Part 20 (1/2)
He thought that the man would not attempt anything more of a similar kind, at least at that time, but he was mistaken. He under-estimated the force of covetousness and the power of temptation in a savage. Soon afterwards he saw Attick deftly pa.s.s a packet of bright beads, belonging to another comrade, from the counter to his breast, where he let it remain, grasped in his hand. Immediately afterwards the owner of the beads missed them. He turned over his goods hastily, but could not find the packet and looked suspiciously at Salamander, who had been standing near all the time, besides fingering the things occasionally.
”A comrade has stolen it,” said Lumley, in a quiet voice and without looking at any one save the robbed man.
This was received with scowls and strong marks of disapprobation.
”Not so! The interpreter, the pale-face, has stolen it,” returned the Indian fiercely.
Instead of replying, Lumley vaulted lightly over the counter, stood before the astonished Attick, thrust his hand into the bosom of that savage, and, by main force, dragged forth the thieving fist still closed over the missing packet. The Indians were too much taken by surprise at the promptness of the act to speak--they could only glare.
”My friends,” said Lumley, still maintaining, however, something of kindliness in his look of stern gravity, ”the Great Master of Life does not love thieving, and no thief will be permitted to enter this store.”
What more he would have said I know not for, swift as lightning, Attick drew his knife and made a plunge at my friend's heart. Expecting a scuffle, I had also leaped the counter. Lumley caught the wrist of the savage; at the same time he exclaimed, ”Open the door, Max.”
I obeyed, expecting to see the Indian kicked out, but I was wrong, for my friend, with a sharp twist turned Attick's back to his own breast, then, seizing him by both elbows, he lifted him off his feet as if he had been a mere infant, carried him forward a few paces, and set him gently down outside. Then, stepping back, he shut the door.
A roar of laughter from those without showed the light in which they viewed the incident, and the amused looks of some of those in the store told that at least they did not disapprove of the act.
Without paying any regard to these things, however, Lumley returned to his place, and with his usual air of good humour continued to barter with the red-men.
Thus the work of trading went on for three days, and, during that time, there was much fraternising of what I may call our home--Indians with the newcomers, and a great deal, I regret to say, of gambling. We found that this evil prevailed to a great extent among them, insomuch that one or two of them gambled away all that they possessed, and came to us with very penitent looks, asking for a small quant.i.ty of goods on credit to enable them to face the winter!
I need scarcely say that our amiable chief complied with these requests, but only on the solemn promise that the goods so advanced should not be risked in gambling, and I have reason to believe that these men were faithful to their promises. This gambling was of the simplest kind, consisting of the method which is known by the name of ”odd or even?”
In the evenings the chiefs were encouraged to come into our hall and palaver. They availed themselves of the invitation to come, and sometimes palavered, but more frequently smoked, with owlish solemnity, squatting on the floor with their backs against the wall.
Nevertheless, on these occasions we gained a good deal of information, and Lumley availed himself of the opportunities sometimes to lecture them on the sin of gambling. He always, I observed, laid much more stress on the idea that the Great Master of Life was grieved with His children when they did evil, than that He visited the sin with disagreeable consequences. On one of these occasions an elderly chief surprised us by suddenly putting the question, ”Do the pale-faces trade fire-water?”
Every pipe was removed from every lip, and the glittering eyes of expectancy, coupled with the all but total cessation of breathing, told of the intense interest with which they awaited the answer.
”No,” replied Lumley, ”we sell none. We do not love fire-water.”
A deep but quiet sigh followed, and the pipes were resumed in silent resignation. And, I must add, I felt devoutly thankful that we did _not_ sell fire-water, when I looked at the strong features and powerful frames of the red-men around me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A CATASTROPHE, A LETTER, AND A SURPRISE.
Autumn at length gradually drew to a close, and we began to make preparations for the long winter that lay before us.
Our saw-mill, having been repaired and improved, had worked so well that we had cut a considerable quant.i.ty of planks, as well for the boats which we intended to build as for the houses. It was fortunate that this had been accomplished before the occurrence of an event which put an effectual stop to that branch of our industries. It happened thus:
One afternoon the fine weather which we had been enjoying so long gave place to boisterous winds and deluges of rain, confining us all to the fort and making us feel slightly miserable.
”But we mustn't grumble, Max,” said Lumley to me, as we looked out of our small windows. ”We must take the evil with the good as it comes, and be thankful.”
”Please, I wasn't grumbling,” said I, sharply.
”No? I thought you were.”
”No, I was not. It must have been internal grumbling by yourself that you heard,” I retorted, sauntering back to the fire, which by that time we had begun to light daily.