"That is better," said Cameron cheerfully."Now we will look in upon these fire-eaters."Sharp to the right they turned behind a cliff, and then back almost upon their trail, still to the right, through a screen of spruce and poplar, and found themselves in a hole of a rock that lengthened into a tunnel blacker than the night outside.Pursuing this tunnel some little distance they became aware of a light that grew as they moved toward it into a fire set in the middle of a wide cavern.The cavern was of irregular shape, with high-vaulted roof, open to the sky at the apex and hung with glistening stalactites.The floor of this cavern lay slightly below them, and from their position they could command a full view of its interior.
The sides of the cavern round about were crowded with tawny faces of Indians arranged rank upon rank, the first row seated upon the ground, those behind crouching upon their haunches, those still farther back standing.In the center of the cavern and with his face lit by the fire stood the Sioux Chief, Onawata.
"Copperhead! By all that's holy!" cried Cameron.
"Onawata!" exclaimed the half-breed."What he mak' here?""What is he saying, Jerry? Tell me everything--quick!" commanded Cameron sharply.
Jerry was listening with eager face.
"He mak' beeg spik," he said.
"Go on!"
"He say Indian long tam' 'go have all country when his fadder small boy.Dem day good hunting--plenty beaver, mink, moose, buffalo like leaf on tree, plenty hit (eat), warm wigwam, Indian no seeck, notting wrong.Dem day Indian lak' deer go every place.Dem day Indian man lak' bear 'fraid notting.Good tam', happy, hunt deer, keel buffalo, hit all day.Ah-h-h! ah-h-h!" The half-breed's voice faded in two long gasps.
The Sioux's chanting voice rose and fell through the vaulted cavern like a mighty instrument of music.His audience of crowding Indians gazed in solemn rapt awe upon him.A spell held them fixed.The whole circle swayed in unison with his swaying form as he chanted the departed glories of those happy days when the red man roamed free those plains and woods, lord of his destiny and subject only to his own will.The mystic magic power of that rich resonant voice, its rhythmic cadence emphasized by the soft throbbing of the drum, the uplifted face glowing as with prophetic fire, the tall swaying form instinct with exalted emotion, swept the souls of his hearers with surging tides of passion.Cameron, though he caught but little of its meaning, felt himself irresistibly borne along upon the torrent of the flowing words.He glanced at Jerry beside him and was startled by the intense emotion showing upon his little wizened face.
Suddenly there was a swift change of motif, and with it a change of tone and movement and color.The marching, vibrant, triumphant chant of freedom and of conquest subsided again into the long-drawn wail of defeat, gloom and despair.Cameron needed no interpreter.
He knew the singer was telling the pathetic story of the passing of the day of the Indian's glory and the advent of the day of his humiliation.With sharp rising inflections, with staccato phrasing and with fierce passionate intonation, the Sioux wrung the hearts of his hearers.Again Cameron glanced at the half-breed at his side and again he was startled to note the transformation in his face.Where there had been glowing pride there was now bitter savage hate.For that hour at least the half-breed was all Sioux.
His father's blood was the water in his veins, the red was only his Indian mother's.With face drawn tense and lips bared into a snarl, with eyes gleaming, he gazed fascinated upon the face of the singer.In imagination, in instinct, in the deepest emotions of his soul Jerry was harking back again to the savage in him, and the savage in him thirsting for revenge upon the white man who had wrought this ruin upon him and his Indian race.With a fine dramatic instinct the Sioux reached his climax and abruptly ceased.
A low moaning murmur ran round the circle and swelled into a sobbing cry, then ceased as suddenly as there stepped into the circle a stranger, evidently a half-breed, who began to speak.He was a French Cree, he announced, and delivered his message in the speech, half Cree, half French, affected by his race.
He had come fresh from the North country, from the disturbed district, and bore, as it appeared, news of the very first importance from those who were the leaders of his people in the unrest.At his very first word Jerry drew a long deep breath and by his face appeared to drop from heaven to earth.As the half-breed proceeded with his tale his speech increased in rapidity.
"What is he saying, Jerry?" said Cameron after they had listened for some minutes.
"Oh he beeg damfool!" said Jerry, whose vocabulary had been learned mostly by association with freighters and the Police."He tell 'bout beeg meeting, beeg man Louis Riel mak' beeg noise.Bah!
Beeg damfool!" The whole scene had lost for Jerry its mystic impressiveness and had become contemptibly commonplace.But not so to Cameron.This was the part that held meaning for him.So he pulled up the half-breed with a quick, sharp command.
