by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER XVI.
AT THE STAKE.
It was on the evening of the fifth day after her capture by theIndians that Ethel Hardy rode into a wide valley in the heart ofthe mountains. It was entered by a narrow gorge, through which rana stream. Beyond this the hill receded, forming a nearly circularbasin a mile in diameter, from the sides of which the rocksascended almost perpendicularly, so that the only means of enteringit was through the gorge. Clumps of trees were scattered everywhereabout, and nearly in the center stood a large Indian village,numbering about three hundred lodges, the population of which,consisting almost entirely of women and children, came out withshrill cries of welcome to meet the returning band. This was twohundred strong. Before them they drove about four hundred cattleand fifteen hundred sheep. In the midst of the band Ethel Hardyrode, apparently unwatched, and forming part of it.
The girl was very pale, and turned even more so at the wild yellsof triumph which rose around her, when those who had been leftbehind learned how signal had been the success of their warriors,and heard that the captive in their midst was one of the familywhich had inflicted such terrible loss upon the tribe two yearspreviously. Fortunately she could not understand the volleys ofthreats and curses which the women of the tribe heaped upon her,although she could not mistake their furious ejaculations.
Ethel had cried at first until she could cry no more, and had nownerved herself for the worst. She had heard that the Indians haveneither mercy nor pity for any one who may exhibit fear of death;she knew that no entreaties or tears would move them in theslightest, but that courage and firmness would at any rate commandtheir respect and admiration. She had therefore schooled herself toshow no emotion when the time came; and now, except that she hadgiven an involuntary shudder at the sight of the gesticulatingthrong, she betrayed no sign whatever of her emotion, but lookedround so calmly and unflinchingly that the violent abuse andgesticulations died away in a murmur of admiration of thepale-faced child who looked so calmly on death.
Nevertheless, as the troop drew up in front of the council hut, andalighted, the women pressed round as usual to heap abuse upon theprisoner; but one of the Indians stepped up to her, and waved themback, and saying, "She is the child of a great chief," took her bythe arm, and handed her over to the care of the wife of one of theprincipal chiefs. The selection was a good one; for the woman, whowas young, was known in the tribe as the Fawn for her gentledisposition. She at once led the captive away to her lodge, whereshe bade her sit down, offered her food, and spoke kindly to her inher low, soft, Indian tongue. Ethel could not understand her, butthe kindly tones moved her more than the threats of the crowdoutside had done, and she broke down in a torrent of tears.
The Indian woman drew the girl to her as a mother might have done,stroked her long fair hair, and soothed her with her low talk. Thenshe motioned to a pile of skins in the corner of the hut; and whenEthel gladly threw herself down upon them the Indian woman coveredher up as she would have done a child, and with a nod of farewelltripped off to welcome her husband and hear the news, knowing thatthere was no possibility of the captive making her escape.
Exhausted with fatigue and emotion, Ethel's sobs soon ceased, andshe fell into a sound sleep.
Of that terrible catastrophe at the Mercers' she had but a confusedidea. They were sitting round the table talking, when, without theslightest notice or warning, the windows and doors were burst in,and dozens of dark forms leaped into the room. She saw Mr. Mercerrush to the wall and seize his pistols, and then she saw no more.She was seized and thrown over the shoulder of an Indian before shehad time to do more than leap to her feet. There was a confusedwhirl of sounds around her--shrieks, threats, pistol shots, andsavage yells--then the sounds swam in her ears, and she fainted.
When she recovered consciousness she found that she was beingcarried on a horse before her captor, and that the air was full ofa red glare, which she supposed to arise from a burning house. Onthe chief, who carried her, perceiving that she had recovered hersenses, he called to one of his followers, who immediately rode up,bringing a horse upon which a side-saddle had been placed. To thisEthel was transposed, and in another minute was galloping along bythe side of her captor.
Even now she could hardly persuade herself that she was notdreaming. That instantaneous scene at the Mercers'--those confusedsounds--this wild cavalcade of dark figures who rode roundher--could not surely be real. Alas! she could not doubt it; and asthe thought came across her, What would they say at home when theyheard it? she burst into an agony of silent tears. Toward daybreakshe was often startled to hear the words, "Hope, Ethel, hope!" inSpanish distinctly spoken close to her. She turned hastily, butthere rode the dark forms as usual. Still she felt sure that shewas not mistaken. Her own name she had distinctly heard; andalthough she could not form a conjecture who this unknown friendcould be, still it was a great consolation to her to feel that shehad at any rate one well-wisher among her enemies. He had told herto hope, too; and Ethel's spirits, with the elasticity of youth,rose at the word.
Why should she not hope? she thought. They were sure to hear it athome next morning, even if no one escaped and took them the newsearlier; and she was certain that within a few hours of hearing ither father and friends Would be on their trail. Before the nightfell, at latest, they would be assembled. Twenty-four hours' startwould be the utmost that the Indians could possibly obtain, and herfriends would travel as fast or faster than they could, for theywould be free from all encumbrances. How far she was to be takenshe could not say, but she felt sure that in a week's traveling herfriends would make up for the day lost at starting. She knew thatthey might not be able to attack the Indians directly they came up,for they could not be a very strong party, whereas the Indians wereseveral hundred strong; but she believed that sooner or later, insome way or other, her father and brothers would come to herrescue. Ethel from that time forward did not doubt for a moment.Trusting thus firmly in her friends, she gained confidence andcourage; and when the troops halted at nine in the morning, afternine hours' riding, Ethel was able to look round with some sort ofcuriosity and interest.
It was here that an incident occurred, which, although she knew itnot at the time, entirely altered her destination and prospects.
She was sitting upon the ground, when a man, who by his bearingappeared to be the principal chief present, passed in earnest talkwith another chief. In the latter she recognized at once one of thewounded Indian prisoners.
"Tawaina," she said, leaping to her feet.
He paid no attention to her call, and she repeated it in a loudertone.
The principal chief stopped; Tawaina did the same. Then he walkedslowly toward the captive.
"Save me, Tawaina," she said, "and send me back again home."
Tawaina shook his head.
"Not can," he said. "Tawaina friend. Help some time--not now." Andhe turned away again.
"Does the Raven know the White Bird," the chief asked him, "thatshe sings his name?"
Tawaina paused and said:
"Tawaina knows her. Her father is the great white brave."
The Indian chief gave a bound of astonishment and pleasure.
"The white brave with the shooting flames?"
Tawaina nodded.
The Raven's meeting with Ethel had been apparently accidental, butwas in reality intentional. Her actual captor was one of thechiefs, although not the principal one, of the Pampas Indians; andin the division of the spoil, preparations for which were going on,there was no doubt that she would be assigned to that tribe,without any question upon the part of the Raven's people.
Now, however, that the Stag knew who the prisoner I was, hedetermined to obtain her for his tribe. He therefore went direct tothe chief of the Pampas Indians, and asked that the white girlmight fall to his tribe.
The chief hesitated.
"She is our only captive," he said. "The people will like to seeher, and she will live in the lodge of the Fox, who carried heroff."
"The Stag would like her for a slave to his wife. He will givefifty bullocks and two hundred sheep to the tribe, and will makethe Fox's heart glad with a present."
The offer appeared so large for a mere puny girl that the chiefassented at once; and the Fox was content to take a gun, whichproved part of the spoil, for his interest in his captive.
The Indians of Stag's tribe murmured to themselves at this costlybargain upon the part of their chief. However, they expressednothing of this before him, and continued the work of counting andseparating the animals in proportion to the number of each tribepresent--the tribes from the plains being considerably the morenumerous.
Not until four o'clock were they again in motion, when each tribestarted for home.
In three hours' riding they reached the spring, and then the Stagordered a small tent of skins to be erected for Ethel'saccommodation.From this she came out an hour later to gaze upon the great wave offire which, kindled at a point far away by their scouts, now sweptalong northward, passing at a distance of three or four miles fromthe spring.
It was when sitting gravely round the fire later on that the Stagdeigned to enlighten his followers as to his reasons for givingwhat seemed to them so great a price for a pale-faced child.
The delight of the Indians, when they found that they had thedaughter of their twice victorious enemy in their hands wasunbounded. Vengeance is to the Indian even more precious thanplunder; and the tribe would not have grudged a far higher priceeven than had been paid for the gratification of thus avengingthemselves upon their enemy. The news flew from mouth to mouth, andtriumphant whoops resounded throughout the camp; and Ethel insideher tent felt her blood run cold at the savage exultation whichthey conveyed.
She was greatly troubled by the fire, for she saw that it mustefface all signs of the trail, and render the task of her friendslong and difficult, and she felt greatly depressed at what shelooked upon as a certain postponement of her rescue. She laythinking over all this for a long time, until the camp had subsidedinto perfect quiet. Then the skins were slightly lifted near herhead, and she heard a voice whisper:
"Me, Tawaina--friend. Great chief come to look for girl. Twotrails--eyes blinded. Tawaina make sign--point way. Give piecedress that great chief may believe."
Ethel at once understood. She cautiously tore off a narrow stripfrom the bottom of her dress, and put it under the skin to thespeaker.
"Good," he said. "Tawaina friend. Ethel, hope."
Greatly relieved by knowing that a clew would be now given to herfriends, and overpowered by fatigue, Ethel was very shortly fastasleep.
At daybreak they set off again, having thus thirty hours' start oftheir pursuers. They traveled six hours, rested from eleven tillthree, and then traveled again until dark. Occasionally a sheeplagged behind, footsore and weary. He was instantly killed andcut up.
For four days was their rate of traveling, which amounted to upwardof fifty miles a day, continued, and they arrived, as has beensaid, the last evening at their village.
During all this time Ethel was treated with courtesy and respect.The best portion of the food was put aside for her, the little tentof skins was always erected at night, and no apparent watch waskept over her movements.
The next morning she was awake early, and had it not been for theterrible situation in which she was placed she would have beenamused by the busy stir in the village, and by the littlecopper-colored urchins at play, or going out with the women tocollect wood or fetch water. There was nothing to prevent Ethelfrom going out among them, but the looks of scowling hatred whichthey cast at her made her draw back again into the hut, after along, anxious look around.
It was relief at least to have halted, great as her dangerundoubtedly was. She felt certain now that hour by hour her fathermust be approaching. He might even now be within a few miles. Hadit not been for the fire, she was certain that he would alreadyhave been up, but she could not tell how long he might have beenbefore he recovered the trail.
Toward the middle of the day two or three Indians might have beenseen going through the village, summoning those whose position andrank entitled them to a place at the council.
Soon they were seen approaching, and taking their seats gravely onthe ground in front of the hut of the principal chief. The women,the youths, and such men as had not as yet by their feats in battledistinguished themselves sufficiently to be summoned to thecouncil, assembled at a short distance off. The council sat in theform of a circle, the inner ring being formed of the elder andleading men of the tribe, while the warriors sat round them.
Struck by the hush which had suddenly succeeded to the noise of thevillage, Ethel again went to the door. She was greatly struck bythe scene, and was looking wonderingly at it, when she felt a touchon her shoulder, and on looking round saw the Fawn gazing pityinglyat her, and at the same time signing to her to come in.
The truth at once flashed across Ethel's mind. The council had metto decide her fate, and she did not doubt for a moment what thatdecision would be. She felt that all hope was over, and retiringinto the hut passed the time in prayer and in preparation for thefearful ordeal which was at hand.
After the council had met there was a pause of expectation, and theStag then rose.
"My brothers, my heart is very glad. The Great Spirit has ceased tofrown upon his children. Twice we went out, and twice returnedempty-handed, while many of our lodges were empty. The guns whichshoot without loading were too strong for us, and we returnedsorrowful. Last year we did not go out; the hearts of our braveswere heavy. This year we said perhaps the Great Spirit will nolonger be angry with his children, and we went out. This time wehave not returned empty-handed. The lowing of cattle is in my ear,and I see many sheep. The white men have felt the strength of ourarms; and of the young men who went out with me there is not onemissing. Best of all, we have brought back a captive, the daughterof the white chief of the flying fires and the guns which loadthemselves. Let me hand her over to our women; they will know howto make her cry; and we will send her head to the white chief, toshow that his guns cannot reach to the Indian country. Have Ispoken well?"
A murmur of assent followed the chief's speech; and supposing thatno more would be said upon the matter, the Stag was about todeclare the council closed, when an Indian sitting in the innercircle rose.
"My brothers, I will tell you a story. The birds went out to attackthe nest of an eagle, but the eagle was too strong for them; andwhen all had gone he went out from his nest with his children, theyoung eagles, and he found the raven and two other birds hurt andunable to fly, and instead of killing them, as they might havedone, the eagles took them up to their nest, and nursed them andtended them until they were able to fly, and then sent them home totheir other birds. So was it with Tawaina and his two friends." Andthe speaker indicated with his arm two Indians sitting at the outeredge of the circle. "Tawaina fell at the fence where so many of usfell, and in the morning the white men took him and gave him water,and placed him in shelter, and bandaged his wound; and the littleWhite Bird and her sister brought him food and cool drinks everyday and looked pitifully at him. But Tawaina said to himself, Thewhite men are only curing Tawaina that when the time comes they maysee how an Indian can die. But when he was well they broughthorses, and put a bow and arrows into our hands and bade us gofree. It is only in the battle that the great white chief isterrible. He has a great heart. The enemies he killed he did nottriumph over. He laid them in a great grave. He honored them, andplanted trees with drooping leaves at their head and at their feet,and put a fence round that the foxes might not touch their bones.Shall the Indian be less generous than the white man? Even thosetaken in battle they spared and sent home. Shall we kill the WhiteBird captured in her nest? My brothers will not do so. They willsend back the White Bird to the great white chief. Have I spokenwell?"
This time a confused murmur ran round the circle. Some of theyounger men were struck with this appeal to their generosity, andwere in favor of the Raven's proposition;
the elder and moreferocious Indians were altogether opposed to it.
Speaker succeeded speaker, some urging one side of the question,some the other.
At last the Stag again rose. "My brothers," he said, "my ears haveheard strange words, and my spirit is troubled. The Raven has toldus of the ways of the whites after a battle; but the Indians' waysare not as the whites' ways, and the Stag is too old to learn newfashions. He looks round, he sees many lodges empty, he sees manywomen who have no husbands to hunt game, he hears the voices ofchildren who cry for meat. He remembers his brothers who fellbefore the flying fire and the guns which loaded themselves, andhis eyes are full of blood. The great white chief has made manywigwams desolate: let there be mourning in the house of the whitechief. Have I spoken well?"
The acclamations which followed this speech were so loud andgeneral that the party of the Raven was silenced, and the councilat once broke up.
A cry of exultation broke from the women when they heard thedecision, and all prepared for the work of vengeance before them.
At a signal from the Stag two of the young Indians went to the hutand summoned Ethel to accompany them. She guessed at once that herdeath was decided upon and, pale as marble, but uttering no cry orentreaty, which she knew would be useless, she walked between them.
For a moment she glanced at the women around her, to see if therewas one look of pity or interest; but faces distorted with hate andexultation met her eyes, and threats and imprecations assailed herears. The sight, though it appalled, yet nerved her with courage. Apitying look would have melted her--this rage against one sohelpless as herself nerved her; and, with her eyes turned upwardand her lips moving in prayer, she kept along.
The Indians led her to a tree opposite the center of the village,bound her securely to it, and then retired.
There was a pause before the tragedy was to begin. Some of thewomen brought fagots for the pile, others cut splinters to thrustunder the nails and into the flesh. The old women chattered andexulted over the tortures they would inflict; a few of the youngerones stood aloof, looking on pityingly.
The men of the tribe gathered in a circle, but took no part in thepreparations--the torture of women was beneath them.
At last all was ready. A fire was lit near; the hags lit theirfirebrands and advanced. The chief gave the signal, and with a yellof exultation they rushed upon their victim, but fell back with acry of surprise, rudely thrust off by three Indians who placedthemselves before the captive.
The women retreated hastily, and the men advanced to know thereason of this strange interruption. The Raven and his companionswere unarmed. The Indians frowned upon them, uncertain what courseto pursue.
"My brothers," the Raven said, "I am come to die. The Raven's timeis come. He has flown his last flight. He and his brothers will diewith the little White Bird. The Raven and his friends are not dogs.They have shed their blood against their enemies, and they do notknow how to cry out. But their time has come, they are ready todie. But they must die before the little White Bird. If not, herspirit will fly to the Great Spirit, and will tell him that theRaven and his friends, whom she had sheltered and rescued, hadhelped to kill her; and the Great Spirit would shut the gates ofthe happy hunting grounds against them. The Raven has spoken."
There was a pause of extreme astonishment, followed by a clamor ofvoices. Those who had before espoused the cause of the Raven againspoke out loudly, while many of the others hesitated as to thecourse to be pursued.
The Stag hastily consulted with two or three of his principaladvisers, and then moved forward, waving his hand to commandsilence. His countenance was calm and unmoved, although inwardly hewas boiling with rage at this defiance of his authority. He was toopolitic a chief, however to show this. He knew that the greatmajority of the tribe was with him; yet the employment of force todrag the Raven and his companions from their post would probablycreate a division in the tribe, the final results of which nonecould see, and for the consequences of which he would, in case ofany reverse, be held responsible and looked upon with disapprovalby both parties.
"The Ravens and his friends have great hearts," he saidcourteously. "They are large enough to shelter the little WhiteBird. Let them take her. Her life is spared. She shall remain withour tribe."
The Raven inclined his head, and taking a knife from a warriornear, he cut the cords which bound Ethel, and beckoning to theFawn, handed the astonished girl again into her charge saying as hedid so, "Stop in hut. Not go out; go out, bad." And then,accompanied by his friends, he retired without a word to one oftheir huts.
A perfect stillness had hung over the crowd during this scene; butwhen it became known that Ethel was to go off unscathed a murmurbroke out from the elder females, disappointed in their work ofvengeance. But the Stag waved his hand peremptorily, and the crowdscattered silently to their huts, to talk over the unusual scenethat had taken place.
The Raven and his friends talked long and earnestly together. Theywere in no way deceived by the appearance of friendliness which theStag had assumed. They knew that henceforth there was bitter hatredbetween them, and that their very lives were insecure. As to Ethel,it was, they knew, only a short reprieve which had been grantedher. The Stag would not risk a division in the tribe for her sake,nor would attempt to bring her to a formal execution; but the firsttime she wandered from the hut she would be found dead with a knifein her heart.
The Raven, however, felt certain that help was at hand. He and hisfriends, who knew Mr. Hardy, were alone of the tribe convinced thata pursuit would be attempted. The fact that no such attempt topenetrate into the heart of the Indian country had ever been madehad lulled the rest into a feeling of absolute security. The Raven,indeed, calculated that the pursuers must now be close at hand, andthat either on that night or the next they would probably enter thegorge and make the attack.
The result of the council was that he left his friends and walkedin a leisurely way back to his own hut, taking no notice of thehostile glances which some of the more violent of the Stag'ssupporters cast toward him.
On his entrance he was welcomed by his wife, a young girl whom hehad only married since his return from the expedition, and to whom,from what he had learned of the position of women among the whites,he allowed more freedom of speech and action than are usuallypermitted to Indian women. She had been one of the small group whohad pitied the white girl.
"The Raven is a great chief," she said proudly; "he has done well.The Mouse trembled, but she was glad to see her lord stand forth.The Stag will strike, though," she added anxiously. "He will lookfor the blood of the Raven."
"The Stag is a great beast," the Indian said sententiously; "butthe Raven eat him at last."
Then, sitting down upon a pile of skins, the chief filled his pipe,and made signs to his wife to bring fire. Then he smoked in silencefor some time until the sun went down, and a thick darkness closedover the valley.
At length he got up, and said to his wife, "If they ask for theRaven, say that he has just gone out; nothing more. He will notreturn till daybreak; and remember," and he laid his hand upon herarm to impress the caution, "whatever noise the Mouse hears in thenight, she is not to leave the hut till the Raven comes back toher."
The girl bowed her head with an Indian woman's unquestioningobedience; and then, drawing aside the skin which served as a door,and listening attentively hear if any one were near, the Raven wentout silently into the darkness.