CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED.
Whether or not Okematan was as thorough a rascal as Fergus McKay thoughthim will be best shown by harking back, and setting down a little ofwhat was said by some of the Cree braves at the time that Fergus and Danwere eavesdropping.
Standing in a dignified attitude worthy of an ancient Roman, with hisblanket thrown toga-fashion over one shoulder, one of the braves lookedround on the warrior band with a dark scowl before he began. Hiscomrades were evidently impressed by his looks. Whether owing to afreak of fancy, a spice of eccentricity, or simple vanity, we know not,but this brave had, among other ornamental touches to his visage,painted his nose bright red. The effect on his brother braves wassolemnising. It was not so impressive to his white observers, as itsuggested to them the civilised toper.
"The great white chief," began Rednose, with a slow deliberation thatwas meant to convey a settled and unalterable conviction, "is a fool!"
"Waugh!" exclaimed the audience with emphasis, for the language wasstrong, and uttered with intense vigour, and that quite accorded withtheir tastes, so they agreed with the sentiment without regard to itssignification. This species of rhetoric, and its effects, are sometimesobserved in connection with civilised gatherings.
The great white chief thus irreverently referred to, we regret to say,was Lord Selkirk.
"The great white chief," continued Rednose, availing himself of theforce of emphatic repetition, "is a fool! He is a child! He knowsnothing! He comes across the great salt lake from the rising sun, withthe air and aspect of an owl, thinking to teach us--the great Creenation--wisdom!"
"Waugh!" from the audience, one of whom, having a cold in his head,sneezed inadvertently, and was scowled at by the orator for full twominutes in absolute silence. If that Cree warrior--he was on his firstwar-path--possessed anything akin to the feelings of the Paleface hemust have suffered martyrdom.
"Every one knows," continued the orator, resuming, "that the Crees arewise. They can tell a fox from a buffalo. They understand thedifference between fire and water. No Paleface sage needs to come fromthe rising sun to tell them to eat when they are hungry--to drink whenthey are dry. But this Paleface chief comes with the eyes of the greatnorthern owl, and says he comes to do us good. And how does he begin todo us good?"
Here there was a very decided "Waugh!" as though to say, "Ay, that's thequestion," and then a solemn pause for more--during which the man withthe cold drew the reins very tight.
"How does he begin to do us good?" proceeded the orator. "By enteringinto an agreement with _us_ for the use of _our_ lands--and asking ourenemies the Saulteaux to take part in that agreement!"
The sounds of indignation and ferocity that followed this statement arenot translatable. After a gaze of unutterable meaning round the circleRednose went on--
"This, _this_ is the way in which the owl-eyed chief of the Palefacesbegins to do us good! If this is the way he begins, in what way will hecontinue, and,"--here his voice deepened to a whisper--"_how will heend_?"
The ideas suggested by his question were so appalling that for someminutes the orator appeared unable to find words to go on, and hisaudience glared at him in dread anticipation, as though they expectedhim to explode like a bomb-shell, but were prepared to sit it out andtake the consequences. And he did explode, after a fashion, for hesuddenly raised his voice to a shout that startled even the sentinel onthe distant knoll, and said--
"I counsel war to the knife! The great white chief--the owl-eyedfool!--will not blot from our agreement the names of the Saulteauxchiefs--chiefs! there are no Saulteaux chiefs. All their braves arecowards, on the same dead level of stupidity, and their women are--arenothing, fit for nothing, can do nothing, and must soon come to nothing!What then? The duty of Cree warriors lies before us. We will drivethe Saulteaux into Lake Winnipeg and the Palefaces off the face of theearth altogether! Waugh!"
Having thus given vent to the opinions and feelings that consumed him,Rednose sat down, his audience breathed freely, the distant sentinelrecovered his composure, and the young novitiate brave with the cold inhis head sneezed with impunity.
It would be tedious to recount all that was said at that council of war.The next brave that rose to "address the house" very much resembled thefirst speaker, both in sentiment and personal appearance, except that hehad chosen sky-blue for his nose instead of red. The only additionalmatter that he contributed worth noting was the advice that they shouldbegin their bloody work by an immediate attack, in the dead of night, onthe camp of the buffalo runners.
This advice was hailed with a good many "Waughs," as well as approvingnods and looks, and it seemed as if the plan were about to be carriedinto action without delay, when, as we have seen, Okematan arose toaddress the assemblage.
Okematan was a great chief--much greater in the estimation of his tribethan the whites with whom he had been associating in Red River wereaware of. He had purposely reserved his address till near theconclusion.
"The Cree warriors," he said, with an air of quiet dignity that was farmore effective than the more energetic tones and gestures of theprevious speakers, "know very well that the Cree nation considers itselfthe wisest in creation. Far be it from Okematan to say otherwise, forhe does not know. Okematan is a child! His eyes are only beginning toopen!"
He paused at this point, and looked round with solemn dignity; and thebraves, unaccustomed to such self-depreciative modes of address, gazedat him with equal solemnity, not unmingled with surprise, though thelatter feeling was carefully concealed.
"When the last great palaver of the Cree braves was held on theBlue-Pine Ridge," continued Okematan, "the chiefs chose me to go to RedRiver, and learn all that I could find out about the Palefaces and theirintentions. I went, as you know. I attached myself to a family namedDaa-veed-sin, and I have found out--found out much about the Palefaces--much more that I did not know before, though I _am_ a chief of the Creenation."
Okematan looked pointedly at Rednose as he said this. After a briefpause he continued--
"The great white chief," (meaning Lord Selkirk), "is _not_ a fool. Itis true that he is not a god; he is a man and a Paleface, subject to thefollies and weaknesses of the Palefaces, and not quite so wise as it ispossible to be, but he is a good man, and wishes well to the Indian. Ihave found weaknesses among the Palefaces. One of them is that theirchiefs plan--sometimes wisely, sometimes foolishly--but they leave thecarrying out of their plans to other men, and sometimes these other mencare for nobody but themselves. They tell lies, they mislead the greatwhite chief, and tell him to do what is wrong.
"So it was when our agreement came to be made. The great white chieffound, when he came to Red River, a few families of Saulteaux whom wehad permitted to hunt on our lands. He thought the land belonged to theSaulteaux as well as to the Crees. He was mistaken, ignorant; he knewno better, and the Palefaces who did know, did not put light into him;so the names of Saulteaux chiefs were put in the writing. Then thegreat white chief went away across the great salt lake to the lands ofthe rising sun, leaving his small chiefs to carry out his plans. Someof these are _very_ small chiefs, unfit to carry out any plans. Othersare bad small chiefs, that will carry out only such plans as are sure tobenefit themselves. It is these men with whom we have to deal. It isthese who deserve to be swept off the face of the earth."
A number of emphatic nods and "waughs" at this point showed thatOkematan had at last touched a key-note with which his braves couldshout in harmony.
"But," resumed the chief impressively, "we cannot sweep them off theearth; we cannot even sweep them off the banks of Red River. We mighteasily sweep the Saulteaux into Lake Winnipeg if we thought it worthwhile to try, but the Palefaces--never! Okematan has travelled far tothe south and seen the Palefaces there. They cannot be counted. Theyswarm like our locusts; they darken the earth as our buffaloes darkenthe plains. They live in stone wigwams. I have seen one of t
heirwigwams that was big enough to hold all the Crees' wigwams bundledtogether. If we killed or scalped all the Palefaces in Red River thegreat white chief would come over the great salt lake with an army thatwould swallow us up as the buffalo swallows up a tuft of grass.
"Besides," continued Okematan, with a slight touch of pathos in histone, "there are good and bad men among the Palefaces, just as there aregood and bad among ourselves. I have dwelt for many moons with a tribecalled Scosh-min. Okematan loves the Scosh-min. They speak a wonderfullanguage, and some of them are too fond of fire-water; but their bravesfear nothing, and their squaws are pretty and work hard--almost as hardas our squaws--though they are not quite as good-looking as ours. Theyare too white--their faces are like buffalo fat!"
A "Waugh," which might be translated "Hear, hear," greeted thisstatement of opinion.
"Now," continued our chief, "if we swept away all the people of RedRiver, we would sweep away the good Scosh-min, which would be foolish,and we would gain nothing in the end, but would bring worse trouble onour heads. My counsel, therefore, is for peace. I advise that weshould let the buffalo runners and the people of Red River alone; send amessage with our grievances to the great white chief; ask him to comeback over the great salt lake to put things right, and, in the meantime,wait with patience; attend to our own business; hunt, fish, eat, drink,sleep, and be happy."
Having delivered his harangue, Okematan sat down amid murmurs of mingledapplause and disapprobation. It was evident that he had created aserious division of opinion in the camp, and it seemed as if on theimpression made by the next speaker would depend the great question ofpeace or war.
Presently an old warrior arose, and a profound silence followed, forthey held him in great respect.
"My braves," said the old man sententiously, "I have lived long, and myfighting days are nearly over. If wisdom has not accumulated on my headit must be my own fault, for I have had great experience both of war andpeace--more of war, perhaps, than of peace. And the opinion that I havecome to after long and very deep consideration is this: if there issomething to fight for, fight--fight well; if there is nothing to fightfor, don't fight--don't fight at all."
The old man paused, and there were some "Waughs" of approval, for thetruth contained in his profound conclusion was obvious even to thestupidest Red-skin of the band--supposing that a stupid brave amongCrees were possible!
"I have also lived to see," continued the old man, "that revenge isnothing--nothing at all, and therefore not worth fighting for."
As this was flying straight in the face of the most cherished ofRed-skins' beliefs, it was received in dead though respectful silence.
"My young braves do not believe this. I know it. I have been youngmyself, and I remember well how pleasant revenge was to me, but I soonfound that the pleasure of revenge did not last. It soon passed away,yet the deed of revenge did not pass away, and sometimes the deed becameto my memory very bitter--insomuch that the pleasantness was entirelyswallowed up and forgotten in the bitterness. My young braves will notbelieve this, I know. They go on feeling; they think on feeling; theyreason on feeling; they trust to feeling. It is foolish, for the brainwas given to enable man to think and judge and plan. You are as foolishas if you were to try to smell with your mouth and eat with your nose.But it is the way of youth. When experience teaches, then you will cometo know that revenge is not worth fighting for--its pleasantness willpass away, but the bitter it leaves behind will never pass away.
"What is the meaning of revenge?" continued this analytical old savage."What is the use of it? Does it not mean that we give up all hope ofgetting what we want, and wildly determine to get what pleasure is stillpossible to us by killing those who have thwarted us? And when you havekilled and got all the pleasure there is, what does it come to? Yourenemy is dead, and scalped. What then? He does not know that he isdead. He does not care that he is dead and scalped. You cannot keephim alive for ever killing and scalping him. But you have made his wifeand children miserable. What of that? It was not his wife and childrenwho opposed you, therefore you have revenged yourself on the wrongpersons. He does not know that you have rendered his wife and childrenmiserable, and does not care; therefore, I ask, why are you pleased? Ifyour enemy was a good man, your revenge has only done him a kindness,for it has sent him to the happy hunting grounds before his time, whereyou will probably never meet him to have the pleasure of being revengedon him there. If he was a bad man, you have sent him to the world ofDesolation, where he will be waiting to receive you when you get there,and where revenge will be impossible, for men are not allowed to kill orscalp there. At least if they are I never heard of it--and I am an oldman now.
"There is nothing, then, to fight for with the Palefaces of Red River,and my counsel is, like that of Okematan, that we should decide onpeace--not war."
Whatever may have been the private opinion of the braves as to this newand very unexpected style of address, the effect of it was pacific; for,after a little more palaver, the peace-party carried the day--or, ratherthe night--and, next morning, the Cree warriors went back to their tentsand hunting avocations, leaving Okematan to return to the camp of hisfriends the buffalo runners.
The Buffalo Runners: A Tale of the Red River Plains Page 15