Part 6 (1/2)

THE LONE PINE.

CHAPTER I.

Notable camping-place for Indians, half-breeds and white travellers was the Lone Pine. It stood like a monarch raising its head over a wide, unsurveyed territory--no other tree to keep it company or break the flat monotony of the sea of gra.s.s surrounding it on every side.

Many strange stories were told of this tree. The G.o.ds had planted the seed and tended it with great care. They had protected the tiny shoots from the wintry blasts and severe frosts. They had caused the sun to s.h.i.+ne upon it, the clouds to empty refres.h.i.+ng showers over it to encourage its growth; and as its tiny leaves unfolded under the genial influence of their care, they had a.s.sembled to rejoice over it. It had stood for many years a beacon to travellers, a sentinel on the plains, a pillar towering to the sky, a guiding landmark that was discernible for miles, known and recognized by all the tribes and traders to whom the great prairie was hunting ground and highway.

A season of sickness fell upon the people, and the Lone Pine, too, in pitying sympathy with the nations who honored it, sickened and died.

The people mourned as for a great chief, and as they bore their dead past its decaying trunk, fear of the coming of greater sorrow entered their hearts.

One night a wild wind swept over the plain, and the Pine, unable to resist its force, fell to the ground. Then the spirits of the prairie held a secret conference at the spot, and it was decreed that a daily guard should be set over the tree, strict injunction being given that at the first sign of returning life the guard should report at once.

The traveller who pa.s.sed the broken stump of the old tree upon the plain might notice it and perhaps regret its fall, but the stately spirit keeping guard over it was invisible to his mortal eyes. Yet he might have noticed that the birds flitted more freely and sang more merrily than they had ever done before the death of the Lone Pine.

The stately reign of the monarch was ended, and there appeared no hope of its being reinstated on its throne in the hearts of the people, no hope of it ever again being a guiding landmark to the travellers on the plains. But human foresight cannot pierce the shadows of the spirit land, and that which seems impossible is, after all, only an illusion.

The man laughs at the impossibilities of his childhood, and the inhabitants of the spirit world are untrammelled by the clogs and chains that hinder and bind the denizens of the nether world.

Within the decaying trunk of the old pine the guardian spirit ere long descried a tiny shoot, and with eager haste he sped away to the courts of the spirits to proclaim his discovery. There was joy among the a.s.sembled spirits. The Lone Pine was dead, yet lived.

The hooting of the owl was heard that night more distinctly, and the wild birds sang in joyous concert until the prairie seemed alive with sounds of nature's glad rejoicing over the resurrection of the dead.

It was a night long to be remembered, and was rightly given a place in the traditions of the people.

The tiny shoot grew fast, and nourished by the richness of the past, cared for with tender pride by the spirits of the air, it soon lifted its branches in spreading beauty, and reared once more a stately head above the swelling prairie. Could human speech have been given it, it could not have spoken more forcibly of the joy of life than it did to the understanding of the people by its beauty and grace.

What wonder, then, that the neighborhood of the Lone Pine was a sacred spot and a notable camping ground among the Indians, half-breeds and traders. What wonder that the horses did not stray far from it when turned free to feed after a long day's journey; that the Indian listened for the vesper-song of the spirits as they drew near the spot at nightfall, and rested more peacefully under its hallowed guardians.h.i.+p than at any other place upon the plains. The Indians fear the power of the spirits of the departed, but they were attracted with an irresistible force to the place where the spirits of the air kept watch and ward over the Lone Pine.

The white traders saw or heard nothing and were wont to say that they pitched their camp at the Lone Pine only because it was a suitable spot--one possessing all the necessary facilities for a good camping ground.

Throughout all that region the buffalo roamed in tens of thousands, seeking and finding good grazing ground. While they congregated near the Lone Pine they were unmolested by the Indian or half-breed hunter.

This was sacred ground, and the wild herds fed in peace about its shade. But the hunters watched and waited. When the herds moved south or westward toward the mountains, they followed eagerly, and few who joined in the buffalo hunt from the vicinity of the Lone Pine returned without a bountiful supply of meat for the winter.

Late in the autumn, many years ago, a large buffalo-skin lodge was pitched on the sacred spot. The lodge was of superior make; the skins were well tanned and neatly sewn together with sinews by the deft fingers of the women. Several scalp-locks hung against the sides, evidences of the prowess of the chief, proofs of the number of enemies he had slain in battle, and ghastly reminders of the ruthless nature of the warfare of the tribes.

One evening a solitary horseman drew near, and after speaking to a group of children playing near the Red River carts standing in the neighborhood of the entrance, stopped. Leaning over the horn of his Mexican saddle, he called to the master of the lodge. A moment, and the call was answered, and a tall half-breed, pus.h.i.+ng aside the door-flap, came out. A few words of welcome said and inquiry answered, and the stranger dismounted, unsaddled his horse, put hobbles on his feet, and turned him loose to graze.

Donald Mackton had not been long in the country, but he had used his eyes and quick intelligence to some purpose; he had learned the ways and manners as well as the language of the natives very quickly, and was already well in touch with the ideas and many of the peculiarities of the Indians.

A tall, broad-shouldered, manly-looking Scot, the buckskin suit, wide sombrero hat and long boots of the typical cowboy showed his fine figure to perfection. He was armed with a Winchester rifle, wore a belt well filled with cartridges, and carried a revolver in one of the many pockets of his jacket. A sheath fastened to his belt also held a sharp knife. Long exposure to the sun and wind had bronzed his skin, and his muscles were hardened by the constant open-air life. His keen, blue eyes were true, and the entire self-unconsciousness of his manner inspired all who came in contact with him with confidence. He was a man whose word could be trusted, whose love had never been betrayed.

Jim Howsford, the half-breed master of the lodge, was as fine a specimen of his cla.s.s and race, as honest as the best of them and a true man. His father was the son of an educated Englishman who had been in the employment of the Honorable Hudson's Bay Company, his mother a beauty among the dusky maidens of the Cree tribe. Jim had learned the language of both father and mother, and knew something of the customs of both nations and races. He was therefore almost as much at home among the white men as with the Indians. He, however, liked the latter better. His mother's nature was the stronger in him, and he spoke the Cree language more frequently and fluently than the English of the white men. He wore his hair cut straight and hanging half way to the shoulders, loose flannel s.h.i.+rt open at the throat, beautifully ornamented leggings fastened outside his trousers from the knee downwards, and moccasins on his feet. The belt round his waist carried the usual knife and cartridges, without which the dress of neither half-breed nor cowboy was complete.

As the two men stood talking the children came nearer, shy but curious to know more of the stranger. They were seldom interrupted in their play by the arrival of a white visitor at the camp; indeed, so much were they kept to themselves on the prairie that they knew more of the ways and habits of the gopher, badger and beaver than they did of the ways of men. They had witnessed deadly conflicts between the Indians and half-breeds, and had crouched in fear as the bullets whistled about the lodge or the cries of the wounded fell upon their young ears.

There was something about this stranger, however, that attracted them, and sheltered under the circle of carts that surrounded the lodge, they stared wide-eyed, curious to learn the object of his visit.

Jim was too hospitable to keep his visitor long outside the lodge.

They entered, and Donald was introduced to the queen of the lodge, a half-breed woman of fair complexion, pretty, and having the shy manner which belongs to women trained to believe that the master of the lodge is a superior being. She wore the ordinary dress of women of the settlements, but her way of wearing it lacked neatness and taste; the colors were bright, but without the harmony so noticeable in the work of the pure Indian women.

The life of the half-breed women is a dull, monotonous one. Constantly on the move, freighting goods and furs from one Hudson's Bay post to another, or carrying for the small traders on the prairie, they have no incentive to make the lodge attractive or their personal appearance dainty. It is not, however, a hard life; neither men nor women seem ever in a hurry to reach their destination with the goods committed to their care. They travel along leisurely and in a gay mood from morning till evening, shooting any game that comes within their reach, or taking advantage of a broken axle to call a halt and hunt in a wider circle from their resting-place. The women as they go, gather the berries growing wild on the prairie slopes or bluffs, and the children play, happy and merry as the day is long. These people are at home on the prairie, free as the foxes--Canadian gypsies, full of the joy of to-day, heedless of the morrow, not even questioning the possibility of supper, but trusting to their guns and good luck to provide them with a deer, a beaver, a goose, or a few prairie chickens; or if these fail--a thing which seldom happens--a few gophers or a skunk can be made to provide a meal.