ALAGWA went to rest willingly enough, but for a long time she did not sleep. She was thinking of what Jack1 had said about the ammunition2 that he was taking to Fort Wayne and of its importance to the garrison3 there. If she could destroy it or give it over to the Indians she would have done much to carry out her pledge to Tecumseh. Carefully, she felt the boxes on which she lay, only to find their tops nailed hard and fast, far beyond the power of her slender fingers to loosen.
Could she get word to the runner? She was sure he was near. Perhaps there were others with him. Perhaps they could capture or destroy the wagon4. It would cost Jack his life; she knew that and was sorry for it, but the fact did not make her pause. Against his life stood the lives of dozens of her people, who would be slain5 by this ammunition. No! The white men had dug up the tomahawk; and Jack and they must take the consequences.
But how could she get word to the runner? The camp was guarded. Dimly, she could descry6 Jack’s form against the limestone7 boulder8 on which she and he had sat and talked. Instinctively9 she knew that he would not sleep, and she knew, too, that the[122] runner was not likely to appear unless she summoned him. And she saw no way to summon him without betraying herself and wrecking10 her mission without gain. Vainly her tired brain fluttered. At last, wearied out, she lay quiescent11, determined12 to watch and wait. Perhaps a chance might come.
For hours she forced herself to lie awake. But she had not counted on the weakness due to her loss of blood and on the insistent13 demand of her nature for sleep to replenish14 the drain. Fight against it as she might, sleep crept upon her, insistent, not to be denied. Heavier and heavier grew her eyelids15, and though again and again she forced them back, in time nature would no longer be denied.
When she waked darkness was about her. For an instant she thought she was back in the Indian lodge16 at Wapakoneta. Then the patch of moonlit sky that showed at the foot of the wagon caught her eyes and told her the truth.
With an effort she sat up. The hours of sleep had strengthened her immensely. Young, pure-blooded, healthy, her system had already made up much of the blood she had lost. New life was coursing through her veins17. Except for the soreness and stiffness in her leg she felt almost herself again.
From where she lay she could see moonbeams on the trees south of the river. If she had been familiar with white man’s time she would have said that it[123] was about four o’clock. Cautiously she sat up and looked out over the tail of the wagon.
The camp was shrouded18 in darkness, but after a time she made out a blanketed form stretched beneath the great slanting19 tree. This was Williams, she knew. In the middle of the ground, close to where the campfire had burned, lay another form, almost invisible against the dark soil. To the north, toward the road, across the rock that had so lately served her both for chair and table, sprawled21 a third form, whose heavy breathing came distinctly to her ears. He was a mere22 blur23 in the darkness, but Alagwa knew that Jack had intended to take both the first and the last watches and to give the midwatch to Cato. She knew, therefore, that the sentinel must be Cato. And she knew that he was asleep.
Sharply she drew her breath. Now was her chance to give the call of the whip-poor-will. Almost she had framed her lips to sound it.
Then suddenly and silently a head rose at the tail of the wagon and two fierce eyes bored questioningly into hers. Even in the darkness she could make out the horribly painted features. No civilized24 woman would have met such a vision without screaming, but Alagwa had been well trained. A single heart-rending start she gave, then faced the warrior25.
The latter did not delay. He said no word, but he raised his tomahawk and swept it around the[124] camp toward the sleeping men. A voiceless question glittered in his eyes.
For a single moment Alagwa’s heart stopped short; then it raced furiously, beating with great throbs26 that shook her slender frame and that to her strained consciousness seemed to echo drum-like through the sleeping camp. Now was the chance for which she had longed. By a single blow she might avenge27 Wilwiloway, might win the wagon-load of ammunition for her people, and might weaken the ruthless enemy whom she so hated. Now! Now! Now! Her brain thrilled with the summons.
Abruptly28 the glow faded. She could not, could not, give the word to kill. Not for all the ammunition in the land, not for the lives of all the Shawnee braves that lived, not for victory that would endure forever, could she give the word that would bring about the deaths of sleeping men. Desperately29 she shook her head and raised her hand, imperatively30 pointing to the forest.
The runner hesitated. Again, with mute insistence31, he renewed his deadly question, and again Alagwa said him nay32. At last, with a shrug33 of his naked shoulders, he dropped his arm. An instant more and the night had swallowed him up.
Alagwa dropped back gasping34. Now that the chance was gone she longed for its return. A blaze of hate shook her—hate for the white men and for herself. She was a traitor35, a coward, a weakling,[125] she told herself fiercely. She had broken faith with Tecumseh. She had failed in her duty to her people. The white blood she had inherited had betrayed her. Oh! If she could drain it from her veins and be red, all red. Despairingly she covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook. An hour slipped by and still dry sobs36 racked her slender body.
Suddenly, a sound from near the great leaning tree reached her ears and she straightened up, staring into the faint light of the coming dawn. The sleeper37 beneath it had shifted his position. As she watched he sat up, cocking his head, evidently listening to the heavy breathing of the negro. Then he began to crawl noiselessly toward the wagon.
Alagwa drew her breath sharply. She knew the man was Williams and she knew why he was coming. She knew that the heavy rifle that Jack had taken from him was in the wagon and that he was trying to regain38 it. When he did regain it, what would he do? Would he not turn upon the young chief, who was taking him to be punished for the murder of Wilwiloway, and who had saved and befriended her. She could not doubt it.
She must stop him. But how? Fiercely but silently she laughed to herself. With his own rifle she would check him. It was in the wagon, close beside her! Powder-horn and bullet-pouch hung beside it. Jack had left them in her care[126] without a thought. Noiselessly she felt for the rifle and noiselessly she drew it toward her. It was loaded, she knew. From the powder-horn that hung beside it she primed it and thrust it across the tail of the wagon toward the creeping man.
As the sights fell in line upon him hate blazed up within her. He was at her mercy now—he, the murderer of Wilwiloway. The gods had given him into her hand. To slay39 him was her right and her duty. Should she do it? Her finger curled about the trigger. A little stronger pressure and Wilwiloway would be avenged40.
Her Indian gods, the gods of vengeance41, the gods that called for the payment of the blood debt, thundered in her ears. “Kill! Kill!” they clamored. “Kill! Faithless daughter of the Shawnees! Kill!” Of the Christian42 God she knew nothing; missionaries43 had not yet brought him to Wapakoneta, though the time when they would do so was close at hand. Steadily44 her finger tightened45 about the trigger.
Then it relaxed. What would Jack say—Jack with the broad forehead and the clear blue eyes? Would he approve? She knew that he would not. Instinctively she knew it. Too well her imagination mirrored forth46 the condemnation47 in his eyes. She did not understand the white man’s ideas of law and justice. She had suffered too bitterly from their working; but she knew—knew—that Jack[127] understood them and that he would not countenance48 her taking vengeance into her own hands.
Slowly her finger relaxed its pressure. She leaned forward and gently clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
The crouching49 man heard it and stopped short. She clicked again, and he looked up and saw the girl’s face, white in the dawn, staring at him over the round black eye of the rifle. With a muffled50 cry he sprang to his feet, throwing out his hands as if to ward20 off the imminent51 death.
The shot did not come, and he began to shrink back. Step by step he moved and silently the rifle followed him. Once he paused and held out his hands as if offering a bargain. But the rifle held inexorably and after a time he resumed his halting retreat.
At last he reached his blankets. Above them he paused and shook his fist at her furiously.
Dark as it still was, Alagwa could not mistake his gestures nor doubt their meaning. He was swearing vengeance against her. Once more her finger curled about the trigger. She remembered the Shawnee proverb about the man who let a rattlesnake live. Was she letting a rattlesnake live?
As she hesitated, Cato grunted52, groaned53, and moved, and the man dropped swiftly down. Alagwa sighed; her chance was gone, perhaps forever.
Cato sat up, clutching at the rifle that had slipped[128] from his grasp. Stiffly he rose to his feet. For a moment he hesitated, then he walked over to Jack and shook him gently.
“It’s time to git up, Mars’ Jack,” he said.
Jack sat up. “Why! Cato! You scoundrel!” he exclaimed. “It’s morning. You’ve let me sleep all night.”
Cato scratched his head hesitatingly. Then an expression of conscious virtue54 dawned upon his face. “Yessah! Mars’ Jack,” he said. “You was sleepin’ so nice I just couldn’t bear to wake you.”
“Humph! Well! Everything seems to be all right. It’s turned out well, Cato, but you mustn’t do it again. You haven’t heard any suspicious noises or anything, have you?”
The negro shook his head. “No, sah,” he declared. “Everything’s been just as peaceful as if we was back on the Tallapoosa. You c’n trust Cato to keep watch; dat you can, sah.”
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1
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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ammunition
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| n.军火，弹药 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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descry
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| v.远远看到；发现；责备 | |
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limestone
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| n.石灰石 | |
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boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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wrecking
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| 破坏 | |
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quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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replenish
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| vt.补充；(把…)装满；(再)填满 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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throbs
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| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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imperatively
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| adv.命令式地 | |
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insistence
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| n.坚持；强调；坚决主张 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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traitor
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| n.叛徒，卖国贼 | |
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36
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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sleeper
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| n.睡眠者，卧车，卧铺 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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39
slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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40
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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41
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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42
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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43
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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44
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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45
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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46
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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48
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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49
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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50
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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51
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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52
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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53
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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54
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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