CHAPTER XII.
THE MOOSE OF MYSTERY.
I would that I might give here the speech that Ruth made to those Crees, there by the dim light of the little fire, her yellow hair flashing forth from the wolf-fur hood in long tendrils, her eyes striving to pierce through the darkness to those stolid faces about her. She did not speak their language at all well, and I saw plainly that the hearing had been given her out of courtesy alone. They were our friends, were these Crees, because we were the friends of Radisson, and they would do all for us that friends might.
At length she finished and turned away. I stepped forward when the old chief had gravely risen and thanked her, and led her to the entrance. When I returned, the same old man rose and addressed me.
"Our brother Brave Eyes has heard the words of the Yellow Lily. They were like the dew upon the trees at dawn—sparkling and refreshing, but not fit to quench the thirst of the warriors. There is much that we do not understand, and we hope that Brave Eyes will set our minds at rest."
I waited a space, knowing that this would add dignity to my words. Even as I rose to my feet, a noise of dogs came from without, the flap of the door was pushed aside and The Keeper, The Arrow and Radisson entered and flitted to their seats in the Council. This seemed like a good omen to me, and I took heart again.
Now I appealed to the warriors direct, strove to wake them to consciousness of what my message meant, applied all that I said to their life and daily acts. As I went on, the words flowed almost of themselves, and I, who had ever been a clumsy, gawky lout, felt with a thrill that I was commanding these men. Yet it was not I, as none knew better. It was a Something that spoke in and through me, until in the end I felt a great fear of what that Something might be. None the less, I said what I had to say, and so seated myself again, the sweat standing out on my brow.
For a long, long time there was no sound within the lodge. Then I saw The Keeper rise to his feet and walk out beside the fire, standing a moment like a dark statue.
"My brothers," he said in Cree, "we have listened to very great words. In my own land the Great Spirit has sent his Blackrobes to speak such words to us, and we have listened. I am very old, my brothers. These words are sweet in my ears. But my white brothers, Brave Eyes and White Eagle, have not heard all. The Great Spirit has not whispered to them of the Mighty One. Perhaps he has sent them that the Mighty One should be slain, and that the Cree nation should know which was the True Great Spirit. I have ended."
I did not understand the conclusion of this speech, but I did understand the half-audible gasp of horror that ran through the lodge. It brought back to me the time when I was a little fellow, and had gone to meeting one day with my father and mother. While the preacher was thundering forth, I had escaped from mother and toddled away to look up in laughing wonder at the tall figure of Alec Gordon, with his stiff starched bands. In that moment the same shuddering gasp had echoed through the folk, and I heard later that no few of them had looked to see me fall stricken.
So around the Council lodge ran the same whisper and was gone instantly. I wondered what sacrilege The Keeper had uttered, and stared at Uchichak as he gravely rose, took up the calumet, lit it, and waved it to the four corners of the heavens. Then he replaced it and turned toward me.
"My brother Ta-cha-noon-tia is our friend. His words are the words of a friend. He is a great warrior and an old man, and his Great Spirit is very strong. But it is not our Great Spirit who whispers in his ear, and we are afraid. I will tell my brothers of our Great Spirit."
With a single stride he went to the door and flung open the flap dramatically. Before us in the sky flamed the northern lights—grotesque sheeted figures of lambent flame, dancing here and yon, rising, falling, many-colored.
"The Spirits of the Dead who Dance," he affirmed, in a single Cree word. "My brothers the Great Spirit of our fathers is mighty. This is his sign to his children. When we have passed the last trail, we too shall join our fathers in the Spirit-dance across the heavens. This is the sign that our Great Spirit has given us. And now I shall tell you of the Mystery."
I would have sprung up and made ready answer, but a hand gripped my arm and I found Radisson behind me. I remembered that Indian ways were not our ways, and that when Uchichak had finished I could speak, and not until then.
"My brothers, our Great Spirit, from the days of our fathers, has sent us a messenger. Sometimes it is a man, sometimes it is an animal." His voice lowered almost to a whisper, and the hush was intense. "My brothers, it is more than an animal, more than a little brother of the forest. We who are chiefs, we of the Council, know that this messenger is none other than the Great Spirit himself, who comes to watch over his children."
For an instant there was dead silence, Uchichak standing with bowed head. Only the sound of heavy breathing filled the lodge until he continued more firmly.
"My brothers, when I was very young the messenger was a White Beaver, larger and more cunning than ever beaver was before him. When I was a young man the Mighty One had vanished, and in his place was another Mighty One. How did we know this? I will tell you.
"One of our young men brought the news that in the Barren Places was a mighty moose, larger than any moose ever seen. He had followed the tracks, and had come to a bear, slain by the moose. There were three young men in the village who said they would hunt this moose. Our old men warned them, saying that the young man had been led to the bear in token that the moose wished us well. Perhaps he was a Mighty One. But the young men refused to listen and went forth with their dogs.
"My brothers, you have heard the tale of Spotted Lynx, Two Horns and Yellow Cloud. They hunted for many weeks. The Mighty One did not wish to harm them. But at last they found him feeding, and wounded him. My brothers, are any of those young men among you? Have you seen their faces in the lodges of their people? Have they returned to their fathers?"
A single half-suppressed groan broke from one of the old men. There was no doubt that the tale was true. I reflected that if three hunters, armed with bow and spear, had gone out against that terrible moose, there might well have been small chance of their returning safe. But The Crane did not pause long.
"We have heard how the hunters of the Chippewa nation have sought him, and have fled home like women to their people. Our fathers have told us how, when they were little children, the Great Spirit had whispered to them that the Crees should not seek to hunt the Mighty One, and should not seek to hunt in the hills of the Barren Places. It is in these hills that the Mighty One now dwells, and the Chippewas fear them also.
"Sometimes the Mighty One travels far. My brothers, you have heard how Brave Eyes met him. You have seen that he favored Brave Eyes and did not kill him, but sent him to be our brother. The heart of Brave Eyes is very strong. We know that it holds no fear. Now that he knows who the Mighty One is whose horns he felt, now that he knows it was our Great Spirit himself, Brave Eyes will not fear to say that he was wrong."
Uchichak drew his furs about him and resumed his seat. The eyes of the Council, one by one, were slowly turned on me. But not until I felt Radisson's hand relax on my arm did I rise to speak.
"My brothers," I said with some difficulty, "I speak in a strange tongue. I can find no words in it to say that I did not speak to you rightly before. The Crane has told me that the Spirits of the Dead who Dance are signs from your Great Spirit. How is it, then, that the same signs have come to me and my brother the White Eagle and to my sister the Yellow Lily, very far from here. How is it that this sign comes to my white brothers also?"
There was a little stir at this, and I heard the Keeper grunt in appreciation.
"Listen, my brothers. I have told you of the sign in the water, which the Great Spirit has sent to his white children, through his own Son. I wish you to remember this, and it may be that you will accept this sign. As to your Mighty One, he is not a Messenger sent by the Great Spirit; he is a messenger of the Evil Spirit."
I had looked for another stir at these words, but none came. Instead, there was silence—the silence of apprehension, of waiting.
"My brothers, you do not like my words, but your hearts are open. Your ears are not closed to the whisper of the Great Spirit, and you will listen. If the Mighty One was your friend and protector, would he have slain your young men? Would he not have sent them home as he has sent the other hunters, like foolish women?"
I paused again, taking full advantage of this favorite trick of Indian Oratory.
"Listen, my brothers. My Great Spirit whispers to me. He says that your Mighty One is false. He says that there is only one Great Spirit, and that He wishes you to accept the sign in the water. He says that it is for this purpose He brought me to you. He asks you whether you will accept this sign that you believe in Him."
With this rather abrupt close I sat down. There was a long silence as they turned over my words carefully, slowly, weighing each one. Finally the old wizened head-chief, whose single eagle-feather gleamed oddly in the red light, answered me.
"My brother, you have spoken well. Your words have satisfied the thirst of the warriors, as the spring that bubbles in the forest. Yet we were afraid at them, for we feared that our Great Spirit would be angry.
"You have said that the sign of the Spirits of the Dead has been sent to you also. That is well. The Great Spirit has whispered to me. He whispered in my ear that you, my brother, and my brother White Eagle also, should prove to us that the Mighty One is a messenger of the Evil Spirit. You have told us how your Great Spirit sent His Son to you, and how you killed Him. We would not have treated Him thus, my brother. Our ears are open. We would have feasted Him with venison and listened to Him.
"The Great Spirit has whispered to me that you should seek the Mighty One. We know that there is no fear in your heart, and that the White Eagle is very wise and good. Perhaps the Great Spirit will help you. If you slay the Mighty One we will know that we have been wrong, and that our fathers have been wrong, and we will accept the sign in the water."
Weak and shaking, the old man sat down and covered his face. One by one the chiefs stood up and spoke in the same vein. One by one they agreed that if Radisson and I should slay the Moose, they would accept the "sign in the water," for thus only could I represent the symbol of baptism to them. Uchichak made a splendid speech, and I was right glad to find here in the wilderness men whose minds were so open, so free to conviction. Their beliefs were simple and earnest, and while there was small hope that they would or could accept the gospel of peace, merely to bring them to a knowledge of the True God would be a tremendous conquest.
So the Council ended. Radisson accompanied me to the lodge of Ruth, where we told her all that had taken place, and of the gage of battle which had been flung before us. That it would be accepted by Radisson I had no doubt.
"Aye, lad," he said in answer to my eager question, "I may hold to no faith over-much, but in this matter I am with you—if only for the sake of little Ruth here."
"Not that!" she flashed out at him quickly. "Pray, Uncle Pierre, have you no deeper thought than this? Look deep down in your heart, and say no if you dare!"
Radisson looked down at her, then at me, and in his weary eyes I saw what I had but seldom found in his face. In that moment I knew that even from us he had kept his real self hidden.
"Yes, child," he replied softly. "I hesitated to acknowledge it, but it is true. I may not be of your faith, but I will do this thing for the sake of Him who suffered for us all, and in the trust that through us these poor, faithful friends of ours may be given a light to lighten their darkness."
Wherewith he rose and left us suddenly, nor did he ever allude to that conversation again, until the day he left us. But Ruth and I sat silent for a little space, wondering.
"It is a fearsome thing," I murmured at last, "how this superstition has laid hold on such men as Uchichak. Why, the Mighty One is no more than a beast—cunning, merciless, but still a beast. With such men as Radisson and the Mohawks with me, what is there to fear?"
"Softly, Davie," smiled Ruth a little sadly. "It is not so easy as may seem to you. Did ever an easy thing accomplish aught in the world? It is the things we fight for and suffer for that are worth while, that bring the Word to the world. It was never God's way to make the path easy for those who bear His Word."
I wondered at her not a little. There was a light in her sweet face that I had never seen before, and something in her manner smote me to the heart, so that I bade her good-night and left her to sleep.
And ever since that night I have thought that Ruth spoke not of herself, for her words were fraught with prophecy.
For the next few days the four of us were very busy. We decided that if the work must be done it should be done at once, and we made ready without delay. I think Radisson, despite his words of that night, was eager to be off and away into the westing lands where no man had been, for it was ever his wont to seek beyond the known things.
The Crees were ready enough to help us with all that we asked. Uchichak it was who gave us his dogs and sled, whereon we loaded food and our fusils, with what store of powder and ball we had. It was settled that after the next heavy fall of snow we should set forth, and by the signs of the country the Crees declared that a storm was not far off.
Indeed, it came within the week—two days of heavy, drifting snow and high wind. And when it came we knew that ere long we would be parted from our little lass. But the manner of that parting, and the ending of it, was in no wise what we had looked forward to.