Ti-ti-pu: a Boy of Red River
Copyright© 2024 by J. Macdonald Oxley
Chapter 7: How Hector Got His Nickname
At first, Mr. Macrae refused to credit his own intelligence. The idea was too appalling, and in his slow, deliberate way he made the Indian leader repeat and reiterate his sinister communication.
Then, calling aside the seniors of his party, who had all been watching the parley with intent, anxious faces, he told them the startling truth.
Naturally enough, they likewise were at the outset incredulous, and stirred to righteous wrath. What had this howling mob of painted and befeathered Indians to do with them? They were not the lords of the land now, whatever they might have been before the coming of the white man. Lord Selkirk was the rightful owner of the broad, rich acres to which they had made so painful a pilgrimage, and they, the settlers, were the possessors in his name. Not one step would they budge. They had come to stay.
All this, and more, Mr. Macrae repeated to the Indian leader with the utmost emphasis, but he might as well have spared his breath.
‘Non—no—non!’ the fellow responded in his hybrid jargon. ‘Must go way. No stay here. No food, no fire, no tepee. Go way down there,’ and he pointed due south.
While this parley was proceeding, the other members of his party had been quietly forming a circle about the band of settlers, drawing steadily closer until they were almost within touch of them. As it happened, little Ailie, her first fright having passed off, grew interested in the gay trappings of the Indians, and, ere her mother noticed, sidled towards one of them, in order to touch the feathers that adorned his leggings.
She was just beside his stirrup, when, with a quick movement, he reached down, grasped her under the arms, and swung her up before him, saying, in what was meant to be a soothing tone:
‘Ma jolie petite. You like ride—eh?’ Ailie gave a scream of terror, that reached the ears of her mother and Hector at the same moment. The former stood transfixed, but Hector, whose position was somewhat behind the Indian, with the spring of a panther reached the pony’s withers, and the next moment had the Indian’s throat tightly clasped in his strong young hand.
The pony, frightened by the sudden addition of a second rider, at once began to buck and rear, so that even its expert owner could hardly retain his seat, doubly hampered as he was, holding Ailie, and being held by Hector.
Noting his predicament, his companions closed in upon him to give him help, and just at that moment Mrs. Macrae, her comely countenance aflame with maternal anger, darted into their midst, and reaching up, caught Ailie in her arms, crying: ‘Ma bonnie bairn! Are ye hurt?’ The Indian let go his burden readily enough, and turned to attack Hector.
But the latter was too quick for him. He had seen his mother’s action, and the instant Ailie was safely in her arms, he let go of the Indian’s throat, and threw himself to the ground, narrowly escaping being trampled upon by the ponies of the nearest Indians.
The whole thing happened so quickly that many of both parties saw nothing of it but the excitement it occasioned, and, for the moment, there was a complete break-up of the parley between Mr. Macrae and the Indian leader.
When order was in some measure restored, and Mr. Macrae had assured himself that neither of his children was in any wise injured, he once more gave attention to the serious situation which had so unexpectedly presented itself.
With considerable difficulty he made the Indian understand that he must have time to consider his astounding communication, and to consult with the other men of his party. To this the fellow, with much show of reluctance, at last consented, and a gruff command sent the whole cavalcade cantering off to a little distance, where they dismounted, and, squatting upon the turf in a sort of circle, proceeded to light their pipes, and talk in guttural tones of what had happened.
The Scots, that is to say the older men of the party, now gathered in a little knot, their countenances grown suddenly haggard, for they all realized that they were face to face with a crisis more menacing than anything they had previously encountered.
‘‘Tis unco strange. I canna understand it at all,’ said Mr. Macrae. ‘Noo that we are come here after sae great trouble they say we canna bide, but maun gang away doon to the States, where we dinna want to be.’
‘Let us gang ower to the fort there,’ suggested Saunders, pointing to the Hudson’s Bay fort, which stood on the bank of the river, about a quarter of a mile distant. ‘Surely the Governor will take our pairt and winna let these savages have their way with us.’ This suggestion met with instant approval, and three of the party, including Mr. Macrae, were appointed to carry it out.
They at once set out across the prairie, while the other men rejoined the women, to await the result of the embassy.
But no sooner had the three got well started, than with whoops and yells the Indians sprang on their ponies and came cantering towards them, waving their weapons in a way that meant only one thing—the Scotsmen must go no farther. Baffled and disheartened, the latter, after a futile attempt at parley with the Indians, walked slowly and in silence back to their companions.
The situation seemed as desperate as it was bewildering. They were utterly at a loss either to understand it or cope with it. Lord Selkirk had given them to believe that they would be warmly welcomed at Red River, and afforded all necessary assistance in settling down, and this was the way in which his promises were being fulfilled.
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