At other Indian villages the doctor had noticed that the priest was always subjected to lengthy greetings, speechifyings, and very elaborate homage. The homage and the greetings were not absent to-day, but they were of the hurried and perfunctory sort, for everyone, after a word and an obeisance to his reverend fellow-traveller, turned to Bigsby himself; and the old chief, coming forward with tremulous respect, began to address a long oration to him, calling him the lord of lakes and forests, the father of the red man, the slayer of beasts, and a score of other t.i.tles; in short, "describing him ever so much better than he knew himself," as John Ridd says. While he was stammering out a suitable acknowledgment in French, the parish priest came hurrying to greet his superior, and then the mystery was explained, for Pere Tabeau introduced the lord of lakes, etc., to him as plain "Surgeon Bigsby."

The old _cure_ laughed heartily.

"I understand. Your uniform is responsible for all this, monsieur.

Your boatmen had told us that an amba.s.sador from the king was coming with the Pere Superieur." He pointed at the doctor's regimental coat.

"Then that is why all the canoemen have been so distant and servile with me to-day," said the young surgeon. "I've not been able to get a word out of them."

Usually he wore a perfectly plain, blue relief-jacket, but on this particular morning he had donned a very old scarlet tunic, of the dragoon regiment to which he belonged, merely because the day happened to be too chilly for the thin serge jacket, and not cold enough for him to trouble about unpacking a winter coat; and if this had raised him in the canoemen's estimation, he had been quite unconscious of it.

As a matter of fact, when the Indians left the boat that morning, they had already made of him a British potentate who was at last throwing off his disguise, and this they honestly believed him to be; but, before the morning was out, their imagination had run away with them so far as to promote him to the rank of envoy extraordinary; in other words, they had exaggerated, as more civilised people sometimes will, for the sake of a little reflected greatness.

"Mr. Rocheblanc," said the doctor, "if you will lend me a spare coat till I unpack to-night, I think I can sweeten that chief's declining years."

A coat was soon produced, and, to the wonderment of the Indians, Bigsby removed the old tunic which, with a grave bow, he begged the old chief to accept as a memento. So great, indeed, was the surprise of the redskins that the donor was in no danger of the contempt which they might otherwise have shown for a broken idol--a daw despoiled of its peac.o.c.k's plumage. Such liberality was stupefying.

But the chief was not to be outdone in self-sacrifice. After a tremendous struggle with himself he stifled his vanity and desire for possession, and turning to the old parish priest, begged him to wear the garment, as being more worthy of the honour; nor was it till he was made to understand that, neither in nor out of church, would it be seemly for the staid old clergyman to go flaunting in a cavalry officer's scarlet and gold, that the chief would consent to wear it.

And then his appearance and his self-satisfaction were such that none of the white men dared look at him for long, lest they should hurt the dear old fellow's feelings by a burst of laughter.

The gift led to an invitation to dinner from the chief, so persistent and impa.s.sioned that it was impossible for the visitors to refuse it, though the _cure_ had a meal awaiting them at his presbytery. And now the doctor was to achieve even greater popularity, for the _cure_, who usually acted as village surgeon and herbalist, took the opportunity of asking his advice in the case of a baby of one of the parishioners that suffered from what seemed to be incurable fits. Bigsby at once went to examine the child and recommended the application of a little blistering lotion to the back of the neck; he sent to the boat for his medicine-case, gave the _cure_ a small supply of the lotion, and instructed him how to make more. This was, of course, the signal for everyone in the village to require doctoring. Ailments were discovered or invented with astonishing rapidity, and the whole time, till dinner was ready, was occupied in feeling pulses, drawing teeth, lancing abscesses, and salving sores. But if the surgeon had been a vain man, the reverence paid to his skill would have been ample reward.

At last the white men were conducted in state to the chief's hut. The dinner was laid on the floor, and mats and cushions arranged round it in a circle; the two priests sat on the chief's right, the doctor and Rocheblanc on his left, and his son opposite him, while the wife and the daughter-in-law brought in, helped, and handed round the various courses. The first of these was _sowete_, a really villainous concoction of bruised sunflower seeds, _camash_ (a very insipid kind of truffle), and the gristly parts of some fish-heads, all boiled together to the consistency of porridge. Of this the guests ate sparingly, and of the next course not at all, though it looked and smelt so inviting that Bigsby and the fur-trader would have done full justice to it, had it not been for a warning look from Pere Tabeau, and the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of the single word "Puppy!" which was lost upon the Indians, as they spoke only the Canadian _patois_ and their own Iroquoian. The dish might have been a roasted hare; but Bigsby suddenly recalled, with a shudder, having seen a fresh dog-skin spread to dry on the outside wall of the hut. But the remaining courses were unexceptionable: various fish, a kind of grouse, venison, and a right good beefsteak to finish with.

The chief implored his guests to stay for at least one night, but the mission superior had an appointment early the following day; and, when he had inspected the parish books, all returned to the boat, conducted by the red-habited chief. At the landing-stage the canoemen were busy stowing away presents which half the parish had brought down for the mighty medicine man: fruits of all kinds, small cheeses, carvings on horn, bone, and wood, and--to Bigsby's great delight--several lumps of nickel and copper ore and some bits of gold quartz. These he knew were to be found in the vicinity, though he had not yet succeeded in discovering them; and here were valuable specimens which he might have spent weeks in trying to find.

As a good deal of time had been lost, no halt was made that night, each man sleeping in the boat, where and when and how he could; and, long before noon of the following day, the next stopping-place was reached. This was a small fur-trading centre where Rocheblanc also had affairs to transact; and he and Pere Tabeau went about their respective business, agreeing to meet the doctor at the boat at three o'clock.

Bigsby, having nothing special to do, explored the tiny settlement and, strolling a mile inland, collected one or two geological specimens. This occupation attracted a knot of Indian idlers, who stood gaping at the childishness of a white man who could find nothing better to do than picking stones off the road, throwing them down again or putting them in his pocket, and varying these puerilities by producing a hammer and knocking chips off unoffending wayside boulders. Geologists and painters are too much accustomed to being stared at, as marvels or lunatics, to heed such curiosity; and it was not till he heard a strident voice in French, ordering the Indians to go away, that he even troubled to turn his head.

"_Sales chiens_," "_salauds_," and "_sacres cochons_" were the mildest terms that were being hurled at the simple redskins by an over-dressed and much-bejewelled being whose European toilette could not conceal the fact that he was a negro-Indian (or a Zambo, as he would have been termed farther south), with possibly a streak of white blood in him.

"Out of the way, reptiles, redskinned animals," he shouted. "White gentlemen don't want to be pestered by you," and pushing his way roughly through the little crowd, he came and stood by the scientist, bestowing on him a most princely bow and a gracious smile.

Now as Bigsby had not sought this very loud young man's acquaintance, and wouldn't have had it at any price he could have offered him, he took no notice of him beyond a civil nod, and returned to his task of examining a chip of quartz with a pocket-lens. But the Zambo, having established the fact that he was "somebody" in these parts by driving away the shrinking natives, endeavoured to press on the doctor a card that bore a string of names beginning with Cesar Auguste and ending with the historic surname of de Valois. Convinced that the man was not sober, and unwilling to be the centre of a disturbance, Bigsby turned away with a curt "good morning" and followed the retreating Indians.

At three o'clock he returned to the boat. The others were already in their places, and sitting next to Rocheblanc was a coloured person, resplendent in white hat, fur-collared surtout, and an infinite number of waistcoats, pins, brooches, chains, and rings; Dr. Bigsby's acquaintance of a few hours before.

"I took the liberty of inviting Mr. de Valois to join us as far as the next station, where he has business," said Rocheblanc, who, like the Indians, seemed more or less in awe of the stranger. Bigsby concealed his annoyance and comforted himself with the reflection that the next station would be reached in less than three hours' time. It turned out that the fellow was a millionaire fur-buyer, with whom Rocheblanc had often done business and wished to do more, and who, from his great size, his wealth, his powers of bullying, and his pretensions to white blood, was a terror to all the more civilised Indians. To the doctor, as a "king's officer," he condescended to be more friendly than was desired; but his manner towards the two Canadians was insufferably patronising, while a curse or a kick was the sole form of notice he could spare for the canoemen, and that only when they happened to splash him. Father Tabeau and the doctor pocketed their disgust as well as they could, and Rocheblanc endeavoured to hold his guest tightly down to business conversation. The worst of it was that the canoemen, though strong, able fellows, seemed fascinated by their fear of him, and had it not been still broad daylight, a serious accident might have happened to the boat. Even as it was, the men paddled nervously and irregularly, more than once getting her into a crosscurrent, and growing only more frightened and helpless as the half-breed became noisier and more abusive.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A BULLY WELL SERVED

The over-dressed Zambo, after bullying the canoemen to the verge of mutiny, was ordered by Bigsby to leave the canoe. The bully clenched his fist, but Bigsby planted a powerful blow on his throat, and sent him right over the gunwale.]

"There'll be trouble if we're not careful, Father," said Bigsby in English, now at the end of his patience. "If you'll allow me I'll try and get rid of him."

He made a sign to the Indians to pull sharply in, which Mr. de Valois did not perceive. But, when the confused redskins suddenly ran the boat among a number of projecting stakes, where an old landing-stage had been broken up, the Zambo, splashed and shaken, began to behave like a maniac. He jumped up, cane in hand, and lashed the three nearest Indians savagely over the head and face, swearing, gesticulating, and threatening till the doctor was minded to pitch him into the water straight away.

"Steady her; hold by those stakes," he cried to the men in the bow, who, being farthest from the stick, were the coolest. Then, throwing himself between the half-breed and the canoemen, he said, "There's one redskin too many here, my man, and I think _you'd_ better clear out,"

and at the same time he wrenched the stick from his hand and flung it on sh.o.r.e.

The bully clenched his fist, but again Bigsby was too quick for him, and planted a powerful blow neatly under his throat; he staggered, tried to steady himself, and, in so doing, toppled clean over the gunwale.

"All right; push off," said Bigsby coolly. "He's got plenty to catch hold of there."

The water was still fairly deep, but the stakes were so numerous that even a non-swimmer could be in no danger. The boat was soon in clear water again, and Caesar Augustus could now be seen--a truly pitiable figure--helping himself ash.o.r.e from stump to stump, a sadder if not a wiser man.

Bigsby never had the felicity of seeing him again, but he heard, some months later, that his power over the redskins was very much diminished, and that he had grown considerably less ready to domineer over the race which certainly had more claim to him than any other.

CHAPTER V

CREEK INDIANS AT PLAY

A great deal of abuse has been poured, from time to time, on the United States Government for its treatment of the North American Indians. In point of fact, much of this abuse was quite undeserved, for, as the well-known traveller, Captain Basil Hall, R.N., has shown, constant endeavours were made by Congress to render the savages self-supporting; large grants of money and land were given to those who were dispossessed of their forest or prairie homes, and the remainder were allowed and encouraged to preserve as many of their own customs and laws as were not connected with blood-feud or revolt.

The redskins with whom Captain Hall came most in touch were the Creeks, who--with the Choctaws, Chicasas, etc.--belong to the great Muskhogean family, at one time the possessors of Kentucky, Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama, and Florida. When the Captain first set foot in the State of Georgia, in 1828, he knew little or nothing of the Indians, save from books; and on entering upon the prairies near the Savannah River, he was prepared for adventures thrilling and abundant. He and his attendants were all well armed, for they had before them a lonely ride that would occupy two days, to a small Government settlement on the edge of a hilly forest, where they were to meet a United States agent to whom the Captain had letters of introduction.

They rode all that day, however, without meeting a soul; and the greater part of the next also. Then, as they crossed a stream which formed a natural frontier between prairie and forest, smoke became visible among the trees, and, shortly after, the travellers began to catch glimpses, not of the wigwams which they had looked to see, but of tarred log huts that were certainly not the work of unreclaimed savages. But every man examined the loading of his firearms and prepared to defend himself: a very needless precaution, as it turned out. For, amid a confused barking of dogs and screaming of women, a dozen or more redskins crept gloomily out from one or other of the huts, and Captain Hall's heart sank in chill disappointment. Were _these_ the n.o.ble savages whom, all his life, he had burned to see?

The "Black Eagles" and "Sparrowhawks" and "Pathfinders" of the romance-writers?

The skinny, stooping, half-starved-looking group drew near. Not one carried arms, not one appeared to have nerve enough to slay a spring chicken; and the moment the white men reined up, all began a chorus of whining appeals for tobacco, drink, or money, such as you may hear from the gypsies along the Epsom Road. Hall hastily distributed some small change and a handful of cigars and rode on again, having scarcely the heart to look round on the dismal little village with its scolding women, its disreputable fowls and dogs, and its little company of loafing, unkempt men, the most energetic of whom could find no more vigorous employment than the making of toy bows and arrows for sale, or the listless sowing of seeds in ground that had never been properly dug. And _these_ were the famous Creek Indians!

But compensation for the disappointment awaited him when, some hours later, the forest path which he was following widened into a large clearing where wigwams, as well as permanent huts, well-fed horses, and camp fires announced at least a more virile and natural form of life. A robust and well-dressed young white man came running out of the first and largest of the huts and, greeting the Captain warmly, introduced himself as the Government agent.

"Oh, pooh! They're not all so bad as that," he said when, seated over a comfortable meal in the hut, Captain Hall dwelt on what he had seen at the edge of the forest. "They're only the dregs and leavings. I'll show you something different to that by and by. Poor beggars; I'm afraid they've no one but themselves to thank for their condition."

"How do you make that out?" asked the Englishman.

"Well, when Congress claimed that bit of prairie land, these fellows were given the patch where you saw them--and considerable money grants as well. They went off to the towns and spent the money like children, and when they hadn't got a red cent left, calculated to try farming. I reckon you saw the sort of farming _they_ go in for, Captain. They're too lazy to fell the trees, let alone grub out the roots or break up the soil. We've given 'em corn for seed, but they only chaw it up and then come back and ask for more. They had the option of coming out here, but they ain't partial to forest hunting; they won't help themselves, and they won't let us help them."

"But what's the good of their coming out here if you fellows are going to turn them off when you think good?" asked the Captain.

The agent shrugged his shoulders. "Look here, sir, these chaps won't be disturbed for another twenty years. The chiefs have had fair warning, and if they don't turn to and help themselves before then, it'll be their own look-out. Finer men you needn't wish to see--at present."

Hall felt that the last remark was fully justified when, later in the evening, his new friend conducted him to the middle of the clearing, where the whole tribe had foregathered.

"Couldn't have come at a better time, Captain," said the Yankee.

"To-morrow's their Derby Day, University match, or whatever you like to call it--the greatest day of the year. A team of up-forest Creeks is now on the way to play against them at ball."

"Ball?"

"Ay, you'll see to-morrow. Come and be presented to the chiefs now--and mind the dogs."

The caution was needful enough, for at the entry of every hut or wigwam was a brace of half-wild Indian hounds, each fastened by a thong to a stump, and ready to spring on the unwary.

"What's all the din about?" asked Hall, as they came to the village square or _place_.