The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXX, Issue 17, 24 April 1902, Page 23

The Storyteller

A CANADIAN TALE.

(Conclusion.) THE SILHOUETTE. \ More than a month ago,' said the young officer, ' I left the country of the Abnakis, accompanied by my father, a soldier, and an [ndian guide. We travelled along through the forest for several days without any accident, when one evening, overcome with fatigue, we lit a fire and camped for the night near an Indian cemetery. According to the custom of the savages, every corpse was wrapped in a shroud of coarse bark, and placed high above the ground on four stakes. Bows and arrows, tomahawks, and some ears of mace were hung against these rude graves, and shook and rattled as the wind passed over them. Our own savage was seated just in front of me, on the half-decayed trunk of a pine tree that had fallen to the ground, and seemed half-buried in profound meditation. The fitful flames of the fire threw a weird ligiht over his gigantic frame. An Indian might readilyi hay? compared him to one of the superb maples of our forest, had he been able at the same time to have united with it the cunning of the serpent and the agility of the elk. His height was increased by a <j,uantity of black, red, and white feathers tied with his hair on the top of his head. His ferocious features, piercing black eyes, his tomahawk and long knife, half concealed bj.' the trophy of scalps which hung from his belt, gave him a wild and sanguinary appearance. The night was dark and bitter cold. The low and unequal arch formed by the interlacing branches of the trees, and illuminated by the flickering light of our pine-wood fire, seemed like a vast cavern, and the old trunks of the rotten trees, which were buried in the snow, looked like the corpses of giants strewn around. The birches, covered with their white bark, seemed like wandering phantoms in the midst of this debris, and the dull rumbling of the distant torrent and the wired moaning and whistling} through the leafless branches, completed the weird, funereal aspect of the place. Anyone slightly superstitious cowld easily believe ho heard the sighing spirits of the Indian warriors who lay buried so near us. In spite of myself, a shiver of horror ran through my veins. Here, in the midst of all this grim rubbish, where every rock and tree was transformed by the shadows into as many spectres watching his movements, our audacious savago appeared as grave and tranquil as if ho had been in his own cabin. ' '«' Comrade," said I to him, "do you think we need fear any danger still from those Iroquois whose- trail we discovered yesterday? ' " Has my brother already forgotten that we found it again this morning ? " * 'f> But there were only two," said I. ' " Yes, but an Iroquois can very quickly communicate with his comrades." ' "But these were not on the warpath, they were hunting an elk. ' " Yes, but the snow is deep, and they could soon kill him without much fatigiue, and then " ' " Well ! " ' " And then, their' hunger once satisfied J ' '»' Finish." ' "1 1 say they might, perhaps, amuse themselves by hunting the whitestons." ' " But the whites are at peace with the Iroq,uois.' " * l " The Iroquois never bury but half of the war-hatchet, and besides, they have raised the tomahawk against the warriors of my tribe,

and if they discovered the track of an Abnakis among yours " 1 " You think, then that they might pursue us. Perhaps it would be more prudent to extinguish our fire." " Does not my brother hear the howling of the wolves ? Tf he prefers being devoured by them to receiving the arrow of any Iroujuois, ho can extinguish it." The words of our guide were not very reassuring, but I was so overcome with fatigue that, in spite of the evident danger to which we were exposed, T fell asleep. But my sleep wa.s filled with the wildest dreams. The dark shadow of our guide, that I saw as I went to sleep, seemed to lengthen and rise behind him, black and threatening, like a spectre. The dead in the cemetery, shaking the snow from their shrouds of bark, descended from their sepulchres, and bent towards me. I fancied I heard the gritting of their teeth as the wind rushed through the trees and the dry branches cracked and snapped. I awoke with a start. Our guide, leaning against a post of one of the graves, was still before me, and from his heavy and regular breathing I knew that he slept profoundly I fancied I saw just above him. peeping over the grave against which he was leaning, a dark form and two fixed and flaming eyes. My imagination is excited by my fantastic dreams, thought I, and tried to compose myself to sleep again. I remained a long time with my eyes half shut, in that state of semisomnolence, half watching, half sleeping,, my stupefied faculties scarcely able to discern the objects around. And yet the dark shadow seemed to move slightly, and to lean, more and more towards our savage, who was still in a deep sleep. At that moment the fire suddenly blazed up, and I saw distinctly the figure of an Indian. He held a long knifo between his teeth, and, with dilated eyes fixed on his enemy, he approached still nearer to assure himself that he slept. Then a diablolical smile lit up his face, and seizing hi« knife, he brandished it an instant in aiming a blow at the heart of his victim. The blade flashed in the firelight. At the same moment a terrible cry rang out, and the two savages rolled together in the snow. The Hash of the steel, in awakening our guide. had also betrayed his enemy. Thus my horrible nightmare terminated in a more horrible reality. 1 had hastily seized my gun but dared not fire, lest 1 should kill or wound our g,uide It was a death-fight between them. The snow, streaked with blood, blew up atfqund them like a cloud of dust. A hatchet glittered in the air, then a dull, heavy sound, followed by a cracking of bones. The victory was decided A gurgling sound escaped from the victim — it was the deathrattle ! Holding in one hand a bloody scalp, the conqueror, with a smile, raised himself proudly. At that instant a shot was he.ird. A ball struck him in the breast, and our savage, for it was he, fell dead in front of the fire. Taking aim with my gun, and sending a ball in the direction whence the shot) had come, and where I saw another shadow gliding amongst the trees, was for me the work of an instant. The Indian, with a terrible death-cry, described an arch in the air with his body, and fell dead to the ground. The tragedy was finished ; our savage was avenged, hut wo had no longer a guide. I then thought of our conversation that evening, and how his apprehensions of the two savages whom we had tracked in the morning had been so fearfully realised.

DEATH. 'Abandoned without a guide, i n w>°,r idSt ° f int «rminable forest^ Ilex7tv re !w! w a ta V e ° f ext ™™ Perplexity. We hesitated a long time whether to proceed on our route or retrace our steps. The danger of falling into the hands of the Iroquois, who infested that part of the country, decided us to continue our journey. ' The only means left for finding our way was a little compass which my father had fortunately brought along. Several days later found us si ill on our painful march, m the midst of a violent snow storm It was a veritable tempest ; the snow fell so thick and fast we could scarcely see two feet in advance. ' In every direction we heard the trees splitting and falling to the ground. We were in great danger of being crushed. My father was struck by a branch, which completely buried him under the snow, and we had great difficulty in extricating him. When we raised him up, he found that the chain around his neck which held the compass was broken, and the compass had disappeared. We searched long and carefully, but in vain— it could not bo found In fallling, my father received a severe injury on the head. While dressing the wound, which bled freely, I could not restrain my tears, on seeing this old man, with, his white hair, enduring intense suffering with so much fortidjude, and displaying such calmness in the midst of an agony which he tried to conceal from me by an outward show of confidence. "'My son," said he, when he saw my tears, " remember that you are a soldier. If death comes, it wjjll find us on the roll of honor. It is well to die a martyr to d[uty, besides nothing happens except by the will of God. Let us submit at once with courage and resignation to whatever He pleases to send." 'We marched two days longer in an intense cold, and then my father, could go no further. The cold had poisoned the wound in, his* head, and a violent fever came on. To crown our misfortunes 1 , our little store of matches had become damp, and it was impossible to kindle a fire. Then all hope abandoned me, and, not having been able to kill any gamo for the past day or two, we had been almost entirely without food ; then, in spite of all my warning and advice, the soldier who accompanied us, exhausted by fatigue and hunger, and utterly discouraged, went to sleep in the snow, and'when I found him some time after, he was; dead — frozen stiff ! Overcome by the most Inexpressible grief, I remained on my knees by the side of my dying father. Several times he besought me to abandon him and escape death. When he felt his last hour approaching, he said, handing, mo an " Imitation of Christ," which he held in his hand, " My son, read to me." I took the book and opened it at chance, reading between my sobs . " Make now friends near God, in order that, after leaving this life, they will receive you in thej eternal tabernacles." " Conduct yourself on earth as a traveller and a stranger who has no interest in the affairs of the world. Keep your heart free and raised towards God, because hero below you have no substantial dwelling-place. You should address to heaven every day your prayers, your sighs, and your tears, in order that, after this life, your soul will be able to pass happily into the bosom of our Lord." ' I replaced the book in his hand. A smile of immortal hope passed over his countenance, for these lines were a resume of his' entire life. Afn ter a moment's silence, he said: 'IMy son, when I shall lie no more, take this little gold cross which hangs around my neck, and which was given to me by your mother on the day of your birth " — there was a moment's silence. A shade of pro-

found sadness passed over his face, and taking my two hands in his, he added, i' Your poor mother !■ — oh ! if you live to see her again, tell her 1 died thinking of God and of her." Then, making a supreme effort, to put aside this painful thought, at which he feared his courage might fail him, he continued . " Always wear this little cross m remembrance of your father. It will teach you to be faithful to yoiur God and to your countiry. Come nearer, my son, that 1 may bless you, for 1 fro] that ! am dying." And with Ins faltering hand he made 1 lie sign of the cross on my forehead.' At these words the young man stopped. Large tears rolled down his cheeks as he pressed to his lips the little gold cross which hung on his breast. All around him remained silent, in respect of his noble grief, but their tears flowed with his. Sorrow is so _ touching in youth ! We cannot see, ""without a pang, the bright flowers which adorn it witiher and fade away. The missi'onury was the first to break silence. 'My son,' said he, addressing the young man, ' your tears are legitimate, for the cherished being for whom you weep is worthy of them ; but do not weep as those who have no hope. He whom you have lost now unjov.s on high tho recompense promised to a life devoted to sacrifice and duty.' ' ( But, oh ! my father, if only you could have been with him to console his last moments ! ' After a pause he continued : ' 1 pressed my father for the last time in my arms, and imprinted a last kiss on his pale, cold forehead I thought at this mo.nent he was dying. He remained immovable, his eyes turned towards heaven, when suddenly, as if by inspiration from above, he said, " I wish you to make a vow that, if you succeed in escaping with your life, you will place a picture in the first church ■which you reach on the road.' 1 promised to do as he desired. .Some moments after a few \ague and incoherent words escaped his lips, and all was over.

THE VISION. ' How long I remained on my knees beside my father's corpse I cannot tell. 1 was so utterly overwhelmed by grief and sorrow that I was plunged m a kind of lethargy which rendered my soul insensible to everything-. Death, the loneliness of tho forest, terrified me no longer ; for solitude dwelt in my heart where, so short a time before, all was bright and joyous. Dreams—illusions—those flowers of life that 1 have seen fall leaf by leaf, to be swept away by the storm ; glory, happiness, the future— these angels of tho heart who so lately entranced my soul with their mysterious music had all departed, veiling with their drooping wings tiheir sorrowful faces. All had gone— all. Nothing, remained but a void, a horrible nothing-ness. But one feeble star watched yet in the midst of my night. Tho faint lamp of the inner sanctuary was not entirely extinguished ; there came a ray from its expiring flame. Remembering the vow that my dying father had desired me to make, 1 evoked with a sort of desperation the Blessed Virgin, Comfortress of the Ailhcted ■ and behold, suddenly— but can I tell you what took place within me ? Human words are inadequate to unveil the mysteries of God. 1 cannot) explain, human ears cannot comprehend—yes, suddenly, in tho midst of my darkness, my soul trembled, and a something seemed to puss through me like an impetuous wind, and my soul was carried over the troubled waters , then, rapid as the lightning that flashes through the storm-cloud a light appeared in tho darkness in this chaos— a dazzling, superhuman light— and the tempest was appeased within me , a wondrous calm had entered my soul, alnd tho Divine light penetrated its most

remote recesses and imparted a delicious tranquility and peace, but siuoh a peace as surpasses all comprehension ; and through my closed eyelids 1 saw that a great light was before me. O, my God ! dare I tell what happened then ? Would it not be profane to weaken thus the mar\ohs of Your power ! 1 felt, that something extraordinary, somethingsupernatural, was taking placo around me, and a mysterious emotion a holy terror, that every morlal should fool at tho approach of a Divine Being, seized me. Like Moses, mv .soul said within me " T will go and I will see this grand vision ; " and my eyes opened, and I saw— it was not a dream— it was a reality, a miracle, from the right hand of the Most High. No ; the eye of man has never seen, nor his ear heard, what was permitted that 1 should see and hear then. In the midst of a cloud of dazz/ling light, the Queen of Heaven appeared holding in her arms the Divine Child The ineffable splendor that enveloped her form was so brilliant that in comparison the sun is only a dim star ; but this brilliancy, far from fatiguing the sight, refreshed it deliciously. Twelve stars formed her crown, th,e colors of the rainbow tinged her robes, while under her feet were clouds which reflected the colors of aurora and the setting, sun, and behind their golden myriads of angels were smiling and singing, hympis which gave no echo here below. And what I saw and heard was so real that all that I had heard and seen heretofore seemed like a vague, dark dream of night. The Divnie Virgin looked at me with an immortal smile, which was reflected no doubt from tho lips of her Divine Child on tho day of His birth. ' She said to me : " Here I am, my son. I come because you called me. The help that 1 sent you is \ery near. Remember, my son — " Butj, oh ! what was I going to say ! 1 am only permitted to reveal a few words of this celestial conversation,, which relate to my deliverance. The rest is a secret between God and myself — sufficient to .say these words ha\ o fixed my destiny. ' For a long time she sfpoke to me., and my soul, lavished, absorbed, transfigured, listened in unspeakable ecstasy to the Divino harmony of her voice. It will vibrate eternally in my soul, and the torrents of tears that poured from my eyes were as refreshing as dear to my heart. At last the mysterious vision gradually vanished. Clouds, figures, angels, light, all had disappeaied, and yet my soul invoked the celestial \ isioii by ineffable bigha and moans ' When at last I turned round, the help winch had been miraculously promised to me had arrived. "Twasi then, reverend Father, that I perceived you near me. You know the rest.' The next day there was great excitement among the little population of tho neighborhood. The news of the miracle had spread rapidly, and a pious and devout crowd had gathered in the modest little church to assist at a solemn Mass celebrated by the holy missionary. More than one pitying look was turned during the ceremony toward tho .voting oflicor, who knelt near tihe sanctuary, praying with an angelic fervor. 3t is said that some time after, in another country, far, far beyond the sea, a joung officer who had miraculously escaped death abandoned ai brilliant future, a,nd consecrated himself to God in a cloister. Was it he ? No one hag ever known posit i\oly. If ever \ou pass by the old church of the Riviere Ouelle, don't forget to stop a moment. You will sec hanging m one of the side-chapels tho antiquo cx-voto which recalls the souvenir of this miraculous 1 event. The picture has no intrinsic value ; but it is an old, old relic that one loves to see, for it tells

a thrilling story. Often travellers who come from distant lands stop before this dusty old picture struck ?X. tI l°. strange scene it represents „ Oftentimes pious mothers stand be-Ni foro it with their little ones and reJate to them the wondrous legend • for the souvenir of this thrilling story is still vivid throughout tho country.—' Guidon Magazine '