CHAPTER XIII.
CORNELIA CASCABEL HAS AN IDEA.
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IT was along the right bank of the river that the Fair Rambler had accomplished that portion of the journey which lay between Fort Selkirk and Fort Yukon. It had kept at a shorter or a longer distance from it so as to avoid the many detours the course of the river would have necessitated, cut into, as it is, by innumerable clefts, and rendered inaccessible at times by marshy lagoons. Things were so, at least, on this side; for, on the left, a few low hills encase the valley and stretch to the northwest. It might have been difficult to get over certain small affluents of the Yukon, among others the Stewart, which has not a single ferry, if, during the warm season, it had not been possible to ford it, with water half-way up to the knee only. And even then, Mr. Cascabel and family would have been sorely puzzled but for Kayette who, knowing the valley well, was able to guide them to the exact spots.
It was indeed a piece of good fortune for them to have the young Indian girl for a guide. She was so happy, too, to oblige her new friends, so pleased to find herself in a new home, so grateful for those caresses of a mother, that she had thought she would never more enjoy!
The country was pretty woody in its central part, with here and there a rise, swelling the surface of the ground; but it already bore a different aspect from that of the neighborhood of Sitka.
As a fact, the severity of a climate subjected to eight months of Arctic winter is an absolute check to vegetation. Hence, with the exception of a few poplars, the tops of which curve down in the shape of a bow, the only families of fragrant trees to be met with in these parts are the firs and the birches. Beyond these you see nothing but a few clumps of those melancholy, stunted, and colorless willows that the breeze from the Ice Sea very quickly strips of their leaves.
During the trip from Fort Selkirk to Fort Yukon, our sportsmen having been rather fortunate, it had not been necessary to draw on the reserve stock for the daily requirements. Hares there were, as many as could be wished for, and, if the truth must be told, the guests at our table were almost beginning to have too much of one good thing. True, the bill of fare had been varied with roast geese and wild ducks, not to mention the eggs of those birds whose nests Sander and Napoleona were so clever at finding, deeply buried in holes. And Cornelia had so many recipes for cooking eggs—she prided herself on it too—that it was a succession of ever new treats.
“Well, on my word, this is a country where living is good!” exclaimed Clovy one day, as he finished picking the backbone of a splendid goose. “It is a pity it is not situated in the center of Europe or of America!”
“If it were in the center of thickly populated countries,” answered Mr. Sergius, “it is probable that game would not be so plentiful.”
“Unless—” began Clovy.
But a look from his master closed his lips and spared him the nonsensical remark he was certainly going to make.
If the plain swarmed with game, it must be noted likewise that the creeks, the rios, the tributaries of the Yukon supplied excellent fish, which Sander and Clovy caught with their rods, and more especially magnificent pikes. The only trouble, or rather pleasure, they need give themselves was to freely indulge their taste for fishing, for not a sou or a cent had they ever to spend.
Spending, indeed! that would have weighed very little on Master Sander's mind! Were not the Cascabels sure to pass their old age in comfort and luxury, thanks to him? Had he not his famous nugget in his possession? Had he not concealed, in a corner of the wagon, unknown to all but himself, the precious stone he had found in the Cariboo forest? He had; and to this day, the youngster had had sufficient control over himself to say nothing about it to anybody, patiently waiting for the day when he could turn his nugget into current gold. And then, would he not be proud to show off his fortune! Not indeed, gracious heavens! that the selfish thought had entered his head to keep the money for himself! His father and mother it was, for whom he kept it; and with that, they would be largely compensated for the robbery committed on them in the Sierra Nevada!
When the Fair Rambler reached Fort Yukon, after several hot days, all the travelers were really tired. It was therefore agreed that they would stay here for a whole week.
“You can do so all the more unbegrudgingly,” remarked Mr. Sergius, “as we are only six hundred miles from Port Clarence. Now to-day is the 27th of July, and we cannot possibly cross the strait on the ice before two months', perhaps three months' time.”
“That is a settled matter,” said Mr. Cascabel; “since we can afford the time, halt!”
This command was greeted with equal satisfaction by the whole troupe, the professional bipeds as well as the four-footed staff of the Fair Rambler.
The foundation of Fort Yukon goes back to the year
1847. This, the most westerly post in the possession of the
Hudson Bay Company, is situated almost on the limit of the
polar circle. But as it stands on Alaskan territory this
Company is obliged to pay a yearly indemnity to its rival,
the Russo-American Company.
In 1864 only were the present buildings and their belt of palisades commenced, and they had been but lately completed when the Cascabel family halted at the fort for a few days' stay.
The agents readily offered them hospitality within the precincts of the fort. There was no lack of room in the yards and under the sheds. Mr. Cascabel, however, poured forth his thanks in a few pompous sentences: he preferred not to leave the roof of his comfortable Fair Rambler.
In reality if the garrison of the fort consisted only of a score of agents, mostly Americans, with a few Indian servants, the natives round about the Yukon were reckoned by hundreds.
For as a matter of fact, it is in this central point of Alaska that the most largely frequented market is held for the traffic in furs and hides. Thither flocked the various tribes of the province, the Kotch-a-Kutchins, the An-Kutchins, the Tatanchoks, and, foremost among them all, the Co-Yukons, who dwell by the banks of the big river.
The truth is, that the situation of the fort is most advantageous for the exchange of goods, standing as it does at the angle formed by the Yukon at the confluent of the Porcupine. Here the river divides into five streams, which enables traders to penetrate more easily into the interior and to barter goods even with the Eskimos by the Mackenzie River.
This network of streams is, accordingly, furrowed with skiffs, gliding up or down, and especially with numbers of those “baidarras,” light boat-frames covered with oiled skins, the seams of which are greased, so as to render them more water-tight. On board these frail boats the Indians do not hesitate to venture on long voyages, thinking nothing of carrying them on their shoulders when rapids or natural dams happen to impede their progress. However, these skiffs cannot be used more than three months at most. For the rest of the year the waters are imprisoned under a thick covering of ice. The baidarra then changes its name and becomes a sleigh. This vehicle, whose curved extremity, recalling the prow of a boat, is held in position by strips of leather from the hide of the moose, is drawn by dogs or reindeer, and travels quickly. As to foot-travelers, with their long snow-shoes, they move along more swiftly still. Always in luck, was our Cæser Cascabel! He could not have reached Fort Yukon at a better moment. The fur and hide fair was at its highest; several hundreds of Indians had already pitched their tents near the trading station.
“Hang me,” he exclaimed, “if we don't make something by it! This is a regular fair, and we must not forget that we are fair artists! Is not this the time, if ever, to display our talents? You see no objection to it, Mr. Sergius?”
“None, my friend,” replied the latter, “but I see no great chance of heavy takings!”
“Why, they'll surely cover our expenses, seeing we have none!”
“Quite true. But, let me ask you, in what way do you hope these good natives will pay you for their seats, since they have no American money, no Russian money.”
“Well, they'll give me muskrats' skins, beavers' skins, anything they like! In any case, the immediate result of these performances will be to unbend our muscles, for I am always afraid our joints will get stiff. And, you know, we have a name to keep up at Perm, at Nijni, and I would not for the world expose my troupe to a fiasco when we make our first appearance on your native soil. It would be the death of me, Mr. Sergius,—yes, it would be my death!”
Fort Yukon, the most important in these regions, occupies a pretty large site on the right bank of the river. It is a sort of oblong quadrilateral construction, strengthened at each corner with square towerets not unlike those windmills resting on a pivot that are to be seen in the north of Europe. Inside are several buildings, for the lodging of the agents of the company and their families, and two vast inclosed sheds, where a considerable stock is kept of sable furs and beavers' skins, and black and silver-gray foxes' skins, not to speak of less valuable goods.
A monotonous life, a painful life too, is the life of these agents. The flesh of the reindeer sometimes, but more frequently that of the moose, toasted, boiled, or roasted, is their main article of food. As to other kinds of victuals, they must be fetched from the trading-station at York, in the region of Hudson Bay, that is to say from a distance of some two thousand miles; and, of necessity, the arrival of such supplies is an unfrequent occurrence.
In the course of the afternoon, after having arranged their encampment, Mr. Cascabel and family went and paid a visit to the natives who had squatted between the banks of the Yukon and the Porcupine.
What a variety in those temporary dwellings according to the tribe to which they belonged! Huts of hides and barks of trees, held up on poles and covered over with foliage, tents made of the cotton stuff manufactured by the natives, wooden cabins that can be taken down or set up according to requirements.
And what quaint mixture of colors in the dresses! Some wore fur clothing, others cotton garments; all had a garland of leaves around their heads to preserve themselves against the bite of the mosquito. The women wear square-cut petticoats, and adorn their faces with shells. The men wear shoulder clasps and use them, in winter, to hold up their long robe of moose's skin, the fur of which is on the inside. Both sexes, moreover, make a great show of fringes of false pearls, the size of which is the only standard by which they are valued. Among these various tribes, were distinguished the Tananas, easily known by the bright colors painted on their faces, the feathers on their headdress, the little pieces of red clay stuck on their egrettes,their leather vests, their pants of reindeer skin, their long flint guns, and their powder pouches carved with extreme delicacy.
By way of coin, these Indians use the shells of the dentalium, which are found even among the natives of the Vancouver Archipelago; they hang them on the cartilage of their noses, and take them down when they want to pay for anything.
“That is a handy way to carry your money,” said Cornelia. “No fear of losing your purse.”
“Unless your nose drops off!” justly remarked Clovy.
“And that might easily come to pass in such severe winters!” added Mr. Cascabel.
On the whole, this gathering of natives offered a curious spectacle.
Of course, Mr. Cascabel had entered into conversation with several of the Indians, by means of the Chinook tongue with which he was slightly acquainted, whilst Mr. Sergius questioned and answered them in Russian.
For several days, a brisk trade was carried on between the natives and the representatives of the Company, but hitherto the Cascabels had not availed themselves of their talents for a public performance.
Meanwhile, however, the Indians soon became aware that the troupe was of French origin, that its various members enjoyed a wide reputation as athletes, acrobats, and jugglers. Each evening they flocked, in wondering crowds, around the Fair Rambler. They had never seen such a vehicle, one with such gaudy coloring above all. They chiefly praised it because it moved about easily,—a peculiarly pleasing feature in the eyes of nomadic people. Who knows if, at some future time, Indian tents mounted on wheels will not be a common sight? After houses on wheels, we may have villages on wheels,—why not?
It was a natural consequence of such a state of things that an extraordinary performance should be given by the new-comers. And accordingly the giving of such a performance was resolved upon “at the general requests of the Indians of Fort Yukon.”
The native with whom Mr. Cascabel had made acquaintance very soon after his arrival was a “tyhi,” that is to say the chief of a tribe. A fine fellow, some fifty years old, he seemed full of intelligence; nay, there was a very “knowing” look about him. Several times he had visited the Fair Rambler, and had given to understand how glad the natives would be to witness the exercises of the troupe.
This tyhi was mostly accompanied by an Indian, some thirty years of age, named Fir-Fu, a graceful type of the more refined native, who was the magician of the tribe and a remarkable juggler, well known as such throughout the Yukon province.
“He is a colleague of ours then?” said Mr. Cascabel the first time that he was presented to him by the tyhi.
And all three, having drunk together some of the liqueurs of the country, had smoked the calumet of peace.
As the outcome of these conversations, in the course of which the tyhi had pressed Mr. Cascabel for a performance, the latter was appointed to take place on the 3d of August. It was agreed that the Indians would lend their aid, for they would not be thought inferior to Europeans in strength, skill, or agility.
This indeed is not surprising; in the Far West, as in the province of Alaska, the Indians are very fond of gymnastic and acrobatic displays, and with these they intermix comedies and masquerades, at which they are great adepts.
And accordingly, on the appointed date, when a large audience had been gathered together, you could have seen a group of half a dozen Indians whose faces were hid under large wooden masks of unspeakable hideousness. After the fashion of the “big heads” at pantomimes, the mouth and eyes of these masks were set in motion by means of strings,—which gave an appearance of life to these horrible faces, most of which ended in birds' beaks. It were difficult to imagine what a degree of perfection they had attained in the art of making grimaces, and John Bull (the ape of course) might have taken some good lessons from them.
Needless to say that Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel, John, Sander, Napoleona, and Clovy had all donned their gala dresses for this occasion.
The spot selected was an immense meadow surrounded by trees, of which the Fair Rambler occupied the background, as though a part of a stage scenery. The front rows had been reserved for the agents of Fort Yukon with their wives and children. On the sides several hundreds of Indians, men and women, formed a semi-circle, and smoked the time away, waiting for the performance.
The masked natives who were to join in it stood by themselves, somewhat out of the way.
Punctual to the time, Clovy appeared on the platform of the wagon, and proceeded to deliver his usual address:
“Indian gentlemen and Indian ladies, you are about to see what you shall see!”—etc., etc.
But as Chinook “was to him unknown,” it is very probable that his witticisms were all thrown away on the audience.
What they did understand was the traditional shower of blows leveled at him by his boss, and the kicks he received from behind with all the resignation of a clown who is paid for that very purpose.
The prologue over:
“Now, for the quadrupeds!” said Mr. Cascabel, bowing to the audience.
Wagram and Marengo were trotted out to the open space that had been reserved in front of the Fair Rambler and astonished the natives, little accustomed as they were to any labor that brings out the intelligence of animals. Then, when John Bull came and went through his vaulting exercises over the spaniel and the poodle, he did so with such nimbleness, and such droll attitudes, as to unwrinkle the grave-faced Indians.
Meanwhile, Sander did not cease blowing into the horn with all the might of his lungs, and Cornelia and Clovy kept beating their respective drums. If, after that, the Alaskans did not appreciate all the effect that can be produced by a European orchestra, the fact can only be explained by their lacking all sense of what is artistic.
Until now, the masked group had been motionless, deeming, no doubt, that the time for action had not come yet: they were keeping themselves in reserve.
“Mademoiselle Napoleona, the high rope dancer!” shouted Clovy through a speaking-trumpet.
And the lassie, presented by her father, made her appearance before the public.
First she danced with such grace as brought her warm applause, not expressed, indeed, by shouts or the clapping of hands, but by simple nods of the head which were not less significant. And these signs of gratification were renewed when she was seen to dart up on a rope, stretched between two trestles, and there, walk, run, and skip about, with an ease which was particularly admired by the Indian women.
“Now is my turn!” exclaimed young Sander.
And behold him coming forward, saluting the public with a tap on his nape, then twirling, twisting, dislocating himself, reversing his joints in all kinds of manner, transforming his legs into his arms, and his arms into his legs, now walking like a lizard, then hopping like a frog, and eventually terminating the whole with a double somersault.
He, too, received his meed of applause; but he had scarcely bowed his thanks by bringing his head on a level with his feet when an Indian, of his own age, stepping out of the group of native performers came forward in the ring, and took off his mask.
Every exercise executed by Sander, the young native then went through with such suppleness in his joints, such accuracy in his movements as to leave nothing to be desired from the acrobatic point of view. If he was less graceful than the younger of Cascabel's sons, he was not less astonishing than he. And his exploits accordingly excited among the natives the most enthusiastic nods.
Needless to say that the staff of the Fair Rambler had the good taste to add their applause to that of the public. But, unwilling to be beaten, Mr. Cascabel beckoned to John to proceed with his juggling, an art in which he considered him as having no equal.
John felt he had the honor of the family to keep up. Encouraged by a gesture from Mr. Sergius, and a smile from Kayette, he took up, in turn, his bottles, his plates, his balls, his knives, his disks, and his sticks, and it may be said he surpassed himself.
Mr. Cascabel could not help casting upon the Indians a look of proud complacency in which could be seen something like a challenge. He seemed to be saying to the members of the masked group:
“Well, you fellows, beat that if you can!”
His thought was, no doubt, understood; for, at a beck of the tyhi's, another Indian, pulling off his mask, walked out of the group.
This was the magician Fir-Fu; he, too, had his reputation to keep up, on behalf of the native race.
Then, seizing, one after the other, the various articles used by John, he repeated each and every one of his rival's exercises, crossing the knives and the bottles, the disks and the rings, the balls and the sticks, and all this, it must be confessed, with as graceful an attitude, as unerring a hand, as John Cascabel's.
Clovy, accustomed to admire no one but his master and his family, was literally bewildered.
This time Cascabel applauded merely as a matter of courtesy and with the tips of his fingers.
“My word!” he murmured. “They are no joke, those redskins aren't! People without schooling, too! Well! We shall teach them a thing or two!”
On the whole, he was not a little disappointed to have found rivals where he had expected admirers only. And what rivals? Simple natives of Alaska,—savages, you might say. His pride as an artist was stung to the quick. After all! you are a showman, or you are not!
“Now then, children,” he thundered, “now for the human pyramid!”
And all rushed toward him, as if to the assault. He had taken a firm stand, his legs wide open, his hips bulging out well, his bust fully developed. On his right shoulder John had lightly stepped, holding out a hand to Clovy, who stood on Cascabel's left shoulder. In his turn, Sander had taken up his stand on his father's head, and, above him, Napoleona crowned the edifice, circling her two arms to send kisses to the audience.
The French pyramid had scarcely been up when another, the native one, rose beside it. Without even removing their masks, the Indians had stood on each other, not five, but seven deep; their structure overtopped the other by one man. Pyramid vied against pyramid.
Shouts and hurrahs were now uttered by the Indian spectators in honor of their tribes. Old Europe was beaten by young America, and what America?—The America of the Co-Yukons, of the Tananas, and the Tatanchoks!
Mr. Cascabel, full of shame and confusion, made a wrong movement and well-nigh hurled his co-workers to the ground.
“Ah! That's the way, is it?” he grumbled, after ridding himself of his human load.
“Be calm, my friend,” said Mr. Sergius to him. “It is really not worth while to—”
“Not worth while, indeed! It is easily seen you are not an artist, Mr. Sergius!”
Then, turning to his wife:
“Come, Cornelia, an open-hand wrestling match!” he cried. “We shall see which of these savages will dare to face the ‘Chicago champion’!”
Mrs. Cascabel did not move.
“Well, Cornelia?”
“No, Cæser.”
“How? No? You won't wrestle with those apes, and rescue the honor of the family?”
“I shall rescue it,” simply replied Cornelia. “Leave it to me. I have an idea!”
And when this wonderful woman had an idea, it was best to let her carry it out as she pleased. She felt quite as much humiliated as her husband by the success of the Indians, and it was probable she was about paying them off in her own coin.
She had returned to the Fair Rambler, leaving her husband somewhat uneasy, despite all the reliance he placed in the resources of her intelligence and imagination.
Two minutes later, Mrs. Cascabel reappeared and stood before the group of the Indian performers who gathered around her.
Then addressing the principal agent of the fort, she prayed him to kindly repeat to the natives what she was going to say.
And this is what was translated by him, word for word, in the vernacular tongue of the province of Alaska:
“Indians, you have exhibited, in these displays of muscle and of skill, talents that are worthy of a reward. That reward, I bring it to you.”
The audience listened with breathless attention.
“You see my hands?” continued Cornelia. “More than once they have been pressed by the most august personages of the old world. You see my cheeks? Many a time and oft they have received the kisses of the mightiest sovereigns of Europe! Well! these hands, these cheeks, they are yours! American Indians, come and kiss these cheeks, come and press these hands!”
And, in very truth, the natives did not wait to be asked twice. Never again would they have the like opportunity with so fine a woman!
One of them, a good-looking Tanana, came forth and seized the hand that she held out to him—
What a yell burst from his lips when he felt a shock that made him wriggle in a thousand contortions.
“Ah, Cornelia!” whispered Mr. Cascabel, “Cornelia, I understand you, and I admire you.”
And Mr. Sergius, John, Sander, Napoleona, and Clovy were in convulsions of laughter at the trick played on the natives by this extraordinary woman.
“Another!” she called, her arms stretched toward the audience,—“another!”
The Indians hesitated; something supernatural must have happened there, they thought.
However, the tyhi seemed to be making up his mind; he walked slowly up toward Cornelia, stood still a couple of steps away from her imposing person, and surveyed her with a look that bespoke anything but a fearless heart within.
“Now then, old fellow!” cried Cascabel to him. “Now then, a little courage!—Kiss the lady! It's the easiest thing out, and it's so sweet!”
The tyhi, stretching out his hand, barely touched the European belle with his finger.
A second shock, a second series of screams, uttered this time by the chief, who well-nigh measured his length backwards on the ground, and awful stupefaction of the public. If people were so roughly handled for merely touching Mrs. Cascabel's hand, what would come to pass if they ventured to embrace this astonishing creature, whose cheeks “had received the kisses of the mightiest sovereigns of Europe?” Well! there was one bold man, venturesome enough to run the risk. That man was the magician Fir-Fu. He, at least, should believe himself proof against all malefices! And so, he planted himself in front of Cornelia. Then, having walked right round her, and encouraged by the incentives of his countrymen, he took her in his two arms and gave her a formidable kiss, full on her cheek.
What followed this time was not a shock, but a series of leaps and jumps. The juggler had suddenly become an acrobat! And after two somersaults, as wonderfully per formed as they were involuntary, he dropped into the midst of his amazed companions.
To produce this effect on the magician, as well as on the other natives, Cornelia had merely to press the knob of a little electric pile she had in her pocket. Yes!—a little pocket pile with which she acted “the electrical woman!”
“Ah! wifie!—wifie!” exclaimed her husband, as he pressed her in his arms with impunity before the stupefied Indians. “Is she clever, eh? Is she clever?”
“As clever as electrical!” added Mr. Sergius.
In truth, what could the natives think, if not that this supernatural woman disposed of the thunder at her will? How was it that, for merely touching her hand, you were knocked to the ground? Surely, she could be no one else but the wife of the Great Spirit, who had condescended to come down on earth and take Cascabel for her second husband!