Menotah: A Tale of the Riel Rebellion. Trevena John

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СКАЧАТЬ to pluck berries and gather strong medicines. Come! I will help you.'

      The old man fixed his keen eyes upon her laughing face, then drew his coarse blanket of a gaudy yellow more conveniently over his shoulders. Then he came forward and said, 'Girl, I have been seeking you for long. I watched you dart like a sunbeam into the forest, so I followed with my slow speed to give you warning.'

      She tossed back her head. 'Warn me! Of what, and why?'

      'The white man,' said the other impressively. 'He is abroad in the forest. From this time he is our foe. Perchance one might meet you in such a spot as this, and – '

      She interrupted him scornfully, with a proud movement of her head. 'Let him find me. I am stronger than any man, since I can disarm him with a woman's weapons.'

      The old man raised a reproving hand. 'You speak, Menotah, with the folly of youth. Now will I answer you with the wisdom of age. For who are you that you should know the cunning of the white man? He feels not the emotion of love, for his heart is made of ice, while his dark mind changes as the waters of yon river. Mayhap you might be captured by him. Then, what darkness would settle upon the tribe without its heart of joy? There would be no music in the song, nor passion in the dance.'

      The girl laughed with a long musical burst of happiness.

      'Child! I have warned you. Listen to an old man's words. Follow his advice, and keep the heart to yourself.'

      For answer, Menotah snatched a long tendril of bright green from a neighbouring bush. She cast this wreath around the old man's neck, then danced back, clapping her hands in delight.

      'Now you are young again,' she cried joyously. 'You are to forget that the frost of age has ever stiffened your limbs. You must now cast aside all your wise sayings, which always fall like cold water upon my ears. Come! Take me by the hand. Then we will wander forth together. If you are mournful, I will sing to you. I will dance and laugh, that you may forget your infirmities. For where I come, sorrow may never be found.'

      The red glow on her cheeks deepened, as the light in her eyes leapt into a flame. The ruddy berries dropped over her temples and kissed the eyelids when she stirred.

      But the old man only shook his white head, and gave back no reply.

      Then Menotah stepped to his side, and bent her graceful figure down. She held her face near his, while the soft mouth twitched in the effort to restrain its mirth.

      'Wise Antoine,' she said, with an attempt at carelessness. 'You have travelled over much land and water. You have seen many people. Is it not so?'

      Wonderingly he replied, 'It is so, my daughter.'

      'Then tell me' – and there was a slight tremor in her voice – 'since you have seen so many women, tell me, have you ever looked upon one more beautiful than I? Have you seen any more perfect? – more graceful?'

      Her face was quite solemn as she finished her question.

      The old man frowned, and pulled at the falling blanket with a claw-like hand.

      At length he spoke. 'It is true that I have seen many women. I have looked upon the daughters of white men, and some of these are fair. I have watched, also, generations of my own people, as they passed from childhood to maturity, growing and ripening like green berries in the sunshine. Many of these were very good to look upon.'

      'But I – ' she murmured, and then stopped short.

      The old Antoine smiled feebly, displaying a perfect row of teeth. Then he would have turned aside, but she touched him with light, eager hand.

      'I stopped your words, old father. What more had you to say?'

      'Let us go back,' he said. 'See! the night comes upon us.'

      But Menotah only laughed again, while the roar of the great rapids beat down upon their ears with sound of sombre menace.

      She bent her beautiful head over his shoulder, and asked, 'The daughters of the white men are fair – you have said so?'

      'But you are more beautiful than all,' broke forth the old man, half fiercely. 'Surely. None, on whom my eyes have rested, have owned such flow of life, such health, such gladness of spirit. These things are beauty. You are as straight as a young fir, and as fair as the evening star.'

      In an instant her assumed gravity had disappeared. Laughing merrily, she darted back, with black hair streaming cloud-like behind. But the old man pursued her with a searching question, —

      'Child! Menotah! What dream spirit has whispered into your brain, as you slept beneath the moon? What is that which has told your mind that you were more beautiful than others – that you were even fair at all? You have learnt from me, yet on such matters have I given you no knowledge.'

      Menotah was singing gaily, unconcernedly, and for the time appeared not to notice his quick questionings. But suddenly she sprang aside to the bushes, and parted them with eager hands. Then she glanced back, and commenced to chant in loud, distinct tones, —

      'Old father, you have taught me much, yet, being a man, you might not read a woman's heart. You could not tell her all – not that she wished especially to learn. So she has searched for that knowledge wherever it might be found. Behold! she has succeeded.'

      The Ancient would have spoken aloud in wonder, but the bright girl gave him no opportunity.

      'One day, near the setting of the sun, I came along this way. The river-pool was already growing black, while long rushes bent and murmured when they saw me approach. Then, when I stood upon the black rock, I heard the echo of a soft voice, which arose in music at my feet, and crept up until it touched my ears. So I knew that it was the Spirit of the waters who was calling me. And he had knowledge for my ear, and mine alone. Do you still hear the soft voice calling beneath us, old father?'

      She raised her dainty figure, then uplifted a small hand, inclining her head forward with a graceful gesture. The waters lapped and whispered against the slime-green base of the rock.

      'Men-ha! Ot-ah! Me-e-e-e-ot-ah. Ah-ha! Ha-hah-ha-ah! Me-ot-hah. Ot-ah! Ah-ah-ah! Ot-ah! Ot-ah! Ah-hah! Men-ot-ah! Ot-ah! Menotah!'

      'Do you hear, old father?' she cried joyfully. 'Can you hear the voice of the laughing waters? Each night they call me, and bid me come.'

      Then the old man frowned, and raised a crooked hand to point upward over the rock-ledge opposite, where a cold ray of white light struggled through shadows.

      'Hear also the voice of the great rapids, daughter. They shout, and they call, also. Would you hasten to their bidding?'

      She shuddered slightly, then replied, 'Not so, old father. I would not obey the summons to death and silence.'

      Antoine shivered also, as the night chilled his body. 'We tarry past the sun-setting,' he muttered. 'It is not well to be abroad at this time.'

      'Ah! But listen first,' she pleaded. 'Here what the Spirit of the water had to show me.'

      Again he paused, while she wrapped the cold bushes round her waist, and bathed her fingers in the dew-wet foliage. Then she spoke, —

      'I came onward to the rock-brink, yet I trembled. For I feared lest the Spirit might stretch forth an angry arm to draw me down, and claim me as his victim.

      'So I came with hesitating footstep, and leant СКАЧАТЬ