CHAPTER XXXIII
THE PROMISE
The silent, shadowy figure swayed toward Bill Carmody, who met thestabbing glare of the black eyes with the steady gaze of his gray ones.For long, tense moments their eyes held, while the girl watchedbreathlessly.
Raising the blade high above her head, the old squaw brought itcrashing upon a rock at Carmody's feet. There was the sharp ring oftempered steel, and upon the pine-needles lay the broken blade, andbeyond the rock the hilt, with a scant inch of blade protruding at theguard.
Stooping, the old woman picked up the two pieces of the brokensheath-knife, and, handing the hilt gravely to the astonished mancarefully returned the blade to her blanket. She pointed a long, skinnyfinger at Bill, and the withered lips moved.
"You are the one good white man," she said. "I, Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, thedaughter of Kas-ka-tan, the chief, have spoken. I--who, since the deathof Lacombie, have said 'there is no good white man'--was wrong, and thewords were a lie in my mouth. In your eyes I have read it. You have thegood eye--the eye of Lacombie, who is dead.
"I have followed upon the trail of my daughter, thinking it was in yourheart to meet her here and carry her to her ruin in the land of thewhite man. With this blade I would have killed you--for all mendie--would have followed and killed you in the land of your people. Butnow I know that your heart is good. I have broken the knife.
"You will keep the hilt, and when you are in trouble, in need, in wantof a friend, you will send me this hilt, and I, Wa-ha-ta-na-ta, thedaughter of Kas-ka-tan, the chief, will come to you."
Her eyes rolled upward as though seeking among the tiny, far-winkingstars the words of some half-forgotten ritual, and her voice rose in aweird, hesitating chant:
"Through the snows of Winter, Through the heat of Summer, Across high Mountains, Over broad Waters, Braving lean Want, Scorning fat Plenty, Nor turning aside From the fang of Wolf, From the forked arrows of Lightning, From the mighty voice of Thunder, From the hot breath of Fire, From the rush of Waters, From the sting of Frost. Nor lingering to the call of Love, Nor heeding the words of Hate. In the face of Sickness, In defiance of Death Will I come That you may know I am your Friend. Hear all ye Spirits and Devils that rule the World, And sit upon the High Places of the Great World, This is my Vow! Should my feet lag upon the Trail, Should my heart turn to Water, Should I forget-- So that in the time of my friend's need I answer not his call; Then, upon my head--upon the heads of my children--and their children Shall descend the Curse--the Great Curse of the Yaga Tah! The Man-Who-Lies-Hid-in-the-Sky!"
The quavering chant ceased, and the undimmed old eyes looked again intothe face of the man.
"And because you are good," she went on, "and because you have heardthe vow, when this broken blade comes to your hand you will know thatWa-ha-ta-na-ta, the daughter of Kas-ka-tan, the chief, in the lastextremity of her need, is calling you.
"And because you are strong and brave and have the good eye--you willcome. And no people of the earth, and nothing that is upon the earth,nor of the earth, shall prevent you. I have spoken."
Bill Carmody listened in awed silence until the old woman finished.
"I, whom you choose to regard as the one good white man," he repliedwith a dignity matching her own, "will one day prove my friendship.Upon sight of the fragment of blade I will come.
"No people of the earth, and nothing that is upon the earth, nor of theearth, shall prevent me--and one day you will know that my words aretrue."
He raised his hand and, gazing upward, repeated the words of thestrange chant. At their conclusion he gazed steadily into the face ofthe old squaw.
"This is _the promise_," he said gravely. "I have spoken."
The Promise Page 34