Part 17 (1/2)

”So have I, lad, so have I,” returned Redhand; ”I've heard o' a fort bein' attacked by Injuns when the men were away huntin', an' bein' burnt down. But it ginerally turns out that the whites have had themselves to thank for't.”

”Ay, that's true,” observed Bounce; ”some o' the whites in them parts is no better nor they should be. They treats the poor Injuns as if they wos dogs or varmints, an' then they're astonished if the redskins murder them out o' revenge. I know'd one feller as told me that when he lived on the west side o' the mountains, where some of the Injuns are a murderin' set o' thieves, he niver lost a chance o' killin' a redskin.

Of course the redskins niver lost a chance o' killin' the whites; an' so they come to sich a state o' war, that they had to make peace by givin'

them no end o' presents o' guns an' cloth an' beads--enough to buy up the furs o' a whole tribe.”

”I guess they was powerful green to do anything o' the sort,” said Big Waller. ”I knowed a feller as was in command of a party o' whites, who got into much the same sort of fix with the Injuns--always fightin' and murderin'; so what does he do, think ye?”

”Shooted de chief and all hims peepil,” suggested Gibault.

”Nothin' o' the sort,” replied Waller. ”He sends for the chief, an'

gives him a grand present, an' says he wants to marry his darter. An'

so he _did_ marry his darter, right off, an' the whites an' redskins was friends ever after that. The man what did that was a gentleman too--so they said; tho' for my part I don't know wot a gentleman is--no more do I b'lieve there ain't sich a thing; but if there be, an' it means anything good, I calc'late that that man _wos_ a gentleman, for w'en he grew old he took his old squaw to Canada with him, 'spite the larfin' o'

his comrades, who said he'd have to sot up a wigwam for her in his garden. But he says, 'No,' says he, 'I married the old ooman for better an' for worse, an' I'll stick by her to the last. There's too many o'

you chaps as leaves yer wives behind ye when ye go home--I'm detarmined to sot ye a better example.' An' so he did. He tuk her home an' put her in a grand house in some town in Canada--I don't well mind which-- but when he wasn't watchin' of her, the old ooman would squat down on the carpet in the drawin'-room, for, d'ye see, she hadn't bin used to chairs. His frinds used to advise him to put her away, an' the kindlier sort said he should give her a room to herself, and not bring her into company where she warn't at ease; but no, the old man said always, 'She's my lawful wedded wife, an' if she was a buffalo cow I'd stick by her to the last'--an' so he did.”

”Vraiment he was von cur'ous creetur,” observed Gibault.

”See, they have descried us!” exclaimed Bertram, pointing to the fort, which they were now approaching, and where a bustle among the inhabitants showed that their visitors were not always peacefully disposed, and that it behoved them to regard strangers with suspicion.

”Would it not be well to send one of our party on in advance with a white flag?” observed Bertram.

”No need for that,” replied Redhand, ”they're used to all kinds o'

visitors--friends as well as foes. I fear, however, from the haste they show in closing their gate, that they ain't on good terms with the Injuns.”

”The red-men and the pale-faces are at war,” said Hawkswing.

”Ay, you're used to the signs, no doubt,” returned Redhand, ”for you've lived here once upon a time, I b'lieve.”

The Indian made no reply, but a dark frown overspread his countenance for a few minutes. When it pa.s.sed, his features settled down into their usual state of quiet gravity.

”Have ye ever seed that fort before?” inquired Bounce in the Indian tongue.

”I have,” answered Hawkswing. ”Many moons have pa.s.sed since I was in this spot. My nation was strong then. It is weak now. Few braves are left. We sometimes carried our furs to that fort to trade with the pale-faces. It is called the Mountain Fort. The chief of the pale-faces was a bad man then. He loved fire-water too much. If he is there still, I do not wonder that there is war between him and the red-men.”

”That's bad,” said Bounce, shaking his head slowly--”very bad; for the redskins 'll kill us if they can on account o' them rascally fur-traders. Howsomdiver we can't mend it, so we must bear it.”

As Bounce uttered this consolatory remark, the party cantered up to the open s.p.a.ce in front of the gate of the fort, just above which a man was seen leaning quietly over the wooden walls of the place with a gun resting on his arm.

”Hallo!” shouted this individual when they came within hail.

”Hallo!” responded Bounce.

”Friends or foes, and where from?” inquired the laconic guardian of the fort.

”Friends,” replied Redhand riding forward, ”we come from the Yellowstone. Have lost some of our property, but got some of it back, and want to trade furs with you.”

To this the sentinel made no reply, but, looking straight at Big Waller, inquired abruptly, ”Are you the Wild Man?”