Chapter II: The Figure in the Chapel

The youth’s voice broke the silence that followed his last word:

“The Chippewas face the White Tiger now!” he thundered, as his rifle struck his shoulder, and his eye swept the startled band before him. “He is not merciless. Bad Indians have lied about him; he does not live on blood. Now, back to your lodges toward the rising sun. I spare you now, but if ever you cross the White Tiger’s trail again, Chippewas, you shall feel his teeth then. I spare you for this time, because you are young warriors. Why stand you here staring? Back to the trails that lead to the council-fires. Back! I say, before the White Tiger slays!”

With the last words the youth’s cheek dropped nearer the rifle, and the muzzle almost touched the leader’s forehead.

“Go!” he thundered again. “Hark! the Manitou is speaking; he is painting the waves of Gitche Gumee with his fire.”

The dread of the White Tiger was manifest then, for, without a word in reply, the sub-chief turned on his heel, and strode deliberately into the forest.

“Warriors, follow your chief!” cried the Destroyer, and a moment later he and Ahdeek stood alone amid the prevailing darkness.

“They fear the White Tiger, Ahdeek,” said the youth, with a smile, as he turned to the young half-breed. “Boy, had it not been for your wounded condition, eight Chippewas would not have walked from this spot. But you could not assist, so I took advantage of the terror which I had inspired in their bosoms, and, see, they run from the White Tiger when he follows not.”

“Nahma has broken his word,” said the young half-breed, refusing to return the smile of mingled scorn and contempt that wreathed White Tiger’s lips. “He said that he would never show himself to the red-man while Ahdeek stood among them. They should not see Nahma and Ahdeek with one eye.”

“I know it, Ahdeek; but I could not avoid it to-night. Ahdeek was on the death-trail; Nahma was near, and his arm, his words, not forked like the trees, alone could snatch his brother from the jaws of death. Ahdeek will forgive, will he not?”

They were walking toward the lake now, and in the stillness of that festooned woods the half-breed put forth his hand.

“Ahdeek will forgive his pale brother,” he said, in a low, cautious tone. “Nahma could not keep his oath, and save his Ahdeek.”

“Then all is well, boy,” replied the white youth. “The Chippewas now know that Ahdeek is not the White Tiger of Lake Superior, and that instead of hunting one destroyer, they must hunt, and be hunted by, two. But, boy, did you get the powder?”

“Ahdeek wears two big belts full,” replied the half-breed.

“Good! we shall not want now. What are the Indians doing?”

“Bad work! bad work!” cried the half-breed. “Pontiac has struck one hard blow on the big waters.”

“That Ottawa fiend! How I wish he would show his painted face in these parts!” ejaculated the youth, and his fingers closed on his rifle with determined emphasis as he spoke. “But tell me about that strong blow, Ahdeek.”

Then the half-breed proceeded to give an account of the fall of the lake forts, and the investment of Detroit, all of which was news to the white youth.

“While the Ottawas and their allies struck the posts, the Chippewas struck the trappers hereabouts,” said the White Tiger. “Ahdeek, I can tell you of twenty-eight trappers who fell in their huts or at their traps the selfsame night.”

Ahdeek clutched the Destroyer’s arm.

“Trappers all dead?”

“All but several who escaped in boats.”

“Where Snowbeard?”

“Dead.”

The half-breed groaned.

“Where house?”

“Burned up!”

White teeth gritted audibly in the darkness.

“Now, Ahdeek,” said the youth, “now that Snowbeard is dead, tell me what he was to you. Why have you left the castle at midnight to seek the hut of that old man! Unravel the mystery while I unfasten the boat.”

The youth stooped over the rope that lashed a little boat to a sharp rock, and tugged at the knots.

“Ahdeek can not tell Nahma until he takes the trail to Snowbeard’s house.”

“Boy, I will keep the secret. Is Ahdeek afraid to trust his brother?”

“Afraid to trust the brother whose couch he has shared for many moons? No!” cried the half-breed. “But he can not tell now. Old Snowbeard was dear to Ahdeek, and the Chippewas shall feel more than ever now the wildcat’s claws and teeth.”

The youth did not reply, but continued to work at the boat in silence. Above him the harsh thunder rolled, and the stormy waves and rocky shore were vividly revealed by the glare of lightning.

At length, tired of tugging at knots which the spray had rendered openless, the boy, with an ejaculation of impatience, severed the rope, and the twain seated themselves in the boat.

“I’ll paddle, Ahdeek,” said the white youth. “Don’t worry your shoulder with any work till I get it fixed up, in the castle. Those devilish panthers can bite like all get out.”

“Panthers’ teeth sharp,” replied the half-breed, passing a hand lightly over the crunched shoulder; “but shoulder soon be well.”

“Providence willing,” smiled the youth, and a moment later he continued:

“Ahdeek, a ghost has visited Gitche Gumee during your absence.”

An exclamation of surprise followed this startling announcement, and by the lightning the Destroyer saw a pair of eyes staring into his.

“A spirit from the Manitou-land on the big sea water?”

“I should call what I have seen a ghost,” was the still mysterious reply. “One week ago this very night of storm, I saw it first. I was out on the lake near the Fox’s Leap, and the lightning flashed as it flashes now. The waves were mad, and to a rock that protruded above them I moored the boat, resolved to enjoy the storm. All at once the plash of paddles struck my ears, but the next moment all was still, and I dismissed the thought. Then, just as I had relaxed my vigilance, a flash of lightning came, and, Ahdeek, within five feet of me, lashed to my crag, I beheld a boat.”

“A real boat?” interrupted the half-breed.

“A canoe from spirit-land, I guess,” said the Destroyer, smiling. “The boat, as I could see at a glance, was fashioned like ours, and, boy, it looked like the boat some thief stole from you a moon since. In that boat sat a human being, most beautiful to behold. She was white like the lilies, and as fair. I saw her but a moment, for all became dark, but ere the last beam of light fled I saw her start, for our eyes had met. Instantly I sprung forward and griped her rope, but the next second I heard the zip of a knife-blade, as it cut the wind, and I held a worthless piece of rope in my hand.”

“Spirit gone!” smiled the half-breed.

“Yes, the boat and its occupant had vanished. I could not trail her on water, and I hunted for her till the storm-clouds passed off, and the stars shone again. I’ve looked for her every night since, Ahdeek. I’ve lain for hours in my boat moored to that rock, but the ghost would not come back. I’d like to have you see it, Ahdeek; you’d believe in spirits then, I’m thinking.”

The half-breed laughed in a low voice, but a thoughtful expression soon returned to his face.

“He had a daughter who was a pappoose when the squaw died,” he murmured, in a low tone; but he did not know that the ear of the White Tiger, who was paddling intently through the white-crested waves, almost touched his lips.

“Did White Tiger hear what Ahdeek’s lips said?” exclaimed the half-breed, as the lightning suddenly revealed his brother’s attitude.

“I was listening to the waves, boy,” was the evasive reply, and the paddle was thrust deeper into the water. “We are near the chapel now. Hark! how madly the waves dash against its foundation.”

The youth now guided the boat further out into the lake, and dexterously avoided sunken rocks, which yearned for victims.

The flashes of lightning were quite frequent, and told the voyagers that the storm would discharge its fury about the spot where their cave was situated, nearly nine miles below Chapel Rock.

“I despise this place on such a night,” ejaculated the white youth. “We always strike one rock, and they’re getting thick now.”

The words had scarcely left his mouth when the little canoe brought up against the rock, and all sounds were drowned by a peal of thunder.

“We’re near the chapel,” said Ahdeek.

“Near enough to shoot an Indian from the ‘pulpit,’” replied the Destroyer. “Curse this rock! We’ll rest here, and look at the boat.”

So he threw a noose over the sharp crag, and proceeded to examine the craft which the waves tossed hither and thither, like a cork.

Ahdeek did not assist, but kept his face turned toward Chapel Rock, waiting for something, as his countenance indicated.

That something seemed to be a flash of lightning, for, as it lit up the water, the half-breed started back with a cry of amazement.

“What’s up, Ahdeek?” cried the white boy—for boy in years the young Destroyer seemed—turning quickly from his labor.

“This spirit!” gasped Ahdeek, and his fingers encircled the youth’s arm.

“Look up at chapel and wait,” he continued. “Nahma see ghost high on rock;” and then in silence the twain waited for the lightning.

The “Grand Chapel,” as the famous rock is now called, stood about fifty feet above the level of the lake, and its arched roof was supported by two gigantic and beautiful columns, which appear to have been hewn and placed there by skillful hands. The backward reach of the roof rests upon the main cliff, and within the chapel is the base of a broken column that is strongly suggestive of a pulpit. The roof was then, and still is, crowned with a growth of fir trees.

“Ahdeek sure see ghost in chapel. There! look.”

The lightning played about the great rock a second, and in that brief moment of time the Destroyer beheld the figure of a young girl standing against the “pulpit” in the chapel. The color and trimming of her close-fitting garments could not be distinguished; and her head was crowned with a white fox-cap, and her right hand clutched a rifle whose stock glittered like silver, and rested on the ground at her feet.

She seemed the queen of the storm as she stood above the waves which madly leaped up the base of the rock, eager, as it were, to grip and pull her down.

“The ghost, by heavens!” exclaimed the Destroyer. “Another flash—now!”

They looked again, and in the succeeding darkness clutched each others’ arms.

“Ahdeek, did you see—”

“Indians above the chapel!”

“I saw but one.”

“Ahdeek thought he saw another feather.”

“It might have been a fir.”

“Yes, the light did not last long. The Indian Ahdeek saw, hung over the chapel with a tomahawk in his hand.”

The White Tiger was silent for a moment.

“They’ve tracked her to the chapel, and with the next flash the brave intends to hurl his tomahawk into her brain. Ahdeek, steady the canoe, for God’s sake!”

The half-breed dropped his rifle, and hurried to the furthest end of the light craft, which action served in a measure to steady it in the momentary languor of the waves.

The youth cocked and raised his rifle; but with a cry of horror he quickly lowered it, without firing, before the flash of the next electric bolt disappeared.

Three half-naked, painted, and feathered savages stood within the chapel, and a fourth was lowering himself from the roof!

But the girl—the spirit of the lake—was gone—not a sign of her late occupation of the chapel was visible!

“Strange! terribly strange!” cried the young Destroyer. “I’d give a hand to know where she is.”

“Ask the mad waters,” said Ahdeek. “The brave’s tomahawk knocked spirit from chapel.”

“Don’t make me think thus, boy. She’s too pretty, too bold, to die in such a way. I wonder who she was—or is, for I will not believe her dead.”

“Then how she got from Indians?”

The youth was silenced.

There was but one way to escape the savages, and that was by a leap into the white waters, forty feet below the chapel!

And that leap, seemingly, was but a synonym of death.

“We must go, Ahdeek,” suddenly cried the Destroyer. “But, first, we’ll tell those murderers that somebody besides themselves are abroad. We can shoot into the chapel in the dark. We know exactly where it is. Ready!”

The next moment two rifles were raised, and two reports blended with the roar of the waters.

“Loose the canoe now.”

The half-breed obeyed, and as the paddles kissed the waves once more, the lightning revealed but two Indians in the chapel!

“We dropped two,” said the white youth, triumphantly, “And now—”

He was interrupted by a cry of discovery.

“Ahdeek, what—”

“Ahdeek’s lost his shining ring,” was the startling response. “Oh, Kitchi-Manitou, where is it?”

“In the lake, Ahdeek.”

“No, no, say in the woods, White Tiger. Ahdeek swore to give it to a pale girl after a time. Here, brother, kill Ahdeek for breaking his word. Ahdeek is a bigger fool than Paupaukeewis. Pale girl never get ring now. Ahdeek ought to die for losing it,” and the half-breed hid his eyes as he groaned in all the bitterness of his soul.

“What is the mystery that enwraps this wild boy’s birth and that ring?” murmured the Destroyer, as he steered the frail boat among the rocks. “For months I have tried to fathom it, but can not. He keeps secrets well. He has said that the pale girl might come after the ring some day, and I half—no, I _wholly_ believe that the girl in the chapel was the owner of Ahdeek’s ring, which he would have defended with the last drop of his blood.”