the last of the plainsmen-第16章

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arp　and　peculiarly　farsightedthe　Indian　sight；　Jones　assured　me；　and　I　kept　them　searching　the　walls　in　such　places　as　my　companions　overlooked。　Presently；　under　a　large；　bulging　bluff；　I　saw　a　dark　spot；　which　took　the　shape　of　a　figure。　This　figure；　I　recollected；　had　been　presented　to　my　sight　more　than　once；　and　now　it　stopped　me。　The　hard　climb　up　the　slippery　stones　was　fatiguing；　but　I　did　not　hesitate；　for　I　was　determined　to　know。　Once　upon　the　ledge；　I　let　out　a　yell　that　quickly　set　my　companions　in　my　direction。　The　figure　I　had　seen　was　a　dark；　red　devil；　a　painted　image；　rude；　unspeakably　wild；　crudely　executed；　but　painted　by　the　hand　of　man。　The　whole　surface　of　the　cliff　wall　bore　figures　of　all　shapesmen；　mammals；　birds　and　strange　devices；　some　in　red　paint；　mostly　in　yellow。　Some　showed　the　wear　of　time；　others　were　clear　and　sharp。

Wallace　puffed　up　to　me；　but　he　had　wind　enough　left　for　another　whoop。　Jones　puffed　up　also；　and　seeing　the　first　thing　a　rude　sketch　of　what　might　have　been　a　deer　or　a　buffalo；　he　commented　thus：　〃Darn　me　if　I　ever　saw　an　animal　like　that？　Boys；　this　is　a　find；　sure　as　you're　born。　Because　not　even　the　Piutes　ever　spoke　of　these　figures。　I　doubt　if　they　know　they're　here。　And　the　cowboys　and　wranglers；　what　few　ever　get　by　here　in　a　hundred　years；　never　saw　these　things。　Beats　anything　I　ever　saw　on　the　Mackenzie；　or　anywhere　else。〃

The　meaning　of　some　devices　was　as　mystical　as　that　of　others　was　clear。　Two　blood…red　figures　of　men；　the　larger　dragging　the　smaller　by　the　hair；　while　he　waved　aloft　a　blood…red　hatchet　or　club；　left　little　to　conjecture。　Here　was　the　old　battle　of　men；　as　old　as　life。　Another　group；　two　figures　of　which　resembled　the　foregoing　in　form　and　action；　battling　over　a　prostrate　form　rudely　feminine　in　outline；　attested　to　an　age　when　men　were　as　susceptible　as　they　are　in　modern　times；　but　more　forceful　and　original。　An　odd　yellow　Indian　waved　aloft　a　red　hand；　which　striking　picture　suggested　the　idea　that　he　was　an　ancient　Macbeth；　listening　to　the　knocking　at　the　gate。　There　was　a　character　representing　a　great　chief；　before　whom　many　figures　lay　prostrate；　evidently　slain　or　subjugated。　Large　red　paintings；　in　the　shape　of　bats；　occupied　prominent　positions；　and　must　have　represented　gods　or　devils。　Armies　of　marching　men　told　of　that　blight　of　nations　old　or　youngwar。　These；　and　birds　unnamable；　and　beasts　unclassable；　with　dots　and　marks　and　hieroglyphics；　recorded　the　history　of　a　bygone　people。　Symbols　they　were　of　an　era　that　had　gone　into　the　dim　past；　leaving　only　these　marks；　｛Symbols　recording　the　history　of　a　bygone　people。｝　forever　unintelligible；　yet　while　they　stood；　century　after　century；　ineffaceable；　reminders　of　the　glory；　the　mystery；　the　sadness　of　life。

〃How　could　paint　of　any　kind　last　so　long？　asked　Jones；　shaking　his　head　doubtfully。

〃That　is　the　unsolvable　mystery；〃　returned　Wallace。　〃But　the　records　are　there。　I　am　absolutely　sure　the　paintings　are　at　least　a　thousand　years　old。　I　have　never　seen　any　tombs　or　paintings　similar　to　them。　Snake　Gulch　is　a　find；　and　I　shall　some　day　study　its　wonders。〃

Sundown　caught　us　within　sight　of　Oak　Spring；　and　we　soon　trotted　into　camp　to　the　welcoming　chorus　of　the　hounds。　Frank　and　the　others　had　reached　the　cabin　some　hours　before。　Supper　was　steaming　on　the　hot　coals　with　a　delicious　fragrance。

Then　came　the　pleasantest　time　of　the　day；　after　a　long　chase　or　jauntthe　silent　moments；　watching　the　glowing　embers　of　the　fire；　the　speaking　moments　when　a　red…blooded　story　rang　clear　and　true；　the　twilight　moments；　when　the　wood…smoke　smelled　sweet。

Jones　seemed　unusually　thoughtful。　I　had　learned　that　this　preoccupation　in　him　meant　the　stirring　of　old　associations；　and　I　waited　silently。　By　and　by　Lawson　snored　mildly　in　a　corner；　Jim　and　Frank　crawled　into　their　blankets；　and　all　was　still。　Walllace　smoked　his　Indian　pipe　and　hunted　in　firelit　dreams。

〃Boys；〃　said　our　leader　finally；　〃somehow　the　echoes　dying　away　in　that　cave　reminded　me　of　the　mourn　of　the　big　white　wolves　in　the　Barren　Lands。

Wallace　puffed　huge　clouds　of　white　smoke；　and　I　waited；　knowing　that　I　was　to　hear　at　last　the　story　of　the　Colonel's　great　adventure　in　the　Northland。



CHAPTER　8。　NAZA！　NAZA！　NAZA！

It　was　a　waiting　day　at　Fort　Chippewayan。　The　lonesome；　far…northern　Hudson's　Bay　Trading　Post　seldom　saw　such　life。　Tepees　dotted　the　banks　of　the　Slave　River　and　lines　of　blanketed　Indians　paraded　its　shores。　Near　the　boat　landing　a　group　of　chiefs；　grotesque　in　semi…barbaric；　semicivilized　splendor；　but　black…browed；　austere…eyed；　stood　in　savage　dignity　with　folded　arms　and　high…held　heads。　Lounging　on　the　grassy　bank　were　white　men；　traders；　trappers　and　officials　of　the　post。

All　eyes　were　on　the　distant　curve　of　the　river　where；　as　it　lost　itself　in　a　fine…fringed　bend　of　dark　green；　white…glinting　waves　danced　and　fluttered。　A　June　sky　lay　blue　in　the　majestic　stream；　ragged；　spear…topped；　dense　green　trees　massed　down　to　the　water；　beyond　rose　bold；　bald…knobbed　hills；　in　remote　purple　relief。

A　long　Indian　arm　stretched　south。　The　waiting　eyes　discerned　a　black　speck　on　the　green；　and　watched　it　grow。　A　flatboat；　with　a　man　standing　to　the　oars；　bore　down　swiftly。

Not　a　red　hand；　nor　a　white　one；　offered　to　help　the　voyager　in　the　difficult　landing。　The　oblong；　clumsy；　heavily　laden　boat　surged　with　the　current　and　passed　the　dock　despite　the　boatman's　efforts。　He　swung　his　craft　in　below　upon　a　bar　and　roped　it　fast　to　a　tree。　The　Indians　crowded　above　him　on　the　bank。　The　boatman　raised　his　powerful　form　erect；　lifted　a　bronzed　face　which　seemed　set　in　craggy　hardness；　and　cast　from　narrow　eyes　a　keen；　cool　glance　on　those　above。　The　silvery　gleam　in　his　fair　hair　told　of　years。

Silence；　impressive　as　it　was　ominous；　broke　only　to　the　rattle　of　camping　paraphernalia；　which　the　voyager　threw　to　a　level；　grassy　bench　on　the　bank。　Evidently　this　unwelcome　visitor　had　journeyed　from　afar；　and　his　boat；　sunk　deep　into　the　water　with　its　load　of　barrels；　boxes　and　bags；　indicated　that　the　journey　had　only　begun。　Significant；　too；　were　a　couple　of　long　Winchester　rifles　shining　on　a　tarpaulin。

The　cold…faced　crowd　stirred　and　parted　to　permit　the　passage　of　a　tall；　thin；　gray　personage　of　official　bearing；　in　a　faded　military　coat。

〃Are　you　the　musk…ox　hunter？〃　he　asked；　in　tones　that　contained　no　welcome。

The　boatman　greeted　this　peremptory　interlocutor　with　a　cool　laugha　strange　laugh；　in　which　the　muscles　of　his　face　appeared　not　to　play。

〃Yes；　I　am　the　man；〃　he　said。

〃The　chiefs　of　the　Chippewayan　and　Great　Slave　tribes　have　been　apprised　of　your　coming。　They　have　held　council　and　are　here　to　speak　with　you。〃

At　a　motion　from　the　commandant；　the　line　of　chieftains　piled　down　to　the　level　bench　and　formed　a　half…circle　before　the　voyager。　To　a　man　who　had　stood　before　grim　Sitting　Bull　and　noble　Black　Thunder　of　the　Sioux；　and　faced　the　falcon…eyed　Geronimo；　and　glanced　over　the　sights　of　a　rifle　at　gorgeous…feathered；　wild；　free　Comanches；　this　semi…circle　of　savageslords　of　the　northwas　a　sorry　comparison。　Bedaubed　and　betrinketed；　slouchy　and　slovenly；　these　low…statured　chiefs　belied　in　appearance　their　scorn…bright　eyes　and　lofty　mien。　They　made　a　sad　group。

One　who　spoke　in　unintelligible　language；　rolled　out　a　haughty；　sonorous　voice　over　the　listening　multitude。　When　he　had　finished；　a　half…breed　interpreter；　in　the　dress　of　a　white　man；　spoke　at　a　signal　from　the　commandant。

〃He　says　listen　to　the　great　orator　of　the　Chippewayan。　He　has　summoned　all　the　chiefs　of　the　tribes　south　of　Great　Slave　Lake。　He　has　held　council。　The　cunning　of　the　pale…face；　who　comes　to　take　the　musk…oxen；　is　well　known。　Let　the　pale…face　hunter　return　to　his　own　hunting…grounds；　let　him　turn　his　face　from　the　north。　Never　will　the　chiefs　permit　the　white　man　to　take　musk…oxen　alive　from　their　country。　The　Ageter；　the　Musk…ox；　is　their　god。　He　gives　them　food　and　fur。　He　will　never　come　back　if　he　is　taken　away；　and　the　reindeer　will　follow　him。　The　chiefs　and　their　people　would　starve。　They　command　the　pale…face　hunter　to　go　back。　They　cry　Naza！　Naza！　Naza！〃

〃Say；　for　a　thousand　miles　I've　heard　that　word　Naza！〃　returned　the　hunter；　with　mingled　curiosity　and　disgust。　〃At　Edmonton　Indian　runners　started　ahead　of　me；　and　every　village　I　struck　the　redskins　would　crowd　round　me　and　an　old　chief　would　harangue　at　me；　and　motion　me　back；　and　point　north　with　Naza！　Naza！　Naza！　What　does　it　mean？〃

〃No　white　man　knows；　no　Indian　will　tell；〃　answered　the　interpreter。　〃The　traders　think　it　means　the　Great　Slave；　the　North　Star；　the　North　Spirit；　the　North　Wind；　the　North　Lights　and　the　musk…ox　god。〃

〃Well；　say　to　the　chiefs　to　tell　Ageter　I　have　been　four　moons　on　the　way　after　some　of　his　little　Ageters；　and　I'm　going　to　keep　on　after　them。〃

〃Hunter；　you　are　most　unwise；〃　broke　in　the　commandant；　in　his　officious　voice。　〃The　Indians　will　never　permit　you　to　take　a　musk…ox　alive　from　the　north。　They　worship　him；　pray　to　him。　It　is　a　wonder　you　have　not　been　stopped。〃

〃Who'll　stop　me？〃

〃The　Indians。　They　will　kill　you　if　you　do　not　turn　back。〃

〃Faugh！　to　tell　an　American　plainsman　that！〃　The　hunter　paused　a　steady　moment；　with　his　eyelids　narrowing　over　slits　of　blue　fire。　〃There　is　no　law　to　keep　me　out；　nothing　but　Indian　superstition　and　Naza！　And　the　greed　of　the　Hudson's　Bay　people。　I　am　an　old　fox；　not　to　be　fooled　by　pretty　baits。　For　years　the　officers　of　this　fur…trading　company　have　tried　to　keep　out　explorers。　Even　Sir　John　Franklin；　an　Englishman；　could　not　buy　food　of　them。　The　policy　of　the　company　is　to　side　with　the　Indians；　to　keep　out　traders　and　trappers。　Why？　So　they　can　keep　on　cheating　the　poor　savages　out　of　clothing　and　food　by　trading　a　few　trinkets　and　blankets；　a　little　tobacco　and　rum　for　millions　of　dollars　worth　of　furs。　Have　I　failed　to　hire　man　after　man；　Indian　after　Indian；　not　to　know　why　I　cannot　get　a　helper？　Have　I；　a　plainsman；　come　a　thousand　miles　alone　to　be　scared　by　you；　or　a　lot　of　craven　Indians？　Have　I　been　dreaming　of　musk…oxen　for　forty　years；　to　slink　south　now；　when　I　begin　to　feel　the　north？　Not　I。〃

Deliberately　every　chief；　with　the　sound　of　a　hissing　snake；　spat　in　the　hunter's　face。　He　stood　immovable　while　they　perpetrated　the　outrage；　then　calmly　wiped　his　cheeks；　and　in　his　strange；　cool　voice；　addressed　the　interpreter。

〃Tell　them　thus　they　show　their　true　qualities；　to　insult　in　council。　Tell　them　they　are　not　chiefs；　but　dogs。　Tell　them　they　are　not　even　squaws；　only　poor；　miserable　starved　dogs。　Tell　them　I　turn　my　back　on　them。　Tell　them　the　paleface　has　fought　real　chiefs；　fierce；　bold；　like　eagles；　and　he　turns　his　back　on　dogs。　Tell　them　he　is　the　one　who　could　teach　them　to　raise　the　musk…oxen　and　the　reindeer；　and　to　keep　out　the　cold　and　the　wolf。　But　they　are　blinded。　Tell　them　the　hunter　goes　north。〃

Through　the　council　of　chiefs　ran　a　low　mutter；　as　of　gathering　thunder。

True　to　his　word；　the　hunter　turned　his　back　on　them。　As　he　brushed　by；　his　eye　caught　a　gaunt　savage　slipping　from　the　boat。　At　the　hunter's　stern　call；　the　Indian　leaped　ashore；　and　started　to　run。　He　ha