The World for Sale, Complete

  CHAPTER XVIII. THE BEACONS

  There were few lights showing in Lebanon or Manitou; but here andthere along the Sagalac was the fading glimmer of a camp-fire, and inTekewani's reservation one light glowed softly like a star. It camefrom a finely-made and chased safety-lantern given to Tekewani by theGovernment, as a symbol of honour for having kept the braves quiet whenan Indian and half-breed rising was threatened; and to the powerlesschief it had become a token of his authority, the sign of the GreatWhite Mother's approval. By day a spray of eagle's feathers waved overhis tepee, but the gleam of the brass lantern every night was like asentry at the doorway of a monarch.

  It was a solace to his wounded spirit; it allayed the smart ofsubjection; made him feel himself a ruler in retirement, even as GabrielDruse was a self-ordained exile.

  These two men, representing the primitive nomad life, had been drawntogether in friendship. So much so, that to Tekewani alone of all theWest, Druse gave his confidence and told his story. It came in thespringtime, when the blood of the young bucks was simmering and, theancient spell was working. There had preceded them generations ofhunters who had slain their thousands and their tens of thousands ofwild animals and the fowls of the air; had killed their enemies inbattle; had seized the comely women of their foes and made them theirown. No thrill of the hunter's trail now drew off the overflow ofdesire. In the days of rising sap, there were only the young maidens orwives of their own tribe to pursue, and it lacked in glory. Also in thespringtime, Tekewani himself had his own trials, for in his blood theold medicine stirred. His face turned towards the prairie North and themountain West where yet remained the hunter's quarry; and he longed tobe away with rifle and gun, with his squaw and the papooses trailingafter like camp-followers, to eat the fruits of victory. But that couldnot be; he must remain in the place the Great White Mother had reservedfor him; he and his braves must assemble, and draw their rations at theappointed times and seasons, and grunt thanks to those who ruled overthem.

  It was on one of these virginal days, when there was a restless stirringamong the young bucks, who smelled the wide waters, the pines and thewild shrubs; who heard the cry of the loon on the lonely lake andthe whir of the wild duck's wings, who answered to the phantom cryof ancient war; it was on such a day that the two chiefs opened theirhearts to each other.

  Near to the boscage on a little hill overlooking the great river,Gabriel Druse had come upon Tekewani seated in the pine-dust, rocking toand fro, and chanting a low, sorrowful refrain, with eyes fixed on thesetting sun. And the Ry of Rys understood, with the understandingwhich only those have who live close to the earth, and also near to theheavens of their own gods. He sat down beside the forlorn chief, and inthe silence their souls spoke to each other. There swept into the veinsof the Romany ruler something of the immitigable sadness of the Indianchief; and, with a sudden premonition that he also was come to thesunset of his life, his big nomad eyes sought the westering rim of theheavens, and his breast heaved.

  In that hour the two men declared themselves to each other, and GabrielDruse told Tekewani all that he had hidden from the people of theSagalac, and was answered in kind. It seemed to them that they were asbrothers who were one and who had parted in ages long gone; and havingmet were to part and disappear once more, beginning still another trailin an endless reincarnation.

  "Brother," said Tekewani, "it was while there was a bridge of landbetween the continents at the North that we met. Again I see it. Iforgot it, but again I see. There was war, and you went upon one pathand I upon another, and we met no more under all the moons till now."

  "'Dordi', so it was and at such a time," answered the Ry of Rys. "Andonce more we will follow after the fire-flies which give no light to thesafe places but only lead farther into the night."

  Tekewani rocked to and fro again, muttering to himself, but presently hesaid:

  "We eat from the hands of those who have driven away the buffalo, thedeer, and the beaver; and the young bucks do naught to earn the joy ofwomen. They are but as lusting sheep, not as the wild-goat that chasesits mate over the places of death, till it comes upon her at last, andcalls in triumph over her as she kneels at his feet. So it is. Like tamebeasts we eat from the hand of the white man, and the white man leaveshis own camp where his own women are, and prowls in our camps, so thatnot even our own women are left to us."

  It was then that Gabriel Druse learned of the hatred of Tekewani forFelix Marchand, because of what he had done in the reservation, prowlingat night like a fox or a coyote in the folds.

  They parted that hour, believing that the epoch of life in which theywere and the fortunes of time which had been or were to come, were butturns of a wheel that still went on turning; and that whatever chancedof good or bad fortune in the one span of being, might be repaired inthe next span, or the next, or the next; so, through their creed ofreincarnation, taking courage to face the failure of the life they nowlived. Not by logic or the teaching of any school had they reachedthis revelation, but through an inner sense. They were not hopefuland wondering and timid; they were only sure. Their philosophy, theirreligion, whether heathen or human, was inborn. They had comfort in itand in each other.

  After that day Gabriel Druse always set a light in his window whichburned all night, answering to the lantern-light at the door ofTekewani's home--the lights of exile and of an alliance which had behindit the secret influences of past ages and vanished peoples.

  There came a night, however, when the light at the door of Tekewani'stepee did not burn. At sunset it was lighted, but long before midnightit was extinguished. Looking out from the doorway of his home (it wasthe night after the Orange funeral), Gabriel Druse, returned from hisnew duties at Lebanon, saw no light in the Indian reservation. Withanxiety, he set forth in the shine of the moon to visit it.

  Arrived at the chief's tepee, he saw that the lantern of honour wasgone, and waking Tekewani, he brought him out to see. When the oldIndian knew his loss, he gave a harsh cry and stooped, and, gatheringa handful of dust from the ground, sprinkled it on his head. Then witharms outstretched he cursed the thief who had robbed him of what hadbeen to him like a never-fading mirage, an illusion blinding his eyes tothe bitter facts of his condition.

  To his mind all the troubles come to Lebanon and Manitou had had onesource; and now the malign spirit had stretched its hand to spoil thosealready dispossessed of all but the right to live. One name was upon thelips of both men, as they stood in the moonlight by Tekewani's tepee.

  "There shall be an end of this," growled the Romany.

  "I will have my own," said Tekewani, with malediction on the thief whohad so shamed him.

  Black anger was in the heart of Gabriel Druse as he turned again towardshis own home, and he was glad of what he had done to Felix Marchand atthe Orange funeral.