The Red Man's Revenge: A Tale of The Red River Flood
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CHAPTER FIVE.
TONY BECOMES A REDSKIN, AND THE PURSUERS CHANGE THEIR GAME.
When Petawanaquat joined the band of Indians, of whom we left VictorRavenshaw and his comrades in eager pursuit, he deemed it advisable forvarious reasons to alter the costume and general appearance of hiscaptive, and for that purpose took him to a sequestered spot in thebushes outside the camp.
Poor Tony had at first shrunk from his captor with inexpressible horror,but when he found that the Indian did not eat him his mind was calmed.As time advanced, and he perceived that Petawanaquat, although stern andvery silent, took much pains to assist him on his long marches, and,above all, fed him with a liberal hand, his feelings changedconsiderably, and at last he began to regard the taciturn red man withsomething like fondness. Petawanaquat made no positive effort to gainthe child's affections; he never fondled him, and seldom spoke, save forthe purpose of giving a brief command, which Tony always obeyed withmiraculous promptitude. The utmost that can be said is that the savagewas gentle and supplied his wants. Could a civilised man have done muchmore?
It may be well to remark in passing that Tony, having associated a gooddeal with Indian boys in Red River, could speak their language prettywell. The Indian, of course, spoke his own tongue correctly, while Tonyspoke it much as he spoke his own--childishly. As the reader probablydoes not understand the Indian language, we will give its equivalent asspoken by both in English.
On reaching the sequestered spot above referred to, Petawanaquat satdown on a fallen tree and made the wondering child stand up before him.
"The white man's boy must become an Indian," he said solemnly.
"How zat poss'ble?" demanded the child with equal solemnity.
"By wearing the red man's clothes and painting his face," returned hiscaptor.
"Zat'll be jolly," said Tony, with a smile of hearty approval.
How he expressed the word "jolly" in the Indian tongue we cannot tell,but he conveyed it somehow, for the Indian's lips expanded in a grimsmile, the first he had indulged in since the day of the abduction.
The process by which Tony was transformed was peculiar. Opening alittle bundle, the Indian took therefrom a small coat, or capote, ofdeer-skin; soft, and of a beautiful yellow, like the skin of thechamois. It was richly ornamented with porcupine-quill-work done invarious colours, and had fringes of leather and little locks of hairhanging from it in various places. Causing Tony to strip, he put thiscoat on him, and fastened it round his waist with a worsted belt ofbright scarlet. Next he drew on his little legs a pair of blue clothleggings, which were ornamented with beads, and clothed his feet in newmoccasins, embroidered, like the coat, with quill-work. Tony regardedall this with unconcealed pleasure, but it did not seem to please him somuch when the Indian combed his rich curly hair straight down all round,so that his face was quite concealed by it. Taking a pair of largescissors from his bundle, the Indian passed one blade under the hairacross the forehead, gave a sharp snip, and the whole mass fell like acurtain to the ground. It was a sublimely simple mode of clearing theway for the countenance--much in vogue among North American savages,from whom it has recently been introduced among civilised nations. TheIndian then lifted the clustering curls at the back, and again openedthe scissors. For a few moments his fingers played with the locks as hegazed thoughtfully at them; then, apparently changing his mind, he letthem drop, and put the scissors away.
But the toilet was not yet complete. The versatile operator drew fromhis bundle some bright-red, yellow ochre, and blue paint, with a pieceof charcoal, and set to work on Tony's countenance with all the force ofa Van Dyck and the rich colouring of a Rubens. He began with a streakof scarlet from the eyebrows to the end of the nose. Skipping themouth, he continued the streak from the lower lip down the chin, underwhich it melted into a tender half-tint made by a smudge of yellow ochreand charcoal. This vigorous touch seemed to rouse the painter's spiritin Petawanaquat, for he pushed the boy out at arm's length, drew himselfback, frowned, glared, and breathed hard. Three bars of blue from thebridge of the nose over each cheek, with two red circles below, and ablack triangle on the forehead, were touched in with consummate skilland breadth. One of the touches was so broad that it covered the wholejaw, and had to be modified. On each closed upper eyelid an intenselyblack spot was painted, by which simple device Tony, with his azureorbs, was made, as it were, to wink black and gaze blue. The generaleffect having thus been blocked in, the artist devoted himself to thefinishing touches, and at last turned out a piece of work which oldSamuel Ravenshaw himself would have failed to recognise as his son.
It should have been remarked that previous to this, Petawanaquat hadmodified his own costume. His leggings were fringed with scalp-locks;he had painted his face, and stuck a bunch of feathers in his hair, anda gay firebag and a tomahawk were thrust under his belt behind.
"Ho!" he exclaimed, with a look of satisfaction, "now Tony is Tonyquat,and Petawanaquat is his father!"
"When will zoo take me back to my own fadder?" asked Tony, emboldened bythe Indian's growing familiarity.
No reply was given to this, but the question seemed to throw the red maninto a savage reverie, and a dark frown settled on his painted face, ashe muttered, "The Little Wolf meant to take the white man's life, but hewas wise: he spared his life and took his _heart_. His revenge issweeter. Wah!"
Tony failed to catch the meaning of this, but fearing to rouse the angerof his new father, he held his tongue. Meanwhile the Indian put thechild on a stump a few yards off in front of him, filled his pipe,lighted it, placed an elbow on each knee, rested his chin on his doubledfists, and glared at his handiwork. Tony was used to glaring by thattime, though he did not like it. He sat still for a long time like onefascinated, and returned the stare with interest.
At last the Indian spoke.
"Is Tonyquat a Christian?"
Somewhat surprised but not perplexed by the question Tony answered, "Ho,yis," promptly.
The Indian again looked long and earnestly at the child, as if he wereconsidering how far such a juvenile mind might be capable of going intoa theological discussion.
"What _is_ a Christian?" asked the Indian abruptly.
"A Kist'n's a dood boy," replied Tony; then, dropping his eyes for amoment in an effort to recall past lessons, he suddenly looked up withan intelligent smile, and said, "Oh, yis, I 'memers now. Elsie teach mea Kist'n boy's one what tries to be like de Lord--dood, kind, gentle,fo'givin', patient, an' heaps more; zat's what a Kist'n is."
The Indian nodded approvingly. This accorded, as far as it went, withwhat he had learned from the missionaries of Red River, but his mind wasevidently perplexed. He smoked, meditated a considerable time, andglared at Tony in silence; then said suddenly--
"Tonyquat, your father is _not_ a Christian."
"My fadder would knock zoo down if zoo say dat to hims face," repliedthe child confidently.
This seemed so palpable a truth that the Indian nodded several times,and grinned fiendishly.
"Do Christians swear, an' drink, and fight, and get angry till the bloodmakes the face blue, and strike with the fist?" asked Petawanaquat.
"Oh, no--_never_," replied Tony, adopting that shocked tone and lookwhich Elsie was in the habit of using when anything wicked waspropounded to her; "dey's always dood, like Josuf an' Abel an' Sam'l,an' Cain, an' David, an' Saul--"
Tony stopped short, with an indistinct idea that he was mixing patterncharacters.
"Ho!" muttered the savage, with a gleam of triumph in his eyes,"Petawanaquat has got his _heart_."
"Eh, zoo got 'im by heart a'ready? Took me long, long time to git 'emby heart," said Tony, with a look of admiration, which was sadly marredby the paint. "Me's not got 'em all off yet. But you's clever, an'--an'--big."
The Indian's smile became a sad one, and his look was again perplexed,as he rose and returned to the camp, followed by his adopted son. Itwas obvious that no light was to be thrown on his religiousd
ifficulties, whatever they were, by Tonyquat.
After leaving the lakelet on the plains, the Indian travelled forseveral days with his friends; and then parting from them, went towardsthe west, to rejoin his family. This point of divergence the pursuershad missed, and when they overtook the Indian band, they found, to theirintense regret, that the kidnapper had escaped them.
"We will hold on with the redskins," said Ian Macdonald, while sittingin council with his companions after this discovery. "The chief tellsme that buffaloes have been reported in a spot which lies in thedirection we must follow to recover the trail. This advantage we nowpossess, however: we know where Petawanaquat is going--thanks to hisso-called friends here, who don't seem to care much about him--and as hebelieves he has distanced all pursuers, he will now journey slower thanbefore. Besides, we must help to kill a buffalo or two, our meat beingnearly done. What say you, Vic?"
"I say what you say, of course, though I'd rather set off ahead of theband, and push on as fast as we can."
"Vich means dat youth bees impetoous toujours," said Rollin.
In pursuance of this plan they journeyed with the Indians for threedays, when an event occurred which modified their plans considerably.This was the discovery one afternoon of a broad trail, made by thepassage of numerous carts and horsemen over the prairie.
"Buffalo-runners!" exclaimed Rollin, when they came upon the track.
"From Red River!" cried Victor.
"Even so, boys," said Ian.
The Indian chief, who led the party, held the same opinion, and addedthat they were evidently journeying in the same direction withthemselves. This rendered it necessary that they should make a forcedmarch during the night, it being otherwise impossible for men on foot toovertake a party of horsemen. Towards midnight of the same day they hadthe satisfaction of seeing their campfires in the distance. Soonafterwards they were within the circle of the camp, where men were stillsmoking and eating round the fires, and women and children were movingbusily about.
"Why, there are John Flett and David Mowat," exclaimed Victor, asseveral of the men came forward to meet the party.
"An' Hayes, an' Vinklemann," cried Rollin.
Another minute and they were shaking hands amid a chorus of surprisedand hearty questions and replies.
"Is Louis Lambert with you?" asked Victor, after mutual explanations hadbeen given.
"No," said David Mowat, with a laugh, "he's got other fish to fry athome."
Poor Ian winced, for he at once pictured to himself Elsie as the mermaidhinted at.
"Now, boys, I'm going to ask some of you to make a sacrifice," said Ian."We had intended to follow up this chase on foot, but of course will beable to accomplish our end sooner on horseback. I want three of you tolend us your horses. You're sure to be well paid for them by SamRavenshaw and my father. I'll guarantee you that--"
"We want no guarantee," interrupted John Flett, "and we have sparehorses enough in the camp to mount you without giving up our own; somake your mind easy."
"Zat is troo," said Herr Winklemann; "ve has goot horse to spare;buff'lo-runners every von. Bot you mus' stay vid us von day for run zebuff'lo an' git supply of meat."
Victor and his friends at once agreed to this, all the more readily thatthe possession of horses would now enable them easily to overtake thefugitives. Accordingly, they sat down to a splendid supper of robbiboo,and continued to eat, chat, and quaff tea far into the followingmorning, until nature asserted herself by shutting up their eyelids.
The band with which our adventurers were now associated was composed ofa motley crew of Red River half-breeds, out for the great spring buffalohunt. It consisted of nearly 700 hunters, as many women, more than 400children, and upwards of 1000 carts, with horses and draught oxen,besides about 700 buffalo-runners, or trained hunting-horses, and morethan 500 dogs. These latter, although useless in the spring hunt, were,nevertheless, taken with them, fed, and cared for, because of theirvaluable qualities as draught animals for light sledges in winter.
Some of the hunters were steady-going and respectable enough; otherswere idle, thriftless fellows, who could not settle to farming in thecolony, and even in the chase were lazy, bad hunters. The women werethere for the purpose of attending to camp duties--cooking, dressing thebuffalo skins, making bags from the animals' green hides, with the hairleft on the outside, and filling the same with pemmican.
This substance, as we have elsewhere remarked, is by no meansunpalatable; it is very nutritious, and forms the chief food of thehundreds of voyageurs who traverse Rupert's Land in boats and canoesduring the open season of the year. It must be understood, however,that the compost is not attractive in appearance. It is made in theopen air by women who are not very particular in their habits. Hence,during windy weather, a modicum of dust is introduced into it. Evenstray leaves and twigs may get into it at times, and it is alwaysseasoned more or less profusely with buffalo hairs. But these aretrifles to strong and hungry men.
Two trips to the plains were made annually by these hunters. Theproceeds of the spring hunt were always sold to supply them with neededclothing, ammunition, etcetera, for the year. The "fall or autumn hunt"furnished them with their winter stock of food, and helped to pay offtheir debts, most of them being supplied on credit. Sometimes the fallhunt failed, in which case starvation stared the improvident among themin the face, and suffering, more or less severe, was the lot of all.
Little, however, did the reckless, jovial half-breeds care for suchconsiderations on the occasion about which we write. It was the springhunt. The year was before them. Health rolled in the veins and hoperevelled in the breasts of all as they mounted their steeds, and salliedforth to the chase.
Ah! it was a memorable day for Victor, when, at early dawn, he vaultedinto the saddle of the horse lent to him, and went off to hunt thebuffalo.
The said horse began by standing straight up on its hind legs like aman! Victor held on by the mane. Reversing the process, it pointed itstail to the sky. Victor stood in the stirrups. It swerved to theright, it swerved to the left, but Victor swerved with itaccommodatingly. He was a splendid horseman. Finding that out at last,the steed took the bit in its teeth and ran away. Victor let it run--nay, he whacked its sides and _made_ it run. Dozens of wild fellowswere curvetting and racing around him. It was his _first_ hunt. Madwith excitement, he finally swept away from his comrades with a seriesof war-whoops that would have done credit to the fiercest redskin on theNorth American plains.