Billy Topsail & Company: A Story for Boys

“‘That’s all!’ Landley cried. ‘I’ve done no harm. Don’t give me up to them.’

“‘I won’t,’ McLeod said, positively. ‘You’re safe here until they prove you blood-guilty. I’ll not give you up.’”

Old David Grey paused; and Jimmie demanded:

“Did they give un up?”

“Was they wild Indians?” Bagg gasped.

David laughed. “You just wait and see,” said he.

CHAPTER XIII

In Which There Are Too Many Knocks At the Gate, a Stratagem Is Successful, Red Feather Draws a Tomahawk, and an Indian Girl Appears On the Scene

“McLeod turned on his heel and went to the shop,” David continued; “and when he had ordered a watch to be kept on the clearing on all sides, we devoted ourselves to the matter in hand–the preparation of the regular quarterly statement for the officials at headquarters. But as we laboured, hatchets, knives and the cruel, evil faces of the savages, by whom, as I chose to think, we were threatened, mixed themselves with the figures, to my bewilderment.

“Soon the dusk came, and while I trimmed and lighted the candles in the shadowy outer room there seemed to be shapes in the corners which I had never seen there in quieter times. McLeod, however, was unperturbed. He had forgotten all about the numerous band which he stood ready to defy.

“‘Do you think there is danger?’ said I.

“‘Danger?’ said he. ‘From what?’

“‘Buffalo Horn’s band,’ said I.

“‘Nonsense!’ said he. ‘What is that last total? There seems to be a shilling and sixpence missing here.’

“At that moment one of the helpers came in. He was visibly excited–like a man who bears tidings.

“‘Red Feather is at the gate,’ he said.

“‘Is he alone?’ said McLeod.

“‘Yes, sir. We made sure of that.’

“‘Fetch him here,’ said the factor, calmly. ‘Take Tom and Tobias to the gate, and don’t let Red Feather hold it open.’

“Red Feather was soon brought in. He was the chief of the band, an old, crafty Indian, chief in name, but inferior in authority to Buffalo Horn, who was chief in fact. McLeod continued his work.

“‘Let us talk,’ said Red Feather, at last.

“He spoke in his own tongue, which I shall interpret freely for you. McLeod put his pen aside and faced about.

“‘What have we to talk about?’ he asked. ‘The trading is done. You have your supplies. There is no business between us.’

“‘We have the white man to talk about,’ said Red Feather. ‘He has killed a child of our tribe, and you have given him refuge here. He has killed the son of Buffalo Horn with the evil eye. He must be put to death.’

“‘I know this man,’ said McLeod. ‘He has not the evil eye. He has killed no man, and he shall not be given up.’

“‘His life is forfeit to the tribe.’

“‘His life is in my keeping. I have said that he shall not lose it. Am I the man to break my word?’

“‘You have kept your word between us,’ said Red Feather. ‘You are not the man to break your word.’

“‘What business, then, lies between us? Our talk is done.’

“The guard at the gate interrupted. ‘There is a man knocking at the gate,’ he said.

“‘It is my brother,’ said Red Feather. ‘He comes to join the talk. Let him in.’

“‘Open the gate,’ said McLeod.

“It was growing dark. I went with the guard to admit the brother of Red Feather. Dusk had fallen over the clearing. The sky was overcast; in half an hour it would be deep night, the clearing one with the forest. But we opened the gate. A tall Indian stalked in. He was alone, and I knew him for the brother of Red Feather. I followed him to the shop, making sure first that the bar was in place.

“‘Let us have the white man,’ he said to McLeod. ‘Let the peace between us continue.’

“McLeod perceived the threat. He was not a rash man. He had no wish to provoke a conflict, but he had no thought of surrendering the refugee. As for me, my trust was in the stockade.

“‘I will talk with the white man,’ he said.

“The factor was gone for half an hour. He secreted Landley, inspected the defenses, gathered the women and children in the blockhouse, and returned to the council.

“‘The white man is not blood-guilty,’ he said, proudly. ‘I have promised him protection and he shall have it.’

“Again the helper came. ‘There is another knock at the gate,’ said he.

“‘Who is there?’ said McLeod.

“‘It’s so dark I can’t see,’ said the helper.

“‘The man is my cousin,’ said Red Feather. ‘He has come to talk with us. Let him in, for he is a wise man and may help us.’

“‘Open the gate,’ said McLeod.

“We sat silent, waiting for the cousin of Red Feather, the wise man who might help us. I heard the rattle of the bar as the helper lifted it, then the creak of the gate. Then a furious outcry, a confusion of howls and screams, a war-whoop and a rush of feet. The Indians were within the stockade. A moment later they burst into the shop and advanced upon us, uttering blood-curdling whoops and brandishing their hatchets and knives. McLeod reached for the musket above the desk, but before his fingers touched it Red Feather caught him by the arms, and with the help of the brother made him prisoner. At the same instant I was secured.

“‘Let us strike! Let us strike!’ the Indians kept shouting, all the while dancing about us, flourishing their weapons.

“The danger was real and terrible. We were at the mercy of the band, and at that moment I did not doubt that they were bent on murder and pillage. There had been a cruel massacre at Fort Pine but a few months before. The story was fresh in my mind. That crime had gone unpunished; nor was it likely that a sufficient force would be sent west to give the band their due. There was nothing now to deter Red Feather’s men from committing a similar outrage. We were remote from our kind, on the edge of a wilderness into which escape was a simple matter. Our guns, as I have said, had been our law and defense, and we were now utterly in the power of our enemies.

“‘Let us strike! Let us strike!’ was the cry.

“Buffalo Horn had come in with the band. It was soon evident that to the restraining influence of his presence was due our respite. He waved his braves back. They withdrew and became quiet.

“‘Will you give the murderer of my child to our tribe?’ the chief said to McLeod.

“‘He is no longer mine to give,’ said the factor.