Rodney, the Ranger, with Daniel Morgan on Trail and Battlefield

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE CHIEF WHO DEMANDED THE TRUTH

  Four days of intense excitement, without proper food or sleep,subjected to peril of life, would test the hardiest person. RodneyAllison felt like breaking down and weeping hysterically. To add tohis discomfort he believed the hut to be alive with vermin, not anuncommon condition in any Indian's wigwam, and this one lookedfilthy.

  His unpleasant reflections were interrupted by the return of thelittle boy, Louis, who cried, "Ahneota, he say you come right away."

  "The redskin who threw me in here said he would kill me if I left."

  "_Ce n'est rien_, Ahneota says come."

  Under the circumstances Rodney decided to run the risk, for evidentlythe little chap was the only friend he had found, so he said, "Well,you don't want me killed, do you?"

  "_Non._ I will have you to play with me. Ahneota is my friend. He willgive you to me."

  They went to a wigwam at the farther end of the village and foundawaiting them an old chief. He was tall and gaunt. His face was long,the nose sharply aquiline, and his eyes were as keen and bright asthose of a youth. The chief's manner was very, dignified, even stern.Louis began his plea, but was ordered to call the Indian, Caughnega.Then, turning to Rodney, the chief asked: "Why come to Indian countryand kill game? White man's game below big river."

  Rodney hesitated. What could he say? He feared to confess that healready had escaped from Indians, it would not be a helpfulintroduction, to say the least; neither would he lie.

  "I was lost and hungry. The bear was hungry, too. I had to shoot," hefinally said.

  The searching look of the Indian embarrassed him.

  "The pigeon dropped by the eagle spoke not truth but said he fell."

  Rodney flushed under the fierce gaze of the bright eyes of the agedchief. Then lifting his head he resolutely replied: "I have told youthe truth, but not all of it. I am here through no fault of my own andam trying to get back to the big river and my people."

  "The big river is many days' journey. There is blood on the pigeon,"replied Ahneota, pointing to Rodney's wrists, which yet bore the marksof the thongs with which he had been bound.

  "That is the work of Indians. I was on my way down the Ohio to meet myfather near the Great Kanawha. The party I was with landed for supperand was attacked by Indians, who killed some and made me a prisoner. Iescaped from them and am here. Neither I nor my father ever wronged anIndian."

  "The land north of the big river belongs to the Indian. The GreatFather gave it to the Indian and the palefaces smoked the pipe ofpeace with the red man. Now they would come and kill our game and thered man must die."

  "Our party was not seeking land north of the river when the Indianscruelly attacked us."

  "The Wyandottes are at peace with the Shawnees and do not take awaytheir captives."

  "You all are at peace with the whites and have no right to make me aprisoner," was Rodney's reply, so boldly spoken he feared its effectmight be bad.

  "Young braves will not always obey their chiefs," was the ratherevasive reply of the old man, and the boy instinctively felt he hadnot displeased Ahneota by his bold speech.

  "Ahneota has one brother. He left the palefaces and is an Indian."

  The boy understood this to mean that he might, by forsaking hispeople, find safety as a member of the tribe. Every tie of affectionbound him to his own people. He knew, moreover, that if an adoptedmember of the tribe ever deserted it the offence was regarded as amost serious one; that on the contrary he would be expected, if needbe, to fight against his own people. He made no reply.

  "Will paleface be Ahneota's brother?"

  Thought of home almost brought tears to the boy's eyes. He gulped downhis emotion, for he knew the Indians look with contempt on any displayof one's feelings.

  "It would be deserting my people," he finally replied. "My father andmother and sister are living. I thank you for the--the kindness. Ihope you will permit me to go to them. My people are at peace withyour people."

  "The palefaces speak words of peace but their deeds are war."

  There was silence for a few moments and then the old chief spoke withRodney's captor. They talked in the Indian tongue. Little Louis,standing by, evidently knew what they were saying, for, as the Indianwho claimed Rodney spoke more loudly, he interrupted, claiming, asafterward appeared, that the prisoner was his, that he had first seenhim and wanted him for a playmate.

  The old Indian did not speak for a time, evidently being puzzled whatto do. Then, addressing Rodney, he said: "Young paleface will not bethe Indian's brother; he cannot find his way to the big river. He mayshare the Indian's lodge and meat." Saying this he turned and enteredhis lodge.

  "Come."

  It was Louis who spoke and, taking Rodney by the hand, he led himaway, while Caughnega, with a sullen look on his face, went his way.

  Louis was a handsome little fellow, affectionate in his manner anddelighted with his success in obtaining a new playfellow. As they wentalong they met one that at first Rodney thought to be an Indian but oncloser inspection decided was a white man; the fellow was, in fact,none other than Conrad, whose capture has already been related.

  "Ah, Conrad! _mon ami_. I have a new friend," exclaimed Louis.

  "I suppose you are one of his old ones," remarked Rodney with a smile.Conrad made no reply, but looked inquiringly while Louis rattled offan account of the events of the morning.

  The news did not appear to be agreeable to Conrad, who walked awaywithout comment; but the little fellow was too full of the novelty ofhis experiences to heed Conrad's manner, and they went on to a lodgeon the edge of the village and Louis led his companion into where,seated on a bear skin, was a woman weaving mats out of rushes. Shelooked up quickly, and Rodney saw at a glance that she was superior toany Indian women he had ever seen, evidently a half-breed. The blanketshe wore and her surroundings looked clean, and her face showedintelligence much beyond the ordinary; but there was something in thelook she gave him that warned Rodney she would be his implacableenemy.

  The little fellow's tongue ran on in a mingled jargon of French,Indian and English and Rodney comprehended, rather from the looks andgestures of the woman and child than from the words, that Louis wasdetermined the newcomer should live with them, while she objected,whereat Louis began to wail imperiously, and the glance of dislike shegave Rodney was not reassuring.

  "I will build a lodge, you can show me how to do it, and then you canhave one more home to go to," said Rodney, trying to soothe thetroubled feelings. This idea pleased Louis, who dried his eyes and wasfor beginning on it right away, but "Maman," as he called thehalf-breed woman, did not appear to like this plan any better than thefirst, and her beady eyes snapped ominously; but she said nothing.Rodney wished he might lie down on one of the clean mats before himand sleep, for he was so tired he scarcely could keep awake even whilewalking. He shrank from asking the woman for a place to sleep, butfinally did so, and she grunted assent.

  While Rodney slept the sleep of exhaustion, Louis went in search ofConrad, and asked him to build his new friend a wigwam.

  Conrad scowled and replied that the new boy wouldn't live long enoughto need it, and Louis cried, "They can't kill him, Ahneota won't letthem."

  "Vat for you vant him, yet? Conrad your friend is."

  "I want him, too; he's white like Jules. Papa said: 'Jules is a goodboy and you may play with him all day.' You don't play with me all thetime, but go away hunting and will not let me go, too."

  "He need will have to eat, und to hunt, I tink, alretty."

  Louis was so insistent that Conrad finally assisted him in cuttingpoles for the proposed wigwam and setting them in place. By this timeRodney, who had been waked by the woman, joined them and worked ashard as his sore muscles would permit. By night he had a shelter ofbark and boughs. Louis brought a mat and there the weary captive laydown for the night, hungry and sore. Later, the little fellow broughthim some dried venison and showed him the spring that sup
plied thevillage with drinking water.

  The following morning Rodney chanced to see the half-breed, "Maman,"as Louis called her, though Rodney felt sure she was not his mother,talking very earnestly with Caughnega and their talk ceased when heapproached, which aroused his suspicion. He made inquiries of Louisand learned that Caughnega was the "medicine man" of the village andpossessed influence. Ahneota was the more influential and the boyshrewdly guessed that Caughnega was jealous.

  A chief of a tribe maintained his influence through no laws, for theIndians had none. The position might be strengthened by the chiefhaving influential relatives, but this did not appear to be true ofAhneota. Generally speaking, a chief retained his place because thetribe trusted and respected him, as it was evident they did Ahneota.Not only members of his tribe, but other Indians, came and heldcounsel with him. At first Rodney hesitated about calling on the chiefbut gradually became a daily visitor at his lodge.

  One of the accomplishments which Rodney had learned from Thello wasfishing. When leaving home he had taken a good linen line and severaliron hooks. Indians speared or netted most of the fish they took, butoccasionally angled for them with bone hooks and lines made of twistedfibre. The boy obtained permission to fish and in this way oftencontributed to the food supply of the village.

  Food was held in common. Any one having it was expected to shareequally with the others. When luck smiled on the boy he was careful tohave a nicely broiled fish to take to Ahneota. He also attempted tomake friends with Conrad but always met with a surly reception.

  Louis was so friendly as to be almost a nuisance, especially as Rodneybelieved the little fellow's fondness for him was a cause for thedislike of Conrad and "Maman." The little boy, whenever he couldescape the watchfulness of "Maman" would pay a visit to Rodney'swigwam, which had been made quite substantial, being covered withstrips of elm bark. Louis was always clamouring for stories aboutwhite people and one evening, Rodney replied: "I have told you all mystories. Now you must tell me some; tell me of the place where youlived before you came here. Is 'Maman' your real mother and is yourfather living?"

  A startled look came into the lad's big brown eyes. He peered about inthe growing dusk, then he said: "You will not tell? Maman says shewill kill me if I tell. Maman is not my mother. She had eyes likeflowers and papa, he was _gentilhomme_, would carry her in his armswhen she was sick. He was tall like Ahneota, only his eyes were not soblack. Mamma called him her soldier."

  "Where is he now?" asked Rodney, thoroughly interested.

  "He went away after mamma died and I went to live with _grandmere_above Lachine. Marie, that's Maman, she says I must call her that, shewas a servant for _grandmere_, who died last harvest. She was not sicka long time like mamma, but only a few days. Marie said it wassmall-pox, and we must go away and find papa, but we have not foundhim. I want to see my papa," and Louis threw himself sobbing on theground.

  Rodney stroked his long yellow hair and called him "Yellow Locks," butthe little chap peevishly exclaimed, "I like Louis better. I don'twant to be called 'Yellow Locks.'"

  A faint noise behind caused Rodney to turn quickly. There stood Marie,the half-breed!

  How much had she heard? the boy asked himself; but he was learning tocontrol his feelings, and he said pleasantly enough, "Good evening,Maman. Louis is tired and I reckon wants to be in bed."

  "I want to sleep here," exclaimed the child.

  "Not to-night," replied Rodney. "You are too tired and the bed inMaman's lodge is softer."

  She took the little chap up in her arms and carried him away. It wasevident she was fond of him, which might account for her having stolenhim, as it appeared she had; also for her jealousy. What would be theend of the muddle? Rodney asked himself. He thought of the stake andthe frenzied villagers dancing around the fire with blood-curdlingyells. Would he be able to endure the torture? He hoped so, for theboy was proud of his race. But why borrow trouble? All around him weresigns of peace and savage contentment. The little camp-fires twinkledin the gathering dusk. Some of the squaws sang bits of a wild lullabyto their children and he could hear, in droning refrain:

  "Wau, wau, tee, say. Wau, wau, tee, say,"

  sung as a lullaby by one of the squaws, who had slung the wicker-workframe, into which the papoose was strapped, across the limb of a treeand swung it back and forth while she sang, as one would rock acradle.

  "Poor little mummy," thought Rodney. "No wonder Indians can endurepain. Tied into that framework straight as an arrow and unable tobrush away a mosquito or help themselves, they ought to learn toendure anything."