The Heart of Unaga

by Ridgwell Cullum

  CHAPTER IX

  THE VISION OF THE SPIRE

  Winter with all its deadly perils had become a memory. Life was supremeagain on the plateau of Unaga. It was in the air, in the breezessweeping down from the Northern hills, where the crystal snow caps nolonger had power to inspire distrust. It was in the flowing waters ofthe river. It was in the flights of swarming wildfowl, winging to freshpastures of melting snows. It was in the new-born grass blades,thrusting up their delicate heads to rid the world of winter'sunsightliness. The animal world, too, was seeking to alleviate the pangsof semi-starvation to which it had so long been condemned. The sense ofgladness was stirring, lifting the world upon a glorious pinacle ofyouthful hope.

  Gladness was in An-ina's heart as she moved over the dripping grass,bearing the water fresh dipped from the river whose banks were a-floodin every direction. Was not the darkness of winter swallowed up by thebrilliant sunlight? Was not the child of her heart trudging manfully ather side, firmly grasping the bucket handle in a vain belief in themeasure of his help? Was not the moment rapidly approaching, when thewhite man officer would return with the young men of the Sleepers fromthe "deep place" by the "big waters?" Would not the day soon come whenthe trail to the southlands would again be broken? And would she notgaze once more upon the pleasant lands that gave her birth? Oh, yes. Sheknew. It was a great rush to the promised home, far from the desperatelife on the plateau of Unaga, with the child, whose dancing eyes andhappy smile were like a ray of sunshine amidst the shadows of her life.

  Morning and night, now, An-ina looked for the return of those who hadset out before the break of the winter. A month had passed since Steve'sgoing. She was quite alone with her boy, with the wakened Indianspreparing for their labours of the open season. The "white man officer"would return. An-ina had no fear for him even on the winter trail ofUnaga. He would return, and then--and then--And so she watched andwaited, and worked with all the will of her simple, savage heart.

  It was no easy task that lay ahead. An-ina knew that. Steve had told hermuch during those dark days of winter. He had spoken of a thousandmiles. What was a mile? She did not know. A sun. A moon. These thingsshe knew. But his tone she understood. And she knew what he meant whenhe declared his intention of beating schedule, and his determination notto spend another winter on Unaga if it were the last trail he ever made.She was ready. And, in her simple woman's way she beguiled the days ofwaiting with speculation as to the white woman who had inspired in thiswhite man's heart so great a desire.

  Life was more than good to An-ina just now. She was young. She wasthrilling with the wild emotions of her untamed blood. She was an Indianof the finest ancestry, but more than all she was a devoted woman. Shehad lost a mistress whom she had loved, and a master whom she had beenglad to serve. She had found one to take their places, one whose firstact had been his re-assurance that she should not be robbed of thechild who was her all. There was no one greater in all the world to herthan the "white man officer" whose courage and will she counted aspowers greater than the storms of Unaga.

  All day she laboured at her many tasks. And the boy, faithful to hisdoctrine of helpfulness, found a world of recreation in his idea. Thus,with the passing of the sun, they stood together at the gateway of thefort with eyes searching, as many times they had searched before, for asign of the return of the trail men.

  "Us wants Uncle Steve."

  There was a plaintive appeal in the boy's tone which found an echo inthe woman's heart. She sighed, but her voice was steady as she replied:

  "Bimeby him come," she said.

  "'Ess. Bimeby him come."

  But the boy's agreement lacked conviction. A moment later, with his bigeyes turned to the southeast, the way he had seen the expedition setout, he went on:

  "Boy's Pop didn't come. An-ina said him's do. Boy's Mummy go 'way 'cosUncle Steve said her does. Uncle Steve hims all goes, too. Boy wantUncle Steve."

  "Him come bimeby."

  The woman had no words with which to comfort. It was not lack of desire.Though her conviction was unwavering, she, too, in her heart, echoed theplaint.

  For some moments they continued their evening vigil. The eyes of bothsearched the growing shadows. And, as was always the case, it was thechild who finally broke the silence.

  "Us cries," he said half tearfully.

  It was then the Indian in the woman asserted itself.

  "Squaw-men him weeps. 'Brave' him fight. No cry. Oh, no. Only fight. Boygreat white 'brave.' Him not cry. No."

  Marcel nodded, but his eyes were turned to the hills.

  "'Ess. Boy great white 'brave,'" he agreed, in a choking voice. "Boy notcry--never. What's hims little things all dancing in the fog, An-ina?"he enquired, his mind suddenly distracted, pointing at a gap between twolow hills, where a thin vapour of fog was slowly rising. "Is them'sdebble-mens?"

  The keen eyes of the squaw followed the pointing finger. In a momentthere leapt into them a light which required no words to interpret. Buteven in her excited joy the Indian calm remained uppermost. She drewnearer the child, and one of her soft brown hands rested caressingly onhis shoulder.

  "Him not devil-men," she said, in a deep tone of exaltation. "Him UncleSteve an' all fool 'Sleeper' men. They all come so as An-ina say."

  Then the smile in her eyes suddenly transformed her, and her joy couldno longer be denied. She stooped over the small figure and pressed herlips upon the soft white forehead.

  "Us go by river. An-ina hide. Boy hide. Then Uncle Steve come. Boy jumpout. Him say 'Boo!' Uncle Steve all scairt. Much frightened all dead.So?"

  The appeal was irresistible. The boy's excitement leapt. In a moment hewas transformed from a tearful "brave" to a happy, laughing child. Heset off at a run for the river, with An-ina close upon his heels,utterly regardless of the fact that they were within full view of theon-coming trail men. This was a detail. The child's enthusiasm permittedno second thought, and his breathless orders to his nurse were flungback as he ran. The cover of the bush-lined river was reached, and thehiding-place was selected just short of the flood water.

  The child crouched down trembling with excitement. And the sound ofUncle Steve's voice giving orders as he came up on the far side of thewater made the suspense almost unendurable. He talked to An-ina, whocrouched at his side. He chattered incessantly. The splash of a canoe,dropped into the water, was exquisite torture. The dip of paddles sethim well-nigh beside himself. Then, a few moments later, when the lightcraft slithered on the mud of the shallows, just beyond thehiding-place, he felt the psychological moment had come. Out he sprangat his victim, who was still ankle deep in the water.

  "Boo-o-o!" he shrieked, with all the power of his little lungs, and, amoment later, he was gathered into the caressing arms of a terrified"uncle."

  * * * * *

  The work was accomplished. The police officer had fulfilled his mission,a mission detailed to him coldly, officially, without a shadow of regardfor the tremendous trials entailed, and with only an eye for thecapacity of the officer selected.

  So far he had beaten his own schedule. He had calculated his work wouldoccupy two years from the moment of his going to his return toDeadwater, but he meant to cut this down by something like six months.The resolve to do so had been taken during the drear of winter. He hadbeen haunted by the appealing eyes of the woman he loved, and by thememory of the soft clutch of baby hands. And his desire had becomeirresistible.

  Under his new resolve it had become necessary to speed the waking of theIndians. He had had no scruple. Again he had bearded the chief andforced his will upon him. For all the old man's fears of the white man'sthreats it had been no easy task. But at last he had convinced him ofthe hopeless recklessness of denying him. So twenty of the young menwere found who reluctantly enough gave up the last month of theirwinter's sleep. And now he had returned with his work accomplished.

  Steve had no illusions upon the desperate nature of the rush for home.He knew the chances he
was taking. A week's preparation. He could spareno more time. A journey on foot of some hundreds of miles. An Indiancarry-all hauled by reindeer for the boy and the camp outfit, the dogsto be herded without burden till their usefulness could serve. For eachman, and An-ina, the burden of a heavy pack. Such preparations werewholly inadequate. He knew that. He was staking the courage andendurance of those he was responsible for against a ruthless,inhospitable world.

  Oh, yes, his eyes were wide to the dangers that lay ahead. He knew themall. He had visions of a dripping, melting land. He knew the springrains with their awesome powers of washout and flood. The blinding,steaming fogs of the high altitudes. So with the glacial avalanches, andthe terror of thawing tundra, shaking, treacherous, bottomless.

  The week passed rapidly and the moment for the "pull-out" came. TheIndians were awake, and their winter quarters in the woods had beenabandoned for the domed igloos of the open season. The fort was alivewith their comings and goings. They were alert for the promised spoils.

  Peaceable, kindly, the sturdy undersized people of the outlands weredriven to a supreme selfishness by reason of the conditions under whichthey lived. They cared little for anything but that which the white folkcould provide. Without interest or ambitions, beyond such comfort asthey could snatch from life, they desired only to be left in peace. Butwith real amiability they wished the stranger well in his going.

  The post presented a curious enough scene on the morning of departure.And to Steve, at least, thought of it was to recur many times in thegreat struggle that lay before him. The poles of the carry-all, theirends trailing upon the ground, loaded with camp outfit and ready for theboy, stood just within the stockade. The dogs were ready and waitingunder Oolak's charge. Inside the store, Steve supported by Julyman andAn-ina, and the child Marcel, occupied the well-worn bench beside thestove.

  He was receiving the farewell words of the old chief, Wanak-aha, who wasthankful enough to see the last of the disturber of his winter sleep.The old man was surrounded by his equally aged counsellors, and thewhole deputation squatted ceremonially upon their haunches about him.The store had been stripped of all supplies. The shelves were bare andonly a litter of packings remained to mark the end of the chemist'sgreat enterprise.

  Steve addressed the chief through An-ina without relaxing his authority.He told the old man that everything that was good in the store had beenhanded over a present to his people for their valuable services to theGreat White Chief. The store was now empty of everything that was good.He told him that this was the way the Great White Chief always actedtowards those who served him. The things that remained in the store wereonly evil things that were full of evil magic. The Great White Chief hadhidden these things deeply, and he had set a spell upon them. This hadbeen done so that no harm should come to the Indian. In this he wasreferring to the contents of the dead man's laboratory. He told him thatthe Great White Chief had ordered him to place the store and fort in thechief's safe keeping. No Indian man was to enter it to destroy it. If hedid the evil spirits would break loose, and death and disaster for thewhole tribe would undoubtedly follow. Therefore he had summoned thecouncil that Wanak-aha might give his pledge for the safety of theproperty of the Great White Chief.

  He told them he was going now because he wanted the Indians to live inpeace, with their slumbers undisturbed. He might never come again. Hecould not say. But if the Great White Chief sent anybody, it would onlybe for the purpose of giving great benefit to the Indians, whom heundoubtedly regarded as a very wise and good people.

  It was a masterly exhibition of Steve's understanding of the savage itwas his work to deal with, and the happy effect was promptly evidenced.Ten minutes of monosyllabic discussion between the chief and hiscounsellors produced the pledge Steve desired, and he knew from themanner of it that the pledge would be kept to the letter. But it broughtforth something more. An-ina was called upon to interpret an expressionof the friendly spirit in which the Indians parted from the disturber oftheir slumbers.

  The old man in a long peroration explained all he and his people felt.They were in no way behind the Great White Chief in their regard, heassured Steve. They loved the white man, whose ways were not alwaysIndian ways. He re-affirmed his solemn promise that the fort should besafe in Indian hands. Furthermore he told him they had no desire toanger the evil spirits it contained. In conclusion he produced a beadedseal-skin bag which he asked the white man to accept. It contained, heexplained, the bones of the right hand of one of his ancestors who hadbeen a great hunter and warrior, and withal a lucky and mighty chief whowas only murdered by his people after a long and fierce reign. This bag,with its contents, was a sure talisman and guard against the evilspirits of Unaga, and they were very, very many, and very cruel.

  With due solemnity Steve accepted this priceless gift, and, to add tohis display of gratification, he drew little Marcel to him and securedit about his neck. Then, turning to the chief, he explained. He pointedat the child, and assured him that the white man regarded his childrenbefore all things--even before his own life. Therefore, to display hisgratitude to the great chief, he bestowed the gift upon the child whosesafety he desired above all things in the world. Approval was unanimous.To every one of these simple creatures the white man's act was one ofthe greatest self-sacrifice. And even in the more enlightened minds ofAn-ina and Julyman there was a deep appreciation of the act.

  When the council broke up, and the fur-clad Indians moved out, Stevemight well have been forgiven had he felt that his work had been welland truly done.

  With the going of the last Indian he promptly shouldered his pack, andJulyman and An-ina did the same. A moment later he took the child in hisarms.

  "Come," he said, and led the way out of the building.

  Ten minutes later the outfit was on the move, and the great adventure,with the new-born mosquitoes and flies swarming, began in a blaze ofspring sunshine.

  * * * * *

  Out on a snow-clad ridge, a saddle between two forest-clad hills, ameagre camp was set. The shelter of woods against the keen north windmade the resting-place possible. Two weeks of struggle, two weeks oftremendous effort left the choice of daylight camping ground a matter ofsmall moment, but just now the bleak ridge had been selected for adefinite reason.

  Steve and An-ina were standing out in the gap, with little Marcelbetween them. Oolak was somewhere within the woods, tending his savagedogs. Julyman was hugging the fire, with complete disregard for all butits precious warmth.

  Those in the gap were staring out at the north-east with eyes heldfascinated by the wonder of it all. It was the Spire, the amazing Spireof Unaga rearing its mighty crest out of the far-off distance. Even thechild was awed to silence by the spell of the inspiring vision.

  They were gazing upon a world of fire and smoke. And the fire wasbelching out of the bowels of the earth and lighting up the wholeskyline far and wide. It was a scene no words could adequately describe.It was a scene to awe the stoutest heart. The whole country in thedistant north seemed to lie prostrate at the mercy of a world ofdevouring flame.