The Best Ballantyne Westerns. R. M. Ballantyne

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      “My Indian brethren are great. They are brave, and their fame has travelled far. Their deeds are known even so far as where the Great Salt Lake beats on the shore where the sun rises. They are not women, and when their enemies hear the sound of their name they grow pale; their hearts become like those of the reindeer. My brethren are famous, too, in the use of the snow-shoe, the snare, and the gun. The fur-traders know that they must build large stores when they come into their lands. They bring up much goods, because the young men are active and require much. The silver fox and the marten are no longer safe when their traps and snares are set. Yes, they are good hunters; and we have now come to live among you” (Jacques changed his style as he came nearer to the point), “to trade with you, and to save you the trouble of making long journeys with your skins. A few days’ distance from your wigwams we have pitched our tents. Our young men are even now felling the trees to build a house. Our nets are set, our hunters are prowling in the woods, our goods are ready, and my young master and I have come to smoke the pipe of friendship with you, and to invite you to come to trade with us.”

      Having delivered this oration, Jacques sat down amid deep silence. Other speeches, of a highly satisfactory character, were then made, after which “the house adjourned,” and the visitors, opening one of their packages, distributed a variety of presents to the delighted natives.

      Several times during the course of these proceedings Charley’s eyes wandered among the faces of his entertainers, in the hope of seeing Redfeather among them, but without success; and he began to fear that his friend was not with the tribe.

      “I say, Jacques,” he said, as they left the tent, “ask whether a chief called Redfeather is here. I knew him of old, and half expected to find him at this place.”

      The Indian to whom Jacques put the question replied that Redfeather was with them, but that he had gone out on a hunting expedition that morning, and might be absent a day or two.

      “Ah!” exclaimed Charley, “I’m glad he’s here. Come, now, let us take a walk in the wood; these good people stare at us as if we were ghosts.” And taking Jacques’s arm, he led him beyond the circuit of the camp, turned into a path which, winding among the thick underwood, speedily screened them from view, and led them into a sequestered glade, through which a rivulet trickled along its course, almost hid from view by the dense foliage and long grasses that overhung it.

      “What a delightful place to live in!” said Charley. “Do you ever think of building a hut in such a spot as this, Jacques, and settling down altogether?”

      Charley’s thoughts reverted to his sister Kate when he said this.

      “Why, no,” replied Jacques, in a pensive tone, as if the question had aroused some sorrowful recollections; “I can’t say that I’d like to settle here now. There was a time when I thought nothin’ could be better than to squat in the woods with one or two jolly comrades, and—” (Jacques sighed); “but times is changed now, master, and so is my mind. My chums are most of them dead or gone, one way or other. No; I shouldn’t care to squat alone.”

      Charley thought of the hut without Kate, and it seemed so desolate and dreary a dwelling, notwithstanding its beautiful situation, that he agreed with his companion that to “squat” alone would never do at all.

      “No, man was not made to live alone,” continued Jacques, pursuing the subject; “even the Injins draw together. I never knew but one as didn’t like his fellows, and he’s gone now, poor fellow. He cut his foot with an axe one day, while fellin’ a tree. It was a bad cut; and havin’ nobody to look after him, he half bled and half starved to death.”

      “By the way, Jacques,” said Charley, stepping over the clear brook, and following the track which led up the opposite bank, “what did you say to these redskins? You made them a most eloquent speech apparently.”

      “Why, as to that, I can’t boast much of its eloquence, but I think it was clear enough. I told them that they were a great nation—for you see, Mr Charles, the red men are just like the white in their fondness for butter; so I gave them some to begin with, though, for the matter o’ that, I’m not overly fond o’ givin’ butter to any man, red or white. But I holds that it’s as well always to fall in with the ways and customs o’ the people a man happens to be among, so long as them ways and customs a’n’t contrary to what’s right. It makes them feel more kindly to you, an’ don’t raise any on-necessary ill-will. However, the Knisteneux are a brave race; and when I told them that the hearts of their enemies trembled when they heard of them, I told nothing but the truth; for the Chipewyans are a miserable set, and not much given to fighting.”

      “Your principles on that point won’t stand much sifting, I fear,” replied Charley: “according to your own showing, you would fall into the Chipewyans’ way of glorifying themselves on account of their bravery, if you chanced to be dwelling among them, and yet you say they are not brave. That would not be sticking to truth, Jacques, would it?”

      “Well,” replied Jacques, with a smile, “perhaps not exactly; but I’m sure there could be small harm in helping the miserable objects to boast sometimes, for they’ve little else than boasting to comfort them.”

      “And yet, Jacques, I cannot help feeling that truth is a grand, a glorious thing, that should not be trifled with even in small matters.”

      Jacques opened his eyes a little. “Then do you think, master, that a man should never tell a lie, no matter what fix he may be in?”

      “I think not, Jacques.”

      The hunter paused a few minutes, and looked as if an unusual train of ideas had been raised in his mind by the turn their conversation had taken. Jacques was a man of no religion, and little morality, beyond what flowed from a naturally kind, candid disposition, and entertained the belief that the end, if a good one, always justifies the means—a doctrine which, had it been clearly exposed to him in all its bearings and results, would have been spurned by his straightforward nature with the indignant contempt that it merits.

      “Mr Charles,” he said at length, “I once travelled across the plains to the head waters of the Missouri with a party of six trappers. One night we came to a part of the plains which was very much broken up with wood here and there, and bein’ a good place for water we camped. While the other lads were gettin’ ready the supper, I started off to look for a deer, as we had been unlucky that day—we had shot nothin’. Well, about three miles from the camp I came upon a band o’ somewhere about thirty Sioux (ill-looking, sneaking dogs they are, too!) and before I could whistle they rushed upon me, took away my rifle and hunting-knife, and were dancing round me like so many devils. At last a big, black-lookin’ thief stepped forward, and said in the Cree language, ‘White men seldom travel through this country alone; where are your comrades?’ Now, thought I, here’s a nice fix! If I pretend not to understand, they’ll send out parties in all directions, and as sure as fate they’ll find my companions in half an hour, and butcher them in cold blood (for, you see, we did not expect to find Sioux, or indeed any Injins, in them parts); so I made believe to be very narvous, and tried to tremble all over and look pale. Did you ever try to look pale and frightened, Mr Charles?”

      “I can’t say that I ever did,” said Charley, laughing.

      “You can’t think how troublesome it is,” continued Jacques, with a look of earnest simplicity. “I shook and trembled pretty well, but the more I tried to grow pale, the more I grew red in the face; and when I thought of the six broad-shouldered, raw-boned lads in the camp, and how easy they would have made these jumping villains fly like chaff, if they only knew the fix I was СКАЧАТЬ