Menotah: A Tale of the Riel Rebellion

Lamont had been attracted by Menotah's artless beauty, her joyous laughter, and caressing ways. Satisfied with the fact that she loved him, her favours yet failed to stir the fire of his heart into a higher glow than admiration. But now that an Indian rival breathed opposition, the smouldering flame leapt up into fierce heat, and Menotah possessed two lovers.

The ghastly pallor, which in the Indian takes the place of the red anger flush, altered the dark hue of his features. 'Perhaps the white man spoke without thought. For why should he leave his own cities, to choose a bride from the lowly tents of the Cree? For him there is the wide world to choose from. But I have only this one hope, and it is more to me than the beauty of the world. I will listen again for an answer.'

'I have spoken,' said Lamont, stubbornly. 'I have no more to say.'

Then the Indian started forward suddenly, with vengeance in his face.

'Yet there is something beside. There is an oath. Swear that you will never speak to her on the heart's pain. Swear by the Spirit. Swear that you will not enter into her life.'

Lamont stepped against a straight pine, confident in his strength. 'Diable s'en mêle!' he muttered. Then to the Indian, 'Get back to the encampment, you crazy fool.'

Passion raged along every muscle of the grey-dark face. He cast aside control over voice and actions. 'Am I to lose Menotah after spending my life for her? You shall swear.' He came excitedly forward, with arms outreaching.

Two crows flapped heavily in the tree summits, with dismal croakings. 'Another step this way,' said Lamont, coolly, 'one more step, and the crows will have you. Your eyes will never see Menotah again.'

Yet he knew this threat was useless, for he understood the Indian character, which is a thing ruled by momentary flashes of strong impulse. The mental anarchy of the uncivilised mind is short-lived, yet overwhelming in consequence. The untrained body leaps from devotion to animosity, from obedience to open rebellion, in a moment. So with Muskwah, revenge was just then a higher passion than love.

As the anger-fire smouldered in his dark eyes, the long brown fingers worked towards the keen-edged knife, and he glided forward with the quick cunning of the grass snake.

Lamont smiled, while the sure right hand darted to his side. Half fronting he stood, with the left elbow crooked. But there was no descending flash of a bright muzzle, no sharp report, no dusky rival writing in death along the moss.

He was absolutely unarmed! At Justin's sudden entrance with the news of the boat arrival, the impetuous Factor had pulled him out without allowing time for complete equipment. Those weapons behind which he was a lion of courage were lying in the fort. He stood alone, confronted by a merciless rival, in the lonely forest of the Saskatchewan.

Still here was opportunity for displaying that vaunted courage of the all-conquering white before one of the defeated. He might stand up against him and fight with the natural weapons of despair, aided perhaps by the withered branch snapped from the near pine with strength of necessity. This Indian should be shown how fearlessly the white man could face danger or death.

With a shrill cry, Muskwah sprang at him. He staggered back a pace, blenching from the uplifted knife – then ran, with all the speed of his limbs, with all the white fear of the pursued.

The display of cowardice was needless, for the Indian rapidly overtracked him. Lamont turned suddenly, with the horror of feeling the cold slush of the knife in his back, and dropped to his knees. He was seized by the shoulders; he clutched his enemy by the body.

So together they fought in the solitude, while the sun revolved up the heavens, and the summer heat grew towards noon. Purple butterflies flashed unconcernedly in the greenish light over their heads; the blood-red kanikanik wands nodded; locusts whirred and hurled themselves strongly against the sweating bodies of the combatants. The beauty of Nature environed the hot human passions. On the extreme summit of a feather-pine, the carrion crows croaked and rocked in the soft breeze.

Muskwah's natural strength, aided by passion, which disregarded life safety, prevailed at length. His rival lay beneath his hands, pressed upon the white, flowering moss, his face rigid with increasing fear.

The victor's bosom rose and fell exultantly. 'The Spirit has given you into my power, and bidden me take revenge. Gaze for the last time on the world light, white man, before I draw darkness across your eyes with my knife.'

Lamont glared upward despairingly. The hands that held him trembled with the mighty flood of restrained anger. A knife quivered in hot white circles between his eyes and the furious face of his opponent.

All his subtle resource in emergency rose in a mighty effort for preservation of life. There was still a move to be made; desperate, but yet of possible success. He must pit his trained mind knowledge and power of will against the weak determination and brain of inexperience.

He was a splendid actor. So he nerved himself and laughed aloud.

Surprise partially disarmed the victor of his blind anger. Then came the words which caused his grip to loosen, —

'Pshaw! I will in a word take away strength from your arm. You dare not kill me.'

Muskwah stared upon the lively face of scorn, his own working in perplexity. 'Tell me why I should spare you,' he said wonderingly.

The answer came with a slow, cruel deliberation, 'Menotah loves me.'

He felt the finger clutch on his throat unfasten, as an overstrained necklet. He watched the light of knowledge dawning upon the heavy features. He had fired his shot, as at invisible foes under cover of night. Now he must follow up his words and make his advantage sure.

By his murder there would be nothing beyond the mere satisfaction of revenge. But Menotah would mourn and wear sorrow upon her 'heart of joy.' The Indian had declared entire devotion, yet he was now thirsting to perform an act which must surely bring suffering into her life. More, she might even learn, through the process of chance, whose hand it had been that had destroyed the life of him she loved.

'Kill me, you destroy your own happiness; spare my life – you may yet win her who has your love.'

Such arguments dashed against a weak knowledge to the overwhelming of desperation's anger. To the heart came well-nigh relinquished memories of self-pride and future hope. The dull brain spoke plainly. By satisfying longing for vengeance, he would banish into the impossible all life happiness. By extinguishing the flame of life he destroyed the light in Menotah's eyes. That which she approved was sacred, even though a rival. So he lifted his simple head, with the understanding that his opponent's words had brought salvation to three lives. It was again the triumph of the tongue.

Muskwah sheathed the long knife. 'Now you shall swear to leave this land, and return to your own place. Behold the black boat lies upon the waters, and in her you shall sail away, even as I said. You have stood at the outer door of life, while I was by your side ready to cast you into whirling vapour. Down you must have fallen, shadow amid shadows, while I might have gazed into the nether gloom, then stepped back to the life world. Will you swear not? Surely you shall return thither again. Then shall I come back alone. You are teaching me the ways of the world, white man.'

Sullenly Lamont struggled to a sitting posture. In the dim voice of hatred he muttered, 'I will swear to depart from this place, and never more speak of love to Menotah. That is the price I am to pay for life?'

'By the Great Spirit, the Totem of your being, the Light and Darkness, the River, and your own Gods,' chanted the Indian in his deep monotone.11

So Lamont swore.

CHAPTER IV

WHITE WINS

A distant but threatening thunder murmur broke from the heart of a bank of sulphurous clouds beating closely over the south. The deep sound rolled over the water and seemed to bury itself in the trembling ground. Then a serpent of fire writhed along the fringe of the cloud mass and disappeared, followed by another sullen roar.

It was a strange evening of wild colour and intense calm. Nothing in Nature stirred, except the wide stream of tinted waves. Sound there was absolutely none along the stifling atmosphere. Even mosquitoes were quiescent, and frogs silent.

Lamont came slowly towards the fort, threading a sinuous course among the black rock shapes. Every slight noise, such as the swishing aside of kanikaniks, the scraping of boot against stone, the crisp crackling of dry grass, became abnormal in that profound quiet. There was something almost ghastly in this terrific silence which could only precede some unnatural tumult.

'An electric storm,' he muttered. The whispered words became a shriek, and echoed back from the dark trees on the opposite bank. On such a night one might well shrink from even thought; for the silent action of the mind seemed able to create a derangement in the atmosphere.

But as he approached the fort, there were no lack of disturbing sounds. The Factor and Dave were sampling black H.B. and playing poker. Such things were never intended to be performed in silence. The two within made no attempt to infringe upon the rule of custom.

The solitary man came across the open space, longing for a breath of air, which might alter, if even for a moment, the statuesque rigidity of the pines, and break the panorama into shifting life. He rounded a jagged spar, and suddenly came upon the two horses, pulling at long tufts of grass that shot upward from damp recesses at the roots of the rock.

His appearance brought animation to the scene. The grey mare started and shivered, then sprang aside, her ears back, her mouth fiercely open. Lamont came nearer, and she twisted her neck to bring the single eye to bear upon the disturber of peace. When she beheld who it was, she again wheeled and lashed forth violently with her ragged hoofs. He sprang aside behind the rock with a startled oath, while Kitty cantered to the forest with many a frightened snort. The black horse followed.

With a distinct feeling of satisfaction that no witnesses had been present, Lamont walked to the door of the fort. As he entered, McAuliffe's deep tones struck jeeringly against his ear, —

'Three solid old women and a brace of bullets, Davey! No, lad, it's no use your trying to bluff a hair off my whiskers. Fixed you this time, sure. Jackpot, Davey!'

Five sticky cards dribbled from the Captain's shaking hand. 'You're a teaser, Alf,' he muttered thickly, speaking down his pipe. 'I'm water-logged, right enough. So let's ha' a drink.'

McAuliffe's huge hand closed round the bottle neck. You derned old tree-partridge! You didn't reckon there was a full house this side. Can't fool me with your measly flushes.'

The black liquor fell with a gurgle and splash into cracked glasses. Then Lamont came inside and seated himself.

'Come and take the pictures,' invited the Factor, genially. 'I've just cleaned out Davey here, and spoiling for another draw. Davey can't shake cards worth shucks.'

'Your opinion ain't up to a monkey's grin,' returned Dave, dogmatically. 'There's too many words and not enough sense for me.'

'It's all too deep for you, lad. That's the blessed fact. Your chip of brain was only allowed you for a bit of a show. 'Tisn't for use, Davey, and don't you make any mistake. Maybe there's enough to hold you outside an asylum, but it's a narrow margin, and wants careful looking after.'

'I ain't no Solomon,' said Dave, after a hearty sip at the ink-like compound. 'Reckon it's safer to be a fool than a wise man, Alf. A moonhead can say a slick thing once in a while and be none the worse, but darned if a clever chap can cut didoes. 'Twouldn't pay him by a jugful.'

Lamont sat in a corner and absorbed his brandy with slow gulps. A subtle scheme was simmering in his brain, which the fiery liquor now awoke to full activity. Presently he rose, then began to clean his deadly rifle.

McAuliffe was in splendid humour. He puffed out his beard, and slapped his chest comfortably. 'Nothing like a few drops of real stuff,' he proclaimed generally. ''Bout an hour's time I'll feel like talking nice.'

'Mind old Captain Robinson?' chimed in Dave. 'Lots of whiles I've started in to talk with him. When he got to reckon he was in for a brain-squeezer, he'd sort of walk sideways, and say, "Bide here a while, Dave, while fetch in something from the house." I'd just creep after and hear the chink of a bottle and glass at work. He always works up his talk that way. Then he'd be back, with the words fairly dropping off his tongue like a dog-sweat, "Now, Dave, you're wrong, and I'll tell you how."

'Then he'd settle right down for the hour. Wonderful fond of his own noise, was Captain. Never gave anyone else a bit of a show.

'I diddled him once,' chuckled Dave. 'We started in one day, least Captain did, till I fairly ached for a bit of chin-work. So I just pulled out a good cigar and handed it over sort of careless, 'though I didn't care if he took it or not. Captain can't ever refuse a cigar, so he stretched out for it, all the time talking for what he was worth. Then I brought out a match, pulled it along my pants, and held it over. He was a bit anxious and suspicious like, for he seemed to sort of think he was letting me in. Anyway he stuck his head up and tried to catch a light without stopping his bandy. 'Twasn't his racket that journey. A dose of smoke just travelled nice down his throat. Before he could swallow, I came right in and said, "Now, Captain, I'm going to show you where you make a mistake." I talked then till I got into a sweat, and my throat was dry as a hot pea. But I diddled him, sure.'

'You did so,' assented the Factor. 'Captain's a bad listener. He's got no use for doses of his own poison.'

Outside, the greyness which follows the deep colouring of the sunset was slowly assuming a darker hue, across which darted every few seconds a pale blue flash light. McAuliffe lit a greasy lamp with unsteady hands and replaced the smoked glass. Lamont sat silent, with the weapon lying across his knees, scarcely taking heed of the conversation going on beside him, until Dave suddenly struck a note of more immediate interest.

'No harm come to the gal, Alf?'

'Reckon you mean Menotah. Darn it, Dave, do you think we'd fix a woman?

'Accidents,' suggested Dave. 'She's right enough, eh?'

'Course. I'd spoil the man who harmed her, I reckon.'

'She's a daisy!' said the Captain, fervently. 'Twist her hair up some crazy way, hang a fine dress around her, and she'd knock the spots off any at Garry. She's a peach blossom, sure! I don't mind telling you straight, Alf, I'm thinking of doing the gal a first-class honour. I tell you, I'm going to make her Mrs Spencer. She's worth the honour, and don't you forget it, Alf.'

Lamont flashed a contemptuous glance at the insignificant speaker, while McAuliffe burst into a lusty roar of laughter, and slapped his great thigh repeatedly.

'Don't see what you're quirking at,' said Dave, sulkily. 'Ain't she good enough, Alf?'

'She's eighteen carat, 'Twas something else bothering me, Dave. I tell you, Davey, she's a girl of taste.'

'Well, what's the matter with me?' asked the other surlily.

'A looking glass would tell you straight. There's one t'other room. You're not so bad, Dave, now I come to think on it. But you don't make much of a picture to look at.' He doubled up and laughed again, while the sickly light darted across the window.

Dave sat back with an injured air. 'Gals are too darned particular. Many a one I've tried to hitch on to, but they've always broken loose and gone after someone else with dollars, or a different twist to the nose from mine.'

'Never mind, Davey,' said the Factor, encouragingly. 'There'll be some old woman waiting on you presently, with a beauty show certificate.'

The Captain swore. 'There's no finding out what they're driving at. One gal now – Elsie they called her – I felt pretty well sure of. She seemed to kind of catch on, so I thought 'twas just a case of picking when I wanted. One Sunday I made up a few nice sentences, with a sort of poetry jingle. Chose a soft grass spot, I did, tumbled on my knee bones, and asked her if she'd hold on to me. Well, she thought, 'bout as cool as though I'd asked her to name her drink, then said she reckoned the investment wouldn't be profitable enough. That's the way they all go. I never gave her another chance, bet you, Alf.'

Then they fell back to their poker playing. The night drew on, while the power of the electric storm grew mightier and more awful. So another two hours passed.

Inside the fort, the yellow lamp light flickered dully within a soot-covered glass. Its use was superfluous, as the incessant lightning kept the room flooded in a wild radiance. Without, the stupendous silence was appalling – a silence amid the crashing and roar of the heavens, which but threw the dreadful intervals into more powerful relief. It was undoubtedly a furious storm, yet not a pine branch stirred, not a grass stem quivered, not a speck of dust travelled in airy course; a feather would scarce have found air to float it; the waters of the Saskatchewan coiled in sluggish circles like oil. Still, from a thousand points of the copper-coloured sky, lightning streamed and twisted in furious revelry, before disappearing in a flood of angry contortions as fresh fire darted into the dead wake. Then that fearful pause of silence indescribable. After, dull booming of distant artillery, or waspish whinings of kettledrums.

From the forest limit sped Menotah, with cloak drawn over her hair, hurrying for the shelter of the fort. She held a rough willow box, which she anxiously opened when she reached the clearing. The electric light darted down and converted the contents into a liquid flood of red light. From side to side the breathless life streamed, crossing and recrossing in waving threads of gold. This was safe, so she darted across the open, shrank from a descending flame, which hissed between her body and the door, then entered boldly, though half dazed and breathing quickly.

Sprawling across the table, his huge head lying upon his hands, she beheld the Chief Factor, mumbling in incoherent phrases. Opposite, bolt upright, balanced on an insecure box and sucking at an empty pipe, appeared Dave Spencer, howling in his coarse voice some unintelligible song and beating time with an empty bottle which dribbled down his arm. The girl's bright eyes passed from one to the other, while presently she began to laugh softly at the two unmeaning comedians.

Lamont, in the corner, with elbows upon knees and face hidden between his hands, she did not at first perceive. It seemed to him as though he had suddenly been forced off his own circle of life and been brought into contact with beings unknown, of different form and custom. His present environment was unnatural and visionary. Even Dave's mechanical expletives were insufficient to dispel the illusion. When the girl appeared, like a visible portion of the surrounding silence, he regarded her as some fresh vagary of Nature, or creation of the storm. He blinked his eyes, with the dim idea of seeing her disappear from vision. But when the cloak fell back and the softly cut features of Menotah were upraised in the blue light, he reflected, – first, on Sinclair's poor body, rotting in some thick tangle of bush; then on Muskwah, full of life, hope and vengeance.

When she laughed, he started at the sound of contrast, and overturned the cracked glass beside him. Then he rose, crushed the broken fragments, and came towards the girl with a low-toned question on his lips, 'Why are you here?'

She looked up gladly. Then he noticed her fingers closing round the willow box.

'I was in the forest when the fire was cast at my head, so I hastened here.'

The vagrant thoughts fled off on another tack. He kept his eyes fixed upon the girl's countenance. She drew back frightened.

'Your eyes are still and cold. Your lips move, yet there is no word-sound. You did not look at me so – in the forest, when the white moon peeped over the ledges.'

He cast off the glamour of illusion, and asked again, 'Why have you come?'

'I told you,' said Menotah, pettishly. 'You did not attend, for you have been drinking the strong waters – '

'No, I haven't,' interrupted Lamont. 'I have scarcely tasted the stuff. Why are you out on such a night?'

'The spirits of the dead call us in the storm,' said she fearfully. 'They shriek in the thunder; their hollow eyes stare from the lightning; their cold breath beats in the rain. It is terrible to stay within, and hear them fighting. Yet it may be death to venture outside.'

'Why did you?'

She touched the box with light finger tips. 'I kept this buried beneath a forest tree; but I feared lest a Spirit might snatch it in the storm.'

Lamont laughed. 'Spirits could steal away nothing.'

'They breathe, and the substance vanishes; they touch, and it melts. Often have I seen the wind carrying a tree uprooted. I have also looked upon a tent borne on the storm. There is a Spirit in the wind.'

A furious roar of thunder convulsed the dread silence. As it died away, Dave burst into renewed howlings, and commenced an attack upon the table with the black bottle.

'You shouldn't have come here.'

'Why not?'

'Two drunken men – and you.' He shrugged his shoulders.

'But when a man drinks much strong water, he is helpless. Besides, you are here.'

Dave staggered to his irregular feet, dimly conscious that someone was speaking close at hand, and fell heavily into Lamont's arms.

'Come – have something – to drink, Alfy. Haven't had good drink – with you – long time.'

Arousing to the fact that his name had been pronounced, McAuliffe uplifted a strange, shaggy face, to stare helplessly around.

'That 'ud be Dave – old Davey Spencer. Talking through his hat as usual. No good listening – what he says. He ain't of no account.'

Dave threw his hot arms around Lamont's neck. 'Alfy – you good fellow,' he slobbered. 'Heard boys run you down – say old Alf McAuliffe wasn't much good anyway. I've given it 'em straight. Your old pal, Davey, will stay right by you.'

McAuliffe stuck a bottle to the perpendicular on the sloppy table, and lectured it with wagging beard, —

'No use at all for chaps that have a lot to say for themselves – no derned bit of good, they ain't! There's Dave Spencer, now – he's one of 'em. Corks me, he do! I've been talking to him to-night – not a single sense-bug under his wool. Can't argue worth shucks. Sits sucking a glass and stares like a derned old owl whenever I talk straight – squirms like a pesky fish trying to get back to water. It's a terrible waste of time for fellow like me – lots of brains – to argue with a wooden chunk like Dave. Don't you forget it now. What I'm saying's the right thing.'

'Damn you, keep off!' shouted Lamont, throwing the unsteady Captain back against the wall.

'Not going back on friends, Alfy – not on old Davey Spencer? Always drunk fair with you – never took lager when you had whisky. Just shake, Alf – show no ill feeling. Then we'll go for a walk and have something – ter'ble long time 'tween drinks. My treat, Alf.'

'Get a move on, then!' cried the Factor. He rose clumsily. 'Seems to be a bit of a storm coming around. Don't matter, though. Hook your arm in mine, Davey.'

But then Lamont caught the speaker and pulled him back to the inner room.

McAuliffe struggled like a bear. 'There'll be trouble here!' he howled. 'A fellow can do what he darned well likes in a free country!'

'You'll get twisted up by lightning first thing if you go out.'

'We'll try, anyhow,' hiccoughed the Factor, smiling pleasantly.

'Can't spare you,' muttered the other. 'Come along with me. I'll stay with you, and bring along a stiff eye-opener.'

'You're the stuff!' chuckled McAuliffe. 'I'm right with you. Never mind Davey; haven't got much an opinion of him. Sort of chap to stand you a drink, then make you pay for it. We'll go for a stroll presently, eh? Sun shining nice and bright. I want to pick some pretty flowers for my gal.'

Lamont laughed cynically, and dumped the great body on the heap of clothes which stood for a bed. He stood by to check any inclination to rise, until he was recalled to the office by a sound of scuffling and an indignant cry. Then he remembered Dave.