The Huntress. Footner Hulbert

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СКАЧАТЬ On the Indian woman's tongue it was "Hoo-alter."

      "Real white?" demanded Bela.

      "His skin white as a dog's tooth," answered Loseis, "his hair bright like the sun." A gleam in the dull eyes as she said this suggested that the stolid squaw was human, too.

      "Was he good to you?"

      "He was good to me. Not like Indian husband. He like dress me up fine. All the time laugh and make jokes. He call me 'Tagger-Leelee.'"

      "Did he go away?"

      Loseis shook her head. "Go through the ice with his team."

      "Under the water—my father," murmured Bela.

      She turned on her mother accusingly. "You have good white husband, and you take Charley after!"

      "My mother make me," Loseis said with sad stolidity.

      Bela pondered on these matters, filled with a deep excitement. Her mother kneaded the dough.

      "I half a white woman," the girl murmured at last, more to herself than the other. "That is why I strange here."

      Again her mother looked at her intently, presaging another disclosure. "Me, my father a white man too," she said in her abrupt way. "It is forgotten now."

      Bela stared at her mother, breathing quickly.

      "Then—I 'most white!" she whispered, with amazed and brightening eyes. "Now I understand my heart!" she suddenly cried aloud. "Always I love the white people, but I not know. Always I ask Musq'oosis tell me what they do. I love them because they live nice. They not pigs like these people. They are my people! All is clear to me!" She rose.

      "What you do?" asked Loseis anxiously.

      "I will go to my people!" cried Bela, looking away as if she envisaged the whole white race.

      The Indian mother raised her eyes in a swift glance of passionate supplication—but her lips were tight. Bela did not see the look.

      "I go talk to Musq'oosis," she said. "He tell me all to do."

CHAPTER II

       Table of Contents

MUSQ'OOSIS ADVISES

       Table of Contents

      The village of the Fish-Eaters was built in a narrow meadow behind a pine grove and the little river. It was a small village of a dozen teepees set up in a rough semicircle open to the stream.

      This stream (Hah-Wah-Sepi they call it) came down from the Jack-Knife Mountains to the north, and after passing the village, rounded a point of the pines, traversed a wide sand-bar and was received into Caribou Lake.

      The opposite bank was heavily fringed with willows. Thus the village was snugly hidden between the pines and the willows, and one might have sailed up and down the lake a dozen times without suspecting its existence. In this the Indians followed their ancient instinct. For generations there had been no enemies to hide from.

      It was at the end of May; the meadow was like a rug of rich emerald velvet, and the willows were freshly decked in their pale leafage. The whole scene was mantled with the exquisite radiance of the northern summer sun. Children and dogs loafed and rolled in aimless ecstasy, and the whole people sat at the teepee openings blinking comfortably.

      The conical teepees themselves, each with a bundle of sticks at the top and its thread of smoke, made no inharmonious note in the scene of nature. Only upon a close look was the loveliness a little marred by evidences of the Fish-Eaters' careless housekeeping.

      Musq'oosis's lodge stood by itself outside the semicircle and a little down stream. The owner was still sitting at the door, an odd little bundle in a blanket, as Bela approached.

      "I t'ink you come soon," he said. These two always conversed in English.

      "You know everyt'ing," stated Bela simply.

      He shrugged. "I just sit quiet, and my thoughts speak to me."

      She dropped on her knees before him, and rested sitting on her heels, hands in lap. Without any preamble she said simply: "My fat'er a white man."

      Musq'oosis betrayed no surprise. "I know that," he replied.

      "My mot'er's fat'er, he white man too," she went on.

      He nodded.

      "Why you never tell me?" she asked, frowning slightly.

      He spread out his palms. "What's the use? You want to go. Got no place to go. Too much yo'ng to go. I t'ink you feel bad if I tell."

      She shook her head. "Mak me feel good. I know what's the matter wit' me now. I understand all. I was mad for cause I think I got poor mis'able fat'er lak Charley."

      "It is well," said Musq'oosis.

      "You know my fat'er?" asked Bela eagerly.

      He nodded gravely.

      "Tell me."

      Musq'oosis seemed to look within. "Long tam ago," he began, "though I am not yo'ng then neither. It was in the Louis Riel war I see your fat'er. He a soldier in that war, wear red coat, ver' fine. Ot'er soldier call him Smiler Forest. Red people call him Bird-Mouth for cause he all tam mak' music wit' his wind, so"—here Musq'oosis imitated a man whistling. "He is one good soldier. Brave. The Great Mother across the water send him a medal wit' her face on it for cause he so brave."

      "What is medal?" interrupted Bela.

      "Little round piece lak money, but not to spend," explained Musq'oosis. "It is pin on the coat here, so everybody know you brave.

      "Always I am a friend of the white people," Musq'oosis went on, "so I fight for them in that war. I can't march me, or ride ver' good. I canoe scout on the Saskatchewan River. Your fat'er is friend to me. Moch we talk by the fire. He mak' moch fun to me, but I not mad for cause I see he lak me just the same. Often he say to me, 'Musq'oosis, my boy, I bad lot.'"

      "Bad lot?" questioned Bela,

      "He mean no good," Musq'oosis explained. "That is his joke. I not believe ev'ryt'ing he tell me, no, not by a damnsight. He say, 'Musq'oosis, I no good for not'ing 't'all but a soldier.' He say, 'When there ain't no war I can't keep out of trouble.' He ask moch question about my country up here. He say, 'When this war over I go there. Maybe I can keep out of trouble up there.'

      "Me, I all tam think that just his joke. Bam-by the fighting all over, and Louis Riel sent to jail. Me, I got brot'ers up here then. I want to see my brot'ers after the war. So I go say good-bye to my friend. But he say, 'Hold on, Musq'oosis, I goin' too.' I say, 'W'at you do up there? Ain't no white men but the comp'ny trader.' He say, 'I got fight somesing. I fight nature.'"

      "Nature?" СКАЧАТЬ