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CHAPTER XXV
WE HEAR FROM CHEROKEE BILL
It is commonly in September that the savages "go in for the winter hunt," in the region where our story takes place. These hunts are the more important from the animals' fur being in prime condition, and, of course, fetching a better price at the trading centres. The picked hunters of various Indian nations come into the great northern wilds, and are the more mixed up recently, as the railway pioneers and settlers arrive in too strong force to pay much heed to treaty restrictions. The upshot is, that while a tacit truce is tolerably well maintained, so long as every arrow and bullet is required to make "eatable meat," the view, often the contact of enemies, causes a stray hunter of any race to thread his way as gingerly as a soldier advancing among mines, countermines, and torpedoes. Unless under exceptional circumstances, though, the main bodies do not fall on one another. Personal interest, the only motor, imposes this restraint on their ferocious habits.
In sooth, besides the furs they sell, the red men have to preserve some for garments; moreover, there is the flesh of the prizes to be dried by sun or fire, jerked, or crubbed up with salt, to enable them to pass the rigorous winter so fatal to improvident tribes.
As the game gets crowded away from the farmers' axe and the locomotive engine whistle, it thickens, naturally, in the final retreats. In this quarter, it fairly swarms. The buffaloes run still in countless herds; there is plenty of elk, beaver, deer, bear, musk ox, foxes of several kinds, wolves, red, grey, and white, musquash, ermine, a few opossum; and, for winged game, turkeys, prairie fowl, bustard, eagles, and so on. And, besides, the clearer waters furnish fine fish – salmon, trout, perch, sturgeons, the great white fish, and small fry profusely.
Hence the nomads guard this territory as narrowly as their unsteadiness permits. As it is dishonourable for a warrior to use tillage implements, only one or two people sow a little maize, without much assurance they will themselves harvest in the crop. When there is a failure of game, therefore, misery is acute, and famine soon appears to decimate the decaying bands.
The inextinguishable hatred of the ancient possessors of the soil, springs from the invasion and hacking away of the hunting grounds. The trappers and hunters, who went rarely in large knots, were well armed and too well able to take care of their heads to be molested; and, besides, made, no great gaps in the herds. But of late years, selfish, moneymaking, pitiless slaughterers have come out from the advance posts of civilisation, and not only massacred the beasts wantonly for hide and fancy heads and horns, for mere ornaments in millionnaires' vestibules, but in their rear whisky sellers establish shanties. These grow like Jonah's gourd, and wither as fast, it is true; but on their ruins real settlers flock, and towns are speedily laid out. Deer will not abide sheep, it is well known, and so the Indians hate the farmer and grazier only a point less fiercely than these buffalo butchers.
As for the moral: the Indians say that the land was their fathers', or that of the strong hand. When they uphold the latter doctrine, the pioneers plead for the Government troops to take them at their word, or let them wipe the varmint out.
Closing this necessary digression sharply, we proceed with our tale.
The diverse aborigines assembled for the great winter hunt had never been so annoyed before as by the almost simultaneous intrusion of Sir Archie Maclan's sledging party from Canada, the Half-breeds from Red River of the North, and Captain Kidd's gold grabbers from the South.
The Crows had fleshed their arrows the first in the Scotch party, and the news had swiftly crossed the wastes of "a heap of scalps and plunder" being obtained. The mock Chippeway guide had become a hero of legend. The attack on the Half-breeds, though a repulse, was also commended, and Ahnemekee had added laurels to his wreath.
Whilst this news was still fresh, an Indian camp was established on the bank of Bear River, an affluent of Red River which does not always feed it, being sometimes "lost" in a sinkhole on the way when the waters fall low. Bears did not people the shore now; that was a tradition.
A considerable portion of the head tribe of Piegans occupied the score and a half of buffalo hide tents, sodded at the bottom edge to keep out the cold and wet. These Indians appertain to the great nation of the Blackfeet, still one of the most warlike and, consequently, most dreaded of the Nor'-Westers. They are a little free in their reading of hunting law, as they are known to go and steal horses on the Mexican frontier, whether the Apaches and Comanches like the inroad or not.
This troop comprised some two hundred "big braves." The several headmen, or captains, obeyed a sachem called "Knife-painted-with-Blood," or more concisely, "Red Knife." He had valiantly won the title by preferring hand-to-hand struggles.
He was only about thirty, standing clear six feet, and not bowlegged, more slender than bulky, but unusually active and skilful with various weapons, though with the knife he could execute any feat. His expression was a haughty one, rather majestic when not cruel and scornful. His smallish, black, beadlike eyes, deep set, sparkled with cunning, malice, and fearlessness. He was idolised by his followers, and though the office of war chief is precarious, and such a one is often forced to make concessions or be deposed, never had Red Knife met discussion for his order. He reigned like an Asiatic monarch.
Ordinarily, as the women and children are indispensable for the meat making, and fur and skin dressing, the Indians must have them and their dogs and pack ponies along with them. The dogs, for once, get fully fed, and so become too appetising with their round paunches, and are sacrificed in feast when not required for burdens.
On this occasion the Piegans had no living impediments in their camp, and the warriors had not replaced the war paint pictures with peaceful emblems. This proved clearly that this party only pretended to be out a-hunting, and sought an opportunity to outdo the Crows in an attack on the white intruders.
For some ten days they had been located at their regular encampment. To prevent quarrels, each hunting party occupies the same site from time out of mind.
Among Indian beliefs is the singular one that each tribe has an animal ancestor, whose image or present lineal representative is their totem, or sacred standard. Its shape is tattooed on the bosom. When the size or rarity of the actual animal prevents even its skin being portable, its figure is painted on a banner, extremely revered, and guarded by an old warrior, the counterpart to our ensign. Over and above this public token is another one, only known to the upper class of "men of the medicine," being a grand pass sign, practically universal. We have only to add that the good sense which tempers the superstition of the North American savage allows him, when hungry, to hunt, kill, and eat the animal of his reverence, though, truly, he always apologises by way of grace to the victim. But the supersacred emblem would be respected in any emergency. Luckily, this is chosen among such uncommon, even extinct, or, perhaps, fabulous creatures, that it would be exempt from maltreatment in any case.
The tribe of Red Knife were convinced that the grizzly bear was their great grandfather, and so always came to Bear River as a hunting home.
At sunrise of a fine day of dying September, the Piegans were rather lazily attending to the morning labours, the more disgustedly as these are usually turned over to the women.
The camp, intelligently placed on the water side, and otherwise defended by a double row of stakes, presented the untidy aspect of such places – "and smelt so, pah!"
War ponies, held by ropes to pegs, munched climbing peas. At the door of his tent, Red Knife – squatted at a fire – was regaling himself with a before-breakfast smoke. His eyes were half closed like a cat's. Two subchiefs stood by him with the same seeming inattention. After the horses had had their fill, they were taken to the watering place, whereupon the men might eat. So goes the care for the war horses: much like Arab rule.
Soon the chief was given his meat, simply enough composed of still fresh meat, roe smashed up with wild fruit to acidify it, and a bowl of hominy, or Indian corn hasty pudding, made savoury with bear's fat and flavoured with meat powder and a dash of rock salt. It was the hachesto, or crier, who was also the butler. When he had dished up, the commander kindly invited his lieutenants to squat by him and help him out with the repast. They nodded, laid by their pipes, and all three went to work without uttering a word. A European might not have relished the spread, even washed down with poor whisky and the icy water, but an Indian is not fastidious. When he has food, he eats gluttonously, absorbing an incredible quantity, for it is etiquette to refuse nothing and leave no crumbs. On the other hand, probably consoling their stomachs in privation by memory of past feasts and prospects of more, our red brothers support themselves with great fortitude.
Notwithstanding the quantity before them, the chiefs did not prolong the meal, which was over in fifteen minutes or so. The crier came up from where he was watching and handed the lighted pipe.
The other warriors, having finished breaking their fast, rolled themselves up in their wraps and went off in a doze by the fires. Such sleeping, eating, dozing, hunting, and fighting forms their life.
For two good hours all but the three leaders seemed reposing, and they never shifted their positions.
At about eleven o'clock the gallop of several horses was audible at a distance. The crier rose and hastened to the entrance of the palisadoed camp.
Coming up swiftly, he perceived three mounted Indians. They were armed for war, and by the foxtails on their leggings and by the grey eagle feather stuck upright over the left ear, one could conclude they were chiefs. They reined in when they arrived at the enclosure of pikes. The principal, as was shown by his keeping a shade in advance of the others, lifted his right hand open, the palm outwards, the four fingers kept together, and the thumb bent in. The hachesto made the same sign, and, going up nearer, saluted the newcomers respectfully enough, and in a low, measured voice, inquired their business. Being answered, he saluted again, and returned into the camp with his information.
Red Knife listened to the story in an unconcerned manner, but he ordered the visitors to be shown to him.
At the sound of the horses the warriors had awakened. The outermost went to take the horses from the guests who alighted. These then were ushered up to the trio of commanders, who eyed them coldly. The other three were in fighting dress, but were not painted in accordance.
"My brothers are welcome," remarked Red Knife. "Ahnemekee being a great chief in his nation, he shall take his place beside his brother the Piegan, and smoke the peace pipe."
Ahnemekee, for it was the Crow chief, bowed pleasedly at the compliment, squatted down, and took the pipe. For a while the calumet went the round. Etiquette directs that the guests must speak first and may not be questioned. The pipe ended with Ahnemekee, who knocked out the ashes on his nail and offered them ceremoniously to the earth whence the tobacco had come, and thereupon, bending toward Red Knife with a winning smile, wished him plenty of buffalo and success in killing bear.
With the same bland smile, Red Knife returned the compliment.
"Unluckily," added he, "game is scarce. The wilderness is getting swamped with 'the hatted men' – (Indians are self-distinguished as hatless) – the feather-heads get only their leavings."
"Yes," returned the Crow, emboldened at no allusion being made to the old-time enmity between the Crows and the Blackfeet nation, "not only do the Long Knives capture the game as if it grew for them alone, but the axe and the plough lessen the domains of our fathers. Soon will we be crowded against the rocks, and there shall we die in snow and ice for want of food. My heart aches to think of the miseries awaiting the Unishiniba– all Indians. As I submit, it seems to me my blood is weakened with water, that the marrow in my bones is swamp mud, that my eyes are dimmed as one looking through the glass peepholes in the stone cabins. I have gone into seclusion for eight days and there asked, asked, asked if the just Great Spirit has really allowed the palefaces to do what they like with what we deemed our very own."
"My brother is a wise warrior," said the Piegan, sorrowfully. "The speech from his straight tongue chimes in with the Voice that speaks to me in my meditation. Speak on, speak on, Ahnemekee – I hear not a Crow Indian, but one of the whole red race – it is a friendly ear that drinks in his words."
"Right! The chain of brotherhood still endures, and though time has cankered it, it is strong under the rust. When Yoheewah brought our fathers from the Eye of the sky, O, glorious Sun, that warms the red man and conserves his meat, then the Wacondah showed them the woods, lakes, streams, and prairies, and bade him 'Take, all is thine!' The warrior bowed to the Guide, and thanked Him. There were no white men then, they had not come over the Alleghanies to be our tormentors, our robbers, our slayers, with the fire in great guns. But the red men fell out with one another, and would not see there was room for all. The Great Spirit brought the palefaces hither to perplex them and punish them. Soon did they scatter them, setting the Blackfeet Sioux against the Mountain Blackfeet, the Crows against the Bloods. But still, the redskins have learnt the new kind of warfare. We have horses and weapons. All the route of flight of the Sioux through the Yellowstone was strewn with the cachés of the arms they could not carry, and Crows and Blackfeet have dug them up, and have been buying powder and ball with their furs."
"The hour of revenge has come, brother – I speak it! Why should we not all profit by it? And if we must wrangle and clapperclaw amongst ourselves, let it be over the spoil of the dead whites," said he, subtly. "Hunting! For a week you have laid here empty-handed, whilst I have pillaged a train and armed my men finely. It is true we have come off second best in an encounter with another band of intruders, but it was the snowstorm that drove us off. Let us unite and overwhelm these Northerners, and then crush out the prairie pirates from the gold mines. What does my brother think of my words? There are no more to come."
"My brother speaks to the point, his words fall on mine ear as sweetly as the eagle's scream, swooping upon its prey in its mate's hearing. The Piegan braves are not here to run buffalo and follow deer. They are gathered to drive the gold seekers into graves. But what can so small a force do, however bold and cunning? It is a chief who asks this. Let his brother answer."
"Red Knife is wise, though his hair is black. It is his wisdom that is grey. Ahnemekee will go to the Bloods, the Small Robes, the Blackfeet, and the Dacotahs. They will ally against the paleface robbers and butchers. The hatchet will be buried as against the red men on all sides, but the bundle of reeds, one for each tribe, will be hurled within the white men's camps. In four suns after this, hundreds of red warriors will gladly greet Red Knife at Elk's Leap, at the fifth hour of the night."
"If it be not contrary to the will of the Master of Life, the Knife-painted-with-Blood will be at the Elk's Leap."
It was as much of an acceptance as the Crow had anticipated. He rose, and was escorted to his horse by the sachem, whose companions were similarly polite to the other Crows.
The camp buzzed with a debate over the visit and the pledge, but was settling down to fresh calm when, about an hour after Ahnemekee's disappearance, an event occurred still more stirring.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE ALL-POWERFUL EMBLEM
A loud noise was heard in the skirt of the woodland, of which the outer brush came gently down to the opening of the vale, where the Piegans were lodged. As the sound came nearer it assumed the dimensions of a downright tumult. Besides the clatter of hoofs, there was the banging of heavy articles against the saplings, which sprang back angrily, the squealing of mules, and many random shots of pistols and rifles. The latter made the Indians the more disquieted, as the screen of boughs long hid the cause.
At Red Knife's order all ran with their arms to the defences, whilst some got their horses ready at a secret outlet, in case, this being an attack, they might rush round down upon their camp and pay them back in their own coin.
Two young men were sent out as scouts, but they had hardly left before a whole string of persons and animals emerged from the forest with giddy rapidity. In the van was a mounted man, on a mare, who did not in the least slacken his furious pace, though turning every little while to fire his breech-loading rifle. He wore an Indian dress, and it was reasonably surmised that he was a chief, but the distance and the dust that sprang up from the alkali stretches among the scrub outside the forest prevented particulars being defined of his tribe, or even his nation.
He was followed by a girl in a sort of pannier seat on a large fleet mule. A mantle enveloped her, but the wind flapped it back, so that her sex was discernible as far as her attire and her mode of riding revealed. Behind her, separated by such varied spaces as the differences in their speed under burdens apportioned, six or eight beasts of burden rushed. As in their mad course through the woods their packs had been knocked about, pulled partly off, slewed to one side or under the bellies, or even trailing after by the lashings, every now and then one would be brought to a sudden stop, or hurled into a natural pithole half full of decayed leaves and melting snow. The squallings would redouble at these disasters.
After these fugitives upwards of a dozen horsemen came racing. Some waved lariats, or snapped whips, to cow the runaways into a pause, or to swerve from blindly following the leaders; some were using their guns at the foremost of this queer procession. But, though they stopped to take aim, they were not so expert or fortunate as he. The pursuers were Red River Half-breeds.
The pack animals did not clear the wood; the scrub was more entangling than the large growth, and they, at all events, were captured as they struggled after their harness was caught.
The two fugitives, on debouching upon the open ground, were in extreme peril. They had the river to cross under fire. Nevertheless, they did not seem discouraged. At least, the dark-complexioned man drove the lady's mule into the water, and halting himself on the bank crest, fired five shots almost as quickly as one into the line of pursuers, of which each emptied a saddle. The remainder howled with rage, and, forced to stop among the riderless and plunging steeds, discharged all their guns at the daring coverer of the girl's crossing.
The latter brandished his repeating rifle around his head, as if his warriorlike exultation was uncontrollable; an act alone denouncing him as no pure white. He then jabbed his heels into the flanks of the mare, which leaped in a beautiful curve into the river. In the leap he uttered a war cry new to that region:
"Wo! – O-whoo-whoo!" and it still resounded when he reappeared above the surface after the plunge.
The mule was floundering, the girl clinging to it with nail and tooth, so to say. But the mare, being directed to a shelving part of the other bank, the mule whinnied, and hurried to climb out also.
The two galloped on towards the Piegan encampment at full speed, letting the muddy water drip off them as it pleased. On seeing the Indians watching them, the horseman, whose buffalo robe had been washed away in the stream, shouted in a high, clear voice in Algonquin, the most generally understood language among the pure Indians north:
"A brother!"
"Ho, ho, ho!" roared the Piegans, clapping their hands joyfully.
Red Knife dashed out of the shelter, having gazed with admiration on their bold, brave flight, and neat shooting at full speed. At the announcement of the new arrival, he waved his mantle in the sign of welcome, and called,
"Come to our bosom!"
The two fugitives dashed up the gentle slope to the camp ingress.
In the meantime, the pursuers, having secured the pack animals and the riderless horses, as well as seen to the wounded, came on apace, having momentarily lost sight of their objects. On crossing the frothy stream they beheld them cantering into the Piegan camp. They were convulsed with impotent rage as they pulled up smartly. Slowly they continued their march, only five of them now.
But as fifty Indians mounted and rode out from the entrenchments, they stopped afresh to consult. At length one rode out of the mass and made the sign of peace. There was no reply for two or three minutes. But the Half-breed was not to be so easily disheartened, and making the sign again, cried out in Chinook that he was a friend of the red man, who requested a hearing of their rulers.
It was Red Knife, who haughtily demanded the grounds for his request.
"'Tis an important matter for the chief's own ear."
"Good! Let the hunter wait," and measured off on the sky so many minutes with his forefinger.
The parleyers were forced to submit. But they were galled on perceiving why the delay was imposed. Some forty of the Piegans, stealing out of the secret gate, had gone over the river and were about surrounding the wounded men and the lassoed horses. The Red River Rovers gazed at one another "like crabs in a net," all eyes protruding; but knowing the kind of folk they were dealing with, they had to pretend tranquillity.
As soon as Red Knife believed that his instructions were consummated, he waved his hand to the parleyer, who was eyeing him anxiously.
"My friends are welcome. Let four of them come into the camp unarmed."
All resistance was useless. One solitary Half-breed was left in charge of the five horses and his comrades' arms on the river brink. All he could do, if the others were treacherously murdered, was make a breastwork of the quadrupeds and fire away to his last shot, and then be slain.
Red Knife and his lieutenants received the crestfallen Canadians courteously, and conducted them silently to the council fire. There the Piegans sat down and invited their guests to do likewise. During the long silence that ensued the entrapped ones looked well about them. The two fugitives had shaken themselves reasonably dry, exchanged their wet outer garments for dry ones and were warming themselves at the priests' holy fire in the medicine lodge, where the totem pole was standing sentry, so to say, over the tribal ark within.
"Why have the palefaces come into my camp?" inquired the Piegan at length, in a stern voice. "What is the news for us? There is no common tie between the palefaces and the Blackfeet."
The tone, like the question, was not amicable. Moreover, the hunters had noticed that the pipe had not been offered them, so that they knew they were being treated as enemies, not as mere strangers even.
The leader of the Red River Half-breeds was their captain himself. He was supported by David Steelder, to whom Kidd has alluded as an undesirable acquaintance, whilst Margottet was guarding the horses and weapons as one in a most trustworthy and ticklish post.
Steelder was a stout, herculean fellow, with flaming red hair and beard, though his eyes were dark. But they so squinted, and shifted their point of view so frequently, that most would not have remarked this incompatibility. He alone looked round on the red men with the idle curiosity of one whose brain was congested or softening.
Dagard was too learned in Indian ways not to appreciate the hostility of the reception. But he was fearless, cunning, and accustomed to meet emergencies without flinching.
"I have walked into the Piegan camp to sit at the council fire," he said, firmly, "and put in a request that my red brothers are not the fools to throw aside hastily."
"The Piegans are wise, and they can judge anything laid before them," responded Red Knife, emphatically.
"I know very well what the Piegans are like," went on Dagard, who placed no faith whatever in them. "They are wise warriors, and to claim justice, when prairie law is infringed, is to get it."
The chiefs bowed; it was flattering to be taken for arbitrators, and, besides, the prairie and mountain arbitrator is entitled to take payment out of the property in dispute. So l'Embarrasseur continued as jauntily as if he felt secure now.
"I have so great a confidence in my red brother that I have put aside all to a toothpick to come right in among ye. Besides, there's no blood feud between the Half-breeds of Manitoba and the Blackfeet nation that ever I heard of. The hatchet never was used against either in the other's hand. Why, then, should I want to sit down with the knife in my girdle, as you carry yours? If I had been your foe – why, I have a good crowd left after a hot brush with the Crows that would have been entirely rubbed out but for the blizzard breaking up the evening's amusement; but I haven't come in any force. I knew perfectly well that I was meeting friends."
There was a silence. The Indians were clearly aware that the Canadian had been a tough bone for Ahnemekee, and that the remainder of his troop was not despicable. They had not Winchester rifles such as that which so rapidly disposed of half its owner's pursuers, and hoped no such rare fortune.
"This is the point," concluded Dagard, with an angry glance at the girl and her defender at the sacred fire of the sanctuary, "my men and I, on the open ground, captured that white woman and some stampeded animals that followed her mule; when in cut this renegade Half-breed, on a mare that called away her mule, and away went the whole outfit, helter-skelter. A stampede is fair enough – but not treachery. Either this Half-breed stands up for one colour or the other – red or white. If he hunts with the red, why, I am red. The Red River Half-breeds never yet held for the King George's, or the Yankees. And he should have let my prizes alone. Or, if he is a friend to the whites, either those gold seekers or the mountain trappers, he is our foe. I claim the girl, I claim the mongrel whom no race owns. My brother shall decide. That's my say."
All eyes were turned towards the fugitive, who was now carelessly leaning against the totem pole. The girl trembled with cold; he was steady as the staff itself. The sachem beckoned him thither, and darted a suspicious glance on him, inasmuch as, Half-breed for Half-breed, there was nothing to vary the scales between them.
"There is an accusation, brother. What is the defence?" he asked.
The other smiled scornfully, but making an effort over himself, he answered railingly, "In the land of my forefathers the mockingbird was often heard, but I little thought to hear its deceitful voice hereabouts. To what tribe does this patchwork man belong that he dares class me with such as he? I am a Sagamore! But look at his skin – is it white, is it red, is it even yellow? Can he name his father among men renowned in battle? Can he name his mother? Some white thief, kicked out of the frontier whisky room, and some squaw who hangs round the ports, these were his progenitors, and they shrank from owning him! By what right does he raise his voice in a council of dog soldiers, elders, hallowed men who have been initiated in the inner circle of secrets handed down from days when, from the White Ridge yonder to the Blue Ridge (the Alleghenies) there, none but pure red men trod the warpath, and fished and hunted. Because he commands a string of curs. My nation is the ghost of what it was, but we can whip the Red River mongrels any day! We are the Cherokees! I am a first chief among them – I am Quorinnah, the Raven, and I wear the treasured Totem!"
So speaking, with a voice that grew thunderous with pride, Bill Williams, for this was the man, ripped off the wet woollen shirt covering his breast to the waist belt. On his bosom was tattooed the "Great Round O," as the ignorant call it, which, however, by its rays, signifies the Sun. It was traced in pitch pine soot pricked in and only the high-class Cherokee, the very inspired one, Cheer a dagee, or "fire filled," are so tattooed. If by chance any foolish or wicked young man attempted even a rude imitation, the elders would scrub the marks out of his skin with green corn juice to the very quick, and then he might think he had got off lightly for the sacrilege.
The sun is an emblem understood and respected almost all over the two Americas.
"A Son of the Sacred Fire!" cried the chiefs, bowing with reverence.
"Cherokee Bill, the mate of Jim Ridge the mountain man," sneered Dagard.
"Yes, I am the Cherokee. My father was made a chief of the nation before me. If ever I come to the stake, and I am bled to the last drop in my body, nothing will have issued but red blood! Well, I am thousands of miles from the home and graves of my fathers – am I among brothers or foes?"
Red Knife rose and bowed to the speaker, answering:
"We have heard none but a Cherokee speak. The place of the Sagamore is in my stead. Let him command at the council fire, and all that here surround us will obey him to the letter. Wisdom is in the Son of Fire, and the Great Spirit loves him. To no one need he give an account of his doings."
With a dignity that struck all beholders, the Cherokee sat in the place Red Knife vacated, and lifting his hand to entreat silence, said gravely?
"I thank my brother for not having required any explanation from me; but my tongue is not forked, and my honour exacts my Piegan sons being judges between this Canadian and me. The young woman whom you see yonder was the captive of the gold seekers, commanded by Captain Kidd, whose name smells bad in the nose of honest Indians on the border. She escaped on the mule, and fell across the path of these Red River Rovers. Yes, she would have been their fair capture if they were independent. But that's not so. They are allied with Captain Kidd, and this detachment was going to join him when they met the fugitive. Being one and the same, any enemy had the right to cut in and cut out the prize. I did so. Who is in the right? He?"
