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Hope and Have; Fanny Grant Among the Indians

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CHAPTER XV. THE CONFERENCE. Mr. Grant, like all settlers and backwoodsmen, had a profound respect and veneration for his weapons. They were absolutely necessary for purposes of defence in a new country, and upon their skilful use often depended the supplies in the family larder. More coveted than any other property by the Indians, trappers and strollers of the prairies, he was obliged to secure them carefully, so that they should not be stolen; and Mr. Grant, in building his house, had provided the place behind the oven for their reception. One of the guns was a fowling-piece, and the other a rifle. The appropriate ammunition for each was kept in the secret closet with the weapon. For the revolver there was a plentiful supply of patent cartridges. Mr. Grant owned two of these arms, but the other he had taken with him. Like all western boys, Ethan French was accustomed to the use of the rifle and the fowling-piece, though he had never particularly distinguished himself as a marksman. It was a bold idea on his part to think of defending Fanny and himself from the attacks of the savages; but, desperate as was the thought, it was his only hope, for the Indians were murdering all who fell into their hands. There was a slight chance for him, which he was disposed to improve. Ethan evidently had some other purpose in view than that of merely defending himself and his companion from the savages—a purpose indicated by his capture of the Indian boy, though he had not had time to explain it to Fanny. He was firm and resolute, exhibiting a courage which no one would have supposed he possessed; indeed, we can hardly know what is in any person until he is tried in the fiery furnace. Fanny, too, had ceased to tremble. The firmness and determination of Ethan had inspired her with courage, and without stopping to consider the odds against him, she ventured to hope that his efforts would be crowned with some measure of success. The occupation of the last few moments was calculated to increase her courage, for "something to do" is always the best antidote for fear. She had bound the young savage, and secured him to the door, when Ethan appeared with the weapons; and now she anxiously waited the development of his next movement. "What are you going to do, Ethan?" she asked, as her companion walked to the door. "I don't know jest exactly what I'm go'n to do; but I'm go'n to do sunthin', as sure as you're alive. I reckon I've done sunthin' already, for them Injins hes come to a dead halt." "Can you see them?" "Yes, I kin. They look kinder anxious." The group of savages had gathered around the prostrate form of the squaw. She could not have been killed, or even very badly injured, by the blow she had received. Two of the party appeared to be at work over her, while the others, among whom Lean Bear was prominent, were holding a consultation near the spot. "I reckon I got 'em whar the har 's short," added Ethan, with something like a chuckle at his own cleverness. "What do you mean, Ethan?" asked Fanny, not yet able to comprehend the situation. "D'ye see that little Injin?" replied he, pointing at the prisoner. "Yes; and I wondered what you dragged him into the house for." "Don't you see his fine fixin's—his necklaces and his moccasons? I reckon that boy belongs to the big Injin." "You mean Lean Bear." "Yes, if that's his name. He looks enough like him to be his son. Gittin' him 's what made 'em stop short jist whar they was. I tell you we've got 'em whar the har 's short." "What are you going to do with him?" "Don't ye see?" replied Ethan, as he finished loading the last of the weapons. "I'm go'n to shoot some of them Injins; and ef they don't keep off I'm go'n to shoot the boy." "You wouldn't do that, Ethan." "You bet!" replied he, firmly, using more western slang than was necessary, though he was dependent upon such expressions for the force of his language. "But it would be wicked to kill the poor boy." "What's them Injins doin' to all the white folks?" "That is no reason why you should kill a harmless boy." "I don't want to kill him; it would make me feel bad to do any sech thing. Ef any of them Injins come near us, I'm go'n to show 'em what I kin do. Keep still now; one on 'em is comin' up this way." Ethan placed himself at one of the open windows, and cocked the rifle. One of the party was moving towards the house, apparently sent thither by Lean Bear, who appeared suddenly to have become very quiet and harmless. "See hyer, Fanny," said Ethan, still keeping his eye fixed on the approaching foe. "What shall I do?" asked Fanny. "Did you tie that little Injin's hands strong?" "As well as I could with my handkerchief." "Better do it better with the clothes line. Then undo his feet, and put a rope round his neck." "Around his neck!" exclaimed Fanny, horrified at the suggestion. "Jest to lead him by. We may want to quit this house reyther suddin." Fanny obeyed, satisfied that Ethan did not intend to hang the boy. The Indian, approaching the house, moved very slowly and cautiously, frequently stopping, and examining the house with great care. Ethan was on one of his knees, pointing the rifle at the single Indian, resting it on the sill of the window. When Lean Bear's messenger saw him, he came to a halt, and began to make earnest gestures, pointing to his belt, and throwing out his arms to indicate that he had no weapons. "What does that creetur want?" mused Ethan. "He wants to talk with you," replied Fanny, correctly interpreting his gestures. "I can't talk Injin—kin you?" "No; but some of the Indians talk English." "What ye want?" shouted Ethan, satisfied that the man's intentions were peaceful. "Talk! talk!" replied the messenger. "Kim along, then," replied Ethan. "That's jest what I want, too," he added, to Fanny. "I want to tell them Injins that this hyer boy will ketch fits if they don't let us be." The Indian, still gesticulating, continued to approach the house with cautious step. Ethan put aside the rifle, and took the revolver, which he was careful that the messenger should see. "Stop thyer!" said he, when the Indian had come within twenty feet of the house; and, at the same time, he elevated his pistol to enforce obedience to his order. "Me talk," said the messenger. "Well! what ye got to say?" asked Ethan. "You got Wahena—little Wahena." "Yes, sir!" replied Ethan, with emphasis. "I've got him, and I mean to keep him." "No keep! We want Wahena," continued the messenger. "No git him," added Ethan, who was inclined to be facetious at times, especially when the advantage was on his side. "Lean Bear's son. Big Lean Bear—little Wahena." "You can't hev him, nohow," said Ethan, decidedly. "Me get Wahena—you go 'way—no kill, no hurt." "You can't fool me." "No kill, no hurt." "No, yer don't!" "Give Wahena—no kill, no hurt," repeated the messenger, impressively. "You git out!" "No give Wahena, Lean Bear kill!" "Two kin play at that game," added Ethan, shaking his head. "Ef you don't quit, I'll kill the boy." "No kill Wahena!" cried the savage, evidently horrified at the threat. "Yes, I will, old boy, ef you don't all go off, and quit right away. I know what's what, 'n you can't fool me, nohow." "Why not give up the boy, if they will let us go?" asked Fanny. "You can't trust one o' them Injin creeturs no more'n you kin trust a rattlesnake, nohow. Jest fetch the boy here, and I'll show 'em what I mean." Fanny had fastened Wahena's hands more securely behind him, and attached one end of the line to his neck. She had removed the cord from his ankles, so that he could walk, while by the rope at his neck he could be kept under perfect control. Ethan took the line, and led the boy out at the door, where he was placed in full view of the savages. His captor still held the leaded pistol in his hand. "No kill Wahena!" shouted the messenger, fiercely. "I won't hurt him ef you all go off—go 'way—clear out—quit the ranch." "No hurt?" asked the Indian. "All go 'way," answered Ethan, pointing to the west with the revolver. "Give Wahena—all go." "No, sir!" "No give Wahena?" "I'll kill him ef them creeturs come hyer," said Ethan, sternly, as he pointed the pistol at the boy's head. "No kill Wahena!" shouted the messenger. "Tell 'em to keep back, then." This demonstration on the part of Ethan had been caused by the sudden movement of the savages towards the house. Their spokesman fortunately understood his meaning, and turning round, he shouted out a few words in the Indian dialect, accompanying them with violent gestures, which had the effect to stop the nearer approach of the band. As they moved back, Ethan lowered his weapon. Wahena did not flinch, nor exhibit any signs of terror while he was menaced with the pistol, though he looked stern and resolute, as he had probably been taught to be by his savage father. Ethan, finding that he had the power all in his own hands, walked a few paces nearer to the messenger, dragging his prisoner after him. It was not an easy matter to carry on a conversation with the savage, whose knowledge of the English language was limited to a few words; but after a long time, and a great deal of effort, he succeeded in making the Indian spokesman understand his intention. He refused to give up Wahena, but he promised that the boy should not be injured if the Indians would retire, and not attempt to molest Fanny or himself. He assured the messenger that he would kill the boy if the savages followed, or fired upon himself or his companion. It was a long and trying conference, and when the parties came to an understanding, the Indian withdrew to communicate the result to his chief. Ethan returned to the house with his prisoner, and from the window watched the movements of the foe, while he related to Fanny what had passed between himself and the messenger during the interview. "I reckon they'll do it, Fanny," said Ethan. "I hope they will." "When we are safe, they kin hev the Injin boy; I don't want him. I reckon it was a smart idee o' mine, ketchin' the young cub." "I think it was a very good idea. They would certainly have butchered us before this time if it hadn't been for him." "I reckon they would; but ef I knows myself, some on 'em would hev gone down fust." "I suppose the Indians have murdered a great many people." "I reckon they hev." "It's awful!" exclaimed Fanny, shuddering, as she glanced at the place where poor Mrs. Grant lay cold and still in death. "So 'tis, but 'tain't no use to think on't now; it makes a feller feel kind o' weak and sickly. We must figur' it out now." "Thanks to your good management, we may yet escape." "I reckon we will. Did you ever fire a pistil, Fanny?" "No, but I'm not afraid to do so." "Better take this, then, and I'll use the guns. I reckon it may be of use to you," added he, handing her the weapon. "Hokee!" suddenly exclaimed he, as he glanced out of the window. "What is it, Ethan?" "Them Injins is go'n off!" "So they are." "Mebbe they're comin' round to try us on t'other side of the house. Ef they be, I'm thar. You hold on to the little Injin, and I'll watch 'em." Ethan went to a window on the front of the house, and soon returned with the gratifying intelligence that the redskins were actually moving off in the direction of the burning buildings to the west of them. "How thankful we ought to be that we have been saved!" said Fanny. "Let us thank God with all our hearts, Ethan." "We can't stop to do no more prayin' now, Fanny. Besides, we ain't out o' the woods yet." "We need not stop to pray," replied Fanny, devoutly. "If the prayer is in our hearts, God will understand it." "I'm thankful, I'm sure, as a body kin be. Now, you git together everything you kin find to eat, and I'll git a wheelbarrer to fetch 'em down to the lake. Ef we kin only git on the island, I don't keer for all the redskins this side o' sundown." Wahena was tied up in such a way that he could not escape, and Fanny hurriedly collected everything in the shape of provisions which had escaped the depredations of the Indians. Ethan brought from the chambers an armful of blankets and bed-quilts, and the wheelbarrow was loaded with all it would contain. A bushel of potatoes, a leg of bacon, a bucket of corn-meal, a small supply of groceries, and a few cooking utensils, constituted the stock upon which they were mainly to depend for sustenance during their banishment from civilized life for they knew not how long a time. But both of the exiles were hopeful, though very sad, when they thought of the death and desolation they were leaving behind them. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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