Being by this time, as they fondly imagined, thoroughly acquainted with the white man's thunder-stick and with all details of the process necessary to render it effective, our young Indians were determined to leave undone nothing that might contribute to the complete success of their proposed salute. To begin with, the musket must be pointed away from the village, and they themselves must keep at a respectful distance while it was accumulating its fiery energy. Also, to produce an extraordinary volume of sound, the flame by which the thunder-stick was fed must be big and hot. They knew this, because on the occasion of their previous experiment they had, with the aid of a flame, produced a much louder noise than that made by the white man's slow-matches. Consequently they argued that the greater the flame the louder the report.
At the same time they were willing toacknowledge that slow-matches were excellent things to have under certain conditions, when, for instance, one was so closely beset that he wished to fire with great rapidity, even as many as two or three shots in the course of an hour. So they were determined to obtain one at the very first opportunity, and imagined that thus provided their shooting equipment would be complete.
But a blaze would be much better for their present purpose, and they would take care that it was big enough to produce an astonishing result. So carefully did they make their preparations that while Tasquanto collected dry wood for the fire, Nahma cut a couple of forked sticks on which to rest the musket and drove them solidly into the ground. To these he lashed the gun until it resembled a victim about to be burned at the stake. He did not, of course, forget to place it upside down, so that its firing-pan might receive full benefit of the upleaping flames. Then wood was piled beneath it until it really looked as though they were intent upon burning the gun instead of being merely desirous of discharging it.
While they were making these preparations several of the villagers, noticing the presence of strangers, came out to discover their business. To these Tasquanto made the peace sign, and at the same time warned them not to come too close. So they halted and watched with curiosity the mysterious proceedings of the strangers.
At length all was in readiness, and Tasquanto, as principal owner of the thunder-stick, claimed the privilege of setting fire to the inflammable structure he had reared beneath it. As the brisk blaze shot upward he ran back and joined Nahma at a safe distance. On the opposite side were the village Indians, filled with uneasy expectancy mingled with awe; for they imagined they were witnessing some impressive religious ceremony.
The flames mounted higher and higher until they completely enveloped the devoted musket, and Tasquanto, so excited as to be unconscious of the act, clapped his hands to his ears to deaden the sound of the thunderous report that he momentarily expected. But it did not come. The wooden stock of the gun began to smoke, and then burst into a blaze. Being very dry and alsosaturated with oil, it was speedily consumed. At the same time the lashings burned through, and the red-hot barrel, already bent out of shape, fell into the glowing coals.
As though drawn by an irresistible fascination, Tasquanto, with hands still held to his ears, had moved nearer step by step, gazing with incredulous eyes at this destruction of the thing he had regarded as a god, loud-voiced and invincible. The puzzled spectators on the other side also cautiously approached closer.
Suddenly Tasquanto, seeming to awake as from a dream, started down the hill-side towards the canoe, and Nahma followed him. Both knew why they fled. For some unexplained reason their expected triumph had resulted in a dismal failure. This had laid them open to the ridicule that an Indian finds especially hard to bear, and they had no wish to be questioned concerning what had just taken place.
The spectators of their recent remarkable performance, curious to see what they would do next, followed them so closely that, in order to escape, our lads were forced to run. Gaining theircanoe, they shoved it off and leaped in as the foremost of their pursuers reached the water's edge. Without heeding the many invitations to return that quickly became threatening commands, Nahma and Tasquanto plied their paddles with such diligence that they were quickly beyond arrow range; and, speeding past the village without a pause, they were soon lost to sight of its puzzled inhabitants. Not until they were some miles farther down the river was a word exchanged between the young men. Then, as Nahma drew in his paddle and paused for breath, he remarked,—
"The thunder-stick of the white man is bad medicine for bow-and-arrow people."
"Yes," replied Tasquanto, mournfully, "it seems that we have much to learn."
While in camp that night discussing the humiliating events of the day they were joined by a solitary hunter who was on his way up the river. After a guarded interchange of questions and answers, during which neither party learned anything definite concerning the other, the stranger told them of certain white men who were tradingat the mouth of the Penobscot, and advised them to carry their furs to that market.
"Are they Française?" asked Nahma, who was determined never again to fall within the power of those who had so cruelly imprisoned him.
"No," was the reply, "they are of a people who call themselves 'Yengeese' and who make war on the white-coats."
"Have they thunder-sticks?" asked Tasquanto.
"In plenty."
"Then let us go to them. If we accomplish nothing else we may learn the white man's secret, and so shall our shame be wiped out."
On the following day, therefore, a few hours carried our lads to where the river broadened into a bay dotted with islands. As their little craft was lifted on the first great swells that came rolling in from the open sea, Nahma uttered an exclamation and pointed eagerly.
"Look!" he cried. "What is it? Was ever such a thing seen in the world before?"
Tasquanto glanced in the direction indicated and laughed. Truly, the sight was remarkable, and one still rare to those waters; but he hadalready seen one so similar in the St. Lawrence that he could now speak with the authority of superior knowledge.
"It is the winged canoe of the white man," he said. "In it he comes up out of the great salt waters and after a little flies back again to his own place. Knew you not that his whiteness is caused by the washing of the waters in which he lives?"
"No," replied Nahma, doubtfully. "Nor did I know that any canoe could be so vast. It even has trees growing from it."
"Yes," admitted the other, to whom this phenomenon was also a puzzle. "But they be not trees that bear fruit, nor even leaves, though they have branches and vines. On them the canoe spreads its wings, which are white like the pinions of wembezee" (the swan).
"Let us go closer that we may see these things," said Nahma, to whom the appearance of that little English trading-ship was as wonderful as had been his first view of Quebec.
So they approached slowly and cautiously, feasting their eyes on the marvel as they went,and directing each other's attention to a myriad of details. Finally they were within hailing distance, and a man standing on the ship's towering poop-deck beckoned for them to come on board.
Tasquanto, who knew the etiquette of such occasions, held up a beaver-skin, as much as to say "Will you trade?"
For reply the white man displayed some trinkets that glittered in the sunlight, thereby intimating his willingness to transact business. At the same time he turned to one who stood close at hand and said,—
"They be two young bucks, without old men, women, or children. Nor is there another native in sight. It is therefore the best chance by far that has offered for filling Sir Ferdinando's order. 'Twenty pounds will I give thee, Dermer, for a native youth of intelligence delivered here at Plymouth in good condition.' Those were his very words, and it will be well to have two; for if one dies on the passage, as the cattle are so apt to do, then will the other make good the loss. If both survive, so much the better, since we can readily dispose of the extra one. We mustentice them on board, therefore, and the instant they set foot on deck do thou see to it that they are secured. Be careful, however, that they suffer no injury, for I would get them across in good condition if possible."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the other, who was mate of the ship. "If you can toll 'em on board I'll handle them as they were unweaned lambs. I'll warrant you they won't escape if once I get a grip on them, slippery devils though they be."
When the canoe ran alongside the ship a few trinkets were tossed into it as presents and in token of good-will. Then a ladder of rope was lowered, and by signs our lads were invited to come on board.
They looked at each other doubtfully. "Is it safe to trust these white men?" asked Nahma.
"To discover the secret of the thunder-sticks, and perhaps to obtain one in exchange for our furs, is worth a risk," replied Tasquanto. As he spoke he glanced longingly up to where the ship's captain, with a leer on his face that passed for a reassuring smile, tempted them by a lavish display of trade goods.
"Truly, it would be worth much," hesitated Nahma. "At the same time, having once escaped from a prison, I have no desire to see the inside of another."
"Then stay thou here while I go," said Tasquanto, whose desire to wipe out his recent humiliation was so great as to overcome his prudence. "The secret of the thunder-stick I must have even though it cost me my life."
"Does my brother think so meanly of me as to believe that I would let him face a danger alone while I remained in safety?" inquired Nahma, reproachfully. "Let him go and I will follow close at his heels; for whatever happens to one of us must happen to both."
So the canoe was made fast, the bundle of furs was attached to a line let down for it, and Tasquanto began to climb the swaying ladder while Nahma steadied it from below. As the former disappeared over the ship's side the son of Longfeather followed swiftly after him. Topping the high bulwarks, he glanced anxiously down in search of his comrade, but Tasquanto was not to be seen. A suspicion of foul playdarted into his mind, but too late for him to act upon it, for at the same instant he was seized by two pair of brawny hands and dragged inboard.
Half an hour later the ship under full canvas was speeding merrily down the bay with her jubilant crew bawling out the chorus of a homeward-bound chantey.
The distress and terror of our poor lads when they found themselves flung into the horrible darkness of the ship's hold with its hatch closed above them would have been pitiful had there been any witnesses. But there was none, and for many weary hours they seemed to have been imprisoned in mere wantonness only to be forgotten as soon as the treacherous act had been accomplished. Their sole comfort was that they were together; for, on being dropped into the hold, Nahma found Tasquanto, stunned by the magnitude of his misfortune, awaiting him.
For a time the two remained speechless, only holding to each other, listening, and fearfully awaiting what next might happen. Although they could see nothing there was much to hear, for the anchor was being hove up, sails loosed and sheeted home, canvas was slatting, yardswere creaking, and all to the accompaniment of much hoarse shouting and a continual tramping of heavy feet. But none of these sounds conveyed to our captives the slightest idea of what was taking place. After a while the ship began to heel until they believed her to be capsizing, and that their last hour had come. Also they heard a sound of rushing waters. A little later both were so utterly prostrated by sea-sickness that whatever might happen no longer concerned them.
In this wretched plight they lay for what seemed like many days, but in reality only until the middle of the next forenoon, when, of a sudden, the hatch above them was removed and they were blinded by the flood of light that followed. Then men came to them and they were driven on deck, where, dazed and weak with illness, they staggered from side to side with the motion of the ship. Their pitiable appearance was greeted by shouts of coarse mirth from the crew, who found in it a vastly entertaining spectacle.
The captives were offered food, but refused it with loathing, though they drank eagerly from abucket of water placed beside them as they sat on deck at the foremast's foot. After a while Nahma became sufficiently revived by the fresh air to gaze about him with somewhat of interest in his strange surroundings. Everything was marvellous and incomprehensible. Even the bearded sailors in petticoats and pigtails, which latter he took to be scalp-locks, were entirely different from the French, who, until now, were the only white men he had known. Nor could he comprehend a word of the barbarous language in which they conversed. When he was tired of looking at them he began to wonder in which direction lay the land, and to turn over in his mind a plan for making a quick rush to the ship's side, leaping overboard, and swimming to shore.
Before broaching this scheme to his comrade Nahma decided to get his bearings. So he gained his feet and mounted a scuttle-butt, by which his eyes were lifted above the level of the high bulwarks. To his consternation there was no land in sight. Not so much as a tree nor a blue hill-top could he discover in any direction.His unaccustomed eyes could not even distinguish the line of the horizon dividing a gray sky from the immensity of gray waters that stretched away on all sides. The bewildering sight filled him with a dread greater than any he had ever known, and he slipped back to his place beside Tasquanto, utterly hopeless.
"Whether we be going up or down I know not," he said to the latter; "but certain it is that we now float among the clouds, with no prospect of ever again returning to the earth on which dwell people after our own kind. Already are we become Okis."
"Then is it a most unhappy condition," answered Tasquanto, "and the medicine-men are liars."
After a few hours on deck our lads were again driven into the darkness and foulness of the hold; but on every pleasant day thereafter for weeks was the process of bringing them on deck for an airing repeated. In times of storm they were kept below, with their sufferings immeasurably increased by sickness, by the violent pitching of the ship, by lack of food and water, and byterrors of the creakings and groanings that filled the surrounding blackness.
For more than a month did they thus suffer, hopeless of ever again sighting land or of any relief from their unhappy situation. Then, to Nahma at least, came the worst of all. One day, while they were on deck, he suddenly lifted his head and sniffed the air.
"It is a breath of earth," he whispered, as though fearful of uttering the glad news aloud. "I can smell it. Oh, my brother! to once more gain the freedom of a forest would be a happiness exceeding any other. Let us be ready on the morrow when we are again brought into the light. It may be that we shall be near enough to swim to the land. Once within cover of the forest we would never again look upon the face of a white man."
About this time they were sent below, but that faint scent of land not yet distinguished by any other on the ship had infused them with a new hope, and for hours they talked of what might be done on the morrow.
In the mean time their ship was so near theEnglish coast that twenty-four hours later she lay at anchor in the harbor of Plymouth and her small boat was ready to go ashore.
"Fetch me the heathen desired by Sir Ferdinando," ordered Captain Dermer.
"Which one, sir?"
"Either will do. Call them up and take the first that shows a head. Drive the other back, and keep him below until my return."
"Aye, aye, sir."
So the hatch was partially removed, and the signal for which our lads had waited so impatiently was given. Tasquanto was first to answer it and gain the deck. Nahma followed closely, but was met by a blow that tumbled him back into the hold. Then the hatch was replaced, and he was once more confronted by the horrors of solitary confinement.
For a time he continued to hope that he would be allowed on deck, or that his comrade would be restored to him; but, as the weary hours dragged slowly by without either of these things happening, these hopes grew fainter and fainter until finally they vanished.
When food and water were brought to him, he drank of the latter but refused to eat, although the food was fresh meat, the first he had seen since the dreadful day when he had been enticed aboard the ship. It was another proof that they were once more near land. Perhaps even now the forest for which he longed was close at hand, and perhaps people of his own race were come off to trade. Perhaps Tasquanto, who had picked up a number of English words, was acting as interpreter for them. In that case he would doubtless find a chance for escape, though even if he should, Nahma was certain that he would not make use of it. Were they not brothers, sworn to share each other's fortunes, good or ill, to the end? No! Tasquanto would never desert him; but sooner or later, if he were still alive, would come again to him. Of this our lad was certain.
After a while the lonely prisoner fell asleep, and when he next awoke the ship was again in motion. He felt about for his companion, but could not find him; he called aloud, but got no answer. Then he knew that he was indeed alonein the world and that something terrible must have happened to Tasquanto. When next he was allowed on deck he looked eagerly for his friend, and, seeing nothing of him, relapsed into a condition of apathy. He no longer cared what happened, and refused to eat the food offered him.
"Won't eat, eh?" growled Captain Dermer, on learning of this state of affairs. "We'll see about that."
The grizzled old mariner's method of seeing about things was so effective that the refractory young Indian shortly found himself pinned to the deck by two sailors. A third pinched his nose, and when he opened his mouth for breath poured in hot soup that the victim was obliged to swallow to keep from choking. So he was fed by force, and his strength was sustained until the ship once more came to anchor.
As usual, Nahma was confined below when this happened, and when he was next brought on deck he was given no time to look about him before being seized, stripped of the foul garments that he had worn during the voyage, and scrubbedfrom head to foot, roughly but thoroughly. Then he was provided with a new suit of buckskin that had been acquired by trade from the Abenakis. He was also given colors and a mirror and ordered to paint his face. Showing symptoms of disobedience, he was made to understand that one of the crew would do it for him; and, rather than be thus disfigured, he reluctantly complied. After he had satisfactorily decorated himself, greatly to the amusement of the crew, he was left to his own devices and allowed to wander about the deck as he pleased.
Gaining a position where he could see beyond the ship's side, he was as amazed and bewildered as though he had been transported to another planet, for the vessel had ascended the Thames, and his outlook was upon London.
Not a tree was to be seen, not a green thing, only houses, until it seemed as though the whole world must be covered with them. Even the river disappeared beneath houses built in a double row on a bridge that spanned it a short distance away. The ship was moored beside a great dingy building, from and into which men came and went asthickly as bees swarming about a hollow tree in his native woods.
Although no such clouds of smoke hung above London then as infold it to-day, there was enough to impress our young savage with the belief that a forest fire must be raging just beyond the buildings that obstructed his view. This belief was strengthened by the ceaseless roar of the city, that, to him, held the same elements of terror as the awful voice of a wide-spread conflagration.
If Tasquanto were only with him that they might discuss these things. But, alas! he was alone, as unfitted for a life-struggle amid those heretofore undreamed-of surroundings as a newborn babe, and, like it, unprovided with a language understandable by those about him. Set down in the heart of a primeval forest he would have been perfectly at home; but face to face with this hideous wilderness of human construction he was appalled at his own insignificance and utter helplessness.
As he turned away terror-stricken he noticed that several persons gathered about Captain Dermer were regarding him curiously. Oneof them, a young man of about Nahma's own age, apparently touched by the hopeless expression on our lad's painted face, stepped towards him with outstretched hand.
"Winslow," he said, pointing to himself.
"Massasoit," answered the other, promptly, and indicating his own person.
Although he could not understand the newcomer's words he appreciated the hearty grip of his hand, and, gazing into his honest eyes, felt that here was one who might become a friend.
"What are you going to do with him?" inquired Winslow, stepping back beside Captain Dermer.
"Let him go when he can pay his passage-money, or turn him over to the first person who will pay it for him," was the reply.
"What is the sum?"
"Twenty pounds, no more nor less."
"I have not that amount with me, but if you will give me a day or two I think I can get it. Will you keep him until I come again?"
"Unless some other turns up in the mean time equally desirous of accommodating him."
"Captain, I vill pay the money on the spot," exclaimed a voice, and wheeling about, Winslow saw a man of sporty aspect arrayed in tawdry imitation of a gentleman, and of a decidedly Hebraic cast of countenance. He was extending a handful of gold pieces, which Captain Dermer took and counted.
"It is a trade," he said. "Take him and may luck go with you."
Thus was sold, in the city of London, a free-born native American; and he was but one of many New World people who shared a similar fate both before and afterwards.
The man who on pretence of paying Nahma's passage-money had in reality bought him was a well-known London fur-dealer, who had visited the ship to appraise her cargo. The young fellow who had extended to our forlorn lad the hand of friendship, and who, but for lack of ready means, would have redeemed him from a threatened slavery, was a Mr. Edward Winslow. He was the youngest son of a well-to-do Devon family, who had taken a degree at Oxford and was now reading law in the Temple. He was intensely interested in America and everything pertaining to it. Thus, on hearing that a ship just arrived from the New World was in the Thames, he hastened to board her, that he might converse with those who had so recently trod the shores he longed to visit. Nahma was the first American he had ever seen, and he regarded him with a lively curiosity that was changed to pity at sightof his hopeless face. Now he turned fiercely on the Jew who by payment of a paltry sum of money had become master of the young stranger's fate.
"What do you intend to do with him?" he asked.
"Vat vould you have done mit him yourself had your purse been as full as your stomach?" asked the other, impudently.
"I would have found for him a home in which he might be taught Christianity and civilization, and then I would have taken the first opportunity for sending him back to his own land."
"Mayhap those be the very things I also vould do by the young heathen; who knows?" replied the furrier, with a leer. "At any rate, I have charge of him now, and vill take him at once to my happy home. You may set him ashore for me, captain."
"Not I," responded Captain Dermer. "I have no longer aught to do with him. Take him ashore yourself."
Thus confronted with his new responsibility, the man approached Nahma and, seizing him roughly by an arm, said, "Come mit me, heathen."
With a quick motion the young Indian wrenched himself free and faced his new master with so fierce a look that the latter involuntarily quailed beneath it and stepped back.
"Ah!" he snarled, "that's your game, is it? Ve'll see who comes out best."
With this he called to some men of his employ who were hoisting out bales of furs and bade them come to him, bringing a stout cord.
"Hold!" cried Winslow, stepping beside the young Indian. "See you not that he is desperate, and that if you try to bind him there will be bloodshed? He will surely kill you, if he dies for it the next moment. Leave him to me and I will guarantee to take him where you may desire, only I give you warning to treat him decently and without violence."
Thus saying the speaker held out his hand to Nahma, and by signs intimated that he was to accompany him.
By instinct the young American had recognized this youth as a friend, and now he unhesitatingly left the ship in his company.
As a mob would have been attracted by theappearance of an American Indian in the crowded streets, a covered cart belonging to the furrier was procured, and in it our lad was driven to a rear entrance of his master's shop, which fronted on a fashionable thoroughfare, while the others reached the same place on foot.
During that bewildering ride Nahma sat with stolid face but with keen eyes, taking in all the marvellous details of his surroundings. Next to the throngs of people hurrying to and fro along the narrow, crooked, and ill-paved streets, the appearance of horses most impressed him, for never had he seen beasts at once so large and so completely under the control of man.
No word passed between Winslow and the furrier until their destination was reached. Then the latter asked, sneeringly,—
"Now, me lud, vat vill your 'ighness do next?"
"I will go inside and see him disposed," replied the young man, calmly.
"Oh, vell, come in and view the royal apartments," said the other, willing to have Winslow continue his responsibility until the new acquisition was safely housed.
So the young Indian was taken from the cart and led into the shop, causing a buzz of excitement among the few who saw him climbing a narrow back stairway. He was finally guided to a small chamber directly beneath the roof and lighted by a single window that could not be opened. Had it not been for Winslow's reassuring presence, Nahma would have refused to ascend those stairs, which, being the first he had ever encountered, filled him with dismay.
After Winslow had seen the stranger in whom he took so great an interest thus safely placed for the present and the furrier had locked the door on his captive, the two descended again to the shop.
"What will you now do with him?" asked the former.
"It may be I vill train him to my business and send him out to America as a fur-buyer," answered the other. "Maybe I vill keep him as a curiosity. I have not yet decided; but vatever I do is no concern of yours."
"Will you sell him to me?"
"Maybe so ven I see your money."
With this Winslow was forced to be content, and he departed with the hope of redeeming his newly made friend and of carrying out his vaguely formed intentions concerning him. Although twenty pounds was not a large sum, it would embarrass him to procure it, since his family, though well-to-do, were not people of wealth, and he was living on a monthly allowance so small as barely to support him in gentility.
In the mean time Nahma, left to his own melancholy company, gazed from his window over the roofs and chimney-pots of London, feeling that no greater evils could possibly befall him, and yet wondering vaguely what would happen next. Food was brought to him and water, but no change in his situation took place until the following morning.
Then his master appeared accompanied by a coarse-featured man of evident strength, whom the furrier had engaged to be keeper of his new treasure. By them the young Indian was taken down to the shop, where a small platform had been prepared for him. It was covered and surrounded with costly furs, and here Nahma wasseated with a fur robe draped across his shoulders. Close at hand stood his keeper to see that he neither escaped nor did injury to any about him. With the tableau arranged, a stout 'prentice lad took a stand just outside the street entrance and cried in lusty tones the novel attraction to be seen within.
"Step this way, lords and ladies. Come all ye gentlefolk, attend the reception of his Highness, a native American cannibal prince just arrived from the New World. Look within! Look within! Under the sign of the Ermine Royal sits he. Free of charge are all gentlefolk invited to meet him. This way, lords and ladies. Look within!"
To this novel reception none but the well-dressed and evidently well-to-do were admitted, since the poor could not be expected to purchase furs then any more than now. And there would have been no room for them in the limited space of the dingy little shop even had they been admitted, for ere long it was crowded with fashionable folk eager to be entertained by a novelty, while their retainers filled the street. The spectators stared at Nahma and listened withcredulous ears to the marvellous tales told concerning him by the furrier, who, clad in gorgeous raiment, acted the parts of host and showman. Also many of them purchased furs, which was more to the purpose. Never had the Ermine Royal done such a business, and never had its proprietor greater reason to be satisfied with a venture.
Amid all came Edward Winslow with his twenty pounds, which he proffered to the Jew in return for Nahma's release. But the latter laughed him to scorn.
"For twenty pund did you think to get him, me lud? Nay, that was the price I paid, as you vell know, and I must at least double my money. Forty pund is my lowest offer, and fifty if he continues to attract trade as at present. Speech mit him? I have no objection, only have a care that you seek not to seduce him from my service, or a thing might happen not to your liking."
Keenly disappointed at this result of his undertaking, the young man pushed his way through the crowd until he stood close to the platform, when he called, softly,—
"Massasoit."
Instantly a glad light flashed into the eyes of the dejected figure thus set up for a show, and, turning eagerly in that direction, he exclaimed,—
"Winslow."
Then the two friends clasped hands, and Winslow managed to convey the information that he would come again on the morrow.
He kept his promise; and, though he had not succeeded in securing the money necessary to redeem the young Indian, his visit brought much comfort. For many days thereafter he came regularly, often bringing some little thing that he thought might give pleasure; and these daily glimpses of a friendly face were the only rays of light penetrating the unhappy darkness of Nahma's captivity. He was never allowed to leave the building, and was only marched to and fro up and down those weary stairs between the den in which he lived and the hated platform on which he was exhibited to gaping customers.
At the end of three weeks Winslow, having received his month's allowance and so raised the necessary forty pounds, tendered it to the fur-dealerfor the release of his slave, only to be told that the price had again been doubled.
Upon this the young man flew into a rage and there was an exchange of bitter words, that ended in Winslow being told to mind his own affairs and not attempt an interference with those that did not concern him. As several 'prentice lads had gathered near during this quarrel and stood eagerly awaiting their master's permission to pounce upon the stranger, he realized the weakness of his position, and prudently ended the affair by withdrawing from the scene. At the same time he was as determined as ever to effect Nahma's deliverance, and that speedily.
For this purpose he invited a number of the more reckless of his Temple companions to a dinner, at which he told the story of Massasoit and enlisted their sympathies in his behalf. Then he proposed a rescue, to which they enthusiastically agreed.
According to this plan they were to meet near the furrier's shop at the busiest hour of the second day from then, each man wearing his sword, and prepared to use it if necessary. Therethey were to mingle with the sight-seers and resist any attempts at interference with the movements of Winslow. The latter undertook to spirit the young Indian out of the same rear entrance through which he had first been brought, into an unfrequented alley, while one of his friends should for a moment distract the attention of the keeper.
To perfect the details of this scheme and provide a safe retreat for him whom they proposed to rescue occupied two days, and then all was in readiness. At this point the would-be rescuers were confronted by an unforeseen and insurmountable obstacle. The young Indian had disappeared. He was no longer an inmate of the furrier's shop, and no one could or would give the slightest information concerning him.
For some days Nahma's master had been uneasy about him. Close confinement, lack of exercise and fresh air, and a hopeless melancholy were so telling upon the captive that his health was seriously affected. He was thin and miserable, had no appetite, and suffered from a hacking cough. These things troubled the fur-dealer, not because of his humanity, for he had none, but because of a prospect of losing the money he had invested in this bit of perishable property. He was also alarmed by Winslow's interest in the young Indian, and feared the very thing that the former had planned.
Then, too, one of his gentleman customers had suggested that when the fact of an American prince being in London came to the king's ears he would probably order him to be brought to the palace. In that case, as the furrier well knew, he would never be recompensed for his outlay, sinceKing James was not given to spending unnecessary money, and he might even be called to account for holding a royal personage in captivity. He wished now that he had not described his Indian as a prince; and, all things considered, decided that the sooner he got rid of him the better off he would be.
It happened that while he was in this frame of mind he was visited by a travelling mountebank, whose business was to exhibit freaks and curiosities of whatsoever kind he could obtain, at country fairs. Having heard of the fur-dealer's Indian, he went to see him, and was so impressed with his value as an attraction that he promptly offered ten pounds for him.
"Already haf I refused forty," replied the furrier.
"It was doubtless offered when he was in condition. Now, as any one may see, he is on the verge of a quick decline and is like to die on your hands. It would be a risk to take him at any price, and it will cost a pretty penny to restore him to health, without which he is of no more value than a mangy dog."
"But I haf advanced twenty pund for his passage-money, and haf been at the expense of his keep ever since."
"A cost that has been repaid a thousand-fold by the advertisement he has given your wares. But to insure you against loss, which I well know a Jew hates worse than death itself, I will give twenty pounds for the varlet, sick and scrawny though he be. What say you? Is it a bargain?"
"Hand over the price and he is yours."
Of course the subject of this barter was not consulted concerning it. Nor did he know anything of the change about to come over his life until darkness had fallen. Then, as he lay on his bed of musty straw, dreaming of the free forest life that was once his, he was startled by the entrance into his room of two men, one of whom bore a rush-light. In him Nahma recognized his hated keeper, but the other was a stranger.
"Come," said the former, gruffly; and, glad of any break in the deadly monotony of his life, Nahma obediently followed him, while the other brought up the rear.
Down-stairs they went and out into the darkness of the streets, where each of the men grasped him by an arm as though fearful that he might attempt an escape. The young Indian smiled bitterly as he realized this, for nothing was further from his thought. In all that wilderness of houses he had but one friend, and he knew no more where to look for Winslow than he would if the latter were dead. To him all other white men represented cruelty and injustice, therefore nothing was to be gained by escaping from those who held him. He would only fall into the clutches of others against whom he would be equally powerless. So he went along quietly and with apparent willingness, somewhat to the surprise of his new master.
"I fail to note but that he goes readily enough," he remarked. "Methought you said he was vicious and like to prove troublesome."
"Oh, he's quiet enough now," replied the other, "but wait and see. They're as treacherous, these Hammerican savages, as cats. Purr till they see a good chance and then scratch. If they draw life's blood they're all the more pleased.I knows 'em, for I've had experience, and my word! but you've got to watch 'em every minute."
It was by such representations that the keeper hoped to induce the showman to continue him in his present easy position. Now he wished that his charge would make some aggressive exhibition merely to demonstrate the necessity for his own presence. He slyly pinched the prisoner's arm until it was ready to bleed, with the hope of at least causing him to cry out; but Nahma endured the pain with all the stoicism of his race and gave no sign.
Thus they proceeded through a weary labyrinth of foul streets, only lighted at long intervals by flaring torches borne by retainers of well-to-do pedestrians, until finally they turned into the yard of a rambling tavern that stood on the outskirts of the town. It was a famous resort for wagoners who transported goods to and from all parts of the kingdom, and its court was now crowded with ponderous vehicles and their lading.
Here Nahma was thrust for safe-keeping into an outhouse, the air of which was close and foul, and its door was barred behind him. To ourunhappy lad it seemed as if the whole remainder of his life was to be marked only by a succession of imprisonments, each more dismal than its predecessor. In Quebec he had had Tasquanto's companionship and an open window. On shipboard he had been given the same comrade and a daily outing. In the furrier's establishment he had had a window and an occasional hand-clasp from Winslow; but here he was alone, in absolute darkness, and gasping for a breath of fresh air.
The wretched night finally came to an end, and with the first gray of morning his new master appeared, bringing an armful of coarse clothing, soiled and worn. Stripping Nahma of his buckskin suit, he compelled him to don these ill-fitting garments, and then left him a platter of bones for his breakfast.
A little later they were on the road, and, to his amazement, Nahma found himself leading a bear. It was a big brown bear, and its whole head was enclosed in a stout muzzle; but, in spite of this, our young Indian, who had never heard of a tame bear, felt anything but comfortable at finding himself in such company unarmed. Besides himselfand the bear, the party was made up of the showman, a cadaverous youth answering to the name of "Blink," who afterwards proved to be a contortionist, and a heavily laden pack-horse. To Nahma's relief, the big man who had acted as his keeper was no longer of the company.
For a time our lad was so taken up with his bear and the discomforts of his unaccustomed clothing that he paid but slight attention to his surroundings. Then, all of a sudden, he uttered a cry of amazed delight, for they were entering a forest. No longer were houses to be seen, no longer was the horrid din of the city to be heard. Once more was he beneath green trees, with the songs of birds ringing in his ears and the smell of the woods in his nostrils. He drew in long breaths of the scented air, and a new light came into his eyes. Having found a forest, might he not also hope to discover people of his own kind? If there were forests in this strange land and bears, why should there not also be Indians? At any rate, he would keep a sharp watch, and if he should see any, how quickly he would take leave of his present companions and join them!
That night they lay at an inn, where an iron shackle was locked about one of Nahma's ankles, and, with the bear, he was chained up in a stable. On the following day they reached a straggling country town in which a fair was to be held and where they were to give an exhibition. Here they pitched a tent. Nahma's suit of buckskin was restored to him, and he was again made to paint his face.
In this first exhibition he had nothing to do but stand and be stared at by curious rustics, but after this he was taught and encouraged to perform a number of acts in company with the bear. One of these was to shoot, with bow and arrow, an apple, or some other small object, from the animal's head. Then they would wrestle together, and finally a sort of a dance was arranged for them, in which Blink, made up as a clown for the occasion, also took part. Thus the show became so unique and popular that its proprietor coined more money than any other on the road.
But with prosperity came an evil more terrible even than adversity; for, with money to spend,the showman began to squander it in gambling and drinking until it was a rare thing for him to draw a sober breath. He became quarrelsome with his intimates and brutal to those in his power. His poor bear was beaten and tortured to make it learn new tricks until it became a snarling, morose beast, influenced only by fear, and dangerous to all except the young Indian, who was its fellow-sufferer. He, too, was abused, starved, beaten, and in all ways maltreated for not learning faster and pouring more money into his master's bottomless pockets.
One day, while Nahma and the bear were wearily performing their antics before a crowd of gaping yokels in the market-place of a small shire town in the west, the youth's attention was drawn to a child who was uttering shrill cries of pleasure. She was a dainty little thing with flaxen hair and blue eyes, exquisitely dressed, and was in charge of a maid. They had come from a coach that was drawn up before a shop near by, and the throng had opened to make way for them until they stood in the very front rank.
Suddenly the child, in an ecstasy of delight, pulled away from her nurse and ran forward with the evident intention of caressing the bear as though he had been a big dog. The brute was so tired, hungry, and cross that Nahma had with difficulty kept him to his work. Now, with a snarl and a fierce gleam in his small bloodshot eyes, he raised a threatening paw as though to sweep away the little fluttering thing that came running so confidently towards him.
A great cry rose from the crowd. The maid, so terrified as to be incapable of motion, screamed and covered her face with her hands; but Nahma, darting forward, snatched the child from under the descending paw. So narrow was the escape that his left arm was torn from shoulder to elbow by the cruel claws, and he staggered beneath the blow.
The showman, who had been passing his cap among the spectators, ran to the bear and, beating him over the head with a stout cudgel, drove him to his quarters in a near-by stable. Part of the populace cheered Nahma, while others demanded the death of the bear, and amid all theconfusion came the mother of the little girl, frantic with terror. To her our lad delivered the child, frightened but unharmed. Then, without waiting to be rewarded, or even thanked, he ran to look after his friend the bear.
Nahma found the showman and Blink engaged in a violent dispute over the bear. The former was insisting that Blink should escape, with the animal, from the rear of the stable and lead it to a place of concealment on the outskirts of the village, where he would join them later. In the mean time he would divert the attention of the mob until the escape could be made. Blink, who was not on friendly terms with the bear, was refusing on the ground that, with the animal in its present temper, his life would not be worth a moment's purchase.
"Then let the heathen take him, and do you go along to see that they do not give us the slip," exclaimed the man, as Nahma appeared and a howl from the mob announced their approach. Their interest had been distracted for a minute while they watched the lady with the frightenedchild in her arms regain her coach, which was immediately driven away. Now they were ready to settle with the bear, and turned towards the stable in which he had taken refuge. As they drew near the showman, who, though a brute, was no coward, appeared in its open doorway and confronted them.
"Good my masters," he cried, "what seek you?"
"Thy bear!" roared a dozen voices. "Bring forth thy bear that we may bait him. He is not fit to live, and must be slain."
Again the showman attempted to speak, but his voice was drowned in the bedlam of cries raised by the mob; and, losing control of his temper, he shook his cudgel defiantly at them. Upon this a shower of stones was hurled at him, and one of them striking him on the head, he staggered and fell. At this the mob halted, and some even sneaked away, fearful of consequences. The village barber, who was also its surgeon, bustled forward to make an examination of the wounded man. He was conscious, but in spite of, or possibly on account of, copious bloodletting,which was the only remedy administered, he died a few hours later.
So completely was public attention distracted by this tragic event, that for a time no thought was given to the original cause of the disturbance, and, finally, when search was made for the bear, he was nowhere to be seen. Not until the following day was any trace discovered of those who had been in the showman's company. Then the one known as "Blink" was found on the edge of a wood, helplessly bound and half dead from a night of cold and terror. He could only tell that, having escaped with the bear and the heathen, the latter had suddenly set upon him without warning or provocation and reduced him to the condition in which he was discovered. What had become of them or whither they had gone he knew not, nor did he care. He only hoped he would never again set eyes on the savage monsters who were so unfit for Christian company.
In the mean time Nahma and his companions had found no difficulty in leaving the village unnoticed, since all public attention was for the moment drawn in the opposite direction. Thusthey successfully gained the woodland that had been appointed by the showman as a place of rendezvous. Here the young American suddenly realized that only Blink stood between him and the freedom for which he longed. Up to this time he had been shackled at night and so closely watched by day that no chance of escape had offered. Now one had come, and so quick was our lad to take advantage of it that within a minute the unsuspecting Blink was lying helplessly bound hand and foot with his own kerchief and a sash that formed part of his professional costume. Thus was he left, while Nahma and the bear, whom the former now regarded as his sole friend in all the world, plunged into the forest depths and disappeared.
The England of that long-ago date was a very different country from the England of to-day, and its entire population hardly exceeded two millions of souls. Its few cities were small, and connected by highways so abominable that travellers frequently lost their way while trying to follow them. Not more than one-quarter of the arable lands were under cultivation, while the remainder wascovered with dark forests and great fens, marshes, and desolate moors across which one might journey for a day without sight of human habitation. Game of all kinds abounded, and its hunting formed the chief recreation of the gentry and of those nobles who left London during a portion of the year to dwell on their estates.
Thus our young Indian, upon gaining his freedom, found himself amid surroundings at once familiar and congenial. He had with him the bow and arrows used in his recent exhibitions, a fire-bag containing flint, steel, and tinder, and a dirk that had been taken from Blink. Thus provided he had no anxiety on the score of maintaining himself comfortably. He realized that the bear was an encumbrance, but in his present loneliness he was loath to part from it. And so the two pushed on together until they had penetrated several miles into the forest, when darkness overtook them.
Then Nahma made a fire beside a small stream and cooked a rabbit he had shot an hour earlier, while the bear nosed about for acorns, grubs, and edible roots.
They continued to traverse the forest on the following day, keeping to the same general direction until our lad was satisfied that he was beyond danger from pursuit, when he began to look about for a supper and a camping-place. Both of these came at the same time, for on discovering, successfully stalking, and finally killing a deer, he found that the animal had been drinking from a spring of clear water, beside which he determined to establish his camp. Further than this he had no plans. It was enough for the present that he was free, in the forest that he loved, and beyond all knowledge of the white man whom he hated. Here, then, he would abide for a time, or until he should discover people of his own kind, for he was still impressed with the belief that others like himself must inhabit those game-filled forests.
That night both he and the bear, to whom he talked as though it were a human being, ate to their satisfaction of deer meat, and Nahma lay down to sleep beside his shaggy friend, happier than he had been at any time since leaving his native land.
The next morning he was early astir and ready to begin work on the lodge that he proposed to construct. By mid-day he had the poles of the frame cut, set in the ground, arched over until they met, and fastened in position. Then he went in quest of proper material for a thatch or covering. The bear, having spent the morning in feeding, was left behind, chained to a small tree and fast asleep.
While searching for the material he wanted Nahma struck the fresh trail of a deer, which after a long chase he overtook and killed. As he was returning with the hide and haunches on his back he was startled by a baying of hounds, which changed as he listened to a snarling, growling, and yelping that indicated a battle royal. From the nature and direction of these sounds our lad realized that trouble of some kind had come to the bear, and, without a thought of danger to himself, he ran to the assistance of his comrade. Reaching the scene, he found the bear, though sadly hampered by his chain, making a gallant fight against a pack of boar-hounds that had come across him while ranging the forest. They werefierce, gaunt creatures, and although two of their number, already knocked out, were lying to one side feebly licking their wounds, it was evident that the chained bear was overmatched and must speedily be dragged down. Flinging away his burden and drawing his dirk, Nahma rushed forward and sprang into the thick of the fray, uttering the fierce war-cry of the Iroquois as he did so.
For a few minutes there was a furious and indiscriminate mingling of bear, dogs, and man, then of a sudden the young Indian was seized from behind, dragged backward, and flung to the ground by one of two men clad in the green dress of foresters, who had just arrived on the scene. While Nahma's assailant hastily but securely fastened the lad's arms so as to render him harmless, the other ranger ended the battle, still raging, by thrusting a keen-bladed boar-spear through the bear's body. It pierced the animal's heart, and he sank with a sobbing groan.
"A fair sorrowful bit o' wark this, Jean," remarked the man who had killed the bear, as he examined the several dogs. "Fower dead; two killed by yon brute and two by the dirk of thiswastrel. All the rest gouged, cut, and bit up. But he'll answer for it smartly when once Sir Amory claps eyes on him, the thievin', murthren gypsy poacher."
"Yes, I reckon he'll sweat fine," replied the other, with a grin; "but did iver thou see bear chained afore?"
"Noa, niver. Lucky thing 'twas, though. But come on whoam. Bring Poacher with 'e, and we'll send pack-horse for bear. No use looking furder for pigs this day."
So poor Nahma, once more bereft of his freedom and of the dumb brute whom he regarded as his only friend, his garments rent and his body bleeding from a dozen wounds, was marched away between the two stout rangers, while after them trooped the dogs.
Sir Amory Effingham, a knight in high favor at court, was lord of that region, and being devoted to the chase, he spent several months of each year at Garnet Hall, the ivy-covered forest castle in which his family had been cradled for generations. It lay a league from the scene of Nahma's capture, and by the time he was broughtwithin sight of its battlemented towers the short day was closing and night was at hand.
While one of the rangers kennelled the dogs and looked after their wounds, the other thrust Nahma, with his hurts still unattended, into an empty store-room, locked its door, and went to make report of what had taken place.
"A gypsy, eh? A poacher, caught red-handed, and a dog-killer, is he?" quoth Sir Amory, angrily. "Hanging will be too good for him. He should be drawn and quartered as an example to all of his kidney, and I will deal with his case in the morning. Look well to him, then, see that he escapes not, and bring him to me in the great hall after the breaking of fast."
"Yes, Sir Amory."
"And, Jean, send for that bear and have his pelt taken before the body stiffens."
"Yes, Sir Amory."
"Also, Jean, give both the dogs and the prisoner a good feed of bear's meat."
So all was done as directed; only Nahma, realizing the nature of the food thrown to him some hours later, refused to eat of it.
On the following morning, after the lord of the manor, his family, and all his retainers had partaken of their rude but abundant breakfast, and washed it down with copious draughts of ale, which at that time took the place of coffee or tea, Sir Amory ordered the prisoner of the preceding evening to be brought before him. The dining-tables, which were merely boards laid on trestles, were cleared away, and the great hall was made ready to serve as a court of justice. Witnesses were summoned, and spectators gathered, until but few of the knight's following were absent. Squires, pages, men-at-arms, grooms, foresters, and under-servants, all filled with an eager curiosity, flocked to the scene of trial; for the case in hand was of so serious a nature that its resulting punishment would be certain to afford vast entertainment.
In those days the killing of a deer by anyperson beneath the rank of a gentleman was a capital offence; while the killing of a hunting dog by one of the peasant class ranked as a crime so abominable as to merit the severest penalty. For either of these things the offender might be hanged, whipped to death, or executed in any other fitting manner, at the discretion of the judge. He might not be beheaded, as that form of punishment was reserved for offences against the state, committed by persons of rank. Neither might he be burned, since the stake was only for witches and victims of religious persecution. If the lord of the manor were inclined to be merciful, the deer-stealer or dog-killer might be given his life, and escape with some such slight punishment as having his ears cropped or a hand chopped off; but in the present case it was universally agreed that the crime was of a nature to demand the severest possible punishment. Thus, when the prisoner appeared, he was regarded with eager curiosity as one who promised to furnish a spectacle of uncommon interest.
Friendless, wounded, ragged, half starved, and utterly ignorant of the situation confronting him,the son of Longfeather was led the whole length of the great hall to the dais at its upper end, on which sat the master of his fate. As he was halted, Sir Amory exclaimed,—
"On my soul, as scurvy a knave as ever I set eyes upon. I knew not that even a gypsy could present so foul an aspect. What is thy name and condition, sirrah?"
Not understanding what was said, Nahma made no answer. Only, recalling the teaching of his own people, he stared his questioner full in the face with a mien that, in spite of his sorry plight, was quite as haughty as that of the knight himself.
"A contumacious varlet and insolent," remarked Sir Amory, "but it is possible that we may find means to lower his pride. Let the ranger named Jem stand forth and relate his tale of the occurrence concerning which this investigation is made."
So Jem told his story, and it was corroborated by the other forester. Also were the dead hounds introduced as evidence, together with the dirk that Nahma had used so effectively.
"What hast thou to say in thy own behalf, scoundrel?" asked the knight, turning again to the prisoner after all this testimony against him had been submitted.
Still there was no answer, but only an unflinching gaze and a proudly uplifted head.
"Think you the creature is dumb?" inquired the puzzled magistrate.
"No, Sir Amory," replied one of the foresters, "of a surety he is not, for we heard him call loudly to the bear, and at sound of his voice the beast made violent effort to break his chain that he might get to him."
"Chain?" quoth the knight. "This is the first mention I have heard of any chain. What mean you? Was the bear indeed chained?"
"Chained and muzzled was he," admitted the ranger, "else it had gone more hardly with the dogs than happened."
"Chained and muzzled," repeated the knight, reflectively, and casting a searching gaze upon the prisoner. "Still, it may be only a coincidence." With this he gave an order in a low tone to a page who stood at hand, and the boy darted away.
"Saw you trace of other gypsies at or near that place?" asked the knight, continuing his examination of the forester.
"No, Sir Amory. That is, we saw no humans, but there was a booth partly built close at hand."
"What is the material of the prisoner's dress?"
"Deer-skin, Sir Amory, nothing less."
At this moment a tapestry was drawn aside, and a lady, appearing on the dais, stood beside her husband with a look of inquiry. She was followed by one bearing in her arms a child, at sight of which the prisoner was surprised into a momentary start as of recognition.
"My dear," said Sir Amory, "will you favor us by glancing at yonder gypsy and telling if ever you have set eyes on him before?"
The lady looked in the direction indicated, but shook her head. Ere she could speak, however, the maid, who had followed her gaze, uttered a cry, and exclaimed,—
"It is the very one, my lady. The youth, I mean, who danced with that dreadful bear and saved the life of my little mistress."
"Yes," said the lady, slowly. "I did notrecognize him on the moment; but now me-thinks he is the same from whose hands I received my child, safe and unharmed, though blood-bespattered. But, Amory, what is he doing here? A prisoner and under guard! Surely——"
"It is all a mistake," cried the knight, rising to his feet in great agitation. "He is not a prisoner, but an honored guest. Nor is he under guard, but under the protection of one who owes to him a life dearer than his own. Gentlemen, the hearing is dismissed; the prisoner is honorably acquitted, and will hereafter be known as my friend, if indeed he can forgive the cruel wrong I meditated against him. Away, ye varlets. Bring food and wine. Fetch warm water and clean napery, salve and liniments. Body o' me! The youth is wounded and hath had no attention. He looks ready to drop with weakness. Draw a settle for him beside the fire. Fetch——"
But the servants were already flying in every direction in their efforts to minister to the evident needs of him whose position had undergone so sudden a transformation.
At the same time Nahma himself was even more bewildered by the good fortune that was overwhelming him than ever by the hard fate that had for so long been his constant attendant.
Somewhat later the lady who, with her companions, had withdrawn, came again to the hall, and stepping to where she could obtain a good view of the youth, looked at him steadily for the space of a minute. He, in the mean time, had been bathed and fed, his wounds had been dressed, and he wore a body-gown from the knight's own wardrobe that gave him an air of grace and dignity.
"He is no gypsy, Sir Amory," said the lady, finally, withdrawing her gaze and turning to her husband.
"I myself am beginning to doubt if he belongs to those nomads," replied the knight. "But if not a gypsy, to what race can he lay claim, with that tinge of color and with hair of such raven blackness?"
"Dost remember the tale told us in London by my cousin Edward concerning an arrival from the New World in whom he had taken an interest?"
"Ay, well do I, and it so aroused my curiosity that I made an errand shortly after to the place where he was said to be, but he had disappeared. How was he called? Can you remember the name?"
"He was called 'Massasoit,'" replied the lady, uttering the word distinctly and observing the youth as she spoke.
Turning quickly he looked at her with eager questioning.
"Who are your friends?" she asked, addressing him directly and speaking the words slowly.
He understood and answered, "Bear frien'. Tasquanto frien'. White man frien', Winslow."
"That proves it!" cried the lady, triumphantly. "He must be the American Indian of whom Cousin Edward told us, and who is said to be a prince in his own country. At any rate, as he certainly saved the life of our child, we have ample reason to befriend him."
"Indeed, yes," agreed Sir Amory. "And to fail in a duty so plainly indicated would lay us open to the charge of base ingratitude."
Thus it happened that the young Americanwho had been kidnapped from his own country, sold as a slave in London, and finally arrested on a charge that threatened to cost him his life, became the honored guest of a stately English home. His hosts sought in every way to promote his comfort and happiness, and when they discovered that he preferred living in the open to dwelling under a roof, he was promptly given the freedom of their domain. He was also accorded full liberty to dwell on it where he pleased, and to kill such of its abundant game as would supply his needs. Armed with this permission, Nahma immediately repaired to the place where he had already begun the building of a lodge after the fashion of his own people, and completed it to his satisfaction as well as that of his hosts, who took a lively interest in his work. He covered it with bark and lined its interior with the skins of fur-bearing animals. In the centre was his fireplace, and at one side his couch of dry sedge-grass covered with the great shaggy hide of his one-time friend, the bear. Here our Indian dwelt almost as contentedly as though in his own land and under the trees of his native forest.