CHAPTER XXVII.
THE ATTACK.
White Buffalo and Natah Otann had drawn up their strategic arrangementswith remarkable skill. The two Chiefs had scarce formed their camp inthe clearing, ere they assembled the Sachems of the other tribes campednot far from them, in order to combine their movement, so as to attackthe Americans simultaneously from all points.
Though the Redskins are excessively cunning, the Americans hadsucceeded in thoroughly deceiving them, in the gloom and silence thatprevailed through the fort, for not a single bayonet could be seenglistening behind its parapets. Leaving their horses concealed in theforest, the Indians lay down on the ground, and, crawling through thetall grass like reptiles, began crossing the space that separated themfrom the ramparts.
All was still apparently gloomy and silent, and yet two thousandintrepid warriors were crawling up in the shadow to attack a fortressbehind which forty resolute men only waited for the signal to be given,and commence the attack. When all the orders had been given, and thelast warriors had quitted the hill, Natah Otann, whose perspicuouseye had discovered a certain hesitation of evil omen in the minds ofthe allied chiefs, resolved to make that final appeal to the Count tosecure his co-operation. We have already seen the result. When leftalone, Natah Otann gave the signal for attack; the Indians rushed likea hurricane down the sides of the hill, and ran towards the fort,brandishing their arms, and uttering their war yell. Suddenly a heavydischarge was heard, and Fort Mackenzie was begirt with smoke anddazzling flashes. The battle had commenced.
The plain was invaded, as far as eye could trace, by powerfuldetachments of Indian warriors, who, converging on one point, marchedresolutely toward the fort, incessantly discharging their bullets atit; while new bands could be seen constantly arriving from the placewhere the chain of hills abuts on the Missouri. They came up at agallop, in parties of from three to twenty men; their horses werecovered with foam, which led to the presumption that they had come along distance. The Blackfeet were in their war attire, loaded with allsorts of ornaments and arms, with bow and quiver on their backs, andmusket in hand, while their heads were crowned with feathers, someof which were the magnificent black and white eagle plumes. They wereseated on handsome saddle cloths of panther skin, lined with red; theupper part of the body was naked, with the exception of a long stripof wolf skin passing over the shoulder as a cross belt, while theirbucklers were adorned with feathers and cloth of various colours.
These men, thus accoutred, had something imposing and majestic aboutthem, which affected the imagination, and inspired terror.
The struggle seemed most obstinate in the environs of the fort, and onthe hill. The Blackfeet, sheltered by tall palisades planted duringthe night, replied to the Americans' fire with an equally rapid fire,exciting each other, with wild cries, courageously to resist the attackof their implacable foes. The defence was, however, as vigorous as theassault, and the combat did not appear destined to terminate so soon.Already many corpses lay on the ground, startled horses galloped inevery direction, and the shrieks of the wounded mingled at intervalswith the defiant shouts of the assailants.
Natah Otann, so soon as the signal had been given, ran off to the tentwhere his prisoner was.
"The moment has arrived," he said to him.
"I am ready," the Count answered, "go on. I will keep constantly atyour side."
"Come on, then!"
They went out, and at once rushed into the thickest fight. The Count,as he had said, was unarmed, raising his head fiercely at each bulletthat whistled past his ear, and smiling at the death which he, perhaps,invoked in his heart. In spite of his contempt for the white race,the Indian could not refrain from admiring this courage, which was sofrankly and nobly stoical.
"You are a man," he said to the Count.
"Did you ever doubt it?" the latter remarked, simply.
Still the combat became, with each moment, more obstinate. The Indiansrushed forward, roaring like lions, against the palisades of the fort,and were killed without flinching; their bodies almost filled up themoat. The Americans, compelled to make a front on all sides, defendedthemselves with the methodical and resolute impassiveness of men whoknow they have no help to expect, and who have made up their minds tosell their lives dearly.
From the beginning of the fight, White Buffalo had, with a picked bodyof men, held the hill that commanded Fort Mackenzie, which renderedthe position of the garrison still more precarious, for they werethus exposed to a terrible and well-sustained fire, which caused themirreparable loss, regard being had to the smallness of their numbers.Major Melville, standing at the foot of the flagstaff, with his armscrossed on his breast, a pallid brow and compressed lips, saw his menfall one after the other, and he stamped his foot with rage at hisimpotence to save them.
Suddenly, a terrific shriek of agony rose from the interior ofthe buildings, and the wives of the soldiers and _engages_ rushedsimultaneously into the square, flying, half mad with terror, from anenemy still invisible. The Indians, guided by White Buffalo, had turnedthe fortress, and discovered a secret entrance which the Major fanciedknown to himself alone, and which, in case of a serious attack andimpossibility of defence, would serve the garrison in effecting itsretreat. From this moment the Americans saw that they were lost; itwas no longer a battle, but a massacre. The Major, followed by a fewresolute men, rushed into the buildings, and the Indians scaled on allsides the palisades, now deprived of protection.
The few surviving Americans collected round the flagstaff, from the topof which floated the starry banner of the United States, and strove tosell their lives as dearly as possible, for they feared most fallingalive into the bands of their implacable enemies. The Indians repliedto the hurrahs of their foes by their terrific war cry, and boundedon them like coyotes, brandishing over their heads the blood-stainedweapons.
"Down with your arms!" Natah Otann shouted, on reaching the scene ofaction.
"Never!" the Major replied, rushing on him at the head of the fewsoldiers still left him.
The melee recommenced, more ardently and implacable than before. TheIndians rushed about in every direction, throwing torches on the roofs,which immediately caught fire. The Major saw that victory was hopeless,and tried to effect his retreat. But that was not so easy; there wasno chance of climbing over the palisades; the only prospect was thegate; but before that gate, the Blackfeet, skilfully posted, repulsedwith their lances those who tried to escape by it. Still there was noalternative. The Major rallied his men for a final effort, and rushedwith incredible fury on the enemy, with the hope of cutting his waythrough.
The collision was horrible--it was not a battle, but a butchery; footto foot, chest against chest--in which the men seized each otherround the waist, killed each other with knives, or tore the foe withteeth and nails: those who fell did not rise again--the wounded werefinished at once. This frightful carnage lasted about a quarter of anhour; two-thirds of the Americans succumbed; the rest managed to forcea passage and fled, closely pursued by the Indians, who then commenceda horrible manhunt. Never, until this day, had the Redskins fought theWhites with such fury and tenacity. The presence among them of theCount, disarmed and smiling, who, although rushing into the thickestof the contest by the side of the Chief, appeared invulnerable,electrified them, and they really believed that Natah Otann had toldthem the truth--and that the Count was that Motecuhzoma they had waitedso long, and whose presence would restore them for ever that libertywhich the White men had torn from them. Thus they had kept their eyesconstantly fixed on the young man, saluting him with noisy shouts ofjoy, and redoubling their efforts to secure the victory. Natah Otannrushed toward the American flag, tore it down, and wound it over hishead.
"Victory--victory!" he shouted, joyfully.
The Blackfeet responded to this cry with yells, and spread in everydirection to begin plundering. A few men still remained in the fort,among them being the Major, who did not wish to survive his defeat.The Indians, rushed upon him with loud yells,
to massacre him, but theveteran remained calm, and did not offer to defend himself.
"Stay!" the Count shouted; and turning to Natah Otann, said,--"Will youlet this brave soldier be assassinated in cold blood?"
"No," the Sachem answered, "if he consents to surrender his sword tome."
"Never!" the old gentleman said, with energy, as he broke across hisknee his weapon, blood-stained to the hilt, threw the pieces at theChief's feet, and, crossing his arms, he regarded his victor withsupreme contempt, as he said--
"Kill me now; I can no longer defend myself."
"Bravo!" the Count exclaimed; and, not calculating the consequencesof the deed, he went up to the Major, and cordially pressed his hand.Natah Otann regarded the two for an instant with an indefinableexpression.
"Oh!" he muttered to himself, with sorrow; "we may beat them, but weshall never conquer them: these men are stronger than we; they are bornto be our masters."
Then raising his hand above his head.
"Enough!" he said, in a loud voice.
"Enough!" the Count repeated, "respect the conquered."
That which the Sachem could not have obtained, in spite of the respectthe Indians had for him, the Count obtained instantaneously, throughthe superstitious veneration he inspired them with; they stopped, andthe carnage finally ceased; the Americans were disarmed in a second,and the Redskins remained masters of the fort.
Natah Otann then took his totem from the hands of the warrior who boreit, and, after swinging it several times in the air, hoisted it in theplace of the American flag, in the midst of the frenzied shouts of theIndians, who, intoxicated with joy, could hardly yet believe in theirvictory.
White Buffalo had not lost a moment in assuring himself of thepeaceful possession of a conquest which had cost the confederates somuch blood and toil. When the Sachems had restored some little orderamong their warriors; when the fire, that threatened the destructionof the fort, had been extinguished; and all precautions taken againstany renewal of the attack by the Americans--though that was veryimprobable--Natah Otann and White Buffalo withdrew to the apartmenthitherto occupied by the Major, and the Count followed them.
"At length," the young Count exclaimed, with delight, "we have provedto these haughty Americans that they are not invincible."
"Your weakness caused their strength," White Buffalo replied. "You havemade a good beginning, and now you must go on; it is not enough toconquer; you must know how to profit by that victory."
"Pardon my interrupting you, gentlemen," the Count said; "but I fancythe hour has arrived to settle our accounts."
"What do you mean, sir?" White Buffalo asked, haughtily.
"I will explain myself, sir," the Count continued, and, turning to NatahOtann, "you will do me the justice to allow that I have scrupulouslykept the promise I made you; in spite of the grief and disgust I felt,I did not fail once; you ever found me cold and calm at your side. Isthis not so?--answer, sir."
"It is true," Natah Otann replied, coldly.
"Very good, sir; it is now my turn to ask from you the fulfilment ofthe promises you made me."
"Be a little more explicit, sir," the Chief said. "During the lastfew hours I have been actor in and witness of so many extraordinarythings, that I may possibly have forgotten what I did promise you."
The Count smiled with disdain.
"I expected such trickery," he said, drily.
"You misinterpret my words. I may have forgotten, but I do not refuseto satisfy your just claims."
"Very good; I admit that, so I will remind you of the stipulations madebetween us."
"I shall be glad to hear them."
"I pledged myself to remain by yourself unarmed during the action,to follow you everywhere, and ever to go in the first rank of thecombatants."
"That is true, and it is my duty to allow that you have nobly performedthat perilous task."
"Very well; but in doing so I only acted as my honour dictated; you,on your part, pledged yourself whatever the issue of the battle mightbe, to grant me my liberty, and give me an honourable satisfaction,in reparation for the unworthy treachery of which you rendered me thevictim, and the odious part you forced me unconsciously to play."
"Oh, oh!" White Buffalo said, frowning, and striking the table with hisfists. "Did you really make such a promise as that, child?"
The Count turned to the old man with a gesture sovereign contempt.
"I believe, sir," he said, "that you are doubting the honour of agentleman."
"Nonsense, sir," the republican said, with a grin "How can you talk tous of honour and nobility? You forget that we are in the desert, andthat you are addressing savage Indians, as you call us. Do we recognizeyour foolish caste distinctions here? Have we adopted your laws andabsurd prejudices?"
"What you treat so cavalierly," the Count sharply retorted, "hashitherto been the safeguard of civilization, and the cause ofintellectual progress; but I have nothing to discuss with you; I amaddressing myself to your adopted son; let him answer me, yes or no,and I shall then know what remains for me to do."
"Be it so, sir," White Buffalo said, with a shrug of his shoulders."Let my son answer, and, according to his reply, I shall then know whatremains for me to do."
"As this affair concerns me alone," Natah Otann interposed, "I shouldfeel mortally offended, my friend, if you interfered in any way in it."
The White Buffalo smiled with contempt, but made no reply. Natah Otanncontinued--
"I will employ no subterfuges with you, sir; you have spoken the truth;I promised you liberty and satisfaction, and I am prepared to keep myword."
"Oh, oh!" White Buffalo said.
"Silence!" the Chief ordered, peremptorily. "Listen, my friend;prove to these Europeans, so vain and so proud of their so-calledcivilization, that the Redskins are not the ferocious brutes theyimagine them, and that the code of honour is the same among nationswho are regarded as the most barbarous. You are free, sir, from thismoment, and, if you please, I will myself lead you in safety outsidethe lines. As for the duel you desire, I am equally ready to satisfyyou in any way you may indicate."
"Thank you, sir," the Count answered, with a bow, "I am happy to hearyour determination."
"Now that affair is arranged between us, allow me to add a few words."
"I am listening to you, sir."
"Am I in the way?" White Buffalo asked, ironically.
"On the contrary," Natah Otann said, with emphasis, "your presence isat this moment more necessary than ever."
"Ah, ah! what is going to happen?" the old man went on, in a sarcastictone.
"You will learn," the Chief said, still cold and impassive; "if youwill take the trouble to listen to me for five minutes."
"Be it so; speak."
Natah Otann seemed to be collecting himself for a few moments, andsaid, in a voice which, spite of all his efforts to conceal it,trembled slightly, through some hidden emotion,--
"Owing to events too long to narrate here, and which I would probablypossess but slight interest for you, I became the guardian of a child,who is now a charming maiden. This girl, to whom I have ever paid thegreatest attention, and whom I love as a father, is known to you; hername is Prairie-Flower."
The Count quivered, and made a gesture in affirmation, but no otherreply. Natah Otann continued,--
"As I am entering now on a hazardous expedition, in which I may meetmy death, it is impossible for me to watch longer over this girl; itwould be painful to me to leave her alone, and without support, amongmy tribe, if destiny were to cause my plans to fail. I know that sheloves you, I entrust her to you frankly and honestly; I have full faithin your honour--will you give to her protection? I know that you willnever abuse the trust I offer you; I am only a brutalized Indian,a monster, perhaps, to your civilization; but, believe me, sir, thelessons a great man has consented to give me have not been all lost,and my heart is not so dead, as might be supposed, to finer feelings."
"Good, Natah Otann," White Buffalo sa
id, joyfully; "good, my son. Now Irecognize my pupil, and I am proud of you; the man who succeeds in eacha victory over self is really born to command others."
"You are satisfied," the Chief answered; "all the better. And you, sir?I await your answer."
"I accept the sacred trust you offer me, sir. I will be worthy of yourconfidence," the Count answered, with much emotion. "I have no right tojudge your actions; but, believe, sir, that whatever may happen, therewill be always one man to defend your memory, and proclaim aloud thenobility of your heart."
The Chief clapped his hands, the door opened, and Prairie-Flowerappeared, led by an Indian woman.
"Child," Natah Otann said to her, nothing evincing the violence he didto his feelings, "your presence among us is henceforth impossible;this Chief of the Palefaces consents to watch over you for the future;follow him, and if at times you are reminded of your stay with thetribe of the Kenhas, do not curse them or their Chief, for all havebeen kind to you."
The maiden blushed, the tears rose to her eyes, a nervous tremoragitated her limbs, and, without uttering a word, she took her place bythe Count's side. Natah Otann smiled sorrowfully.
"Follow me," he said, "I will escort you out of the camp."
And he went out, accompanied by the two young people.
"We shall soon meet again, I presume, noble Count?" White Buffalocalled out, after his countryman.
"I hope so," the latter answered, simply.
Guided by Natah Otann, the Count and his companion left the fort, andentered the prairie, passing through groups of Redskins, who stood backrespectfully to make room for them. Their walk was silent; it lastedabout half an hour, until the Chief stopped.
"Here you have nothing more to fear," he said; and going to a densethicket, and pulling back the branches, "Here are two horses I hadprepared for you; take also these weapons, perhaps you will need them;and now, if you wish to fight with me, I am ready."
"No," the Count answered, nobly, "any combat is henceforth impossiblebetween us; I can no longer be the enemy of a man whom honour orders meto esteem; here is my hand, I will never lift it against you; I offerit you frankly, and without any afterthought; unfortunately, too deepa hatred divides our two races to prevent us being ere long opposed toeach other, but if I fight your brothers, I shall not the less remainpersonally your friend."
"I ask no more of you," the Chief replied, as he pressed the handoffered him; "farewell! be happy!"
And without adding a word, he turned away, and hurried back by the roadhe had come; he soon disappeared in the darkness.
"Let us go," the Count said to the maiden, who was pensively watchingthe departure of the man she had so long loved as a father, and whomnow she did not feel strong enough to hate. They mounted and went off,after a parting glance at the scattered fire of the Blackfoot camp.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
CONCLUSION.
The night was gloomy, cold, and mournful; not a star shone in the sky,and the young people only forced their way with extreme difficultythrough the shrubs and creepers, in which their horses' feet werecontinually caught. They advanced very slowly, for both were tooabsorbed by the strange situation in which they found themselves, andthe extraordinary events of which they had been actors or witnesses, tobreak the silence they had maintained since leaving the fort. They wenton thus for about an hour, when a great noise was suddenly heard in thebushes. Two men rushed to the horses' heads, and, seizing the bridles,compelled them to stop. Prairie-Flower gave a shriek of terror.
"Halloh, brigands!" the Count shouted, as he cocked his pistols, "back,or I fire."
"Do not do so, for goodness sake, sir, for you would run the risk ofkilling a friend," a voice at once answered, which the Count recognizedas the hunter's.
"Bright-eye?" he said, in amazement.
"By Jove!" the latter said, "did you fancy, pray, that I had desertedyou?"
"My master, my kind master!" the Breton shouted, leaving hold ofPrairie-Flower's bridle, and rushing toward the young man.
"Halloh!" the Count continued, after the emotion caused by the firstsurprise was slightly calmed, "what on earth are you doing here inambush, like pirates of the prairie?"
"Come to our encampment, Mr. Edward, and we will tell you."
"Very good; but lead the way."
They soon reached the entrance of a natural cavern, where, by theuncertain light of an expiring fire, they perceived a large numberof white and half-bred hunters, among whom the Count recognized JohnBlack, his son, his wife, and daughter. The worthy squatter had leftthe clearing under the charge of his two servants, and fearing lest hiswife and daughter might not be in safety during his absence, he askedthem to accompany him; and though this offer was somewhat singular,they gladly accepted it. Prairie-Flower immediately took her place bythe side of the two ladies.
Bright-eye, the squatter, and above all Ivon, were impatient to learnwhat had happened to the Count, and how he had succeeded in escapingfrom the Redskin camp. The Count made no difficulty in satisfying theircuriosity; the more so, as he was eager to learn for what reason hisfriends were ambuscaded so near the camp.
What the hunter had foreseen had really happened; scarce victorsover the Americans, and masters of the fort, disunion had set inamong the Redskins. Several Chiefs had been dissatisfied at seeing,to their prejudice, Natah Otann, one of the youngest Sachems of theConfederates, claim the profits of the victory, by installing himself,with his tribe, in the fort, which all had captured at such an effusionof blood; a dull discontentment had begun to prevail among them; fiveor six of the most powerful even spoke, hardly two hours after thevictory, of withdrawing with their warriors, and leaving Natah Otann tocontinue the war as he thought proper with the Whites.
Red Wolf had found but slight difficulty in commencing the work ofdefection he meditated; thus, at nightfall, he entered the camp withhis warriors, and began fanning the flame which at present onlysmouldered, but which must soon be a burning and devouring fire, owingto the means of corruption the Chief had at his disposal. Of allthe destructive agents introduced by Europeans in America, the mosteffective and terrible is, indubitably, spirits. With the exception ofthe Comanches, whose sobriety is proverbial, and who have constantlyrefused to drink anything but the water of their streams, all theIndians are mad for strong liquors. Drunkenness among their primitiverace is terrible, and attains the proportions of a furious mania.
Red Wolf, who burned to avenge himself on Natah Otann, and who,besides, blindly obeyed the insinuations of Mrs. Margaret, hadconceived an atrocious plan, which only an Indian born was capable offorming. John Black had brought with him into the desert a considerablestock of whiskey. Red Wolf had asked for this, placed it on sledges,and thus entered the camp. The Indians, when they knew the species ofmerchandize he brought with him, did not hesitate to give him a heartyreception.
The Chief, while indoctrinating them, and representing Natah Otann tothem as a man who had only acted from personal motives, and with theintention of satiating his own wild ambition, generously abandoned tothem the spirits he had brought with him. The Indians eagerly acceptedthe present Red Wolf made them, and, without the loss of a moment, tookhearty draughts. When Red Wolf saw that the Indians had reached thatstate of intoxication he desired, he hastened to warn his allies, sothat they might attempt a bold _coup de main_ on the spot.
The hunters at once mounted their horses, and proceeded toward thefortress, concealing themselves about two hundred paces from it, so asto be ready for the first signal.
Natah Otann, in crossing the camp after escorting the two young people,perceived the effervescence prevailing among his allies, and severalunpleasant epithets struck his ear. Although he did not suppose thatthe Americans, after the rude defeat they had suffered during theday, were in a condition to assume the offensive immediately, still,his thorough knowledge of his countrymen's character made him suspecttreachery, and he resolved to redouble his prudence, in order to avoida conflict, whose disastrous results would be i
ncalculable for thesuccess of his career. Agitated by a gloomy foreboding, the young Chiefhurried on to reach the fort; but at the moment he prepared to enter,after opening the gate, a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, while arough voice hissed in his ear--
"Natah Otann is a traitor."
The Chief turned, as if a serpent had stung him, and wheeling his heavyaxe round his head, dealt a terrible blow at this bold speaker; but thelatter avoided the stroke by springing on one side, and raising hisaxe in his turn, he directed a blow, which the Sachem parried with thehandle of his weapon, and then the two men rushed on each other. Therewas something singularly startling in this desperate combat between twomen dumb as shadows, and in whom their fury was only revealed by thehissing of their breath.
"Die, dog!" Natah Otann suddenly said, his axe crashing through theskull of his adversary, who rolled on the ground, with a yell of agony.The Chief bent over him.
"Red Wolf," he shouted, "I suspected it."
Suddenly an almost imperceptible sound in the grass reminded him of thecritical situation in which he was; he made a prodigious bound back,entered the fort, and bolted the gate after him. It was high time; hehad scarce disappeared, ere some twenty warriors, rushing in pursuitof him, ran their heads against the gate, stifling cries of rageand deception. But the alarm had been given, the general combat wasevidently about to begin.
Natah Otann, immediately on entering the fort, perceived, with a groan,that this victory, which he had so dearly bought, was on the point ofslipping from him. The Kenhas had done within the fort what the otherBlackfeet, incited by Red Wolf, had effected on the prairie.
After the capture of the fortress they spread in every direction, andthe spirits did not long escape their search; they had rolled thebarrels into the square, and tapped them, availing themselves of theWhite Buffalo being asleep, and the absence of Natah Otann, the onlytwo men whose influence would have been great enough to have keptthem in subordination. A frightful orgy had then commenced--an Indianorgy, with all its incidents of murder and massacre. As we have said,drunkenness in the Redskins is madness carried to the last paroxysm offury and rage; there had been a frightful scene of carnage, at the endof which the Indians had fallen on the top of one another, and gone tosleep in the midst of the confusion.
"Oh!" the Chief muttered, in despair. "What is to be done with suchmen?"
Natah Otann rushed, into the room where he had left White Buffalo; theold Chief was quietly sleeping in an easy chair.
"Woe! woe!" the young man yelled, as he rushed toward him, and shookhim vigorously, to rouse him.
"What is the matter?" the old man asked, opening his eyes, and sittingup. "What news have you?"
"That we are lost!" the Chief replied.
"Lost!" the White Buffalo said, "what is happening then?"
"The six hundred men we had here are drunk, the rest of ourconfederates are turning against us, and the only thing left to us isto die."
"Let us die then, but as brave men," the old man said, rising.
He asked Natah Otann for details, which he soon gave him.
"The situation is grave, but all is not lost, I hope," he said; "let uscollect the few men still capable of fighting, and make head againstthe storm."
At this moment a tremendous fusillade was heard, mingled with war criesand shouts of defiance.
"The final struggle has commenced!" Natah Otann exclaimed.
"Forwards!" the old Chief said.
They rushed out. The situation was most critical. Major Melville,taking advantage of the intoxication of his keepers, had broken out ofhis prison at the head of some twenty Americans, and boldly charged theRedskins, while the hunters outside tried to scale the barricades.
The Indians of the prairie, ignorant of Red Wolf's death, and believingthey were carrying out his plans, advanced, in a compact body, on thefort, with the intention of carrying it. Natah Otann had to contendagainst the enemies without and those within; but he did not despair;his energy seemed to increase with peril; he was everywhere at once;encouraging some, rebuking others, and imparting some of his own nerveto all. At his voice, many of his warriors sprang up, and joined him;then the battle was organized, and became regular.
Still the hunters, excited by the Count and Bright-eye, redoubled theirefforts; climbing on each other's backs, they reached the top of thepalisades, which they wished to scale. The Americans, though themselvessurprised, when they expected to surprise their enemies, fought withindescribable fury, returning instantly to the attack in spite of thebullets that decimated them, and seemed resolved to fall to the lastman, rather than give way an inch.
During the two hours that night still lasted, the fight was maintainedwithout any decided advantage on either side; but when the sunappeared on the horizon, matters changed at once. In the darkness itwas impossible for the Indians to recognize the enemies against whomthey were fighting; but so soon as the gloom was dissipated, they saw,combating in the first rank of their enemies, and pitilessly cuttingdown the Redskins, the man on whom they counted most, whom their chiefsand medicine men had announced to them as their leader to victory, whowould render them invincible. Then they hesitated, disorder broke outamong them, and, in spite of the efforts made by Chiefs, they gave way.
The Count, having at his side Bright-eye, the squatter and his son,and Ivon, made a frightful butchery of the Indians; he was avenginghimself for the treachery of which they had made him their victim,and, at each stroke, cut them down like corn ripe for the sickle. TheCount at length reached the gate of the fort; but there he came incontact with a band of picked warriors, commanded by White Buffalo,who was effecting his retreat in good order, and without turning hisback, closely pursued by Major Melville, who was already almost masterof the interior of the fortress. There was a moment, we will not sayof hesitation, but of truce between the hostile bands; each of themunderstood that the fate of the battle depended on the defeat of theother.
Suddenly Natah Otann made his appearance, mad with grief and rage;brandishing in one hand his totem, he guided with his knees amagnificent steed, with which he had already ridden several times intothe thickest of the enemies' ranks, in the vain hope of reanimatingthe courage of his men, and turning the current of the action. Horseand rider were bathed in blood and perspiration; the shadow of deathalready brooded over the Chiefs contracted face; but his foreheadstill shone with enthusiasm. His eyes seemed to flash forth lightning,and his hand wielded an axe, the very handle of which dripped gore.Some twenty devoted warriors followed him, wounded like himself, butresolved, like him, not to survive defeat.
On reaching the front of the American line, Natah Otann stopped; hiseyebrows were contracted, a nervous smile played round his lips; and,rising in his stirrups, he bent a fascinating glance around.
"Blackfeet, my brothers," he shouted, in a strident voice, "as youknow not how to conquer, learn at least from me how to die!"
And burying his spurs in the flanks of his steed, which shrieked withpain, he rushed on the Americans, followed by a few warriors whohad sworn not to abandon him. This weak band, devoted to death, wasengulfed in the ranks of the hunters, when it entirely disappeared;for a few minutes there was a sullen contest, a horrible butchery, anebb and flow of courage impossible to describe, a Titanic struggle offifteen half naked men against three hundred; gradually the agitationceased, the calm returned, and the ranks of the hunters were reformed.The Blackfeet heroes were dead, but they had a sanguinary funeral, forone hundred and twenty Americans had fallen, burying their enemiesunder their corpses.
White Buffalo's band alone resisted; but, attacked in the rear byMajor Melville, and in front by the Count, its last hour had struck:still the collision was rude, the Indians resisted obstinately, andmade the whites purchase their victory dearly; but, attacked on allsides at once, and falling helplessly under the unerring bullets of thewhite men, disorder entered their ranks, they disbanded, and the routcommenced.
One man alone remained calm and impassive on the fi
eld of battle. Itwas White Buffalo, leaning on his long sword; with pallid brow andhaughty look, he still defied the enemies he could no longer combat.
"Surrender!" Bright-eye shouted, as he rushed upon him; "surrender, orI will shoot you like a dog."
The Chief smiled disdainfully, and made no reply. The implacable hunterseized his rifle by the barrel, and whirled it round his head. TheCount seized him sharply by the arm.
"Stay, Bright-eye," he said.
"Let the man alone," White Buffalo said, coldly.
"I do not wish him to kill you," the young man replied.
"I suppose you wish to kill me yourself, noble Count of Beaulieu," hesaid, in a cutting voice.
"No, sir," the young man said, with disdain; "throw down your weapons;I spare your life."
The exile gave him a withering glance. "Instead of telling me to throwdown my weapons," he said, ironically, "why do you not try to take themfrom me."
"Because I pity your age and your grey hair,"
"Pity? confess rather, O noble Count, that you are afraid."
At this insult the young man trembled, and his face became livid. TheAmericans formed a circle round the two men, and anxiously awaited whatwas going to happen.
"Put an end to this!" Major Melville exclaimed, "kill that mad brute."
"One moment, sir, I beg; let me settle this affair,"
"As you wish it, air, act as you think proper."
"You desire a duel then?" the Count said, addressing White Buffalo, whostill stood perfectly calm.
"Yes," he answered, through his clenched teeth, "a duel to the death!two principles, and not two men, will contend here. I hate your race,and you hate mine."
"Be it so."
The Count took two sabres from the hands of the men nearest him, andthrew one at the exile's feet. The latter stooped to pick it up, but ashe rose again, Ivon aimed a pistol at him, and blew out his brains.
The young man turned furiously on his servant.
"Wretched fellow," he shouted, "what have you done?"
"Kill me, if you will, sir," the Breton replied, simply, "but indeed itwas stronger than myself, I was so frightened."
"Come, come," the Major said, interposing, "you must not be angry withthe poor fellow, he fancied he was acting for the best, and for my partI think he was."
The incident had no other result; the exile died on the spot, takingwith him the secret of his name.
While this scene was taking place in the courtyard of the fort, JohnBlack, who was anxious to reassure his wife and daughter, went to lookfor them; but though he went through all the rooms and outbuildings ofthe fort, where he had concealed them for a few minutes previously, hecould not possibly find them anywhere.
The poor squatter returned, with lengthened face and despair in hissoul, to announce to the Major the disappearance of his wife anddaughter, probably carried off by the Indians. Without losing a moment,the Major ordered a dozen hunters to go in search of the ladies; butjust as the band was about to start, they arrived, accompanied byBright-eye and two American hunters. Margaret and her daughter werewith them. So soon as Prairie-Flower perceived the Count, she uttered acry of joy, and rushed toward him.
"Saved!" she exclaimed.
But all at once she blushed, trembled, and went in confusion to seekrefuge by her mother's side. The Count went up, took her hand, andpressed it tenderly.
"Prairie-Flower," he said to her, softly, "do you no longer love me nowthat I am free?"
The maiden raised her head, and looked at him for a moment withtear-laden eyes.
"Oh! ever, ever!" she answered.
"Look, daughter," Mrs. Black said to poor Diana.
"Mother," she replied, in a firm voice, "did I not tell you that Ishould forget him?"
The squatter's wife shook her head, but made no further remark. TheIndians had fled without leaving a man, and a few hours later the fortreturned to its old condition.
The winter passed away without any fresh incident, for the rude lessongiven the Indians had done them good. Prairie-Flower, recognized byher uncle, remained at Fort Mackenzie. The girl was sorrowful andpensive; she often spent long hours leaning over the parapets, withher eyes fixed on the prairie and the forests, which were beginning toreassume their green dress. Her mother and the Major, who were so fondof her, could not at all understand the gloomy melancholy that preyedupon her. When pressed to explain what she suffered from, she replied,invariably, that there was nothing the matter with her.
One day, however, her face brightened up, and her joyous smilereappeared. Three travellers arrived at the fort. They were the Count,Bright-eye, and Ivon; they were returning from a long excursion inthe Rocky Mountains. As soon as he arrived, the Count went up to themaiden, and took her hand, as he had done three months before.
"Prairie-Flower," he asked her once again, "do you no longer love me?"
"Oh! yes, and for ever!" the poor child answered, gently, for she hadgrown timid since she gave up her desert life.
"Thank you," he said to her; and, turning to the Major and his sister,who were looking at each other anxiously, he added, without loosingthe hand he held,--"Major Melville, and you, Madam, I ask you for thislady's hand."
A week later the marriage was solemnized; the squatter and his familywere present. And a month previously, Diana had married James. Still,when the "yes" was uttered, she could not suppress a sigh.
"You see, Ivon, that you are never killed by the Indians--and here is aproof of it," Bright-eye said to the Breton, on leaving the chapel.
"I am beginning to believe it," the latter made answer, "but no matter,my friend, I shall never get accustomed to this frightful country; itmakes me so afraid."
"The old humbug!" the Canadian muttered; "he will never alter."
* * * * *
And now, to satisfy certain curious readers who like to knoweverything, we will add the following in the shape of a postscript.
A few months after the 9th Thermidor, several members of theConvention, in spite of the part they played on that day, were notthe less transported to French Guyana. Two of them--Collot D'Herboisand Billaud Varenne--succeeded in escaping from Sinnamori, and buriedthemselves in the deserts, where they endured horrible sufferings.Collot D'Herbois succumbed, and we have told his comrade's fate.
THE END.
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