.i.+fted uneasily, for this style of conversation jarred upon him.

This girl of the forests possessed deep inner feelings, which he felt she would be better without. There were still things of importance he must teach her, chief of which was the error of perfect fidelity. To him, love was the pleasure of an hour; to her, it was the core of life.

It was easy, also delightful, to a.s.sure her of the foolishness of dwelling upon matters which could not concern her. She was willing to be persuaded, and soon smiled on him again with her customary brightness.