The Settlers in Canada

It was in the first week of June that Malachi, when he was out in the woods, perceived an Indian, who came toward him. He was a youth of about twenty or twenty-one years old, tall and slightly made; he carried his bow and arrows and his tomahawk, but had no gun. Malachi was at that time sitting down on the trunk of a fallen tree; he was not more than two miles from the house, and had gone out with his rifle without any particular intent, unless it was that, as he expected he should soon receive some communication from the Indians, he wished to give them an opportunity of speaking to him alone. The Indian came up to where Malachi was, and took a seat by him, without saying a word.

"Is my son from the West?" said Malachi, in the Indian tongue, after a silence of one or two minutes.

"The Young Otter is from the West," replied the Indian. "The old men have told him of the Gray Badger, who has lived the life of a snake, and who has hunted with the fathers of those who are now old. Does my father live with the white man?"

"He lives with the white man," replied Malachi; "he has no Indian blood in his veins."

"Has the white man many in his lodge?" said the Indian.

"Yes; many young men and many rifles," replied Malachi.

The Indian did not continue this conversation, and there was a silence of some minutes. Malachi was convinced that the young Indian had been sent to intimate that Percival was alive and in captivity, and he resolved to wait patiently till he brought up the subject.

"Does not the cold kill the white man?" said the Indian, at last.

"No; the white man can bear the winter's ice as well as an Indian. He hunts as well, and brings home venison."

"Are all who came here with him now in the white man's lodge?"

"No, not all; one white child slept in the snow, and is in the land of spirits," replied Malachi.

Here there was a pause in the conversation for some minutes; at last the young Indian said—

"A little bird sang in my ear, and it said, The white man's child is not dead; it wandered about in the woods and was lost, and the Indian found him, and took him to his wigwam in the far west."

"Did not the little bird lie to the Young Otter?" replied Malachi.

"No; the little bird sang what was true," replied the Indian. "The white boy is alive and in the lodge of the Indian."

"There are many white men in the country who have children," replied Malachi; "and children are often lost. The little bird may have sung of the child of some other white man."

"The white boy had a rifle in his hand and snow-shoes on his feet."

"So have all they who go out to hunt in the winter's snow," replied Malachi.

"But the white boy was found near to the white man's lodge."

"Then why was not the boy taken back to the white man by the Indians who found him?"

"They were going to their own wigwams and could not turn aside; besides, they feared to come near to the white man's lodge after the sun was down; as my father says he has many young men and many rifles."

"But the white man does not raise his rifle against the Indian, whether he comes by day or by night," replied Malachi. "At night he kills the prowling wolf when he comes near to the lodge."

The Indian again stopped and was silent. He knew by the words of Malachi that the wolf's skin, with which the Indian had been covered when he was crawling to the palisades and had been shot by John, had been discovered. Malachi after a while renewed the conversation.

"Is the Young Otter of a near tribe?"

"The lodges of our tribe are twelve days' journey to the westward," replied the Indian.

"The chief of the Young Otter's band is a great warrior?"

"He is," replied the Indian.

"Yes," replied Malachi, "The 'Angry Snake' is a great warrior. Did he send the Young Otter to me to tell me that the white boy was alive and in his wigwam?"

The Indian again paused. He perceived that Malachi knew where he came from, and from whom. At last he said—

"It is many moons since the Angry Snake has taken care of the white boy, and has fed him with venison; many moons that he has hunted for him to give him food; and the white boy loves the Angry Snake as a father, and the Angry Snake loves the boy as his son. He will adopt him, and the white boy will be the chief of the tribe. He will forget the white men, and become red as an Indian."

"The boy is forgotten by the white man, who has long numbered him with the dead," replied Malachi.

"The white man has no memory," replied the Indian, "to forget so soon; but it is not so. He would make many presents to him who would bring back the boy."

"And what presents could he make?" replied Malachi; "the white man is poor, and hunts with his young men as the Indian does. What has the white man to give that the Indian covets? He has no whisky."

"The white man has powder, and lead, and rifles," replied the Indian; "more than he can use, locked up in his storehouse."

"And will the Angry Snake bring back the white boy if the white man gives him powder, and lead, and rifles?" inquired Malachi.

"He will make a long journey, and bring the white boy with him," replied the Indian; "but first let the white man say what presents he will give."

"He shall be spoken to," replied Malachi, "and his answer shall be brought, but the Young Otter must not go to the white man's lodge. A red-skin is not safe from the rifles of the young men. When the moon is at the full I will meet the Young Otter after the sun is down, at the eastern side of the long prairie. Is it good?"

"Good," replied the Indian, who rose, turned on his heel, and walked away into the forest.

When Malachi returned to the house, he took an opportunity of communicating to Alfred what had taken place. After some conversation, they agreed that they would make Captain Sinclair, who had that morning arrived from the fort, their confidant as to what had occurred, and decide with him upon what steps should be taken. Captain Sinclair was very much surprised, and equally delighted, when he heard that Percival was still alive, and warmly entered into the subject.

"The great question is, whether it would not be better to accede to the terms of this scoundrel of an Indian chief," observed Captain Sinclair. "What are a few pounds of powder and a rifle or two compared with the happiness which will be produced by the return of Percival to his parents, who have so long lamented him as dead?"

"It's not that, sir," replied Malachi. "I know that Mr. Campbell would give his whole store-room to regain his boy, but we must consider what will be the consequence if he does so. One thing is certain, that the Angry Snake will not be satisfied with a trifling present; he will ask many rifles, perhaps more than we have at the farm, and powder and shot in proportion; for he has mixed much with white people, especially when the French were here, and he knows how little we value such things, and how much we love our children. But, sir, in the first place, you supply him and his band with arms to use against us at any other time, and really make them formidable; and in the next place, you encourage him to make some other attempt to obtain similar presents—for he will not be idle. Recollect, sir, that we have in all probability killed one of their band, when he came to reconnoiter the house in the skin of a wolf, and that will never be forgotten, but revenged as soon as it can be. Now, sir, if we give him arms and ammunition, we shall put the means of revenge in his hands, and I should not be surprised to find us one day attacked by him and his band, and it may be, overpowered by means of these rifles which you propose to give him."

"There is much truth and much good sense in what you say, Malachi—indeed, I think it almost at once decides the point, and that we must not consent to his terms; but then what must we do to recover the boy?"

"That is the question which puzzles me," replied Alfred, "for I perfectly agree with Malachi, that we must not give him arms and ammunition, and I doubt if he would accept of any thing else."

"No, sir, that he will not, depend upon it," replied Malachi. "I think there is but one way that will give us a chance."

"What, then, is your idea, Malachi?"

"The Angry Snake with his band were tracking us, and had we not been too strong, would have attacked and murdered us all, that is clear. Not daring to do that, he has stolen Percival, and detains him, to return him at his own price. Now, sir, the Young Otter has come to us, and offers to come again. We have given him no pledge of safe conduct, and, therefore, when he comes again, we must have an ambush ready for him, and make him prisoner; but then you see, sir, we must have the assistance of the Colonel, for he must be confined at the fort; we could not well keep him at the farm. In the first place, it would be impossible then to withhold the secret from Mr. and Mrs. Campbell; and, in the next, we should have to be on the look-out for an attack every night for his rescue; but if the Colonel was to know the whole circumstances, and would assist us, we might capture the Indian lad and hold him as a hostage for Master Percival, till we could make some terms with the Angry Snake."

"I like your idea very much, Malachi," replied Captain Sinclair, "and if, Alfred, you agree with me, I will acquaint the Colonel with the whole of what has passed when I return to-night, and see if he will consent to our taking such a step. When are you to meet the Indian, Malachi?"

"In three days, that is on Saturday; it will be the full of the moon, and then I meet him at night, at the end of the prairie nearest to the fort, so that there will be no difficulty in doing all we propose without Mr. and Mrs. Campbell being aware of any thing that has taken place."

"I think we can not do better than you have proposed," said Alfred.

"Be it so, then," said Captain Sinclair. "I will be here again to-morrow—no, not to-morrow, but the day after will be better, and then I will give you the reply of the Colonel, and make such arrangements as may be necessary."