CHAPTER XIV.

CHAPTER XIV.AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.—REGINALD PREPARES TO FOLLOW THE TRAIL.For two days the band of Crows hovered round the encampment, sometimes showing themselves on the adjacent heights, at others drawing off to a distance, in hopes of enticing some of Reginald’s party to venture into the open country; but although he himself chafed and fretted like an impatient steed, he was sensible of the risk that must attend any error or imprudence while in the neighbourhood of an enemy so crafty and so strong in numbers, and he never permitted the watchfulness of his little garrison to be relaxed for a moment: the horses were driven to feed under the guard of two armed Delawares, and were not sent to a distance whence their return could be intercepted, and the watches were regularly set and relieved during the whole night.On the third day the Crows, finding that all their endeavours to draw their cautious enemy from the covert were vain, held a council of war, after which three or four of their principal chiefs approached the encampment, making, as they advanced, signs of amity and truce. Reginald went out to meet them, accompanied by Baptiste and Attō, leaving orders with the remainder of his party to hold themselves in readiness against any attempt at treachery: halting at a spot not more than eighty yards from the wood, he awaited the Crow leaders, who came forward to meet him without any apparent suspicion or treacherous design.They had taken the precaution to bring with them the youth to whom Reginald had already shown kindness, and whose presence they rightly conjectured would facilitate the amicable nature of their mission.Reginald acknowledged with a smile the friendly greeting of his young protégé, and then drawing himself up to his full height, awaited in silence the opening of the parley.The Crowpartisan[56]first glanced his keen eye over the persons of those whom he was about to address, as if scanning them for the purpose of ascertaining their qualities and character, and whether he should best succeed by endeavouring to circumvent or to overawe them. Keen as he was, his penetration was here at fault; for although no three persons could be more dissimilar than those before him, yet, whether taken collectively or severally, they looked like men who would not be easily over–reached: his eye first rested on the spare sinewy frame and impenetrable countenance of Attō; thence it glanced to the muscular frame and shrewd hard features of the guide; and turning from them, it found but little encouragement in the bright bold eye and commanding form of Reginald Brandon.Perceiving with the intuitive sagacity of an Indian that the latter was the leader of his party, the partisan opened the parley by pointing his forefinger at Reginald, and then pressing the closed fingers against his own breast: he then pointed to himself with the same finger, and afterwards stretching both arms horizontally, moved them up and down with a vibrating motion, concluding his pantomime by again raising the forefinger of his right hand vertically to the height of his forehead. Reginald, who could not understand these gestures, turned to Attō, saying, “Does my brother know what the stranger speaks?—if so, let him explain.”“He says,” replied the Delaware, “that he wishes to be friends with you, and he tells you by the last signs that he is an Upsaroka, and a chief.”[57]“Tell him,” said Reginald, “that if his heart is true, and his tongue not forked, we also wish to be friends with him and his people.”The Crow replied by making the conventional sign for “good,” adding to it that for “truth.”On this being explained to Reginald, the latter desired Baptiste to bring from the camp some tobacco, a pipe, and a few trinkets for distribution among the Crows. On the return of the guide, the whole party took their seats, Reginald placing the partisan on his right, and the young prisoner whom he had released on his left. After the pipe had been smoked with due gravity and decorum, he divided among his guests some beads and other fanciful ornaments, according to their rank, with which they seemed highly delighted; the chief in particular testified his satisfaction by repeated gesticulations of friendship and affection towards his white–brother, whom he invited to go and feast with him and his braves: this invitation Reginald begged leave to decline; but he desired Attō to explain to his guest that he would visit him on some other occasion.While these civilities were passing between the respective parties, a great commotion was observed among the Crows stationed on the neighbouring hill, some of whom were seen galloping to and fro, as if communicating some unexpected intelligence. The partisan arose, and took his leave with courteous dignity, explaining by signs that he wished to ascertain what was passing among his people.As he withdrew, the youth whose life Reginald had spared, turned his head and gave the latter a look which he understood to convey a warning, but it was so rapid that he could not feel assured that he had rightly construed its meaning. Reginald remained for some time on the spot watching the motions of the Crows, who had now gathered in their scattered horsemen, and were evidently awaiting with some impatience the return of their chief. Reginald’s eye was still fixed upon them, when Attō, pointing to the eastward, whispered,“Men are coming!”Turning his head in the direction indicated, Reginald thought he perceived a moving object in the distance.“I see something in that quarter, but not distinctly; are you sure it is a party of men?”“Sure.”“Mounted, or on foot?”“Both,” replied the Delaware, without removing his brightkeen eye from the object: “they are upon our trail,” he added; “if they are not friends, we had better return to the camp.”Meanwhile Reginald unslung his telescope, and having at length brought it to bear upon the advancing party, he exclaimed—“By Heaven! there are white men as well as Indians, their horses, and loaded mules!”“How many?” inquired Baptiste.“They seem to me to be fifteen or twenty strong: should their intentions appear suspicious, we are near enough to retire into our camp; if they are friends, they will soon see us, and approach without fear or hesitation.”The guide shook his head as if distrusting all new comers in that remote region; but they were within rifle–shot of the covert, and could, if necessary, retire thither under the protection of the fire of those within it.The Crows still hovered upon the summit of the adjoining hill, and several minutes of breathless interest elapsed ere the approaching band emerged from a hollow, upon a point of the valley where they were now clearly distinguishable, and proved to be, as Reginald had said, a mixed party of Indians and white men.He was not aware that among the latter was a telescope as good, and a horseman whose eye was more practised in the use of it than his own; that horseman galloped out in front of his band, and advanced at full speed to the spot where Reginald stood, and almost before the latter could rightly use his faculties of sight or speech, that horseman flung himself from his horse, and Reginald was in the arms of Ethelston.There is nothing that stirs the heart to its very depths, more than the meeting of a friend after a long separation; not such a friend as is found in the ordinary intercourse of worldly society, but a friend whom we really esteem and love, a friend whom we have learnt to cherish in our bosom’s core,—this must have been felt by all (alas! they are not very many) who have deserved and obtained such a blessing in life. How, then, must these stirrings of the heart be increased if such a friend comes to our aid and comfort when we thought him thousands of miles distant, when we are in anxiety and peril, when he brings us the latest tidings of our home! We willnot attempt to describe the meeting of the two long–separated and loving friends under such circumstances, nor to relate one hundredth part of the inquiries which each had to make and to reply to.The reader is already in possession of the information which they had to communicate to each other, and can easily understand how Ethelston and his party, guided by the young Delaware, had followed the trail on which they had been preceded by the bands of Mahéga and of Reginald: the latter greeted with cordial pleasure Paul Müller, who now advanced to offer him his friendly salutation, while Pierre Baptiste, and Bearskin, who had weathered many a stormy day by flood and field together, interchanged the grasp of their horny hands with undisguised satisfaction.In the meeting between the two bands of the Delawares there was less demonstration, but it may be doubted whether there was less excitement, as the last comers narrated to their comrades the bloody vengeance which they had taken on some of their foes, and dilated upon that which they anticipated in pursuit of Mahéga.Ethelston’s party being provided with some coffee, sugar, biscuits, and other luxuries, which had been long strange to Reginald’s camp, the evening of their arrival was devoted to a great merry–making, Monsieur Perrot undertaking the office of chief cook and master of the ceremonies, both of which he executed with so much skill and good–humour as to win the favour of all present. In the midst of the feasting, the security of the encampment was never endangered by the omission of due precautions; for the horses were driven in and the sentries posted, as on the preceding night, Reginald being well aware of the treacherous character of his Crow neighbours, and his suspicions aroused by the slight, but significant look given to him at parting by the youth whose life he had spared.While they were seated round a blazing fire enjoying the good cheer which Perrot had provided, Pierre, fixing his eyes upon the bear–claw collar worn by Attō, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and springing from his seat, went to examine it closer; having done so, he pronounced slowly and with emphasis a name as long as a Sanscrit patronymic.“What does that mean, Pierre?” inquired Ethelston, whohad found in the latter a guide of great shrewdness and experience.“It is the name of the Upsaroka to whom that collar belonged, in our tongue, ‘The man whose path is red.’ I saw it upon his neck last year, when I was at the post near the Upper Forks. He came to trade with us for a few knives and blankets—he was a great war–chief, and had killed more Black–feet than any man in his tribe.”“Well, Pierre, his own turn has come now; he will kill no more Black–feet, nor white men either,” said Baptiste to his comrade.“Did yonder Lenapé kill him, and in fair fight, man to man?”“He was killed in fair fight, man to man; not by Attō, but by a young war–chief whom the Lenapé call Netis,” replied the guide.Pierre fixed his quick grey eye upon the athletic figure of Reginald Brandon, who coloured slightly as he encountered at the same time the glance of Paul Müller.“It is true,” he said, “I had foolishly separated myself from the rest of my party; I was intercepted in attempting to return, and only escaped paying the penalty of my carelessness by the speed of my horse. The Crow chief was better mounted than the rest of his tribe, and as soon as I paused to breathe my horse he attacked, and slightly wounded me; in defending myself, I killed him.”“My son,” observed the missionary, “he died as he had lived, reckless and brave; it rejoices me to hear you speak of the deed as one of necessity and self–preservation.”“I know not,” muttered Pierre, “what he calls necessity; but it’s a fine feather in the youth’s cap, and our Delawares shall know it too.”One of the most remarkable features in the character of this man was the facility with which he acquired the habits and languages of the different tribes among whom his roving life had thrown him; moreover, he had the faculty of remembering with unerring certainty, any face, or spot, or tree, or path, that he had once seen—so that his services as guide and interpreter were highly valued; and as Pierre, though a good–humoured fellow, was shrewd enough in matters of business, he usually exacted, and had no difficulty in obtaining a liberalremuneration from the rival leaders of the fur–trade companies; he was tolerably well versed in the language of the Crows and the Black–feet, the two great nations inhabiting the vast region between the upper waters of the rivers Platte and Missouri; and there were few of the roving tribes upon either bank of the latter among whom he could not make himself understood. As an interpreter, he dealt fairly by his employer, although he hated the Black–feet, in consequence of a warrior of that tribe having carried off an Indianbelleto whom Pierre was paying his addresses. This offence he had never forgiven, and it gave him in all subsequent transactions, a natural leaning towards the Crows, the mortal and hereditary foes of his successful rival’s tribe.While Pierre related, in an under tone, to those Delawares of his party who did not understand English, the victory obtained over the great war–chief of the Crows by Reginald Brandon, the latter kept up a long and interesting conversation with Ethelston, whom he found already informed by the missionary of his engagement to Prairie–bird.On this subject, Reginald, who knew the prudence of his friend’s usual character, scarcely expected his sympathy or concurrence; he was therefore the more agreeably surprised when he found him disposed to enter into all his plans for the recovery of his betrothed, with a zeal and enthusiasm almost equal to his own.“The good missionary,” said Ethelston, “has told me much of the early life, as well as of the character and qualities of Prairie–bird. I cannot tell you how deeply she has engaged my interest; my own feelings towards your sister render me capable of appreciating yours; and I pledge my faith, dear Reginald, that I will spare neither toil nor exertion, nor life itself, to aid you in this precious search.”Reginald grasped his hand,—there was no need of words of gratitude between them,—and ere long both turned to consult with Paul Müller, as to their further proceedings. After due deliberation, they agreed that on the following morning they should pursue the trail, regardless of their Crow neighbours, whom they had now little cause to fear, and that previous to starting they would hold a council, at which Reginald should propose the distribution of their respective posts, on the lineof march, in the event of their wishing him to retain that of leader.The night having passed without any alarm, Reginald summoned a general council of war before daybreak: as soon as they were assembled he told them, through Baptiste, who acted as interpreter, that they were now strong enough to pursue the trail, without fear of interruption from the Crows; and that if the latter were foolish enough to make an attack, they would soon have cause to repent it. He then added that War–Eagle their chief being absent on the war–path, it was necessary for some one to act as leader until his return; and, as his party had been joined by so many warriors of experience, he would gladly place himself under the advice and guidance of the man whom they might select.When Baptiste had finished this speech, the oldest warrior of Ethelston’s party arose and said: “Is it not true that War–Eagle, when he went, appointed Netis leader in his place?” (A murmur of assent came from the lips of Attō and his party.) “Is it not true,” continued the Indian, “that Netis is a brave and skilful warrior?—one who need not be silent when the braves strike the war–post? His heart is true to the Lenapé, and he will tell them no lies. If the white men are content with Netis, the Lenapé wish no other leader. I have spoken.”As the scarred and weather–beaten warrior resumed his seat, another and a general murmur of approbation broke from the Delawares; and Ethelston having spoken a few words of similar import to the white men, Reginald found himself by universal acclamation chosen leader of the party.After modestly thanking them for their good opinion, his first act was to appoint Attō as guide upon the trail, desiring him to select any two whom he might wish to assist him, in the event of its becoming forked, or otherwise difficult to follow; Monsieur Perrot, with the provisions and loaded mules, occupied the centre of the line of march, in which comparatively secure post he was accompanied by Paul Müller, the main body of the hunters and the Delawares being distributed before and behind the baggage.For himself Reginald reserved the rear–guard, where he retained Ethelston, Baptiste, and a young Delaware, whom he might despatch upon any emergency to communicate with thefront. He also appointed four of the best mounted of his men, two on each side of his party, to protect the flanks against any sudden attack, Pierre being sent forward to render any assistance to Attō that he might require.These arrangements being complete, and made known to the respective parties, they were about to set forth on their journey, when Attō informed Reginald that the Crow youth was coming swiftly across the valley towards the encampment, pursued at a distance by several horsemen of his tribe; the lad was riding one of the swiftest and most untamed of the wild horses with which that region abounds, yet he had neither bridle nor saddle, guiding the animal with a leather thong, which he had thrown round its nose, and urging it to its utmost speed with a bow which he held in his right hand. A few minutes brought the foaming little steed and its rider to the edge of the thicket, where the latter, still holding the leather thong, stood in silence before Reginald; his eyes were literally sparkling with indignant rage, and he did not even deign to look behind him to see whether his pursuers approached: the latter, however, did not choose to venture near the encampment; but as soon as they saw that he had gained its shelter, they gave a few loud and discordant yells, and disappeared behind the hill.The services of Pierre were now put into requisition; and as soon as the youth found an ear that could understand his tale, he told it with a rapidity and vehemence that showed the strong excitement of his feelings: the story, as interpreted by Pierre, was briefly thus:—The youth was present on the preceding day at a war–council, where the Crows proposed a plan for inveigling the white men to a feast, and then attacking them unawares, at the same time desiring him to use the favour that he had found in their eyes as an additional means for entrapping them: this he positively refused to do, and boldly told the assembled chiefs that their counsels were wicked and treacherous, and that he would in no wise aid or abet them. Indignant at this remonstrance from a stripling, the partisan had ordered him to be whipped severely with thongs, and to be tied hand and foot; the sentence was executed with the utmost cruelty; but he had contrived early in the morning to slip off his bands, and springing to his feet, he seized the fleetest horse belonging to the partisan,and, leaping on its back, galloped off to warn his protector against the meditated treachery.The truth of the tale required no confirmation, for the glow of resentment burnt too fiercely in his eye to be dissembled, and the light covering of antelope skin which he had thrown across his shoulders, was saturated with his blood. Reginald’s first natural impulse was to punish the perpetrators of this outrage, but he checked it when he remembered the magnitude of the stake that bound him to the trail, “Tell him, Pierre,” said he, “that I thank him for his single tongue, and I love him for his honest brave heart. Ask him if there is anything that I can do for him.”“Nothing,” replied the youth to this question: “tell him that I have warned him against the forked tongues of my tribe, because he gave me my life, and was good to me, but I must not forget that his hand is red with my father’s blood. The day is very cloudy; the Great Spirit has given a hard task to the son of the fallen chief; his back is marked like the back of a slave; he has lived enough.”The voice of the youth faltered as he pronounced the last words; the thong dropped from his feeble grasp, and as he fell to the ground, the wild horse broke away and galloped across the valley. “He is dying,” said Reginald, bending over him; “see, here below his hunting shirt is the broken shaft of an arrow, which one of his pursuers has shot with too true an aim.” While he spoke the young Crow breathed his last.c215CHAPTER XV.SHOWING HOW WINGENUND FARED IN THE OSAGE CAMP, AND THE ISSUE OF THE DILEMMA IN WHICH PRAIRIE–BIRD WAS PLACED BY MAHÉGA.We trust that the compassionate reader is now desirous to learn something more of the fate of Prairie–bird and her unfortunate brother Wingenund, whom we left a prisoner in the hands of the merciless chief of the Osages. For a long time after the latter had left her tent, his parting threat rung in herears, that she must on the morrow give her consent to be his bride, or by her refusal consign Wingenund to a cruel and lingering death. Her busy imagination pourtrayed in vivid colours the scene of torture, and the heroic fortitude with which she knew he would endure it, and as she turned from that picture, the figure of Reginald Brandon rose to her view, as if upbraiding her with the violation of her plighted troth; torn by these contending struggles, the poor girl sobbed convulsively, and the tears forced their way through the fingers with which she in vain endeavoured, either to suppress or conceal them. Lita threw her arms round her mistress’s neck, and strove by her affectionate, yet simple, endearments to soothe her grief: for a long time they proved unsuccessful, but when at last she whispered,—“The Great Spirit is very good; he is stronger than Mahéga; let Prairie–bird speak with him as she often did when the Black Father was with her—““True, Lita,” she replied, looking gratefully at the Comanche girl through her tears; “you remind me of what I ought not to have forgotten.”The next moment, saw her prostrate upon her couch—the book of comfort in her hand, and her earnest prayers ascending toward Heaven.She rose from her devotions with a calmed and strengthened spirit; the first result of which was a desire to converse with Wingenund, and to decide with him upon the morrow’s fearful alternative.Mahéga willingly consented to the interview, justly believing that it would rather forward than retard his plan for compelling her consent, compared with which the boy’s life weighed not a feather in the balance, so he ordered him to be conveyed to her tent; and the guards who conducted him having informed her that if she unbound his hands, he would be instantly seized and removed, they retired to the aperture, awaiting the termination of the meeting with their habitual listless indifference.Prairie–bird cared not whether they listened, as she spoke to her young brother in English, of which she knew that they understood little or nothing.“Dear Wingenund,” she said, “you heard the threat uttered by that savage, after he struck you?”“I did.”“Is there no device or means by which we can contrive your escape? we may trust the Comanche girl.”“I do not see any,” replied the boy calmly; “the eyes of the Osage chief are open, the hands of his warriors are many and ready. It does not matter; War–Eagle and Netis will be here soon; then all will go well.”“All well!” said Prairie–bird, shuddering. “Know you not, that to–morrow I must consent to be the wife of the Osage, or be the cause, and the witness of my brother’s horrible death?”Wingenund looked at her with unfeigned surprise.“The daughter of Tamenund—the Prairie–bird sent by the Great Spirit, from an unknown land, to dwell among the lodges of the Lenapé—she who has learnt all the wise words of the Black Father—she to become the wife of that wandering wolf! Can my sister’s heart beat towards him?”“Heaven knows how I loathe and dread him! worse than the most poisonous snake in the prairie.”“I thought so,” he replied. “And how ought a wife to feel towards the man whom she marries?”“To feel that he is the joy, the food, the treasure of her heart; the object of her secret thoughts by day, of her dreams by night; that when she prays to Heaven, his name is on her lips; that she loves him as—as—““As Prairie–bird loves Netis,” said Wingenund, smiling.The conscious girl blushed at the impassioned eagerness into which her feelings had betrayed her, but she did not attempt to deny her brother’s conclusion, and he continued more gravely: “Then my sister could not be the wife of the Osage, without leading a life of misery and falsehood. No, no,” he added, his bright eye kindled as he spoke; “let to–morrow come; Wingenund is ready; he will show that wolf how the Lenapé die. Let to–morrow come, and Mahéga shall learn that Wingenund despises his hate as much as Prairie–bird scorns his love. My sister, I have spoken it. The deeds of my fathers are before my eyes; the blood of the ancient people is in my veins; words cannot change my mind. Farewell! and when you see War–Eagle and Netis, tell them that the Washashe fire drew neither complaint nor cry from the lips of Wingenund.”As he spoke, his agonised sister looked up in his face, and read but too plainly the high, unconquerable determination legibly stamped upon its proud expressive features. She saw that the instinctive feelings of his race had triumphed over all the gentler impressions which she and the missionary had endeavoured to implant, and, knowing that now she might as well attempt to bend a stubborn oak as to effect any change in his resolution, she embraced him in silence, and suffered the Osage guards to lead him from the tent.Composing herself by a strong effort of self–command, Prairie–bird revolved in her mind various schemes for saving the life of her devoted brother; one after another she considered and rejected, until at length the idea occurred to her that perhaps she might contrive to work upon the superstitious fears of Mahéga. With this view she examined carefully all her slender stock of instruments and curiosities,—the novelty of the burning–glass was past, the ticking of the watch given to her by Paul Müller, though it might surprise the Osage, could not be expected to alarm, or induce him to abandon his determination. Then she cast her despairing eyes upon the few volumes which formed her travelling library; among these her attention was accidentally directed to the almanack which the good Father had brought to her, from the settlements, when he gave her the watch, and she sighed when she thought how often she had amused herself in the spring comparing them together, calculating the lapse of time, and the changes of season which they severally announced. Her observation of the sabbaths had been most punctual, nor had it been interrupted by the toils and privations of the journey, so she had no difficulty in finding the week or the day then passing. “July,” she exclaimed, reading to herself half aloud, “only two weeks of this sad month are yet past, methinks they seem more like fourteen months than fourteen days! See here, too, on the opposite leaf prophecies regarding wind and weather. How often would the dear Father point these out to me, and strive to explain the wonderful terms in which they describe the movements of the stars; he was very patient, but they were too hard for me; I am sure he tried to make me understand these strange words, ‘Aphelion,’ ‘Apogee,’ ‘Perigee,’ but if he ever succeeded, I have forgotten it all. What is this notice in larger letters? to–morrow, to–morrow it stands written,‘Total eclipse of the sun, visible at Philadelphia, 9h. 42m.’—surely surely it will be visible here too. I will trust to it, I will build my faith upon it, and Wingenund’s life shall yet be saved.” So saying, she clasped her hands together, and her lovely countenance beamed with re–awakened hope.Lita, who had been watching her mistress with affectionate solicitude, and listening with childish wonder to her half–uttered soliloquy, was overcome with surprise at this sudden change in her demeanour; she thought that Prairie–bird had been conversing with some unseen being; under which impression she approached, and asked, timidly,“Has Olitipa seen a Good Spirit, and have her ears drunk words of comfort?”“Olitipa has received words of comfort,” replied her mistress, kindly; “they seem to her words from Heaven; she trusts that she may not be deceived; she will address her evening prayer to the Great Merciful Spirit above, and retire to rest, at least to such rest as it may be His will to give her.”For many hours after Prairie–bird had been stretched upon her furry couch did her thoughts dwell upon the solar eclipse now the foundation of her hopes; she remembered how the missionary had explained to her that it was visible at one hour in one part of the earth, at a different hour in another part; then she wondered whether at the spot where she now was it would be seen sooner or later than at Philadelphia,—this doubt her science could not resolve, and it held her long in anxious suspense; but overwearied nature at length claimed her rights, and she sank into an unrefreshing dreamy slumber, in which the images of Wingenund, Mahéga, and Reginald Brandon were stalking confusedly over an eclipsed and darkened region of earth.Early on the following morning Mahéga, who had resolved not to lose this favourable opportunity for working upon the fears of Prairie–bird, caused a pile of dry branches of wood to be placed round a tree, which stood nearly opposite to her tent, to which he ordered Wingenund to be secured with thongs of bison–hide; after which he and his warriors seated themselves in a semicircle before their victim, passing the pipe deliberately from mouth to mouth, as if to enjoy his suspense and terror.If such was their object, it met with little success, for the young Delaware, in the brightest day of his youth and freedom,had never worn so proud and lofty an air as that which now sat enthroned upon his brow.“A thousand warriors of the Lenapé, whose blood is in my veins, have gone before me to the happy fields,—they knew not fear, and I the last of their children will bring no shame upon their race; when I come they will say, ‘Welcome, Wingenund!’ and before many winters and summers are past, War–Eagle and Netis, Prairie–bird and the Black Father, will join me, and the blue eyes of the Lily of Mooshanne will be there also, and we will dwell in a land of streams and flowers, of numberless deer, and abundant corn, unvexed by cold, or want, or pain.”Such was the vision that rose before the mental eye of the youth, and so completely was he engrossed by it, that he took not the slightest notice of the group assembled to put him to a slow and agonising death.Meanwhile Prairie–bird having prayed earnestly to Heaven to support her, and pardon the deceit which she was about to practise, dressed herself with more than usual care, and coming forth from her tent, stood before Mahéga with a dignity of demeanour, to the effect of which even his fierce and intractable nature was not insensible. He rose not, however, at her approach, but contented himself with inquiring, “Has Olitipa come to save her brother’s life, or to kill him?”“Neither,” replied the maiden, firmly; “she is come to give good counsel to Mahéga; let him beware how he neglects it!”“Let not Olitipa’s speech travel in circles,” said the angry chief. “Mahéga has said that this day she should consent to be his wife, or she must see that feeble boy burnt before her eyes,—there are but two paths,—which does Olitipa choose?”“The feet of foolish men often wander where there is no path at all,” replied Prairie–bird; and she added, with solemnity, pointing upward to Heaven: “There is onlyonepath, and one Guide, the Great Spirit who dwells above!”Those of the Osages who were familiar with the Delaware tongue in which she was speaking, looked at each other, as if wondering at her words, but Mahéga, whose passion was only increased by her exceeding beauty, answered vehemently,“It is easy for Olitipa to talk and to make children believethat her words are those of the Great Spirit—Mahéga is not a child.”“If he compare his strength with that of the Great Spirit,” said the maiden, boldly, “Mahéga’s is less than the least finger of a child. Who can tell the power of the Great Spirit? The strong wind is his breath,—the thunder is his voice,—the sun is his smile. If He is angry and withdraws the sun, day is turned into night—darkness and fear dwell in the hearts of men.”The energy of her language and manner were not altogether without their effect even upon the stern nature of Mahéga; nevertheless, he replied,“These are but the notes of singing–birds. Mahéga waits for the choice of Olitipa,—she becomes his wife, or the fire is kindled at the feet of Wingenund.”Prairie–bird cast an anxious glance athwart the blue vault above; not a cloud was in the sky, and the sun shone with the full brightness of an American July. She would not yet abandon hope, but, making a strong and successful effort to maintain her composure, she said in a firm, impressive tone, “Mahéga, let there be a bargain between us; you seek Olitipa for a wife; if it be the will of the Great Spirit, she will submit, and her brother’s life will be spared; but if the Great Spirit is displeased, and shows his anger by drawing a cloak over the face of that bright sun in the heavens, Mahéga will obey His will, and let the brother of Olitipa go away unhurt.—Is Mahéga content that it shall be so?“He is,” replied the chief, “if the sign be such as he and the Osage warriors may look upon with wonder; not a mist, or dark cloud.”“It will be such as will make Mahégatremble,” replied the maiden with dignity. “Warriors of the Washashe, you have heard the treaty. Before the sun has reached yon western peak, the answer of the Great Spirit will be known.” Having thus spoken, she withdrew into the tent, leaving the Osages gazing upon each other with undisguised awe and amazement.The maiden threw herself upon her couch in an agony of suspense, greater than can be described! It was terrible to think that her every hope of escaping from the dreadful alternative, was staked upon a sentence in an almanack, of the correctness of which she had not the slightest power to judge.Even the well–intentioned attempts at consolation made by her affectionate Lita were of no avail; her unhappy mistress entreated her to remain at the door of the tent, and report whatever might occur; within and without a profound stillness reigned. The prisoner stood motionless by the sapling to which he was bound; Mahéga smoked his pipe in the full confidence of anticipated triumph, surrounded by his warriors, who, less sceptical, or more superstitious than their chief, looked and listened, expecting some confirmation of the last words of Prairie–bird.Although the sun could not be opposite the rock which she had pointed out for nearly three hours, of which not a fourth part had yet elapsed, the anxious girl began to imagine that hope was at an end. Visions of future degradation and misery shot through her brain; she tore from her hot brow the fillet that confined her hair, which floated in glossy luxuriance over her shoulders. The reproaches of Reginald Brandon rung in her ears. The loathed embrace of Mahéga crept over her shuddering frame! At this crisis her eye fell upon the handle of the sharp knife concealed in her bosom; she drew it forth; the triumph of the powers of Evil seemed at hand, when a cry of surprise and terror from Lita recalled her wandering senses. She sprang to the door; visible darkness was spreading over the scene, and the terrified Osages were looking upward to the partially obscured disk of the sun, over the centre of which an opaque circular body was spread; a brilliant ring being left around its outer ridge.[58]Prairie–bird gazed upon the wondrous spectacle like one entranced; the late fearful struggle in her breast had given a supernatural lustre to her eye; her frame was still under high nervous excitement, and as, with long hair floating down her back, she pointed with one hand to the eclipsed sun, and with the other to Mahéga, well might the savage imagine that he saw before him a prophetess whose will the Spirit of Fire must obey. Under the influence of awe and dread, which he strove in vain to conceal, he moved forward, and said to her, “It isenough! let Olitipa speak to the Great Spirit that the light may come again.”The sound of his voice recalled the mind of Prairie–bird to a consciousness of what had passed. She answered not, but with a gesture of assent motioned to him to withdraw, and supporting herself against one of the trees that grew in front of her tent, she knelt beside it, and, veiling her face in the redundant tresses of her hair, found relief in a flood of tears. Overwhelmed by a sense of the merciful interposition by which she and her brother had been saved, and by a feeling of deep contrition for the sudden impulse of self–destruction to which, in a moment of mental agony, she had yielded, she thought neither of the continuance nor the withdrawing of the dark phenomenon of external nature, but of the evil gloom which had for the time eclipsed the light of grace in her heart, and the tears which bedewed her cheek were tears of mingled penitence and gratitude.Still, Nature held on her appointed course; after a few minutes the moon passed onward in her path, and the rays of the sun, no longer intercepted, again shed their brightness over earth and sky.The Osages, attributing these effects to the communing of Prairie–bird with the Great Spirit, stood in silent awe as she arose to retire to her tent, and her secret humiliation became, in their eyes, her triumph.Mahéga, finding that he had no pretext for refusing to release Wingenund, and that his warriors evidently expected him to fulfil his promise, ordered the youth to be unbound; and in the height of his generosity, desired that some food might be offered to him, which Wingenund scornfully rejected.The Osage chief having called aside two of those most devoted to him, spoke to them a few words apart; and then, addressing his liberated prisoner in the Delaware tongue, he said, “The Osage warriors will conduct Wingenund two hours on his journey: he will then be free to go where he likes; but if he is again found skulking round the Osage camp, nothing shall save his life.”Wingenund knew that he was to be turned loose in a desolate region, unarmed and half–starved, but his proud spirit would not permit him to ask the slightest boon of his enemy; and without a word of reply, without even directing a looktowards his sister’s tent, he turned and followed his conductors.For several miles they pursued the back–foot[59]of the trail by which they had come from the eastward, Wingenund being placed in the centre without weapon of any kind, and the two Osages marching one before, and the other behind him, being well armed with bow, knife, and tomahawk. The youth, unconscious that they had secret instructions from Mahéga to kill him as soon as they reached a convenient and sufficiently distant spot, made no attempt to escape, but walked quietly between them, considering within himself whether he should endeavour to rejoin his party, or persevere in hovering in the neighbourhood of the Osages: if a suspicion of Mahéga’s treachery did cross his mind, he allowed it not to influence his bearing, for he moved steadily forward, not even turning his head to watch the Osage behind him.About five or six miles from Mahéga’s camp, the trail passed along the edge of a low wood, which skirted the banks of the same stream that flowed through the upper valley. This was the place where they proposed to kill their prisoner, and hide his body in the bushes, the chief having commanded that the murder should be kept secret from the rest of his party. They had just passed a thicket on the side of the trail, when the terrible battle–cry of War–Eagle rose behind them, and his tomahawk clove the skull of the Osage in the rear. Quick as thought, Wingenund sprang upon the one in front, and pinioned his arms; the Osage tried in vain to disengage them from the grasp of his light and active opponent. Brief was the struggle, for the deadly weapon of the Delaware chief descended again, and the second Osage lay a corpse upon the trail.The brothers, having exchanged an affectionate but hasty greeting, took the spoils from their enemies according to Indian fashion, War–Eagle contenting himself with their scalps, and his brother taking such weapons and articles of dress as his present condition rendered necessary for hiscomfort and defence; after which, they threw the two bodies into the thicket, into which the Osages had intended to cast that of Wingenund, and continued their course at a rapid rate towards the eastward, War–Eagle relating as they went the events which had brought him so opportunely to the scene of action: they were briefly as follow:—When he left his party, he never halted nor slackened his speed until he saw the smoke of the Osage camp–fire: concealing himself in the adjoining wood, he had witnessed all the surprising occurrences of the day; and in the event of the Osages actually proceeding to set fire to the faggots around Wingenund, he was prepared to rush upon them alone, and either rescue his brother or perish with him: but, with the self–command and foresight of an Indian, he kept this desperate and almost hopeless attempt for the last chance; and when to his surprise and joy he saw the prisoner sent upon the trail with a guard of only two Osages, he took advantage of a bank of rising ground, behind which he crept, and moving swiftly forward under its shelter, gained unperceived the thicket, where he had so successfully waylaid them.Fearing a pursuit, the brothers never abated their speed throughout the evening, or the early portion of the night. A few hours before dawn, some scattered bushes near the path offering them a precarious shelter, they lay down to snatch a short repose; a mouthful of dried bison–meat, which remained in War–Eagle’s belt, he gave to his exhausted brother; and one blanket covering them both, they slept soundly and undisturbed until the sun was high in heaven.c216CHAPTER XVI.MAHÉGA FINDS THE BODIES OF HIS TWO FOLLOWERS SLAIN BY WAR–EAGLE.—SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE INDIAN CHARACTER.—WAR–EAGLE RETURNS TO HIS FRIENDS, AND THE OSAGE CHIEF PUSHES HIS WAY FURTHER INTO THE MOUNTAINS.Mahéga waited anxiously the return of the two men whom he had sent with Wingenund, being desirous to learn whether they had faithfully executed the treacherous commission withwhich he had entrusted them. When he found that the evening passed away, and that the successive hours of the night brought no intelligence of them, he became alarmed lest they should have fallen in with some hostile band of Indians; an occurrence which, in addition to the loss of two of his warriors, would threaten imminent danger to his whole party.At the earliest peep of dawn he set out in search of them, accompanied by three of his followers, giving orders to the remainder to observe a strict watch during his absence. Traversing the little valley in front of his camp with hasty strides, he struck into the eastward trail, and followed it with unabated speed until he reached the spot where the deadly struggle of the preceding evening had arisen. Here the indications were too evident to leave a moment’s doubt upon his mind; the grass on and beside the trail was stained with blood, and from the neighbouring thicket were heard the snarls and yells of a pack of wolves quarrelling over their horrible banquet; while high in air several buzzards were wheeling round and round, as if endeavouring to find courage to descend and dispute the prey with the quadruped spoilers.Dashing into the thicket, and driving the snarling wolves before him, Mahéga found his worst fears realised, and his horror–struck warriors stood in silence beside the mangled remains of their comrades. The conduct of Indians under such circumstances is uncertain and various as their mood, their impulse, their tribe, and their age. Sometimes they indulge in fearful threats of vengeance; sometimes in the most woeful howlings and lamentations; at others they observe a silence as still as the death which they are contemplating.The Osages, on this occasion, following the example of their leader, spoke not a word, although the sight before them (far too horrible for description) was sufficient to try the strongest nerves; it was chiefly by the immoveable firmness of his character that Mahéga had gained and maintained the despotic influence which he exercised over his followers; neither did it fail him on this occasion, for he proceeded to examine the mutilated remains of his deceased warriors with his usual coolness and sagacity, in order that he might discover by whom the deed had been perpetrated; on a close inspection of the skulls, he found that both had been fractured by a tomahawk blow, which had fallen in a direction almost vertical, butrather at a posterior angle of inclination, whence he immediately inferred that they had been killed by some enemy who had surprised and attacked them from behind, and not in an open fight: after a long and careful observation of the fractures, he was of opinion that they were made by the same weapon. This inference, however, he kept to himself; and directing two of his followers to pay such offices to the dead as were possible under the circumstances, and then to return to the camp, he went forward with the remaining Osage, to satisfy himself as to the manner in which the calamity had occurred: he remembered to have seen Wingenund starting on the trail, and, although he knew him to be bold and active, he could not for an instant entertain the belief that a stripling, wearied with a sleepless night, stiff from being so many hours bound with thongs, and totally unprovided with arms, could have killed his two guards, who were strong, wary, and well–armed men!For some distance Mahéga continued his course in moody silence, the beaten trail affording no indication sufficient to guide him in his conjecture, but at length he reached a place where it crossed a small rivulet, the flat banks of which were sprinkled with a kind of gravelly sand: here he paused and examined every inch of the ground with the eye of a lynx; nor was it long before he detected the foot–prints which he sought, a smaller and a greater, the latter showing longer intervals, and a deeper impression.Rising from his stooping scrutiny, the eyes of the chief glared with fury, as he turned to his follower, and, in a voice almost inarticulate with rage, groaned the hated name of War–Eagle.“It is,” he continued vehemently, “plain as the moon in the sky, the trail of the cursed Lenapé and the light foot of his brother; see here, War–Eagle has walked through the water, and Wingenund has sprung over it; the dew has fallen since they passed, they are far before us; but Mahéga must not sleep till their scalps are in his belt. Is Toweno ready?” inquired the fierce chief, tightening his girdle while he loosened the tomahawk suspended from it.“Toweno is ready,” replied the Indian, “to fight or run by the side of Mahéga from morning until night; his hand is not weak, nor are his feet slow, but the great chief must not let the angry spirit bring a cloud before his eyes.”“Let Toweno speak,” said Mahéga, controlling his fierce impatience, “his words will find a path to open ears.”“War–Eagle,” pursued the Osage, “is swift of foot and cunning as a twice–trapped wolf. He has not come upon this far war–path alone. Wingenund has been prowling round the camp; and while Mahéga follows the trail of War–Eagle, the youth may guide the pale–faced warrior called Netis, with his band, to the encampment of the Washashe. Toweno has need of no more words.”Mahéga saw in a moment the truth and force of his follower’s suggestion, and smothering for the moment his passion for revenge, he resolved to return at once to his encampment.“The counsel of Toweno is good,” said he; “when a friend speaks, Mahéga is not deaf.”Among the features that distinguish the character of the North American Indian, there is none more remarkable, none more worthy of the study and the imitation of civilised man, than the patience and impartial candour with which they listen to the advice or opinion of others: although so prone to be swayed by passion and governed by impulse, the Indian seems to have a wonderful power of laying aside these predispositions, when discussing a matter privately with a friend, or openly in council. The decorum with which all their public discussions are conducted has been observed and recorded by every writer familiar with their habits, from the time of Charlevoix, and of the interesting “Letters Edifiantes” to the present day. Colden, Tanner, Mackenzie, and many others who have described the Northern tribes, concur in bearing their testimony to the truth of this observation; Heckewalder, Loskiel, Smith, Jefferson, confirm it in the central region; and the Spanish writers bear frequent witness to it in their descriptions of the Southern tribes whom they met with in their campaigns in Florida and the adjacent country. In reading the account given of the numerous tribes inhabiting the vast region between the Mississippi and the Rocky Mountains, by Clarke, Lewis, Long, and others, the same observation forces itself upon us almost at every page, and it is the more remarkable when we reflect upon two facts: first, that we find this characteristic attributed to forty or fifty different nations inhabiting a continent larger than Europe, by the concurring testimony of travellers from different countries, and holding the most opposite opinions.Secondly, we do not find a similar characteristic distinguishing other savages, or nomadic tribes in Asia, Africa, or the Pacific Islands.There is not a public body in Europe, from the British parliament down to the smallest burgh meeting, that might not study with advantage the proceedings of an Indian council, whether as described in the faithful pages of the German missionaries, or, as it may still be seen by any one who has leisure and inclination to visit those remote regions, where the Indian character is least changed and contaminated by intercourse with the whites. Such an observer would find his attention attracted to two remarkable facts; first, that no speaker is ever interrupted; and, secondly, that only those speak who from age, rank, and deeds, are entitled to be listened to.It is a popular and plausible reply to say, that discussions concerning the complicated business of a great country cannot be carried on like the unimportant “talks” of these savage tribes. This reasoning is shallow and full of sophistry; for many of the Indian councils above referred to have involved all the dearest interests of the nation; their soil, their pride, their ancestral traditions, all were at stake, perhaps all with little more than a nominal alternative, to be bartered for the grasping white man’s beads, whiskey, and subsidies. In these councils, every listening Indian must have felt that his own home, the lodge built by his father, and the patch of maize cultivated by his family, were dependent on the issue of the negotiation, and yet it is not upon record that a chief or elder brave was ever interrupted in his speech, or that the decorum of the council was infringed by irregularity or tumult on the part of those who might have considered themselves injured and aggrieved.Even in regard to time, it is a great mistake to suppose that anything is gained by interruption; for an obstinate talker will carry his point in the end; and although the persevering exclamations and groanings, and crowings of an impatient House of Commons may succeed in drowning his voice, and forcing him to sit down, he will rise again on some other occasion, and inflict upon his hearers a speech whose bulk and bitterness are both increased by the suppressed fermentation which it has undergone.Leaving the moody and dispirited Osage chief to find his way back to his encampment, we will now return to Reginald Brandon and his party, whom we left starting westward on the trail, marching in regular order, and prepared, without delaying the progress, to repel any hostile attempt on the part of the Crows. The latter band seemed, however, so impressed with the strength, discipline, and appointments of the white men’s force, now that it had received a strong reinforcement, that they gave up all present intention of molesting it, and went off in an opposite direction in search of game, horses, or booty where these might be acquired with less risk and danger.Reginald and Ethelston went together on the line of march; and although the spirits of the former were damped by the recent and melancholy fate of the Crow youth, in whom he had felt much interest, the buoyant hilarity of his disposition did not long resist his friend’s endeavours to banish that subject from his thoughts, and to turn the conversation to topics more immediately connected with the object of their present expedition.Reginald having once confided to Ethelston his love for Prairie–bird, found a pleasure in describing to him her beauty, her natural grace, her simplicity,—in short, all those charms and attractions which had carried by storm the fortress of his heart; and it seemed that his friend was no less willing to listen than he to talk upon the subject; repeating question after question, regarding her with an unwearied intensity of curiosity that excited at length the surprise of Reginald himself.“Indeed, Edward,” he said, laughing, “did I not know that you are devoted to a certain lady on the banks of the Muskingum, and that your attachments are reasonably steady, I could almost believe that the fidelity and eloquence with which I have described Prairie–bird had made you fall in love with her yourself.”“Perhaps you are claiming more merit for your own eloquence than is due to it,” said Ethelston, in a similar tone, “you forget that before I joined you, Paul Müller and I had travelled many hundred miles together; and it is a topic upon which he speaks as warmly and partially as yourself.”“Well he may!” replied Reginald with energy, “for sheowes everything to his affectionate care and instruction, in return for which she loves and venerates him as if he were her father.”In such conversation did the friends while away many weary hours on the march; and at the midday halt and evening camp, they were joined by the worthy missionary, who, justly proud of his pupil, and knowing that he was addressing those who would not soon be weary of hearing her praises, told them many anecdotes of her early youth, with an earnestness and feeling which often caused Reginald to avert his face, and Ethelston to shade his brow thoughtfully with his hand.Nor was the march unenlivened by scenes of a merrier kind, for Pierre, Baptiste, and Monsieur Perrot kept up a constant round of fun and raillery around their camp–kettle; the latter continuing to act as chief cook for all the white men and half–bred in the party, and leaving the Delawares to dress their food after their own fancy. Provisions were abundant in the camp, and Perrot contrived by his ingenuity to give a variety both in appearance and flavour to supplies, which in truth consisted of little more than parched maize, biscuit, coffee, and bison–meat. He talked incessantly, and his lively sallies not only amused his two companions, but often drew a smile from Reginald, in spite of the anxiety occasioned by the object of the expedition.“Master Baptiste,” said the valet cook (as nearly as his language may be rendered into English), “methinks those great hands of yours are better skilled in chopping Sioux skulls, or felling bee–trees, than in the science of butchery; see here, what unchristian lumps of meat you have brought me to dress!”“Were it not for these great hands, as you call them,” replied the sturdy guide, “you, Master Perrot, with those fine–skinned fingers, would often ere this have seen little of either deer or bison–meat for your supper.”“As for that, I deny not that you are tolerably successful in hunting, and your load of venison is sometimes brought decently home; but in the cutting up of a bison, your education has been much neglected.”“It may be so, Monsieur Perrot,” answered Baptiste: “I do not pretend to much skill in the matter, and yet methinksI should understand as much of it as one who had never seen a bison a month since; and who could not now dress a cow’s udder half so well as an Osage squaw.” Pierre laughed outright at his comrade’s depreciation of Perrot’s culinary skill; and the latter, whose temper was not a whit ruffled by this disparagement of his talents, inquired with the utmost gravity,“Pray, Baptiste, instruct me in this matter, for I doubt not, although you have so grievously mutilated the ox, that your method of dressing the cow’s udder must be worth learning.”“Nay,” replied Baptiste, “I will show you that when we come among cows and squaws; meanwhile I recommend you to make yourself a spare peruke, as we may soon be running foul of those Osages, or some other roving Indians, who may chance to carry off that moveable scalp on the top of your head.”This allusion to Perrot’s disaster and narrow escape among the Sioux, turned the laugh against him; but he quickly checked its current by placing before his companions some buffalo steaks, and cakes of maize flour, which practically contradicted all that they had been saying in his disparagement of the good–humoured Frenchman’s cookery.Towards the close of the second day’s march, one of the Delawares, who had been sent forward to reconnoitre, galloped to the rear and reported that he had seen one or two men at a great distance a–head, nearly in the line of the trail which they were now following. Reginald immediately sprung upon Nekimi, who was walking like a pet–dog at his side; and, accompanied by Ethelston, rode forward to examine the strangers with his telescope. The undulations of the intervening ground hid them for a considerable time from his view, and when they reappeared they were near enough to be clearly distinguished through his glass.“War–Eagle,” he exclaimed, “Heaven be praised! It is my brave Indian brother returning with young Wingenund. Edward, I will now present to you the noblest creature that ever yet I encountered in human shape. My feelings would prompt me to rush forward and embrace him; but we must conform ourselves to Indian usage here, or we shall lose the good opinion of our Delaware friends.”Reginald had confided to his friend all that had passed between himself and War–Eagle, not even omitting his unfortunate and long–cherished passion for Prairie–bird, so that Ethelston awaited his approach with no ordinary interest.As the Delaware chieftain advanced with erect front, his expanded chest thrown slightly forward, and the fine symmetry of his form developed in every movement as he stepped lightly over the prairie, Ethelston felt that he had never seen, either in nature or in the works of art, a finer specimen of manhood; and when he witnessed the grave simplicity which mingled with his cordial greeting of Reginald Brandon, he could not deny that features, form, and bearing stamped the Delaware chieftain at once as one of the lords of the creation. Neither did the gentle gracefulness of the slighter figure by whom he was accompanied escape Ethelston’s notice, and he felt no difficulty in recognising, in the interesting features of the youth, that Wingenund of whose high and amiable qualities he had heard so much from Reginald.“These are, indeed,” said Ethelston to himself, “worthy descendants of the Lenapé princes, whose sway in bygone days extended over many hundred leagues of fertile territory, from the Ohio to the Atlantic coast: whose broad lands are now tilled by the Saxon plough, on the site of whose ancient villages now stand the churches and the popular streets of Baltimore, and the city of Brotherly Love. With the loss of their dominion, most of these once–powerful tribes have lost the highest and best characteristics of their race; subdued by the rifle, corrupted by the silver, degraded by the ardent spirits of the white man, they present but too often a spectacle in which it is difficult to recognise any traces of the attributes with which the narratives of our early travellers and missionaries invest them. But these are, indeed, features which a Titian would not have scorned to delineate; these are forms which the pencil of Michael Angelo and the chisel of Praxiteles would have rejoiced to immortalise.”While these thoughts were rapidly passing through the mind of Ethelston, the greeting between Reginald and War–Eagle was exchanged; and the former had given to his Indian brother a hasty sketch of the events which had occurred in his absence and of those which had led to the reinforcement brought by Ethelston. A gleam of joy shot athwart the features of theDelaware, as he learnt the vengeance which his warriors had taken of their enemies; and his quick eye glanced with gratified pride over the scalps which they displayed, and the magnificent bear–claw collar dependent from Attō’s neck. The Lenapé braves saw too that the tomahawk of their leader had not slept in its belt on his solitary war–path, for the scalps of the two unfortunate Osages whom he had slain hung close to its handle; and though there was no shout of triumph, an audible murmur of satisfaction ran through the whole band.When Reginald presented Ethelston to War–Eagle as his earliest and most faithful friend from childhood, the chief, taking him by the hand, said, “The friend of Netis is the friend of War–Eagle,—their hearts are one; he is very welcome.” Reginald then presented Wingenund to his friend, as the gallant youth who had saved his life on the banks of the Muskingum.“I feel as if I had long known him,” said Ethelston, shaking his hand cordially; “I have come lately from Mooshanne, where his name is not forgotten.”“Is the Lily of Mooshanne well?” inquired the youth, fixing his dark and earnest eyes full upon the countenance of the person whom he was addressing. Ethelston had been prepared by his friend’s description of Wingenund for a demeanour and character highly interesting; but there was a melody, a pathos, a slight tremor in the tone in which he spoke those few words, there was also in his countenance a touching expression of melancholy, that thrilled to the heart of Ethelston. How quick is the jealous eye of love! Ethelston knew that Wingenund had passed only one day in the society of Lucy, yet he saw in an instant the deep impression which that day had left on the young Indian’s mind.“The Lily of Mooshanne is well,” he replied. “If she had known that I should visit her brother, and his Lenapé friends, she would have bid me speak many kind words to them from her.”Wingenund passed on, and War–Eagle related to the two friends the leading circumstances of his own expedition, omitting all mention of the fatigue, the hunger, the sleepless nights that he had undergone, before he discovered and reached the Osage camp.As he described the scene of Wingenund being tied to thepost, with the dried faggots at his feet, and the appearance of Prairie–bird when Mahéga called upon her to pronounce her own or her brother’s fate, both of his auditors held their breath with anxious suspense, which gave place to astonishment, as he proceeded to relate with undisguised awe the mystery of the solar eclipse, which led to the liberation of Wingenund.When he had concluded his narrative, Reginald was speechless; and Ethelston, catching the Delaware’s arm, inquired in a low whisper, “Has the Osage dared, or will he dare, to make Prairie–bird his wife by force?”“He has not,” replied the chief; “the words of Olitipa, and the black sun, made him afraid.” He added, drawing himself proudly to his full height, “Had the wolf threatened to touch her with his paw, the tomahawk of War–Eagle would have pierced his heart, or the bones of the Lenapé chief and his brother would have been picked by the buzzards of the mountains.” So saying, War–Eagle joined his expectant warriors.In the meantime Mahéga returned to his camp, in a vexed and gloomy state of mind; as he passed the tent of Prairie–bird, a darker frown lowered upon his brow; and having entered his lodge, he seated himself, without speaking to any of those who had assembled there in expectation of his return.The youngest of the Osages present having handed him a lighted pipe, retired to a corner of the lodge, where he resumed his occupation of sharpening the head of a barbed arrow, leaving the chief to his own meditations. These dwelt mainly upon Prairie–bird, and were of a nature so mingled and vague, as to cause him the greatest perplexity. The effect of her beauty and attractions upon his passions had rather increased than diminished: he loved her as much as one so fierce and selfish could love another; yet, on the other hand, he felt that he ought to hate her, as being the sister of War–Eagle, and the betrothed of the man who had struck and disgraced him: with these contending feelings there was blended a superstitious awe of her communion with the world of spirits, and a remote hope that some of these supernatural agencies might turn her heart in his favour, and induce her not only to become his bride, but zealously to employ all her mysterious powers in the furtherance of his ambitious schemes.Such was the train of thought pursued by the Osage, as he leaned against the pile of furs that supported his back, and stretching his huge limbs at their ease, watched the eddying wreaths of fragrant smoke, which gently puffed from his mouth andnostril, wound their slow way to the fissures in the lodge–roof by which they escaped.[60]The suggestion of Toweno had made a strong impression upon Mahéga’s mind, and led him to expect, at no distant period, an attack on the part of the Delawares; and as he was uncertain of the force which his enemy might bring against him, he resolved to make a timely retreat to some spot where a pursuit, if attempted by the Delawares, might enable him to take them at a disadvantage.Calling to him an Osage who was leaning against one of the outer posts that supported the lodge, he desired him to make, with a comrade, a careful search of the neighbourhood, and to report any trail or suspicious appearance that they might find; and when he had given these orders he summoned Toweno, and started with him towards the head of the little valley, without informing him of the object which he had in view; but as the latter was the only person to whom the chief had entrusted the secret of the câche, where his most valuable spoils were deposited, and as they were now marching in that direction, he was not at a loss to divine Mahéga’s intentions. After a brief silence, the chief said to his follower, “Do the thoughts of Toweno walk upon the same path with the thoughts of Mahéga?”“They do,” he replied.“Can Toweno speak them?”“Mahéga intends to leave the camp before the Lenapé come; and taking some goods with him as presents to the mountain tribes, to find a safe place where the enemy cannot follow him.”“Toweno says well,” answered the chief, with a grim smile, “but that is not enough, the Lenapé must be made a fool, he must be put upon a wrong trail.”“That is good, if it can be done,” said Toweno, gravely, “but it is not easy to put sand in the eyes of War–Eagle.”“Mahéga will put sand into his eyes, and a knife into his heart before this moon becomes a circle,” replied the chief, clutching as he went the haft of his scalp–knife, and unconsciously lengthening his stride under the excitement produced by the thoughts of a conflict with his hated foe. They had now reached the “câche,” which was a large dry hole in the side of a rocky bank, the entrance to which was closed by a stone, and admirably concealed by a dense thicket of brambles and wild raspberry bushes: having rolled away the stone, Mahéga withdrew from the câche a plentiful supply of beads, vermillion, powder, and cloths of various colour, being part of the plunder taken from the camp of the unfortunate Delawares, and wrapping in two blankets as much as he and his companion could carry, they replaced the stone, carefully concealing their foot–prints as they retreated, by strewing them with leaves and grass. At a spot very near the câche was the skeleton of a deer, which Mahéga had killed on a former occasion, and purposely dragged thither. As soon as they reached this point, they took no further precaution to conceal their trail, because, even if it were found, the party discovering it would stop under the impression that it was made by the hunters who had killed the deer. On returning to the camp they met the two Osages who had been despatched to reconnoitre, and who reported that they had found one fresh Indian trail in the woods opposite the little valley, and that they had followed it as far as the stream, where, from its direction and appearance, they were assured it was the trail of War–Eagle; and Mahéga now first learnt that his daring foe had been within eighty yards of the spot selected for the torture of Wingenund. His was not a nature to give way to idle regrets; equally a stranger to fear and to remorse, the future troubled him but little, the past not at all, excepting when it afforded him food wherewith to cherish his revenge; so the information now received did not interrupt him in carrying into execution his plans for retreat. Accordingly, he desired Toweno to summon his warriors to a council, and in a short time the band, now reduced to eight besides himself, assembled in front of his lodge. Here he harangued them with his usual cunning sagacity, pointing out to them the riskof remaining in their present position, and setting before them in the most favourable light the advantages which might accrue from their falling in with some of the peaceable tribes among the mountains, and carrying back from them to the banks of the Osage and Kansas rivers a plentiful cargo of beaver and other valuable skins. Having concluded his harangue, he opened before them the largest (although the least precious) of the bales brought from the câche, which he divided equally amongst them, so that each warrior knowing what belonged to him, might use it as he thought fit; the remaining bale he ordered to be carefully secured in wrappers of hide, and to be reserved for negotiations for the benefit of the whole band. The Osages were loud in their approbation of the speech, and of the liberal distribution of presents by which it had been accompanied, and they retired from his lodge to make immediate preparations for departure.While these were rapidly advancing, Mahéga, who had made himself thoroughly familiar with the neighbouring locality, considered and matured his plans for retreat, the chief object of which was to mislead the Delawares, in the event of their attempting a pursuit. The result of his meditations he confined to his own breast, and his followers neither wished nor cared to know it, having full reliance upon his sagacity and judgment. Meanwhile, Prairie–bird remained quietly in her tent, grateful for the deliverance of her young brothers, and indulging in a thousand dreamy visions of her own escape, contrived and effected by Reginald and War–Eagle. These were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Lita, who, while engaging in carrying water from the brook, had gathered from one of the Osages some intelligence of what was going forward. If the truth must be told, this Indian, separated from the woman–kind of his own tribe, had begun to look on the expressive gipsy countenance of the Comanche girl with an eye of favour; and she not being slow to detect the influence which she had acquired, encouraged him just enough to render him communicative, and willing to offer her such attentions as were admissible in their relative situations. Yet in her heart she scorned him as a “dog of an Osage,” and though he knew her to be only a slave, there was something in her manner that attracted him in spite of himself; it was not difficult for the quick girl to gather from her admirer thenews of Wingenund’s escape, and the death of the two Osages sent to guard him; but when she heard the latter attributed with an execration to the hand of War–Eagle, she was obliged to avert her face, that her informant might not observe the look of triumph that gleamed in her dark eyes.Having ascertained at the same time that Mahéga was about to strike his camp and resume his march, she rewarded the Osage by an arch smile, that sent him away contented, while she, taking up her water–vessel, pursued her way to her mistress’s tent.To the latter Lita lost no time in communicating what she had learnt, and was disappointed to observe that Prairie–bird seemed rather vexed than gratified by the intelligence.“Does Olitipa not rejoice?” inquired she eagerly, “that the scalps of the Washashee dogs who kept Wingenund prisoner are hanging at the belt of the Lenapé chief?”“Olitipa is tired of blood,” answered the maiden, mournfully, “and the loss of his warriors will make Mahéga more fierce and cruel to us. See already he prepares to go on a distant path, where the eyes of War–Eagle and Netis may not find us;” and the poor girl shuddered at the prospect of a journey to regions yet more wild and remote, and a captivity yet more hopeless of deliverance.“Let him go where never Washashee foot stepped before,” replied Lita, “where no trail is seen but that of the bighorn, and the black–tailed deer: War–Eagle will follow and will find him.”Prairie–bird smiled sadly at the eagerness of her companion, and then desired her aid in getting their wardrobe and few moveables ready for the expected journey. While they were thus employed Mahéga called Prairie–bird to the door of her tent, where she found the chief, with his arm wrapped round with a cloth; and believing him to be wounded, she acceded at once to his request that she would give him one of her kerchiefs for a bandage. During the remainder of the evening she saw nothing more of him or of his people, and she slept undisturbed until an hour before dawn, when she was awakened by the bustle of preparation for departure.As soon as her light tent was struck and fastened to the poles which supported it, she observed that a kind of cradle had been constructed by the Osages, which was covered withskins, and was adapted to the purpose of carrying herself or her moveables, when slung to the tent–poles, as well as to convey its contents dry over any river that might obstruct their passage.The Osage party was now divided into two, of which one was reserved by Mahéga for his own guidance, the other being entrusted to that of Toweno: all the horses were placed under the charge of the latter, including those carrying the packages, and the palfrey usually ridden by Prairie–bird: this party bent their course to the northward, and Mahéga accompanied them a few hundred yards, repeating many instructions to Toweno, which seemed from his earnest gesticulation to be both minute and important.The heart of Prairie–bird sank within her, when she saw her favourite horse led away, and herself left with Lita on foot, attended by Mahéga and four of his men: knowing, however, the inutility of any present attempt either at resistance or flight, she awaited in uncomplaining silence the further commands of her captor, although she easily saw through the mocking veil of courtesy with which he disguised his anticipated triumph over her baffled friends. To his inquiry whether she preferred travelling on foot to being carried in the wicker–frame by two of his men, she replied, without hesitation, in the affirmative; upon which he presented her with a pair of mocassins, to be worn over her own, so ingeniously contrived that although they did not encumber her movements by their weight, they yet rendered it impossible that her foot–print should be recognised, even by the practised eye of War–Eagle. A similar pair was also placed on the feet of Lita.It may easily be imagined that the Osages, during their residence at this encampment, made various excursions for hunting and other purposes; they had used on these occasions old trails made by native tribes or by the bison; one of these ran in a north–east direction, skirting the base of the high western hills, and offering the prospect of easy travelling, through an undulating and partially wooded country. Into this path Mahéga struck at once, leading the way himself, followed by Prairie–bird and Lita, the four Osages bringing up the rear. This line of march being adopted by the cunning chief, first, that he might have frequent opportunity of watching and speaking with the maiden, and secondly, thathis men might be the better enabled to fulfil his strict injunction that they should carefully remove any trace which she might purposely or accidentally leave on the trail.Such an idea did not, however, appear to have entered the thoughts of Prairie–bird, for she followed the Osage chief with a blithe and cheerful air, replying good–humouredly to the observations which he from time to time addressed to her, and pointing out to Lita the beauties of the scenery through which they were passing.It was indeed a lovely region, abounding in rock, herbage, and magnificent timber, the latter affording an agreeable shelter from the rays of the sun, while the fresh breeze, blowing from the snow–capped mountains, which bounded the western prospect, rendered the exercise of walking pleasant in the highest degree.They had followed the trail for some time without meeting with any game when the quick eye of Mahéga detected a mountain–deer, browsing at no great distance, and in a moment an arrow from his bow pierced its flank; the wounded animal bounded onward into the glade, and the chief sprang forward in pursuit. The Osages fixed their keen and eager eyes on the chase, muttering half–aloud expressions of impatient discontent at being prevented from joining it. Swift as had been the arrow of Mahéga, it was not more so than the thought and hand of Prairie–bird, who contrived while her guards were gazing intently on the deer and its pursuer, to let fall unperceived a small slip of paper upon the trail: so completely did she appear absorbed in watching the chase, that the movement was unnoticed even by Lita, and the party continued their way a few hundred steps when a signal from Mahéga, now out of sight, soon brought one of his followers to assist him in cutting up the quarry.Before leaving her tent, Prairie–bird had prepared and secreted about her person several small slips of paper, on each of which she had written the word, “Follow,” trusting to her own ingenuity to find an opportunity of dropping one now and then unobserved by the Osages.Such an opportunity having now occurred, it had been successfully employed, and the maiden went forward with a lighter heart, in the confident hope that Providence wouldcause some friendly eye to rest upon the slight, yet guiding token left upon her path.For two days Mahéga pursued his march leisurely, as if fearless of pursuit, halting frequently to afford rest and refreshment to Prairie–bird, and camping at night, on some sheltered spot, where his men constructed for her protection a hut, or bower of branches, over which was thrown a covering of skins: before setting out in the morning this bower was destroyed, and the branches dragged to some distance in several directions; and Mahéga having carefully examined the spot, was the last to leave it, in order to ensure that no indication or trace of his fair prisoner might remain.On the third day about noon they reached the banks of a broad stream, which two of the Osages crossed immediately, with instructions from their chief to make a visible trail in a N.E. direction for some distance, when they were to enter the river again at another place, and to wade or swim down it until they rejoined him: meanwhile Prairie–bird and Lita, with such articles as they wished to keep dry, were placed in the light coriole or wicker–boat covered with skins, and Mahéga guided its course down the stream, followed by the remainder of his men: they descended the bed of the river for several miles in this way; and although more than one trail appeared on the banks as a crossing–place for Indians or bison, he passed them all unheeded, until he came to a broad track which had very lately been trodden by so many feet that the trail of his own party could not be distinguished upon it; here he halted until he was rejoined by the men whom he had left behind, when they proceeded forward at a brisk pace, towards the spot which he had appointed as the rendezvous for his party in charge of the packages and the horses.Mahéga was now in high spirits, being confident that the precautions which he had taken would throw the pursuers off the scent, and enable him to follow out his plans, which were to trade during the summer, with the Shosonies and other tribes hovering about the spurs of the mountains, procuring from them beaver and other valuable furs in exchange for the fine cloths and goods which he had brought from the Delaware camp; after which he proposed to return to the northern portion of the Osage country, enriched by his traffic, andglorying in the possession of his mysterious and beautiful bride.Such were the projects entertained by the Osage chief, and he brooded over them so abstractedly, that he afforded to the ever–watchful Prairie–bird an opportunity of dropping another of her small slips of paper unperceived; she did not neglect it, although almost hopeless of her friends ever discovering her path after the many precautions taken by Mahéga, and the long distance down the course of the river, where no trail nor trace of the passage of his party could be left.On reaching the rendezvous he found his detachment with the horses and luggage already arrived: they had come by a circuitous route, availing themselves of several Indian trails by the way, on one of which Toweno had, by direction of his chief, scattered some shreds of the kerchief that he obtained from Prairie–bird; after which he had returned upon the same trail, and diverged into a transverse one, which had enabled him to reach the rendezvous by the time appointed.Prairie–bird being again mounted upon her favourite palfrey, the whole party set forward with increased speed, which they did not relax until towards evening, when they saw in the distance numerous fires, betokening the neighbourhood of a populous Indian village. Mahéga then ordered a halt, and having sent forward Toweno to reconnoitre, encamped in a sheltered valley for the night. When Prairie–bird found herself once more, after the fatigues of the two preceding days, under the cover of her own tent, she looked round its small circular limits, and felt as if she were at home! Casting herself upon her couch of furs, she offered up her grateful thanks to the Almighty Being who had hitherto so mercifully protected her, and soon forgot her cares and weariness in sound and refreshing slumbers.END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

CHAPTER XIV.AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.—REGINALD PREPARES TO FOLLOW THE TRAIL.For two days the band of Crows hovered round the encampment, sometimes showing themselves on the adjacent heights, at others drawing off to a distance, in hopes of enticing some of Reginald’s party to venture into the open country; but although he himself chafed and fretted like an impatient steed, he was sensible of the risk that must attend any error or imprudence while in the neighbourhood of an enemy so crafty and so strong in numbers, and he never permitted the watchfulness of his little garrison to be relaxed for a moment: the horses were driven to feed under the guard of two armed Delawares, and were not sent to a distance whence their return could be intercepted, and the watches were regularly set and relieved during the whole night.On the third day the Crows, finding that all their endeavours to draw their cautious enemy from the covert were vain, held a council of war, after which three or four of their principal chiefs approached the encampment, making, as they advanced, signs of amity and truce. Reginald went out to meet them, accompanied by Baptiste and Attō, leaving orders with the remainder of his party to hold themselves in readiness against any attempt at treachery: halting at a spot not more than eighty yards from the wood, he awaited the Crow leaders, who came forward to meet him without any apparent suspicion or treacherous design.They had taken the precaution to bring with them the youth to whom Reginald had already shown kindness, and whose presence they rightly conjectured would facilitate the amicable nature of their mission.Reginald acknowledged with a smile the friendly greeting of his young protégé, and then drawing himself up to his full height, awaited in silence the opening of the parley.The Crowpartisan[56]first glanced his keen eye over the persons of those whom he was about to address, as if scanning them for the purpose of ascertaining their qualities and character, and whether he should best succeed by endeavouring to circumvent or to overawe them. Keen as he was, his penetration was here at fault; for although no three persons could be more dissimilar than those before him, yet, whether taken collectively or severally, they looked like men who would not be easily over–reached: his eye first rested on the spare sinewy frame and impenetrable countenance of Attō; thence it glanced to the muscular frame and shrewd hard features of the guide; and turning from them, it found but little encouragement in the bright bold eye and commanding form of Reginald Brandon.Perceiving with the intuitive sagacity of an Indian that the latter was the leader of his party, the partisan opened the parley by pointing his forefinger at Reginald, and then pressing the closed fingers against his own breast: he then pointed to himself with the same finger, and afterwards stretching both arms horizontally, moved them up and down with a vibrating motion, concluding his pantomime by again raising the forefinger of his right hand vertically to the height of his forehead. Reginald, who could not understand these gestures, turned to Attō, saying, “Does my brother know what the stranger speaks?—if so, let him explain.”“He says,” replied the Delaware, “that he wishes to be friends with you, and he tells you by the last signs that he is an Upsaroka, and a chief.”[57]“Tell him,” said Reginald, “that if his heart is true, and his tongue not forked, we also wish to be friends with him and his people.”The Crow replied by making the conventional sign for “good,” adding to it that for “truth.”On this being explained to Reginald, the latter desired Baptiste to bring from the camp some tobacco, a pipe, and a few trinkets for distribution among the Crows. On the return of the guide, the whole party took their seats, Reginald placing the partisan on his right, and the young prisoner whom he had released on his left. After the pipe had been smoked with due gravity and decorum, he divided among his guests some beads and other fanciful ornaments, according to their rank, with which they seemed highly delighted; the chief in particular testified his satisfaction by repeated gesticulations of friendship and affection towards his white–brother, whom he invited to go and feast with him and his braves: this invitation Reginald begged leave to decline; but he desired Attō to explain to his guest that he would visit him on some other occasion.While these civilities were passing between the respective parties, a great commotion was observed among the Crows stationed on the neighbouring hill, some of whom were seen galloping to and fro, as if communicating some unexpected intelligence. The partisan arose, and took his leave with courteous dignity, explaining by signs that he wished to ascertain what was passing among his people.As he withdrew, the youth whose life Reginald had spared, turned his head and gave the latter a look which he understood to convey a warning, but it was so rapid that he could not feel assured that he had rightly construed its meaning. Reginald remained for some time on the spot watching the motions of the Crows, who had now gathered in their scattered horsemen, and were evidently awaiting with some impatience the return of their chief. Reginald’s eye was still fixed upon them, when Attō, pointing to the eastward, whispered,“Men are coming!”Turning his head in the direction indicated, Reginald thought he perceived a moving object in the distance.“I see something in that quarter, but not distinctly; are you sure it is a party of men?”“Sure.”“Mounted, or on foot?”“Both,” replied the Delaware, without removing his brightkeen eye from the object: “they are upon our trail,” he added; “if they are not friends, we had better return to the camp.”Meanwhile Reginald unslung his telescope, and having at length brought it to bear upon the advancing party, he exclaimed—“By Heaven! there are white men as well as Indians, their horses, and loaded mules!”“How many?” inquired Baptiste.“They seem to me to be fifteen or twenty strong: should their intentions appear suspicious, we are near enough to retire into our camp; if they are friends, they will soon see us, and approach without fear or hesitation.”The guide shook his head as if distrusting all new comers in that remote region; but they were within rifle–shot of the covert, and could, if necessary, retire thither under the protection of the fire of those within it.The Crows still hovered upon the summit of the adjoining hill, and several minutes of breathless interest elapsed ere the approaching band emerged from a hollow, upon a point of the valley where they were now clearly distinguishable, and proved to be, as Reginald had said, a mixed party of Indians and white men.He was not aware that among the latter was a telescope as good, and a horseman whose eye was more practised in the use of it than his own; that horseman galloped out in front of his band, and advanced at full speed to the spot where Reginald stood, and almost before the latter could rightly use his faculties of sight or speech, that horseman flung himself from his horse, and Reginald was in the arms of Ethelston.There is nothing that stirs the heart to its very depths, more than the meeting of a friend after a long separation; not such a friend as is found in the ordinary intercourse of worldly society, but a friend whom we really esteem and love, a friend whom we have learnt to cherish in our bosom’s core,—this must have been felt by all (alas! they are not very many) who have deserved and obtained such a blessing in life. How, then, must these stirrings of the heart be increased if such a friend comes to our aid and comfort when we thought him thousands of miles distant, when we are in anxiety and peril, when he brings us the latest tidings of our home! We willnot attempt to describe the meeting of the two long–separated and loving friends under such circumstances, nor to relate one hundredth part of the inquiries which each had to make and to reply to.The reader is already in possession of the information which they had to communicate to each other, and can easily understand how Ethelston and his party, guided by the young Delaware, had followed the trail on which they had been preceded by the bands of Mahéga and of Reginald: the latter greeted with cordial pleasure Paul Müller, who now advanced to offer him his friendly salutation, while Pierre Baptiste, and Bearskin, who had weathered many a stormy day by flood and field together, interchanged the grasp of their horny hands with undisguised satisfaction.In the meeting between the two bands of the Delawares there was less demonstration, but it may be doubted whether there was less excitement, as the last comers narrated to their comrades the bloody vengeance which they had taken on some of their foes, and dilated upon that which they anticipated in pursuit of Mahéga.Ethelston’s party being provided with some coffee, sugar, biscuits, and other luxuries, which had been long strange to Reginald’s camp, the evening of their arrival was devoted to a great merry–making, Monsieur Perrot undertaking the office of chief cook and master of the ceremonies, both of which he executed with so much skill and good–humour as to win the favour of all present. In the midst of the feasting, the security of the encampment was never endangered by the omission of due precautions; for the horses were driven in and the sentries posted, as on the preceding night, Reginald being well aware of the treacherous character of his Crow neighbours, and his suspicions aroused by the slight, but significant look given to him at parting by the youth whose life he had spared.While they were seated round a blazing fire enjoying the good cheer which Perrot had provided, Pierre, fixing his eyes upon the bear–claw collar worn by Attō, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and springing from his seat, went to examine it closer; having done so, he pronounced slowly and with emphasis a name as long as a Sanscrit patronymic.“What does that mean, Pierre?” inquired Ethelston, whohad found in the latter a guide of great shrewdness and experience.“It is the name of the Upsaroka to whom that collar belonged, in our tongue, ‘The man whose path is red.’ I saw it upon his neck last year, when I was at the post near the Upper Forks. He came to trade with us for a few knives and blankets—he was a great war–chief, and had killed more Black–feet than any man in his tribe.”“Well, Pierre, his own turn has come now; he will kill no more Black–feet, nor white men either,” said Baptiste to his comrade.“Did yonder Lenapé kill him, and in fair fight, man to man?”“He was killed in fair fight, man to man; not by Attō, but by a young war–chief whom the Lenapé call Netis,” replied the guide.Pierre fixed his quick grey eye upon the athletic figure of Reginald Brandon, who coloured slightly as he encountered at the same time the glance of Paul Müller.“It is true,” he said, “I had foolishly separated myself from the rest of my party; I was intercepted in attempting to return, and only escaped paying the penalty of my carelessness by the speed of my horse. The Crow chief was better mounted than the rest of his tribe, and as soon as I paused to breathe my horse he attacked, and slightly wounded me; in defending myself, I killed him.”“My son,” observed the missionary, “he died as he had lived, reckless and brave; it rejoices me to hear you speak of the deed as one of necessity and self–preservation.”“I know not,” muttered Pierre, “what he calls necessity; but it’s a fine feather in the youth’s cap, and our Delawares shall know it too.”One of the most remarkable features in the character of this man was the facility with which he acquired the habits and languages of the different tribes among whom his roving life had thrown him; moreover, he had the faculty of remembering with unerring certainty, any face, or spot, or tree, or path, that he had once seen—so that his services as guide and interpreter were highly valued; and as Pierre, though a good–humoured fellow, was shrewd enough in matters of business, he usually exacted, and had no difficulty in obtaining a liberalremuneration from the rival leaders of the fur–trade companies; he was tolerably well versed in the language of the Crows and the Black–feet, the two great nations inhabiting the vast region between the upper waters of the rivers Platte and Missouri; and there were few of the roving tribes upon either bank of the latter among whom he could not make himself understood. As an interpreter, he dealt fairly by his employer, although he hated the Black–feet, in consequence of a warrior of that tribe having carried off an Indianbelleto whom Pierre was paying his addresses. This offence he had never forgiven, and it gave him in all subsequent transactions, a natural leaning towards the Crows, the mortal and hereditary foes of his successful rival’s tribe.While Pierre related, in an under tone, to those Delawares of his party who did not understand English, the victory obtained over the great war–chief of the Crows by Reginald Brandon, the latter kept up a long and interesting conversation with Ethelston, whom he found already informed by the missionary of his engagement to Prairie–bird.On this subject, Reginald, who knew the prudence of his friend’s usual character, scarcely expected his sympathy or concurrence; he was therefore the more agreeably surprised when he found him disposed to enter into all his plans for the recovery of his betrothed, with a zeal and enthusiasm almost equal to his own.“The good missionary,” said Ethelston, “has told me much of the early life, as well as of the character and qualities of Prairie–bird. I cannot tell you how deeply she has engaged my interest; my own feelings towards your sister render me capable of appreciating yours; and I pledge my faith, dear Reginald, that I will spare neither toil nor exertion, nor life itself, to aid you in this precious search.”Reginald grasped his hand,—there was no need of words of gratitude between them,—and ere long both turned to consult with Paul Müller, as to their further proceedings. After due deliberation, they agreed that on the following morning they should pursue the trail, regardless of their Crow neighbours, whom they had now little cause to fear, and that previous to starting they would hold a council, at which Reginald should propose the distribution of their respective posts, on the lineof march, in the event of their wishing him to retain that of leader.The night having passed without any alarm, Reginald summoned a general council of war before daybreak: as soon as they were assembled he told them, through Baptiste, who acted as interpreter, that they were now strong enough to pursue the trail, without fear of interruption from the Crows; and that if the latter were foolish enough to make an attack, they would soon have cause to repent it. He then added that War–Eagle their chief being absent on the war–path, it was necessary for some one to act as leader until his return; and, as his party had been joined by so many warriors of experience, he would gladly place himself under the advice and guidance of the man whom they might select.When Baptiste had finished this speech, the oldest warrior of Ethelston’s party arose and said: “Is it not true that War–Eagle, when he went, appointed Netis leader in his place?” (A murmur of assent came from the lips of Attō and his party.) “Is it not true,” continued the Indian, “that Netis is a brave and skilful warrior?—one who need not be silent when the braves strike the war–post? His heart is true to the Lenapé, and he will tell them no lies. If the white men are content with Netis, the Lenapé wish no other leader. I have spoken.”As the scarred and weather–beaten warrior resumed his seat, another and a general murmur of approbation broke from the Delawares; and Ethelston having spoken a few words of similar import to the white men, Reginald found himself by universal acclamation chosen leader of the party.After modestly thanking them for their good opinion, his first act was to appoint Attō as guide upon the trail, desiring him to select any two whom he might wish to assist him, in the event of its becoming forked, or otherwise difficult to follow; Monsieur Perrot, with the provisions and loaded mules, occupied the centre of the line of march, in which comparatively secure post he was accompanied by Paul Müller, the main body of the hunters and the Delawares being distributed before and behind the baggage.For himself Reginald reserved the rear–guard, where he retained Ethelston, Baptiste, and a young Delaware, whom he might despatch upon any emergency to communicate with thefront. He also appointed four of the best mounted of his men, two on each side of his party, to protect the flanks against any sudden attack, Pierre being sent forward to render any assistance to Attō that he might require.These arrangements being complete, and made known to the respective parties, they were about to set forth on their journey, when Attō informed Reginald that the Crow youth was coming swiftly across the valley towards the encampment, pursued at a distance by several horsemen of his tribe; the lad was riding one of the swiftest and most untamed of the wild horses with which that region abounds, yet he had neither bridle nor saddle, guiding the animal with a leather thong, which he had thrown round its nose, and urging it to its utmost speed with a bow which he held in his right hand. A few minutes brought the foaming little steed and its rider to the edge of the thicket, where the latter, still holding the leather thong, stood in silence before Reginald; his eyes were literally sparkling with indignant rage, and he did not even deign to look behind him to see whether his pursuers approached: the latter, however, did not choose to venture near the encampment; but as soon as they saw that he had gained its shelter, they gave a few loud and discordant yells, and disappeared behind the hill.The services of Pierre were now put into requisition; and as soon as the youth found an ear that could understand his tale, he told it with a rapidity and vehemence that showed the strong excitement of his feelings: the story, as interpreted by Pierre, was briefly thus:—The youth was present on the preceding day at a war–council, where the Crows proposed a plan for inveigling the white men to a feast, and then attacking them unawares, at the same time desiring him to use the favour that he had found in their eyes as an additional means for entrapping them: this he positively refused to do, and boldly told the assembled chiefs that their counsels were wicked and treacherous, and that he would in no wise aid or abet them. Indignant at this remonstrance from a stripling, the partisan had ordered him to be whipped severely with thongs, and to be tied hand and foot; the sentence was executed with the utmost cruelty; but he had contrived early in the morning to slip off his bands, and springing to his feet, he seized the fleetest horse belonging to the partisan,and, leaping on its back, galloped off to warn his protector against the meditated treachery.The truth of the tale required no confirmation, for the glow of resentment burnt too fiercely in his eye to be dissembled, and the light covering of antelope skin which he had thrown across his shoulders, was saturated with his blood. Reginald’s first natural impulse was to punish the perpetrators of this outrage, but he checked it when he remembered the magnitude of the stake that bound him to the trail, “Tell him, Pierre,” said he, “that I thank him for his single tongue, and I love him for his honest brave heart. Ask him if there is anything that I can do for him.”“Nothing,” replied the youth to this question: “tell him that I have warned him against the forked tongues of my tribe, because he gave me my life, and was good to me, but I must not forget that his hand is red with my father’s blood. The day is very cloudy; the Great Spirit has given a hard task to the son of the fallen chief; his back is marked like the back of a slave; he has lived enough.”The voice of the youth faltered as he pronounced the last words; the thong dropped from his feeble grasp, and as he fell to the ground, the wild horse broke away and galloped across the valley. “He is dying,” said Reginald, bending over him; “see, here below his hunting shirt is the broken shaft of an arrow, which one of his pursuers has shot with too true an aim.” While he spoke the young Crow breathed his last.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.—REGINALD PREPARES TO FOLLOW THE TRAIL.

For two days the band of Crows hovered round the encampment, sometimes showing themselves on the adjacent heights, at others drawing off to a distance, in hopes of enticing some of Reginald’s party to venture into the open country; but although he himself chafed and fretted like an impatient steed, he was sensible of the risk that must attend any error or imprudence while in the neighbourhood of an enemy so crafty and so strong in numbers, and he never permitted the watchfulness of his little garrison to be relaxed for a moment: the horses were driven to feed under the guard of two armed Delawares, and were not sent to a distance whence their return could be intercepted, and the watches were regularly set and relieved during the whole night.

On the third day the Crows, finding that all their endeavours to draw their cautious enemy from the covert were vain, held a council of war, after which three or four of their principal chiefs approached the encampment, making, as they advanced, signs of amity and truce. Reginald went out to meet them, accompanied by Baptiste and Attō, leaving orders with the remainder of his party to hold themselves in readiness against any attempt at treachery: halting at a spot not more than eighty yards from the wood, he awaited the Crow leaders, who came forward to meet him without any apparent suspicion or treacherous design.

They had taken the precaution to bring with them the youth to whom Reginald had already shown kindness, and whose presence they rightly conjectured would facilitate the amicable nature of their mission.

Reginald acknowledged with a smile the friendly greeting of his young protégé, and then drawing himself up to his full height, awaited in silence the opening of the parley.

The Crowpartisan[56]first glanced his keen eye over the persons of those whom he was about to address, as if scanning them for the purpose of ascertaining their qualities and character, and whether he should best succeed by endeavouring to circumvent or to overawe them. Keen as he was, his penetration was here at fault; for although no three persons could be more dissimilar than those before him, yet, whether taken collectively or severally, they looked like men who would not be easily over–reached: his eye first rested on the spare sinewy frame and impenetrable countenance of Attō; thence it glanced to the muscular frame and shrewd hard features of the guide; and turning from them, it found but little encouragement in the bright bold eye and commanding form of Reginald Brandon.

Perceiving with the intuitive sagacity of an Indian that the latter was the leader of his party, the partisan opened the parley by pointing his forefinger at Reginald, and then pressing the closed fingers against his own breast: he then pointed to himself with the same finger, and afterwards stretching both arms horizontally, moved them up and down with a vibrating motion, concluding his pantomime by again raising the forefinger of his right hand vertically to the height of his forehead. Reginald, who could not understand these gestures, turned to Attō, saying, “Does my brother know what the stranger speaks?—if so, let him explain.”

“He says,” replied the Delaware, “that he wishes to be friends with you, and he tells you by the last signs that he is an Upsaroka, and a chief.”[57]

“Tell him,” said Reginald, “that if his heart is true, and his tongue not forked, we also wish to be friends with him and his people.”

The Crow replied by making the conventional sign for “good,” adding to it that for “truth.”

On this being explained to Reginald, the latter desired Baptiste to bring from the camp some tobacco, a pipe, and a few trinkets for distribution among the Crows. On the return of the guide, the whole party took their seats, Reginald placing the partisan on his right, and the young prisoner whom he had released on his left. After the pipe had been smoked with due gravity and decorum, he divided among his guests some beads and other fanciful ornaments, according to their rank, with which they seemed highly delighted; the chief in particular testified his satisfaction by repeated gesticulations of friendship and affection towards his white–brother, whom he invited to go and feast with him and his braves: this invitation Reginald begged leave to decline; but he desired Attō to explain to his guest that he would visit him on some other occasion.

While these civilities were passing between the respective parties, a great commotion was observed among the Crows stationed on the neighbouring hill, some of whom were seen galloping to and fro, as if communicating some unexpected intelligence. The partisan arose, and took his leave with courteous dignity, explaining by signs that he wished to ascertain what was passing among his people.

As he withdrew, the youth whose life Reginald had spared, turned his head and gave the latter a look which he understood to convey a warning, but it was so rapid that he could not feel assured that he had rightly construed its meaning. Reginald remained for some time on the spot watching the motions of the Crows, who had now gathered in their scattered horsemen, and were evidently awaiting with some impatience the return of their chief. Reginald’s eye was still fixed upon them, when Attō, pointing to the eastward, whispered,

“Men are coming!”

Turning his head in the direction indicated, Reginald thought he perceived a moving object in the distance.

“I see something in that quarter, but not distinctly; are you sure it is a party of men?”

“Sure.”

“Mounted, or on foot?”

“Both,” replied the Delaware, without removing his brightkeen eye from the object: “they are upon our trail,” he added; “if they are not friends, we had better return to the camp.”

Meanwhile Reginald unslung his telescope, and having at length brought it to bear upon the advancing party, he exclaimed—

“By Heaven! there are white men as well as Indians, their horses, and loaded mules!”

“How many?” inquired Baptiste.

“They seem to me to be fifteen or twenty strong: should their intentions appear suspicious, we are near enough to retire into our camp; if they are friends, they will soon see us, and approach without fear or hesitation.”

The guide shook his head as if distrusting all new comers in that remote region; but they were within rifle–shot of the covert, and could, if necessary, retire thither under the protection of the fire of those within it.

The Crows still hovered upon the summit of the adjoining hill, and several minutes of breathless interest elapsed ere the approaching band emerged from a hollow, upon a point of the valley where they were now clearly distinguishable, and proved to be, as Reginald had said, a mixed party of Indians and white men.

He was not aware that among the latter was a telescope as good, and a horseman whose eye was more practised in the use of it than his own; that horseman galloped out in front of his band, and advanced at full speed to the spot where Reginald stood, and almost before the latter could rightly use his faculties of sight or speech, that horseman flung himself from his horse, and Reginald was in the arms of Ethelston.

There is nothing that stirs the heart to its very depths, more than the meeting of a friend after a long separation; not such a friend as is found in the ordinary intercourse of worldly society, but a friend whom we really esteem and love, a friend whom we have learnt to cherish in our bosom’s core,—this must have been felt by all (alas! they are not very many) who have deserved and obtained such a blessing in life. How, then, must these stirrings of the heart be increased if such a friend comes to our aid and comfort when we thought him thousands of miles distant, when we are in anxiety and peril, when he brings us the latest tidings of our home! We willnot attempt to describe the meeting of the two long–separated and loving friends under such circumstances, nor to relate one hundredth part of the inquiries which each had to make and to reply to.

The reader is already in possession of the information which they had to communicate to each other, and can easily understand how Ethelston and his party, guided by the young Delaware, had followed the trail on which they had been preceded by the bands of Mahéga and of Reginald: the latter greeted with cordial pleasure Paul Müller, who now advanced to offer him his friendly salutation, while Pierre Baptiste, and Bearskin, who had weathered many a stormy day by flood and field together, interchanged the grasp of their horny hands with undisguised satisfaction.

In the meeting between the two bands of the Delawares there was less demonstration, but it may be doubted whether there was less excitement, as the last comers narrated to their comrades the bloody vengeance which they had taken on some of their foes, and dilated upon that which they anticipated in pursuit of Mahéga.

Ethelston’s party being provided with some coffee, sugar, biscuits, and other luxuries, which had been long strange to Reginald’s camp, the evening of their arrival was devoted to a great merry–making, Monsieur Perrot undertaking the office of chief cook and master of the ceremonies, both of which he executed with so much skill and good–humour as to win the favour of all present. In the midst of the feasting, the security of the encampment was never endangered by the omission of due precautions; for the horses were driven in and the sentries posted, as on the preceding night, Reginald being well aware of the treacherous character of his Crow neighbours, and his suspicions aroused by the slight, but significant look given to him at parting by the youth whose life he had spared.

While they were seated round a blazing fire enjoying the good cheer which Perrot had provided, Pierre, fixing his eyes upon the bear–claw collar worn by Attō, uttered an exclamation of surprise, and springing from his seat, went to examine it closer; having done so, he pronounced slowly and with emphasis a name as long as a Sanscrit patronymic.

“What does that mean, Pierre?” inquired Ethelston, whohad found in the latter a guide of great shrewdness and experience.

“It is the name of the Upsaroka to whom that collar belonged, in our tongue, ‘The man whose path is red.’ I saw it upon his neck last year, when I was at the post near the Upper Forks. He came to trade with us for a few knives and blankets—he was a great war–chief, and had killed more Black–feet than any man in his tribe.”

“Well, Pierre, his own turn has come now; he will kill no more Black–feet, nor white men either,” said Baptiste to his comrade.

“Did yonder Lenapé kill him, and in fair fight, man to man?”

“He was killed in fair fight, man to man; not by Attō, but by a young war–chief whom the Lenapé call Netis,” replied the guide.

Pierre fixed his quick grey eye upon the athletic figure of Reginald Brandon, who coloured slightly as he encountered at the same time the glance of Paul Müller.

“It is true,” he said, “I had foolishly separated myself from the rest of my party; I was intercepted in attempting to return, and only escaped paying the penalty of my carelessness by the speed of my horse. The Crow chief was better mounted than the rest of his tribe, and as soon as I paused to breathe my horse he attacked, and slightly wounded me; in defending myself, I killed him.”

“My son,” observed the missionary, “he died as he had lived, reckless and brave; it rejoices me to hear you speak of the deed as one of necessity and self–preservation.”

“I know not,” muttered Pierre, “what he calls necessity; but it’s a fine feather in the youth’s cap, and our Delawares shall know it too.”

One of the most remarkable features in the character of this man was the facility with which he acquired the habits and languages of the different tribes among whom his roving life had thrown him; moreover, he had the faculty of remembering with unerring certainty, any face, or spot, or tree, or path, that he had once seen—so that his services as guide and interpreter were highly valued; and as Pierre, though a good–humoured fellow, was shrewd enough in matters of business, he usually exacted, and had no difficulty in obtaining a liberalremuneration from the rival leaders of the fur–trade companies; he was tolerably well versed in the language of the Crows and the Black–feet, the two great nations inhabiting the vast region between the upper waters of the rivers Platte and Missouri; and there were few of the roving tribes upon either bank of the latter among whom he could not make himself understood. As an interpreter, he dealt fairly by his employer, although he hated the Black–feet, in consequence of a warrior of that tribe having carried off an Indianbelleto whom Pierre was paying his addresses. This offence he had never forgiven, and it gave him in all subsequent transactions, a natural leaning towards the Crows, the mortal and hereditary foes of his successful rival’s tribe.

While Pierre related, in an under tone, to those Delawares of his party who did not understand English, the victory obtained over the great war–chief of the Crows by Reginald Brandon, the latter kept up a long and interesting conversation with Ethelston, whom he found already informed by the missionary of his engagement to Prairie–bird.

On this subject, Reginald, who knew the prudence of his friend’s usual character, scarcely expected his sympathy or concurrence; he was therefore the more agreeably surprised when he found him disposed to enter into all his plans for the recovery of his betrothed, with a zeal and enthusiasm almost equal to his own.

“The good missionary,” said Ethelston, “has told me much of the early life, as well as of the character and qualities of Prairie–bird. I cannot tell you how deeply she has engaged my interest; my own feelings towards your sister render me capable of appreciating yours; and I pledge my faith, dear Reginald, that I will spare neither toil nor exertion, nor life itself, to aid you in this precious search.”

Reginald grasped his hand,—there was no need of words of gratitude between them,—and ere long both turned to consult with Paul Müller, as to their further proceedings. After due deliberation, they agreed that on the following morning they should pursue the trail, regardless of their Crow neighbours, whom they had now little cause to fear, and that previous to starting they would hold a council, at which Reginald should propose the distribution of their respective posts, on the lineof march, in the event of their wishing him to retain that of leader.

The night having passed without any alarm, Reginald summoned a general council of war before daybreak: as soon as they were assembled he told them, through Baptiste, who acted as interpreter, that they were now strong enough to pursue the trail, without fear of interruption from the Crows; and that if the latter were foolish enough to make an attack, they would soon have cause to repent it. He then added that War–Eagle their chief being absent on the war–path, it was necessary for some one to act as leader until his return; and, as his party had been joined by so many warriors of experience, he would gladly place himself under the advice and guidance of the man whom they might select.

When Baptiste had finished this speech, the oldest warrior of Ethelston’s party arose and said: “Is it not true that War–Eagle, when he went, appointed Netis leader in his place?” (A murmur of assent came from the lips of Attō and his party.) “Is it not true,” continued the Indian, “that Netis is a brave and skilful warrior?—one who need not be silent when the braves strike the war–post? His heart is true to the Lenapé, and he will tell them no lies. If the white men are content with Netis, the Lenapé wish no other leader. I have spoken.”

As the scarred and weather–beaten warrior resumed his seat, another and a general murmur of approbation broke from the Delawares; and Ethelston having spoken a few words of similar import to the white men, Reginald found himself by universal acclamation chosen leader of the party.

After modestly thanking them for their good opinion, his first act was to appoint Attō as guide upon the trail, desiring him to select any two whom he might wish to assist him, in the event of its becoming forked, or otherwise difficult to follow; Monsieur Perrot, with the provisions and loaded mules, occupied the centre of the line of march, in which comparatively secure post he was accompanied by Paul Müller, the main body of the hunters and the Delawares being distributed before and behind the baggage.

For himself Reginald reserved the rear–guard, where he retained Ethelston, Baptiste, and a young Delaware, whom he might despatch upon any emergency to communicate with thefront. He also appointed four of the best mounted of his men, two on each side of his party, to protect the flanks against any sudden attack, Pierre being sent forward to render any assistance to Attō that he might require.

These arrangements being complete, and made known to the respective parties, they were about to set forth on their journey, when Attō informed Reginald that the Crow youth was coming swiftly across the valley towards the encampment, pursued at a distance by several horsemen of his tribe; the lad was riding one of the swiftest and most untamed of the wild horses with which that region abounds, yet he had neither bridle nor saddle, guiding the animal with a leather thong, which he had thrown round its nose, and urging it to its utmost speed with a bow which he held in his right hand. A few minutes brought the foaming little steed and its rider to the edge of the thicket, where the latter, still holding the leather thong, stood in silence before Reginald; his eyes were literally sparkling with indignant rage, and he did not even deign to look behind him to see whether his pursuers approached: the latter, however, did not choose to venture near the encampment; but as soon as they saw that he had gained its shelter, they gave a few loud and discordant yells, and disappeared behind the hill.

The services of Pierre were now put into requisition; and as soon as the youth found an ear that could understand his tale, he told it with a rapidity and vehemence that showed the strong excitement of his feelings: the story, as interpreted by Pierre, was briefly thus:—

The youth was present on the preceding day at a war–council, where the Crows proposed a plan for inveigling the white men to a feast, and then attacking them unawares, at the same time desiring him to use the favour that he had found in their eyes as an additional means for entrapping them: this he positively refused to do, and boldly told the assembled chiefs that their counsels were wicked and treacherous, and that he would in no wise aid or abet them. Indignant at this remonstrance from a stripling, the partisan had ordered him to be whipped severely with thongs, and to be tied hand and foot; the sentence was executed with the utmost cruelty; but he had contrived early in the morning to slip off his bands, and springing to his feet, he seized the fleetest horse belonging to the partisan,and, leaping on its back, galloped off to warn his protector against the meditated treachery.

The truth of the tale required no confirmation, for the glow of resentment burnt too fiercely in his eye to be dissembled, and the light covering of antelope skin which he had thrown across his shoulders, was saturated with his blood. Reginald’s first natural impulse was to punish the perpetrators of this outrage, but he checked it when he remembered the magnitude of the stake that bound him to the trail, “Tell him, Pierre,” said he, “that I thank him for his single tongue, and I love him for his honest brave heart. Ask him if there is anything that I can do for him.”

“Nothing,” replied the youth to this question: “tell him that I have warned him against the forked tongues of my tribe, because he gave me my life, and was good to me, but I must not forget that his hand is red with my father’s blood. The day is very cloudy; the Great Spirit has given a hard task to the son of the fallen chief; his back is marked like the back of a slave; he has lived enough.”

The voice of the youth faltered as he pronounced the last words; the thong dropped from his feeble grasp, and as he fell to the ground, the wild horse broke away and galloped across the valley. “He is dying,” said Reginald, bending over him; “see, here below his hunting shirt is the broken shaft of an arrow, which one of his pursuers has shot with too true an aim.” While he spoke the young Crow breathed his last.

c215CHAPTER XV.SHOWING HOW WINGENUND FARED IN THE OSAGE CAMP, AND THE ISSUE OF THE DILEMMA IN WHICH PRAIRIE–BIRD WAS PLACED BY MAHÉGA.We trust that the compassionate reader is now desirous to learn something more of the fate of Prairie–bird and her unfortunate brother Wingenund, whom we left a prisoner in the hands of the merciless chief of the Osages. For a long time after the latter had left her tent, his parting threat rung in herears, that she must on the morrow give her consent to be his bride, or by her refusal consign Wingenund to a cruel and lingering death. Her busy imagination pourtrayed in vivid colours the scene of torture, and the heroic fortitude with which she knew he would endure it, and as she turned from that picture, the figure of Reginald Brandon rose to her view, as if upbraiding her with the violation of her plighted troth; torn by these contending struggles, the poor girl sobbed convulsively, and the tears forced their way through the fingers with which she in vain endeavoured, either to suppress or conceal them. Lita threw her arms round her mistress’s neck, and strove by her affectionate, yet simple, endearments to soothe her grief: for a long time they proved unsuccessful, but when at last she whispered,—“The Great Spirit is very good; he is stronger than Mahéga; let Prairie–bird speak with him as she often did when the Black Father was with her—““True, Lita,” she replied, looking gratefully at the Comanche girl through her tears; “you remind me of what I ought not to have forgotten.”The next moment, saw her prostrate upon her couch—the book of comfort in her hand, and her earnest prayers ascending toward Heaven.She rose from her devotions with a calmed and strengthened spirit; the first result of which was a desire to converse with Wingenund, and to decide with him upon the morrow’s fearful alternative.Mahéga willingly consented to the interview, justly believing that it would rather forward than retard his plan for compelling her consent, compared with which the boy’s life weighed not a feather in the balance, so he ordered him to be conveyed to her tent; and the guards who conducted him having informed her that if she unbound his hands, he would be instantly seized and removed, they retired to the aperture, awaiting the termination of the meeting with their habitual listless indifference.Prairie–bird cared not whether they listened, as she spoke to her young brother in English, of which she knew that they understood little or nothing.“Dear Wingenund,” she said, “you heard the threat uttered by that savage, after he struck you?”“I did.”“Is there no device or means by which we can contrive your escape? we may trust the Comanche girl.”“I do not see any,” replied the boy calmly; “the eyes of the Osage chief are open, the hands of his warriors are many and ready. It does not matter; War–Eagle and Netis will be here soon; then all will go well.”“All well!” said Prairie–bird, shuddering. “Know you not, that to–morrow I must consent to be the wife of the Osage, or be the cause, and the witness of my brother’s horrible death?”Wingenund looked at her with unfeigned surprise.“The daughter of Tamenund—the Prairie–bird sent by the Great Spirit, from an unknown land, to dwell among the lodges of the Lenapé—she who has learnt all the wise words of the Black Father—she to become the wife of that wandering wolf! Can my sister’s heart beat towards him?”“Heaven knows how I loathe and dread him! worse than the most poisonous snake in the prairie.”“I thought so,” he replied. “And how ought a wife to feel towards the man whom she marries?”“To feel that he is the joy, the food, the treasure of her heart; the object of her secret thoughts by day, of her dreams by night; that when she prays to Heaven, his name is on her lips; that she loves him as—as—““As Prairie–bird loves Netis,” said Wingenund, smiling.The conscious girl blushed at the impassioned eagerness into which her feelings had betrayed her, but she did not attempt to deny her brother’s conclusion, and he continued more gravely: “Then my sister could not be the wife of the Osage, without leading a life of misery and falsehood. No, no,” he added, his bright eye kindled as he spoke; “let to–morrow come; Wingenund is ready; he will show that wolf how the Lenapé die. Let to–morrow come, and Mahéga shall learn that Wingenund despises his hate as much as Prairie–bird scorns his love. My sister, I have spoken it. The deeds of my fathers are before my eyes; the blood of the ancient people is in my veins; words cannot change my mind. Farewell! and when you see War–Eagle and Netis, tell them that the Washashe fire drew neither complaint nor cry from the lips of Wingenund.”As he spoke, his agonised sister looked up in his face, and read but too plainly the high, unconquerable determination legibly stamped upon its proud expressive features. She saw that the instinctive feelings of his race had triumphed over all the gentler impressions which she and the missionary had endeavoured to implant, and, knowing that now she might as well attempt to bend a stubborn oak as to effect any change in his resolution, she embraced him in silence, and suffered the Osage guards to lead him from the tent.Composing herself by a strong effort of self–command, Prairie–bird revolved in her mind various schemes for saving the life of her devoted brother; one after another she considered and rejected, until at length the idea occurred to her that perhaps she might contrive to work upon the superstitious fears of Mahéga. With this view she examined carefully all her slender stock of instruments and curiosities,—the novelty of the burning–glass was past, the ticking of the watch given to her by Paul Müller, though it might surprise the Osage, could not be expected to alarm, or induce him to abandon his determination. Then she cast her despairing eyes upon the few volumes which formed her travelling library; among these her attention was accidentally directed to the almanack which the good Father had brought to her, from the settlements, when he gave her the watch, and she sighed when she thought how often she had amused herself in the spring comparing them together, calculating the lapse of time, and the changes of season which they severally announced. Her observation of the sabbaths had been most punctual, nor had it been interrupted by the toils and privations of the journey, so she had no difficulty in finding the week or the day then passing. “July,” she exclaimed, reading to herself half aloud, “only two weeks of this sad month are yet past, methinks they seem more like fourteen months than fourteen days! See here, too, on the opposite leaf prophecies regarding wind and weather. How often would the dear Father point these out to me, and strive to explain the wonderful terms in which they describe the movements of the stars; he was very patient, but they were too hard for me; I am sure he tried to make me understand these strange words, ‘Aphelion,’ ‘Apogee,’ ‘Perigee,’ but if he ever succeeded, I have forgotten it all. What is this notice in larger letters? to–morrow, to–morrow it stands written,‘Total eclipse of the sun, visible at Philadelphia, 9h. 42m.’—surely surely it will be visible here too. I will trust to it, I will build my faith upon it, and Wingenund’s life shall yet be saved.” So saying, she clasped her hands together, and her lovely countenance beamed with re–awakened hope.Lita, who had been watching her mistress with affectionate solicitude, and listening with childish wonder to her half–uttered soliloquy, was overcome with surprise at this sudden change in her demeanour; she thought that Prairie–bird had been conversing with some unseen being; under which impression she approached, and asked, timidly,“Has Olitipa seen a Good Spirit, and have her ears drunk words of comfort?”“Olitipa has received words of comfort,” replied her mistress, kindly; “they seem to her words from Heaven; she trusts that she may not be deceived; she will address her evening prayer to the Great Merciful Spirit above, and retire to rest, at least to such rest as it may be His will to give her.”For many hours after Prairie–bird had been stretched upon her furry couch did her thoughts dwell upon the solar eclipse now the foundation of her hopes; she remembered how the missionary had explained to her that it was visible at one hour in one part of the earth, at a different hour in another part; then she wondered whether at the spot where she now was it would be seen sooner or later than at Philadelphia,—this doubt her science could not resolve, and it held her long in anxious suspense; but overwearied nature at length claimed her rights, and she sank into an unrefreshing dreamy slumber, in which the images of Wingenund, Mahéga, and Reginald Brandon were stalking confusedly over an eclipsed and darkened region of earth.Early on the following morning Mahéga, who had resolved not to lose this favourable opportunity for working upon the fears of Prairie–bird, caused a pile of dry branches of wood to be placed round a tree, which stood nearly opposite to her tent, to which he ordered Wingenund to be secured with thongs of bison–hide; after which he and his warriors seated themselves in a semicircle before their victim, passing the pipe deliberately from mouth to mouth, as if to enjoy his suspense and terror.If such was their object, it met with little success, for the young Delaware, in the brightest day of his youth and freedom,had never worn so proud and lofty an air as that which now sat enthroned upon his brow.“A thousand warriors of the Lenapé, whose blood is in my veins, have gone before me to the happy fields,—they knew not fear, and I the last of their children will bring no shame upon their race; when I come they will say, ‘Welcome, Wingenund!’ and before many winters and summers are past, War–Eagle and Netis, Prairie–bird and the Black Father, will join me, and the blue eyes of the Lily of Mooshanne will be there also, and we will dwell in a land of streams and flowers, of numberless deer, and abundant corn, unvexed by cold, or want, or pain.”Such was the vision that rose before the mental eye of the youth, and so completely was he engrossed by it, that he took not the slightest notice of the group assembled to put him to a slow and agonising death.Meanwhile Prairie–bird having prayed earnestly to Heaven to support her, and pardon the deceit which she was about to practise, dressed herself with more than usual care, and coming forth from her tent, stood before Mahéga with a dignity of demeanour, to the effect of which even his fierce and intractable nature was not insensible. He rose not, however, at her approach, but contented himself with inquiring, “Has Olitipa come to save her brother’s life, or to kill him?”“Neither,” replied the maiden, firmly; “she is come to give good counsel to Mahéga; let him beware how he neglects it!”“Let not Olitipa’s speech travel in circles,” said the angry chief. “Mahéga has said that this day she should consent to be his wife, or she must see that feeble boy burnt before her eyes,—there are but two paths,—which does Olitipa choose?”“The feet of foolish men often wander where there is no path at all,” replied Prairie–bird; and she added, with solemnity, pointing upward to Heaven: “There is onlyonepath, and one Guide, the Great Spirit who dwells above!”Those of the Osages who were familiar with the Delaware tongue in which she was speaking, looked at each other, as if wondering at her words, but Mahéga, whose passion was only increased by her exceeding beauty, answered vehemently,“It is easy for Olitipa to talk and to make children believethat her words are those of the Great Spirit—Mahéga is not a child.”“If he compare his strength with that of the Great Spirit,” said the maiden, boldly, “Mahéga’s is less than the least finger of a child. Who can tell the power of the Great Spirit? The strong wind is his breath,—the thunder is his voice,—the sun is his smile. If He is angry and withdraws the sun, day is turned into night—darkness and fear dwell in the hearts of men.”The energy of her language and manner were not altogether without their effect even upon the stern nature of Mahéga; nevertheless, he replied,“These are but the notes of singing–birds. Mahéga waits for the choice of Olitipa,—she becomes his wife, or the fire is kindled at the feet of Wingenund.”Prairie–bird cast an anxious glance athwart the blue vault above; not a cloud was in the sky, and the sun shone with the full brightness of an American July. She would not yet abandon hope, but, making a strong and successful effort to maintain her composure, she said in a firm, impressive tone, “Mahéga, let there be a bargain between us; you seek Olitipa for a wife; if it be the will of the Great Spirit, she will submit, and her brother’s life will be spared; but if the Great Spirit is displeased, and shows his anger by drawing a cloak over the face of that bright sun in the heavens, Mahéga will obey His will, and let the brother of Olitipa go away unhurt.—Is Mahéga content that it shall be so?“He is,” replied the chief, “if the sign be such as he and the Osage warriors may look upon with wonder; not a mist, or dark cloud.”“It will be such as will make Mahégatremble,” replied the maiden with dignity. “Warriors of the Washashe, you have heard the treaty. Before the sun has reached yon western peak, the answer of the Great Spirit will be known.” Having thus spoken, she withdrew into the tent, leaving the Osages gazing upon each other with undisguised awe and amazement.The maiden threw herself upon her couch in an agony of suspense, greater than can be described! It was terrible to think that her every hope of escaping from the dreadful alternative, was staked upon a sentence in an almanack, of the correctness of which she had not the slightest power to judge.Even the well–intentioned attempts at consolation made by her affectionate Lita were of no avail; her unhappy mistress entreated her to remain at the door of the tent, and report whatever might occur; within and without a profound stillness reigned. The prisoner stood motionless by the sapling to which he was bound; Mahéga smoked his pipe in the full confidence of anticipated triumph, surrounded by his warriors, who, less sceptical, or more superstitious than their chief, looked and listened, expecting some confirmation of the last words of Prairie–bird.Although the sun could not be opposite the rock which she had pointed out for nearly three hours, of which not a fourth part had yet elapsed, the anxious girl began to imagine that hope was at an end. Visions of future degradation and misery shot through her brain; she tore from her hot brow the fillet that confined her hair, which floated in glossy luxuriance over her shoulders. The reproaches of Reginald Brandon rung in her ears. The loathed embrace of Mahéga crept over her shuddering frame! At this crisis her eye fell upon the handle of the sharp knife concealed in her bosom; she drew it forth; the triumph of the powers of Evil seemed at hand, when a cry of surprise and terror from Lita recalled her wandering senses. She sprang to the door; visible darkness was spreading over the scene, and the terrified Osages were looking upward to the partially obscured disk of the sun, over the centre of which an opaque circular body was spread; a brilliant ring being left around its outer ridge.[58]Prairie–bird gazed upon the wondrous spectacle like one entranced; the late fearful struggle in her breast had given a supernatural lustre to her eye; her frame was still under high nervous excitement, and as, with long hair floating down her back, she pointed with one hand to the eclipsed sun, and with the other to Mahéga, well might the savage imagine that he saw before him a prophetess whose will the Spirit of Fire must obey. Under the influence of awe and dread, which he strove in vain to conceal, he moved forward, and said to her, “It isenough! let Olitipa speak to the Great Spirit that the light may come again.”The sound of his voice recalled the mind of Prairie–bird to a consciousness of what had passed. She answered not, but with a gesture of assent motioned to him to withdraw, and supporting herself against one of the trees that grew in front of her tent, she knelt beside it, and, veiling her face in the redundant tresses of her hair, found relief in a flood of tears. Overwhelmed by a sense of the merciful interposition by which she and her brother had been saved, and by a feeling of deep contrition for the sudden impulse of self–destruction to which, in a moment of mental agony, she had yielded, she thought neither of the continuance nor the withdrawing of the dark phenomenon of external nature, but of the evil gloom which had for the time eclipsed the light of grace in her heart, and the tears which bedewed her cheek were tears of mingled penitence and gratitude.Still, Nature held on her appointed course; after a few minutes the moon passed onward in her path, and the rays of the sun, no longer intercepted, again shed their brightness over earth and sky.The Osages, attributing these effects to the communing of Prairie–bird with the Great Spirit, stood in silent awe as she arose to retire to her tent, and her secret humiliation became, in their eyes, her triumph.Mahéga, finding that he had no pretext for refusing to release Wingenund, and that his warriors evidently expected him to fulfil his promise, ordered the youth to be unbound; and in the height of his generosity, desired that some food might be offered to him, which Wingenund scornfully rejected.The Osage chief having called aside two of those most devoted to him, spoke to them a few words apart; and then, addressing his liberated prisoner in the Delaware tongue, he said, “The Osage warriors will conduct Wingenund two hours on his journey: he will then be free to go where he likes; but if he is again found skulking round the Osage camp, nothing shall save his life.”Wingenund knew that he was to be turned loose in a desolate region, unarmed and half–starved, but his proud spirit would not permit him to ask the slightest boon of his enemy; and without a word of reply, without even directing a looktowards his sister’s tent, he turned and followed his conductors.For several miles they pursued the back–foot[59]of the trail by which they had come from the eastward, Wingenund being placed in the centre without weapon of any kind, and the two Osages marching one before, and the other behind him, being well armed with bow, knife, and tomahawk. The youth, unconscious that they had secret instructions from Mahéga to kill him as soon as they reached a convenient and sufficiently distant spot, made no attempt to escape, but walked quietly between them, considering within himself whether he should endeavour to rejoin his party, or persevere in hovering in the neighbourhood of the Osages: if a suspicion of Mahéga’s treachery did cross his mind, he allowed it not to influence his bearing, for he moved steadily forward, not even turning his head to watch the Osage behind him.About five or six miles from Mahéga’s camp, the trail passed along the edge of a low wood, which skirted the banks of the same stream that flowed through the upper valley. This was the place where they proposed to kill their prisoner, and hide his body in the bushes, the chief having commanded that the murder should be kept secret from the rest of his party. They had just passed a thicket on the side of the trail, when the terrible battle–cry of War–Eagle rose behind them, and his tomahawk clove the skull of the Osage in the rear. Quick as thought, Wingenund sprang upon the one in front, and pinioned his arms; the Osage tried in vain to disengage them from the grasp of his light and active opponent. Brief was the struggle, for the deadly weapon of the Delaware chief descended again, and the second Osage lay a corpse upon the trail.The brothers, having exchanged an affectionate but hasty greeting, took the spoils from their enemies according to Indian fashion, War–Eagle contenting himself with their scalps, and his brother taking such weapons and articles of dress as his present condition rendered necessary for hiscomfort and defence; after which, they threw the two bodies into the thicket, into which the Osages had intended to cast that of Wingenund, and continued their course at a rapid rate towards the eastward, War–Eagle relating as they went the events which had brought him so opportunely to the scene of action: they were briefly as follow:—When he left his party, he never halted nor slackened his speed until he saw the smoke of the Osage camp–fire: concealing himself in the adjoining wood, he had witnessed all the surprising occurrences of the day; and in the event of the Osages actually proceeding to set fire to the faggots around Wingenund, he was prepared to rush upon them alone, and either rescue his brother or perish with him: but, with the self–command and foresight of an Indian, he kept this desperate and almost hopeless attempt for the last chance; and when to his surprise and joy he saw the prisoner sent upon the trail with a guard of only two Osages, he took advantage of a bank of rising ground, behind which he crept, and moving swiftly forward under its shelter, gained unperceived the thicket, where he had so successfully waylaid them.Fearing a pursuit, the brothers never abated their speed throughout the evening, or the early portion of the night. A few hours before dawn, some scattered bushes near the path offering them a precarious shelter, they lay down to snatch a short repose; a mouthful of dried bison–meat, which remained in War–Eagle’s belt, he gave to his exhausted brother; and one blanket covering them both, they slept soundly and undisturbed until the sun was high in heaven.

c215

SHOWING HOW WINGENUND FARED IN THE OSAGE CAMP, AND THE ISSUE OF THE DILEMMA IN WHICH PRAIRIE–BIRD WAS PLACED BY MAHÉGA.

We trust that the compassionate reader is now desirous to learn something more of the fate of Prairie–bird and her unfortunate brother Wingenund, whom we left a prisoner in the hands of the merciless chief of the Osages. For a long time after the latter had left her tent, his parting threat rung in herears, that she must on the morrow give her consent to be his bride, or by her refusal consign Wingenund to a cruel and lingering death. Her busy imagination pourtrayed in vivid colours the scene of torture, and the heroic fortitude with which she knew he would endure it, and as she turned from that picture, the figure of Reginald Brandon rose to her view, as if upbraiding her with the violation of her plighted troth; torn by these contending struggles, the poor girl sobbed convulsively, and the tears forced their way through the fingers with which she in vain endeavoured, either to suppress or conceal them. Lita threw her arms round her mistress’s neck, and strove by her affectionate, yet simple, endearments to soothe her grief: for a long time they proved unsuccessful, but when at last she whispered,—

“The Great Spirit is very good; he is stronger than Mahéga; let Prairie–bird speak with him as she often did when the Black Father was with her—“

“True, Lita,” she replied, looking gratefully at the Comanche girl through her tears; “you remind me of what I ought not to have forgotten.”

The next moment, saw her prostrate upon her couch—the book of comfort in her hand, and her earnest prayers ascending toward Heaven.

She rose from her devotions with a calmed and strengthened spirit; the first result of which was a desire to converse with Wingenund, and to decide with him upon the morrow’s fearful alternative.

Mahéga willingly consented to the interview, justly believing that it would rather forward than retard his plan for compelling her consent, compared with which the boy’s life weighed not a feather in the balance, so he ordered him to be conveyed to her tent; and the guards who conducted him having informed her that if she unbound his hands, he would be instantly seized and removed, they retired to the aperture, awaiting the termination of the meeting with their habitual listless indifference.

Prairie–bird cared not whether they listened, as she spoke to her young brother in English, of which she knew that they understood little or nothing.

“Dear Wingenund,” she said, “you heard the threat uttered by that savage, after he struck you?”

“I did.”

“Is there no device or means by which we can contrive your escape? we may trust the Comanche girl.”

“I do not see any,” replied the boy calmly; “the eyes of the Osage chief are open, the hands of his warriors are many and ready. It does not matter; War–Eagle and Netis will be here soon; then all will go well.”

“All well!” said Prairie–bird, shuddering. “Know you not, that to–morrow I must consent to be the wife of the Osage, or be the cause, and the witness of my brother’s horrible death?”

Wingenund looked at her with unfeigned surprise.

“The daughter of Tamenund—the Prairie–bird sent by the Great Spirit, from an unknown land, to dwell among the lodges of the Lenapé—she who has learnt all the wise words of the Black Father—she to become the wife of that wandering wolf! Can my sister’s heart beat towards him?”

“Heaven knows how I loathe and dread him! worse than the most poisonous snake in the prairie.”

“I thought so,” he replied. “And how ought a wife to feel towards the man whom she marries?”

“To feel that he is the joy, the food, the treasure of her heart; the object of her secret thoughts by day, of her dreams by night; that when she prays to Heaven, his name is on her lips; that she loves him as—as—“

“As Prairie–bird loves Netis,” said Wingenund, smiling.

The conscious girl blushed at the impassioned eagerness into which her feelings had betrayed her, but she did not attempt to deny her brother’s conclusion, and he continued more gravely: “Then my sister could not be the wife of the Osage, without leading a life of misery and falsehood. No, no,” he added, his bright eye kindled as he spoke; “let to–morrow come; Wingenund is ready; he will show that wolf how the Lenapé die. Let to–morrow come, and Mahéga shall learn that Wingenund despises his hate as much as Prairie–bird scorns his love. My sister, I have spoken it. The deeds of my fathers are before my eyes; the blood of the ancient people is in my veins; words cannot change my mind. Farewell! and when you see War–Eagle and Netis, tell them that the Washashe fire drew neither complaint nor cry from the lips of Wingenund.”

As he spoke, his agonised sister looked up in his face, and read but too plainly the high, unconquerable determination legibly stamped upon its proud expressive features. She saw that the instinctive feelings of his race had triumphed over all the gentler impressions which she and the missionary had endeavoured to implant, and, knowing that now she might as well attempt to bend a stubborn oak as to effect any change in his resolution, she embraced him in silence, and suffered the Osage guards to lead him from the tent.

Composing herself by a strong effort of self–command, Prairie–bird revolved in her mind various schemes for saving the life of her devoted brother; one after another she considered and rejected, until at length the idea occurred to her that perhaps she might contrive to work upon the superstitious fears of Mahéga. With this view she examined carefully all her slender stock of instruments and curiosities,—the novelty of the burning–glass was past, the ticking of the watch given to her by Paul Müller, though it might surprise the Osage, could not be expected to alarm, or induce him to abandon his determination. Then she cast her despairing eyes upon the few volumes which formed her travelling library; among these her attention was accidentally directed to the almanack which the good Father had brought to her, from the settlements, when he gave her the watch, and she sighed when she thought how often she had amused herself in the spring comparing them together, calculating the lapse of time, and the changes of season which they severally announced. Her observation of the sabbaths had been most punctual, nor had it been interrupted by the toils and privations of the journey, so she had no difficulty in finding the week or the day then passing. “July,” she exclaimed, reading to herself half aloud, “only two weeks of this sad month are yet past, methinks they seem more like fourteen months than fourteen days! See here, too, on the opposite leaf prophecies regarding wind and weather. How often would the dear Father point these out to me, and strive to explain the wonderful terms in which they describe the movements of the stars; he was very patient, but they were too hard for me; I am sure he tried to make me understand these strange words, ‘Aphelion,’ ‘Apogee,’ ‘Perigee,’ but if he ever succeeded, I have forgotten it all. What is this notice in larger letters? to–morrow, to–morrow it stands written,‘Total eclipse of the sun, visible at Philadelphia, 9h. 42m.’—surely surely it will be visible here too. I will trust to it, I will build my faith upon it, and Wingenund’s life shall yet be saved.” So saying, she clasped her hands together, and her lovely countenance beamed with re–awakened hope.

Lita, who had been watching her mistress with affectionate solicitude, and listening with childish wonder to her half–uttered soliloquy, was overcome with surprise at this sudden change in her demeanour; she thought that Prairie–bird had been conversing with some unseen being; under which impression she approached, and asked, timidly,

“Has Olitipa seen a Good Spirit, and have her ears drunk words of comfort?”

“Olitipa has received words of comfort,” replied her mistress, kindly; “they seem to her words from Heaven; she trusts that she may not be deceived; she will address her evening prayer to the Great Merciful Spirit above, and retire to rest, at least to such rest as it may be His will to give her.”

For many hours after Prairie–bird had been stretched upon her furry couch did her thoughts dwell upon the solar eclipse now the foundation of her hopes; she remembered how the missionary had explained to her that it was visible at one hour in one part of the earth, at a different hour in another part; then she wondered whether at the spot where she now was it would be seen sooner or later than at Philadelphia,—this doubt her science could not resolve, and it held her long in anxious suspense; but overwearied nature at length claimed her rights, and she sank into an unrefreshing dreamy slumber, in which the images of Wingenund, Mahéga, and Reginald Brandon were stalking confusedly over an eclipsed and darkened region of earth.

Early on the following morning Mahéga, who had resolved not to lose this favourable opportunity for working upon the fears of Prairie–bird, caused a pile of dry branches of wood to be placed round a tree, which stood nearly opposite to her tent, to which he ordered Wingenund to be secured with thongs of bison–hide; after which he and his warriors seated themselves in a semicircle before their victim, passing the pipe deliberately from mouth to mouth, as if to enjoy his suspense and terror.

If such was their object, it met with little success, for the young Delaware, in the brightest day of his youth and freedom,had never worn so proud and lofty an air as that which now sat enthroned upon his brow.

“A thousand warriors of the Lenapé, whose blood is in my veins, have gone before me to the happy fields,—they knew not fear, and I the last of their children will bring no shame upon their race; when I come they will say, ‘Welcome, Wingenund!’ and before many winters and summers are past, War–Eagle and Netis, Prairie–bird and the Black Father, will join me, and the blue eyes of the Lily of Mooshanne will be there also, and we will dwell in a land of streams and flowers, of numberless deer, and abundant corn, unvexed by cold, or want, or pain.”

Such was the vision that rose before the mental eye of the youth, and so completely was he engrossed by it, that he took not the slightest notice of the group assembled to put him to a slow and agonising death.

Meanwhile Prairie–bird having prayed earnestly to Heaven to support her, and pardon the deceit which she was about to practise, dressed herself with more than usual care, and coming forth from her tent, stood before Mahéga with a dignity of demeanour, to the effect of which even his fierce and intractable nature was not insensible. He rose not, however, at her approach, but contented himself with inquiring, “Has Olitipa come to save her brother’s life, or to kill him?”

“Neither,” replied the maiden, firmly; “she is come to give good counsel to Mahéga; let him beware how he neglects it!”

“Let not Olitipa’s speech travel in circles,” said the angry chief. “Mahéga has said that this day she should consent to be his wife, or she must see that feeble boy burnt before her eyes,—there are but two paths,—which does Olitipa choose?”

“The feet of foolish men often wander where there is no path at all,” replied Prairie–bird; and she added, with solemnity, pointing upward to Heaven: “There is onlyonepath, and one Guide, the Great Spirit who dwells above!”

Those of the Osages who were familiar with the Delaware tongue in which she was speaking, looked at each other, as if wondering at her words, but Mahéga, whose passion was only increased by her exceeding beauty, answered vehemently,

“It is easy for Olitipa to talk and to make children believethat her words are those of the Great Spirit—Mahéga is not a child.”

“If he compare his strength with that of the Great Spirit,” said the maiden, boldly, “Mahéga’s is less than the least finger of a child. Who can tell the power of the Great Spirit? The strong wind is his breath,—the thunder is his voice,—the sun is his smile. If He is angry and withdraws the sun, day is turned into night—darkness and fear dwell in the hearts of men.”

The energy of her language and manner were not altogether without their effect even upon the stern nature of Mahéga; nevertheless, he replied,

“These are but the notes of singing–birds. Mahéga waits for the choice of Olitipa,—she becomes his wife, or the fire is kindled at the feet of Wingenund.”

Prairie–bird cast an anxious glance athwart the blue vault above; not a cloud was in the sky, and the sun shone with the full brightness of an American July. She would not yet abandon hope, but, making a strong and successful effort to maintain her composure, she said in a firm, impressive tone, “Mahéga, let there be a bargain between us; you seek Olitipa for a wife; if it be the will of the Great Spirit, she will submit, and her brother’s life will be spared; but if the Great Spirit is displeased, and shows his anger by drawing a cloak over the face of that bright sun in the heavens, Mahéga will obey His will, and let the brother of Olitipa go away unhurt.—Is Mahéga content that it shall be so?

“He is,” replied the chief, “if the sign be such as he and the Osage warriors may look upon with wonder; not a mist, or dark cloud.”

“It will be such as will make Mahégatremble,” replied the maiden with dignity. “Warriors of the Washashe, you have heard the treaty. Before the sun has reached yon western peak, the answer of the Great Spirit will be known.” Having thus spoken, she withdrew into the tent, leaving the Osages gazing upon each other with undisguised awe and amazement.

The maiden threw herself upon her couch in an agony of suspense, greater than can be described! It was terrible to think that her every hope of escaping from the dreadful alternative, was staked upon a sentence in an almanack, of the correctness of which she had not the slightest power to judge.Even the well–intentioned attempts at consolation made by her affectionate Lita were of no avail; her unhappy mistress entreated her to remain at the door of the tent, and report whatever might occur; within and without a profound stillness reigned. The prisoner stood motionless by the sapling to which he was bound; Mahéga smoked his pipe in the full confidence of anticipated triumph, surrounded by his warriors, who, less sceptical, or more superstitious than their chief, looked and listened, expecting some confirmation of the last words of Prairie–bird.

Although the sun could not be opposite the rock which she had pointed out for nearly three hours, of which not a fourth part had yet elapsed, the anxious girl began to imagine that hope was at an end. Visions of future degradation and misery shot through her brain; she tore from her hot brow the fillet that confined her hair, which floated in glossy luxuriance over her shoulders. The reproaches of Reginald Brandon rung in her ears. The loathed embrace of Mahéga crept over her shuddering frame! At this crisis her eye fell upon the handle of the sharp knife concealed in her bosom; she drew it forth; the triumph of the powers of Evil seemed at hand, when a cry of surprise and terror from Lita recalled her wandering senses. She sprang to the door; visible darkness was spreading over the scene, and the terrified Osages were looking upward to the partially obscured disk of the sun, over the centre of which an opaque circular body was spread; a brilliant ring being left around its outer ridge.[58]

Prairie–bird gazed upon the wondrous spectacle like one entranced; the late fearful struggle in her breast had given a supernatural lustre to her eye; her frame was still under high nervous excitement, and as, with long hair floating down her back, she pointed with one hand to the eclipsed sun, and with the other to Mahéga, well might the savage imagine that he saw before him a prophetess whose will the Spirit of Fire must obey. Under the influence of awe and dread, which he strove in vain to conceal, he moved forward, and said to her, “It isenough! let Olitipa speak to the Great Spirit that the light may come again.”

The sound of his voice recalled the mind of Prairie–bird to a consciousness of what had passed. She answered not, but with a gesture of assent motioned to him to withdraw, and supporting herself against one of the trees that grew in front of her tent, she knelt beside it, and, veiling her face in the redundant tresses of her hair, found relief in a flood of tears. Overwhelmed by a sense of the merciful interposition by which she and her brother had been saved, and by a feeling of deep contrition for the sudden impulse of self–destruction to which, in a moment of mental agony, she had yielded, she thought neither of the continuance nor the withdrawing of the dark phenomenon of external nature, but of the evil gloom which had for the time eclipsed the light of grace in her heart, and the tears which bedewed her cheek were tears of mingled penitence and gratitude.

Still, Nature held on her appointed course; after a few minutes the moon passed onward in her path, and the rays of the sun, no longer intercepted, again shed their brightness over earth and sky.

The Osages, attributing these effects to the communing of Prairie–bird with the Great Spirit, stood in silent awe as she arose to retire to her tent, and her secret humiliation became, in their eyes, her triumph.

Mahéga, finding that he had no pretext for refusing to release Wingenund, and that his warriors evidently expected him to fulfil his promise, ordered the youth to be unbound; and in the height of his generosity, desired that some food might be offered to him, which Wingenund scornfully rejected.

The Osage chief having called aside two of those most devoted to him, spoke to them a few words apart; and then, addressing his liberated prisoner in the Delaware tongue, he said, “The Osage warriors will conduct Wingenund two hours on his journey: he will then be free to go where he likes; but if he is again found skulking round the Osage camp, nothing shall save his life.”

Wingenund knew that he was to be turned loose in a desolate region, unarmed and half–starved, but his proud spirit would not permit him to ask the slightest boon of his enemy; and without a word of reply, without even directing a looktowards his sister’s tent, he turned and followed his conductors.

For several miles they pursued the back–foot[59]of the trail by which they had come from the eastward, Wingenund being placed in the centre without weapon of any kind, and the two Osages marching one before, and the other behind him, being well armed with bow, knife, and tomahawk. The youth, unconscious that they had secret instructions from Mahéga to kill him as soon as they reached a convenient and sufficiently distant spot, made no attempt to escape, but walked quietly between them, considering within himself whether he should endeavour to rejoin his party, or persevere in hovering in the neighbourhood of the Osages: if a suspicion of Mahéga’s treachery did cross his mind, he allowed it not to influence his bearing, for he moved steadily forward, not even turning his head to watch the Osage behind him.

About five or six miles from Mahéga’s camp, the trail passed along the edge of a low wood, which skirted the banks of the same stream that flowed through the upper valley. This was the place where they proposed to kill their prisoner, and hide his body in the bushes, the chief having commanded that the murder should be kept secret from the rest of his party. They had just passed a thicket on the side of the trail, when the terrible battle–cry of War–Eagle rose behind them, and his tomahawk clove the skull of the Osage in the rear. Quick as thought, Wingenund sprang upon the one in front, and pinioned his arms; the Osage tried in vain to disengage them from the grasp of his light and active opponent. Brief was the struggle, for the deadly weapon of the Delaware chief descended again, and the second Osage lay a corpse upon the trail.

The brothers, having exchanged an affectionate but hasty greeting, took the spoils from their enemies according to Indian fashion, War–Eagle contenting himself with their scalps, and his brother taking such weapons and articles of dress as his present condition rendered necessary for hiscomfort and defence; after which, they threw the two bodies into the thicket, into which the Osages had intended to cast that of Wingenund, and continued their course at a rapid rate towards the eastward, War–Eagle relating as they went the events which had brought him so opportunely to the scene of action: they were briefly as follow:—

When he left his party, he never halted nor slackened his speed until he saw the smoke of the Osage camp–fire: concealing himself in the adjoining wood, he had witnessed all the surprising occurrences of the day; and in the event of the Osages actually proceeding to set fire to the faggots around Wingenund, he was prepared to rush upon them alone, and either rescue his brother or perish with him: but, with the self–command and foresight of an Indian, he kept this desperate and almost hopeless attempt for the last chance; and when to his surprise and joy he saw the prisoner sent upon the trail with a guard of only two Osages, he took advantage of a bank of rising ground, behind which he crept, and moving swiftly forward under its shelter, gained unperceived the thicket, where he had so successfully waylaid them.

Fearing a pursuit, the brothers never abated their speed throughout the evening, or the early portion of the night. A few hours before dawn, some scattered bushes near the path offering them a precarious shelter, they lay down to snatch a short repose; a mouthful of dried bison–meat, which remained in War–Eagle’s belt, he gave to his exhausted brother; and one blanket covering them both, they slept soundly and undisturbed until the sun was high in heaven.

c216CHAPTER XVI.MAHÉGA FINDS THE BODIES OF HIS TWO FOLLOWERS SLAIN BY WAR–EAGLE.—SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE INDIAN CHARACTER.—WAR–EAGLE RETURNS TO HIS FRIENDS, AND THE OSAGE CHIEF PUSHES HIS WAY FURTHER INTO THE MOUNTAINS.Mahéga waited anxiously the return of the two men whom he had sent with Wingenund, being desirous to learn whether they had faithfully executed the treacherous commission withwhich he had entrusted them. When he found that the evening passed away, and that the successive hours of the night brought no intelligence of them, he became alarmed lest they should have fallen in with some hostile band of Indians; an occurrence which, in addition to the loss of two of his warriors, would threaten imminent danger to his whole party.At the earliest peep of dawn he set out in search of them, accompanied by three of his followers, giving orders to the remainder to observe a strict watch during his absence. Traversing the little valley in front of his camp with hasty strides, he struck into the eastward trail, and followed it with unabated speed until he reached the spot where the deadly struggle of the preceding evening had arisen. Here the indications were too evident to leave a moment’s doubt upon his mind; the grass on and beside the trail was stained with blood, and from the neighbouring thicket were heard the snarls and yells of a pack of wolves quarrelling over their horrible banquet; while high in air several buzzards were wheeling round and round, as if endeavouring to find courage to descend and dispute the prey with the quadruped spoilers.Dashing into the thicket, and driving the snarling wolves before him, Mahéga found his worst fears realised, and his horror–struck warriors stood in silence beside the mangled remains of their comrades. The conduct of Indians under such circumstances is uncertain and various as their mood, their impulse, their tribe, and their age. Sometimes they indulge in fearful threats of vengeance; sometimes in the most woeful howlings and lamentations; at others they observe a silence as still as the death which they are contemplating.The Osages, on this occasion, following the example of their leader, spoke not a word, although the sight before them (far too horrible for description) was sufficient to try the strongest nerves; it was chiefly by the immoveable firmness of his character that Mahéga had gained and maintained the despotic influence which he exercised over his followers; neither did it fail him on this occasion, for he proceeded to examine the mutilated remains of his deceased warriors with his usual coolness and sagacity, in order that he might discover by whom the deed had been perpetrated; on a close inspection of the skulls, he found that both had been fractured by a tomahawk blow, which had fallen in a direction almost vertical, butrather at a posterior angle of inclination, whence he immediately inferred that they had been killed by some enemy who had surprised and attacked them from behind, and not in an open fight: after a long and careful observation of the fractures, he was of opinion that they were made by the same weapon. This inference, however, he kept to himself; and directing two of his followers to pay such offices to the dead as were possible under the circumstances, and then to return to the camp, he went forward with the remaining Osage, to satisfy himself as to the manner in which the calamity had occurred: he remembered to have seen Wingenund starting on the trail, and, although he knew him to be bold and active, he could not for an instant entertain the belief that a stripling, wearied with a sleepless night, stiff from being so many hours bound with thongs, and totally unprovided with arms, could have killed his two guards, who were strong, wary, and well–armed men!For some distance Mahéga continued his course in moody silence, the beaten trail affording no indication sufficient to guide him in his conjecture, but at length he reached a place where it crossed a small rivulet, the flat banks of which were sprinkled with a kind of gravelly sand: here he paused and examined every inch of the ground with the eye of a lynx; nor was it long before he detected the foot–prints which he sought, a smaller and a greater, the latter showing longer intervals, and a deeper impression.Rising from his stooping scrutiny, the eyes of the chief glared with fury, as he turned to his follower, and, in a voice almost inarticulate with rage, groaned the hated name of War–Eagle.“It is,” he continued vehemently, “plain as the moon in the sky, the trail of the cursed Lenapé and the light foot of his brother; see here, War–Eagle has walked through the water, and Wingenund has sprung over it; the dew has fallen since they passed, they are far before us; but Mahéga must not sleep till their scalps are in his belt. Is Toweno ready?” inquired the fierce chief, tightening his girdle while he loosened the tomahawk suspended from it.“Toweno is ready,” replied the Indian, “to fight or run by the side of Mahéga from morning until night; his hand is not weak, nor are his feet slow, but the great chief must not let the angry spirit bring a cloud before his eyes.”“Let Toweno speak,” said Mahéga, controlling his fierce impatience, “his words will find a path to open ears.”“War–Eagle,” pursued the Osage, “is swift of foot and cunning as a twice–trapped wolf. He has not come upon this far war–path alone. Wingenund has been prowling round the camp; and while Mahéga follows the trail of War–Eagle, the youth may guide the pale–faced warrior called Netis, with his band, to the encampment of the Washashe. Toweno has need of no more words.”Mahéga saw in a moment the truth and force of his follower’s suggestion, and smothering for the moment his passion for revenge, he resolved to return at once to his encampment.“The counsel of Toweno is good,” said he; “when a friend speaks, Mahéga is not deaf.”Among the features that distinguish the character of the North American Indian, there is none more remarkable, none more worthy of the study and the imitation of civilised man, than the patience and impartial candour with which they listen to the advice or opinion of others: although so prone to be swayed by passion and governed by impulse, the Indian seems to have a wonderful power of laying aside these predispositions, when discussing a matter privately with a friend, or openly in council. The decorum with which all their public discussions are conducted has been observed and recorded by every writer familiar with their habits, from the time of Charlevoix, and of the interesting “Letters Edifiantes” to the present day. Colden, Tanner, Mackenzie, and many others who have described the Northern tribes, concur in bearing their testimony to the truth of this observation; Heckewalder, Loskiel, Smith, Jefferson, confirm it in the central region; and the Spanish writers bear frequent witness to it in their descriptions of the Southern tribes whom they met with in their campaigns in Florida and the adjacent country. In reading the account given of the numerous tribes inhabiting the vast region between the Mississippi and the Rocky Mountains, by Clarke, Lewis, Long, and others, the same observation forces itself upon us almost at every page, and it is the more remarkable when we reflect upon two facts: first, that we find this characteristic attributed to forty or fifty different nations inhabiting a continent larger than Europe, by the concurring testimony of travellers from different countries, and holding the most opposite opinions.Secondly, we do not find a similar characteristic distinguishing other savages, or nomadic tribes in Asia, Africa, or the Pacific Islands.There is not a public body in Europe, from the British parliament down to the smallest burgh meeting, that might not study with advantage the proceedings of an Indian council, whether as described in the faithful pages of the German missionaries, or, as it may still be seen by any one who has leisure and inclination to visit those remote regions, where the Indian character is least changed and contaminated by intercourse with the whites. Such an observer would find his attention attracted to two remarkable facts; first, that no speaker is ever interrupted; and, secondly, that only those speak who from age, rank, and deeds, are entitled to be listened to.It is a popular and plausible reply to say, that discussions concerning the complicated business of a great country cannot be carried on like the unimportant “talks” of these savage tribes. This reasoning is shallow and full of sophistry; for many of the Indian councils above referred to have involved all the dearest interests of the nation; their soil, their pride, their ancestral traditions, all were at stake, perhaps all with little more than a nominal alternative, to be bartered for the grasping white man’s beads, whiskey, and subsidies. In these councils, every listening Indian must have felt that his own home, the lodge built by his father, and the patch of maize cultivated by his family, were dependent on the issue of the negotiation, and yet it is not upon record that a chief or elder brave was ever interrupted in his speech, or that the decorum of the council was infringed by irregularity or tumult on the part of those who might have considered themselves injured and aggrieved.Even in regard to time, it is a great mistake to suppose that anything is gained by interruption; for an obstinate talker will carry his point in the end; and although the persevering exclamations and groanings, and crowings of an impatient House of Commons may succeed in drowning his voice, and forcing him to sit down, he will rise again on some other occasion, and inflict upon his hearers a speech whose bulk and bitterness are both increased by the suppressed fermentation which it has undergone.Leaving the moody and dispirited Osage chief to find his way back to his encampment, we will now return to Reginald Brandon and his party, whom we left starting westward on the trail, marching in regular order, and prepared, without delaying the progress, to repel any hostile attempt on the part of the Crows. The latter band seemed, however, so impressed with the strength, discipline, and appointments of the white men’s force, now that it had received a strong reinforcement, that they gave up all present intention of molesting it, and went off in an opposite direction in search of game, horses, or booty where these might be acquired with less risk and danger.Reginald and Ethelston went together on the line of march; and although the spirits of the former were damped by the recent and melancholy fate of the Crow youth, in whom he had felt much interest, the buoyant hilarity of his disposition did not long resist his friend’s endeavours to banish that subject from his thoughts, and to turn the conversation to topics more immediately connected with the object of their present expedition.Reginald having once confided to Ethelston his love for Prairie–bird, found a pleasure in describing to him her beauty, her natural grace, her simplicity,—in short, all those charms and attractions which had carried by storm the fortress of his heart; and it seemed that his friend was no less willing to listen than he to talk upon the subject; repeating question after question, regarding her with an unwearied intensity of curiosity that excited at length the surprise of Reginald himself.“Indeed, Edward,” he said, laughing, “did I not know that you are devoted to a certain lady on the banks of the Muskingum, and that your attachments are reasonably steady, I could almost believe that the fidelity and eloquence with which I have described Prairie–bird had made you fall in love with her yourself.”“Perhaps you are claiming more merit for your own eloquence than is due to it,” said Ethelston, in a similar tone, “you forget that before I joined you, Paul Müller and I had travelled many hundred miles together; and it is a topic upon which he speaks as warmly and partially as yourself.”“Well he may!” replied Reginald with energy, “for sheowes everything to his affectionate care and instruction, in return for which she loves and venerates him as if he were her father.”In such conversation did the friends while away many weary hours on the march; and at the midday halt and evening camp, they were joined by the worthy missionary, who, justly proud of his pupil, and knowing that he was addressing those who would not soon be weary of hearing her praises, told them many anecdotes of her early youth, with an earnestness and feeling which often caused Reginald to avert his face, and Ethelston to shade his brow thoughtfully with his hand.Nor was the march unenlivened by scenes of a merrier kind, for Pierre, Baptiste, and Monsieur Perrot kept up a constant round of fun and raillery around their camp–kettle; the latter continuing to act as chief cook for all the white men and half–bred in the party, and leaving the Delawares to dress their food after their own fancy. Provisions were abundant in the camp, and Perrot contrived by his ingenuity to give a variety both in appearance and flavour to supplies, which in truth consisted of little more than parched maize, biscuit, coffee, and bison–meat. He talked incessantly, and his lively sallies not only amused his two companions, but often drew a smile from Reginald, in spite of the anxiety occasioned by the object of the expedition.“Master Baptiste,” said the valet cook (as nearly as his language may be rendered into English), “methinks those great hands of yours are better skilled in chopping Sioux skulls, or felling bee–trees, than in the science of butchery; see here, what unchristian lumps of meat you have brought me to dress!”“Were it not for these great hands, as you call them,” replied the sturdy guide, “you, Master Perrot, with those fine–skinned fingers, would often ere this have seen little of either deer or bison–meat for your supper.”“As for that, I deny not that you are tolerably successful in hunting, and your load of venison is sometimes brought decently home; but in the cutting up of a bison, your education has been much neglected.”“It may be so, Monsieur Perrot,” answered Baptiste: “I do not pretend to much skill in the matter, and yet methinksI should understand as much of it as one who had never seen a bison a month since; and who could not now dress a cow’s udder half so well as an Osage squaw.” Pierre laughed outright at his comrade’s depreciation of Perrot’s culinary skill; and the latter, whose temper was not a whit ruffled by this disparagement of his talents, inquired with the utmost gravity,“Pray, Baptiste, instruct me in this matter, for I doubt not, although you have so grievously mutilated the ox, that your method of dressing the cow’s udder must be worth learning.”“Nay,” replied Baptiste, “I will show you that when we come among cows and squaws; meanwhile I recommend you to make yourself a spare peruke, as we may soon be running foul of those Osages, or some other roving Indians, who may chance to carry off that moveable scalp on the top of your head.”This allusion to Perrot’s disaster and narrow escape among the Sioux, turned the laugh against him; but he quickly checked its current by placing before his companions some buffalo steaks, and cakes of maize flour, which practically contradicted all that they had been saying in his disparagement of the good–humoured Frenchman’s cookery.Towards the close of the second day’s march, one of the Delawares, who had been sent forward to reconnoitre, galloped to the rear and reported that he had seen one or two men at a great distance a–head, nearly in the line of the trail which they were now following. Reginald immediately sprung upon Nekimi, who was walking like a pet–dog at his side; and, accompanied by Ethelston, rode forward to examine the strangers with his telescope. The undulations of the intervening ground hid them for a considerable time from his view, and when they reappeared they were near enough to be clearly distinguished through his glass.“War–Eagle,” he exclaimed, “Heaven be praised! It is my brave Indian brother returning with young Wingenund. Edward, I will now present to you the noblest creature that ever yet I encountered in human shape. My feelings would prompt me to rush forward and embrace him; but we must conform ourselves to Indian usage here, or we shall lose the good opinion of our Delaware friends.”Reginald had confided to his friend all that had passed between himself and War–Eagle, not even omitting his unfortunate and long–cherished passion for Prairie–bird, so that Ethelston awaited his approach with no ordinary interest.As the Delaware chieftain advanced with erect front, his expanded chest thrown slightly forward, and the fine symmetry of his form developed in every movement as he stepped lightly over the prairie, Ethelston felt that he had never seen, either in nature or in the works of art, a finer specimen of manhood; and when he witnessed the grave simplicity which mingled with his cordial greeting of Reginald Brandon, he could not deny that features, form, and bearing stamped the Delaware chieftain at once as one of the lords of the creation. Neither did the gentle gracefulness of the slighter figure by whom he was accompanied escape Ethelston’s notice, and he felt no difficulty in recognising, in the interesting features of the youth, that Wingenund of whose high and amiable qualities he had heard so much from Reginald.“These are, indeed,” said Ethelston to himself, “worthy descendants of the Lenapé princes, whose sway in bygone days extended over many hundred leagues of fertile territory, from the Ohio to the Atlantic coast: whose broad lands are now tilled by the Saxon plough, on the site of whose ancient villages now stand the churches and the popular streets of Baltimore, and the city of Brotherly Love. With the loss of their dominion, most of these once–powerful tribes have lost the highest and best characteristics of their race; subdued by the rifle, corrupted by the silver, degraded by the ardent spirits of the white man, they present but too often a spectacle in which it is difficult to recognise any traces of the attributes with which the narratives of our early travellers and missionaries invest them. But these are, indeed, features which a Titian would not have scorned to delineate; these are forms which the pencil of Michael Angelo and the chisel of Praxiteles would have rejoiced to immortalise.”While these thoughts were rapidly passing through the mind of Ethelston, the greeting between Reginald and War–Eagle was exchanged; and the former had given to his Indian brother a hasty sketch of the events which had occurred in his absence and of those which had led to the reinforcement brought by Ethelston. A gleam of joy shot athwart the features of theDelaware, as he learnt the vengeance which his warriors had taken of their enemies; and his quick eye glanced with gratified pride over the scalps which they displayed, and the magnificent bear–claw collar dependent from Attō’s neck. The Lenapé braves saw too that the tomahawk of their leader had not slept in its belt on his solitary war–path, for the scalps of the two unfortunate Osages whom he had slain hung close to its handle; and though there was no shout of triumph, an audible murmur of satisfaction ran through the whole band.When Reginald presented Ethelston to War–Eagle as his earliest and most faithful friend from childhood, the chief, taking him by the hand, said, “The friend of Netis is the friend of War–Eagle,—their hearts are one; he is very welcome.” Reginald then presented Wingenund to his friend, as the gallant youth who had saved his life on the banks of the Muskingum.“I feel as if I had long known him,” said Ethelston, shaking his hand cordially; “I have come lately from Mooshanne, where his name is not forgotten.”“Is the Lily of Mooshanne well?” inquired the youth, fixing his dark and earnest eyes full upon the countenance of the person whom he was addressing. Ethelston had been prepared by his friend’s description of Wingenund for a demeanour and character highly interesting; but there was a melody, a pathos, a slight tremor in the tone in which he spoke those few words, there was also in his countenance a touching expression of melancholy, that thrilled to the heart of Ethelston. How quick is the jealous eye of love! Ethelston knew that Wingenund had passed only one day in the society of Lucy, yet he saw in an instant the deep impression which that day had left on the young Indian’s mind.“The Lily of Mooshanne is well,” he replied. “If she had known that I should visit her brother, and his Lenapé friends, she would have bid me speak many kind words to them from her.”Wingenund passed on, and War–Eagle related to the two friends the leading circumstances of his own expedition, omitting all mention of the fatigue, the hunger, the sleepless nights that he had undergone, before he discovered and reached the Osage camp.As he described the scene of Wingenund being tied to thepost, with the dried faggots at his feet, and the appearance of Prairie–bird when Mahéga called upon her to pronounce her own or her brother’s fate, both of his auditors held their breath with anxious suspense, which gave place to astonishment, as he proceeded to relate with undisguised awe the mystery of the solar eclipse, which led to the liberation of Wingenund.When he had concluded his narrative, Reginald was speechless; and Ethelston, catching the Delaware’s arm, inquired in a low whisper, “Has the Osage dared, or will he dare, to make Prairie–bird his wife by force?”“He has not,” replied the chief; “the words of Olitipa, and the black sun, made him afraid.” He added, drawing himself proudly to his full height, “Had the wolf threatened to touch her with his paw, the tomahawk of War–Eagle would have pierced his heart, or the bones of the Lenapé chief and his brother would have been picked by the buzzards of the mountains.” So saying, War–Eagle joined his expectant warriors.In the meantime Mahéga returned to his camp, in a vexed and gloomy state of mind; as he passed the tent of Prairie–bird, a darker frown lowered upon his brow; and having entered his lodge, he seated himself, without speaking to any of those who had assembled there in expectation of his return.The youngest of the Osages present having handed him a lighted pipe, retired to a corner of the lodge, where he resumed his occupation of sharpening the head of a barbed arrow, leaving the chief to his own meditations. These dwelt mainly upon Prairie–bird, and were of a nature so mingled and vague, as to cause him the greatest perplexity. The effect of her beauty and attractions upon his passions had rather increased than diminished: he loved her as much as one so fierce and selfish could love another; yet, on the other hand, he felt that he ought to hate her, as being the sister of War–Eagle, and the betrothed of the man who had struck and disgraced him: with these contending feelings there was blended a superstitious awe of her communion with the world of spirits, and a remote hope that some of these supernatural agencies might turn her heart in his favour, and induce her not only to become his bride, but zealously to employ all her mysterious powers in the furtherance of his ambitious schemes.Such was the train of thought pursued by the Osage, as he leaned against the pile of furs that supported his back, and stretching his huge limbs at their ease, watched the eddying wreaths of fragrant smoke, which gently puffed from his mouth andnostril, wound their slow way to the fissures in the lodge–roof by which they escaped.[60]The suggestion of Toweno had made a strong impression upon Mahéga’s mind, and led him to expect, at no distant period, an attack on the part of the Delawares; and as he was uncertain of the force which his enemy might bring against him, he resolved to make a timely retreat to some spot where a pursuit, if attempted by the Delawares, might enable him to take them at a disadvantage.Calling to him an Osage who was leaning against one of the outer posts that supported the lodge, he desired him to make, with a comrade, a careful search of the neighbourhood, and to report any trail or suspicious appearance that they might find; and when he had given these orders he summoned Toweno, and started with him towards the head of the little valley, without informing him of the object which he had in view; but as the latter was the only person to whom the chief had entrusted the secret of the câche, where his most valuable spoils were deposited, and as they were now marching in that direction, he was not at a loss to divine Mahéga’s intentions. After a brief silence, the chief said to his follower, “Do the thoughts of Toweno walk upon the same path with the thoughts of Mahéga?”“They do,” he replied.“Can Toweno speak them?”“Mahéga intends to leave the camp before the Lenapé come; and taking some goods with him as presents to the mountain tribes, to find a safe place where the enemy cannot follow him.”“Toweno says well,” answered the chief, with a grim smile, “but that is not enough, the Lenapé must be made a fool, he must be put upon a wrong trail.”“That is good, if it can be done,” said Toweno, gravely, “but it is not easy to put sand in the eyes of War–Eagle.”“Mahéga will put sand into his eyes, and a knife into his heart before this moon becomes a circle,” replied the chief, clutching as he went the haft of his scalp–knife, and unconsciously lengthening his stride under the excitement produced by the thoughts of a conflict with his hated foe. They had now reached the “câche,” which was a large dry hole in the side of a rocky bank, the entrance to which was closed by a stone, and admirably concealed by a dense thicket of brambles and wild raspberry bushes: having rolled away the stone, Mahéga withdrew from the câche a plentiful supply of beads, vermillion, powder, and cloths of various colour, being part of the plunder taken from the camp of the unfortunate Delawares, and wrapping in two blankets as much as he and his companion could carry, they replaced the stone, carefully concealing their foot–prints as they retreated, by strewing them with leaves and grass. At a spot very near the câche was the skeleton of a deer, which Mahéga had killed on a former occasion, and purposely dragged thither. As soon as they reached this point, they took no further precaution to conceal their trail, because, even if it were found, the party discovering it would stop under the impression that it was made by the hunters who had killed the deer. On returning to the camp they met the two Osages who had been despatched to reconnoitre, and who reported that they had found one fresh Indian trail in the woods opposite the little valley, and that they had followed it as far as the stream, where, from its direction and appearance, they were assured it was the trail of War–Eagle; and Mahéga now first learnt that his daring foe had been within eighty yards of the spot selected for the torture of Wingenund. His was not a nature to give way to idle regrets; equally a stranger to fear and to remorse, the future troubled him but little, the past not at all, excepting when it afforded him food wherewith to cherish his revenge; so the information now received did not interrupt him in carrying into execution his plans for retreat. Accordingly, he desired Toweno to summon his warriors to a council, and in a short time the band, now reduced to eight besides himself, assembled in front of his lodge. Here he harangued them with his usual cunning sagacity, pointing out to them the riskof remaining in their present position, and setting before them in the most favourable light the advantages which might accrue from their falling in with some of the peaceable tribes among the mountains, and carrying back from them to the banks of the Osage and Kansas rivers a plentiful cargo of beaver and other valuable skins. Having concluded his harangue, he opened before them the largest (although the least precious) of the bales brought from the câche, which he divided equally amongst them, so that each warrior knowing what belonged to him, might use it as he thought fit; the remaining bale he ordered to be carefully secured in wrappers of hide, and to be reserved for negotiations for the benefit of the whole band. The Osages were loud in their approbation of the speech, and of the liberal distribution of presents by which it had been accompanied, and they retired from his lodge to make immediate preparations for departure.While these were rapidly advancing, Mahéga, who had made himself thoroughly familiar with the neighbouring locality, considered and matured his plans for retreat, the chief object of which was to mislead the Delawares, in the event of their attempting a pursuit. The result of his meditations he confined to his own breast, and his followers neither wished nor cared to know it, having full reliance upon his sagacity and judgment. Meanwhile, Prairie–bird remained quietly in her tent, grateful for the deliverance of her young brothers, and indulging in a thousand dreamy visions of her own escape, contrived and effected by Reginald and War–Eagle. These were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Lita, who, while engaging in carrying water from the brook, had gathered from one of the Osages some intelligence of what was going forward. If the truth must be told, this Indian, separated from the woman–kind of his own tribe, had begun to look on the expressive gipsy countenance of the Comanche girl with an eye of favour; and she not being slow to detect the influence which she had acquired, encouraged him just enough to render him communicative, and willing to offer her such attentions as were admissible in their relative situations. Yet in her heart she scorned him as a “dog of an Osage,” and though he knew her to be only a slave, there was something in her manner that attracted him in spite of himself; it was not difficult for the quick girl to gather from her admirer thenews of Wingenund’s escape, and the death of the two Osages sent to guard him; but when she heard the latter attributed with an execration to the hand of War–Eagle, she was obliged to avert her face, that her informant might not observe the look of triumph that gleamed in her dark eyes.Having ascertained at the same time that Mahéga was about to strike his camp and resume his march, she rewarded the Osage by an arch smile, that sent him away contented, while she, taking up her water–vessel, pursued her way to her mistress’s tent.To the latter Lita lost no time in communicating what she had learnt, and was disappointed to observe that Prairie–bird seemed rather vexed than gratified by the intelligence.“Does Olitipa not rejoice?” inquired she eagerly, “that the scalps of the Washashee dogs who kept Wingenund prisoner are hanging at the belt of the Lenapé chief?”“Olitipa is tired of blood,” answered the maiden, mournfully, “and the loss of his warriors will make Mahéga more fierce and cruel to us. See already he prepares to go on a distant path, where the eyes of War–Eagle and Netis may not find us;” and the poor girl shuddered at the prospect of a journey to regions yet more wild and remote, and a captivity yet more hopeless of deliverance.“Let him go where never Washashee foot stepped before,” replied Lita, “where no trail is seen but that of the bighorn, and the black–tailed deer: War–Eagle will follow and will find him.”Prairie–bird smiled sadly at the eagerness of her companion, and then desired her aid in getting their wardrobe and few moveables ready for the expected journey. While they were thus employed Mahéga called Prairie–bird to the door of her tent, where she found the chief, with his arm wrapped round with a cloth; and believing him to be wounded, she acceded at once to his request that she would give him one of her kerchiefs for a bandage. During the remainder of the evening she saw nothing more of him or of his people, and she slept undisturbed until an hour before dawn, when she was awakened by the bustle of preparation for departure.As soon as her light tent was struck and fastened to the poles which supported it, she observed that a kind of cradle had been constructed by the Osages, which was covered withskins, and was adapted to the purpose of carrying herself or her moveables, when slung to the tent–poles, as well as to convey its contents dry over any river that might obstruct their passage.The Osage party was now divided into two, of which one was reserved by Mahéga for his own guidance, the other being entrusted to that of Toweno: all the horses were placed under the charge of the latter, including those carrying the packages, and the palfrey usually ridden by Prairie–bird: this party bent their course to the northward, and Mahéga accompanied them a few hundred yards, repeating many instructions to Toweno, which seemed from his earnest gesticulation to be both minute and important.The heart of Prairie–bird sank within her, when she saw her favourite horse led away, and herself left with Lita on foot, attended by Mahéga and four of his men: knowing, however, the inutility of any present attempt either at resistance or flight, she awaited in uncomplaining silence the further commands of her captor, although she easily saw through the mocking veil of courtesy with which he disguised his anticipated triumph over her baffled friends. To his inquiry whether she preferred travelling on foot to being carried in the wicker–frame by two of his men, she replied, without hesitation, in the affirmative; upon which he presented her with a pair of mocassins, to be worn over her own, so ingeniously contrived that although they did not encumber her movements by their weight, they yet rendered it impossible that her foot–print should be recognised, even by the practised eye of War–Eagle. A similar pair was also placed on the feet of Lita.It may easily be imagined that the Osages, during their residence at this encampment, made various excursions for hunting and other purposes; they had used on these occasions old trails made by native tribes or by the bison; one of these ran in a north–east direction, skirting the base of the high western hills, and offering the prospect of easy travelling, through an undulating and partially wooded country. Into this path Mahéga struck at once, leading the way himself, followed by Prairie–bird and Lita, the four Osages bringing up the rear. This line of march being adopted by the cunning chief, first, that he might have frequent opportunity of watching and speaking with the maiden, and secondly, thathis men might be the better enabled to fulfil his strict injunction that they should carefully remove any trace which she might purposely or accidentally leave on the trail.Such an idea did not, however, appear to have entered the thoughts of Prairie–bird, for she followed the Osage chief with a blithe and cheerful air, replying good–humouredly to the observations which he from time to time addressed to her, and pointing out to Lita the beauties of the scenery through which they were passing.It was indeed a lovely region, abounding in rock, herbage, and magnificent timber, the latter affording an agreeable shelter from the rays of the sun, while the fresh breeze, blowing from the snow–capped mountains, which bounded the western prospect, rendered the exercise of walking pleasant in the highest degree.They had followed the trail for some time without meeting with any game when the quick eye of Mahéga detected a mountain–deer, browsing at no great distance, and in a moment an arrow from his bow pierced its flank; the wounded animal bounded onward into the glade, and the chief sprang forward in pursuit. The Osages fixed their keen and eager eyes on the chase, muttering half–aloud expressions of impatient discontent at being prevented from joining it. Swift as had been the arrow of Mahéga, it was not more so than the thought and hand of Prairie–bird, who contrived while her guards were gazing intently on the deer and its pursuer, to let fall unperceived a small slip of paper upon the trail: so completely did she appear absorbed in watching the chase, that the movement was unnoticed even by Lita, and the party continued their way a few hundred steps when a signal from Mahéga, now out of sight, soon brought one of his followers to assist him in cutting up the quarry.Before leaving her tent, Prairie–bird had prepared and secreted about her person several small slips of paper, on each of which she had written the word, “Follow,” trusting to her own ingenuity to find an opportunity of dropping one now and then unobserved by the Osages.Such an opportunity having now occurred, it had been successfully employed, and the maiden went forward with a lighter heart, in the confident hope that Providence wouldcause some friendly eye to rest upon the slight, yet guiding token left upon her path.For two days Mahéga pursued his march leisurely, as if fearless of pursuit, halting frequently to afford rest and refreshment to Prairie–bird, and camping at night, on some sheltered spot, where his men constructed for her protection a hut, or bower of branches, over which was thrown a covering of skins: before setting out in the morning this bower was destroyed, and the branches dragged to some distance in several directions; and Mahéga having carefully examined the spot, was the last to leave it, in order to ensure that no indication or trace of his fair prisoner might remain.On the third day about noon they reached the banks of a broad stream, which two of the Osages crossed immediately, with instructions from their chief to make a visible trail in a N.E. direction for some distance, when they were to enter the river again at another place, and to wade or swim down it until they rejoined him: meanwhile Prairie–bird and Lita, with such articles as they wished to keep dry, were placed in the light coriole or wicker–boat covered with skins, and Mahéga guided its course down the stream, followed by the remainder of his men: they descended the bed of the river for several miles in this way; and although more than one trail appeared on the banks as a crossing–place for Indians or bison, he passed them all unheeded, until he came to a broad track which had very lately been trodden by so many feet that the trail of his own party could not be distinguished upon it; here he halted until he was rejoined by the men whom he had left behind, when they proceeded forward at a brisk pace, towards the spot which he had appointed as the rendezvous for his party in charge of the packages and the horses.Mahéga was now in high spirits, being confident that the precautions which he had taken would throw the pursuers off the scent, and enable him to follow out his plans, which were to trade during the summer, with the Shosonies and other tribes hovering about the spurs of the mountains, procuring from them beaver and other valuable furs in exchange for the fine cloths and goods which he had brought from the Delaware camp; after which he proposed to return to the northern portion of the Osage country, enriched by his traffic, andglorying in the possession of his mysterious and beautiful bride.Such were the projects entertained by the Osage chief, and he brooded over them so abstractedly, that he afforded to the ever–watchful Prairie–bird an opportunity of dropping another of her small slips of paper unperceived; she did not neglect it, although almost hopeless of her friends ever discovering her path after the many precautions taken by Mahéga, and the long distance down the course of the river, where no trail nor trace of the passage of his party could be left.On reaching the rendezvous he found his detachment with the horses and luggage already arrived: they had come by a circuitous route, availing themselves of several Indian trails by the way, on one of which Toweno had, by direction of his chief, scattered some shreds of the kerchief that he obtained from Prairie–bird; after which he had returned upon the same trail, and diverged into a transverse one, which had enabled him to reach the rendezvous by the time appointed.Prairie–bird being again mounted upon her favourite palfrey, the whole party set forward with increased speed, which they did not relax until towards evening, when they saw in the distance numerous fires, betokening the neighbourhood of a populous Indian village. Mahéga then ordered a halt, and having sent forward Toweno to reconnoitre, encamped in a sheltered valley for the night. When Prairie–bird found herself once more, after the fatigues of the two preceding days, under the cover of her own tent, she looked round its small circular limits, and felt as if she were at home! Casting herself upon her couch of furs, she offered up her grateful thanks to the Almighty Being who had hitherto so mercifully protected her, and soon forgot her cares and weariness in sound and refreshing slumbers.END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

c216

MAHÉGA FINDS THE BODIES OF HIS TWO FOLLOWERS SLAIN BY WAR–EAGLE.—SOME REFLECTIONS ON THE INDIAN CHARACTER.—WAR–EAGLE RETURNS TO HIS FRIENDS, AND THE OSAGE CHIEF PUSHES HIS WAY FURTHER INTO THE MOUNTAINS.

Mahéga waited anxiously the return of the two men whom he had sent with Wingenund, being desirous to learn whether they had faithfully executed the treacherous commission withwhich he had entrusted them. When he found that the evening passed away, and that the successive hours of the night brought no intelligence of them, he became alarmed lest they should have fallen in with some hostile band of Indians; an occurrence which, in addition to the loss of two of his warriors, would threaten imminent danger to his whole party.

At the earliest peep of dawn he set out in search of them, accompanied by three of his followers, giving orders to the remainder to observe a strict watch during his absence. Traversing the little valley in front of his camp with hasty strides, he struck into the eastward trail, and followed it with unabated speed until he reached the spot where the deadly struggle of the preceding evening had arisen. Here the indications were too evident to leave a moment’s doubt upon his mind; the grass on and beside the trail was stained with blood, and from the neighbouring thicket were heard the snarls and yells of a pack of wolves quarrelling over their horrible banquet; while high in air several buzzards were wheeling round and round, as if endeavouring to find courage to descend and dispute the prey with the quadruped spoilers.

Dashing into the thicket, and driving the snarling wolves before him, Mahéga found his worst fears realised, and his horror–struck warriors stood in silence beside the mangled remains of their comrades. The conduct of Indians under such circumstances is uncertain and various as their mood, their impulse, their tribe, and their age. Sometimes they indulge in fearful threats of vengeance; sometimes in the most woeful howlings and lamentations; at others they observe a silence as still as the death which they are contemplating.

The Osages, on this occasion, following the example of their leader, spoke not a word, although the sight before them (far too horrible for description) was sufficient to try the strongest nerves; it was chiefly by the immoveable firmness of his character that Mahéga had gained and maintained the despotic influence which he exercised over his followers; neither did it fail him on this occasion, for he proceeded to examine the mutilated remains of his deceased warriors with his usual coolness and sagacity, in order that he might discover by whom the deed had been perpetrated; on a close inspection of the skulls, he found that both had been fractured by a tomahawk blow, which had fallen in a direction almost vertical, butrather at a posterior angle of inclination, whence he immediately inferred that they had been killed by some enemy who had surprised and attacked them from behind, and not in an open fight: after a long and careful observation of the fractures, he was of opinion that they were made by the same weapon. This inference, however, he kept to himself; and directing two of his followers to pay such offices to the dead as were possible under the circumstances, and then to return to the camp, he went forward with the remaining Osage, to satisfy himself as to the manner in which the calamity had occurred: he remembered to have seen Wingenund starting on the trail, and, although he knew him to be bold and active, he could not for an instant entertain the belief that a stripling, wearied with a sleepless night, stiff from being so many hours bound with thongs, and totally unprovided with arms, could have killed his two guards, who were strong, wary, and well–armed men!

For some distance Mahéga continued his course in moody silence, the beaten trail affording no indication sufficient to guide him in his conjecture, but at length he reached a place where it crossed a small rivulet, the flat banks of which were sprinkled with a kind of gravelly sand: here he paused and examined every inch of the ground with the eye of a lynx; nor was it long before he detected the foot–prints which he sought, a smaller and a greater, the latter showing longer intervals, and a deeper impression.

Rising from his stooping scrutiny, the eyes of the chief glared with fury, as he turned to his follower, and, in a voice almost inarticulate with rage, groaned the hated name of War–Eagle.

“It is,” he continued vehemently, “plain as the moon in the sky, the trail of the cursed Lenapé and the light foot of his brother; see here, War–Eagle has walked through the water, and Wingenund has sprung over it; the dew has fallen since they passed, they are far before us; but Mahéga must not sleep till their scalps are in his belt. Is Toweno ready?” inquired the fierce chief, tightening his girdle while he loosened the tomahawk suspended from it.

“Toweno is ready,” replied the Indian, “to fight or run by the side of Mahéga from morning until night; his hand is not weak, nor are his feet slow, but the great chief must not let the angry spirit bring a cloud before his eyes.”

“Let Toweno speak,” said Mahéga, controlling his fierce impatience, “his words will find a path to open ears.”

“War–Eagle,” pursued the Osage, “is swift of foot and cunning as a twice–trapped wolf. He has not come upon this far war–path alone. Wingenund has been prowling round the camp; and while Mahéga follows the trail of War–Eagle, the youth may guide the pale–faced warrior called Netis, with his band, to the encampment of the Washashe. Toweno has need of no more words.”

Mahéga saw in a moment the truth and force of his follower’s suggestion, and smothering for the moment his passion for revenge, he resolved to return at once to his encampment.

“The counsel of Toweno is good,” said he; “when a friend speaks, Mahéga is not deaf.”

Among the features that distinguish the character of the North American Indian, there is none more remarkable, none more worthy of the study and the imitation of civilised man, than the patience and impartial candour with which they listen to the advice or opinion of others: although so prone to be swayed by passion and governed by impulse, the Indian seems to have a wonderful power of laying aside these predispositions, when discussing a matter privately with a friend, or openly in council. The decorum with which all their public discussions are conducted has been observed and recorded by every writer familiar with their habits, from the time of Charlevoix, and of the interesting “Letters Edifiantes” to the present day. Colden, Tanner, Mackenzie, and many others who have described the Northern tribes, concur in bearing their testimony to the truth of this observation; Heckewalder, Loskiel, Smith, Jefferson, confirm it in the central region; and the Spanish writers bear frequent witness to it in their descriptions of the Southern tribes whom they met with in their campaigns in Florida and the adjacent country. In reading the account given of the numerous tribes inhabiting the vast region between the Mississippi and the Rocky Mountains, by Clarke, Lewis, Long, and others, the same observation forces itself upon us almost at every page, and it is the more remarkable when we reflect upon two facts: first, that we find this characteristic attributed to forty or fifty different nations inhabiting a continent larger than Europe, by the concurring testimony of travellers from different countries, and holding the most opposite opinions.

Secondly, we do not find a similar characteristic distinguishing other savages, or nomadic tribes in Asia, Africa, or the Pacific Islands.

There is not a public body in Europe, from the British parliament down to the smallest burgh meeting, that might not study with advantage the proceedings of an Indian council, whether as described in the faithful pages of the German missionaries, or, as it may still be seen by any one who has leisure and inclination to visit those remote regions, where the Indian character is least changed and contaminated by intercourse with the whites. Such an observer would find his attention attracted to two remarkable facts; first, that no speaker is ever interrupted; and, secondly, that only those speak who from age, rank, and deeds, are entitled to be listened to.

It is a popular and plausible reply to say, that discussions concerning the complicated business of a great country cannot be carried on like the unimportant “talks” of these savage tribes. This reasoning is shallow and full of sophistry; for many of the Indian councils above referred to have involved all the dearest interests of the nation; their soil, their pride, their ancestral traditions, all were at stake, perhaps all with little more than a nominal alternative, to be bartered for the grasping white man’s beads, whiskey, and subsidies. In these councils, every listening Indian must have felt that his own home, the lodge built by his father, and the patch of maize cultivated by his family, were dependent on the issue of the negotiation, and yet it is not upon record that a chief or elder brave was ever interrupted in his speech, or that the decorum of the council was infringed by irregularity or tumult on the part of those who might have considered themselves injured and aggrieved.

Even in regard to time, it is a great mistake to suppose that anything is gained by interruption; for an obstinate talker will carry his point in the end; and although the persevering exclamations and groanings, and crowings of an impatient House of Commons may succeed in drowning his voice, and forcing him to sit down, he will rise again on some other occasion, and inflict upon his hearers a speech whose bulk and bitterness are both increased by the suppressed fermentation which it has undergone.

Leaving the moody and dispirited Osage chief to find his way back to his encampment, we will now return to Reginald Brandon and his party, whom we left starting westward on the trail, marching in regular order, and prepared, without delaying the progress, to repel any hostile attempt on the part of the Crows. The latter band seemed, however, so impressed with the strength, discipline, and appointments of the white men’s force, now that it had received a strong reinforcement, that they gave up all present intention of molesting it, and went off in an opposite direction in search of game, horses, or booty where these might be acquired with less risk and danger.

Reginald and Ethelston went together on the line of march; and although the spirits of the former were damped by the recent and melancholy fate of the Crow youth, in whom he had felt much interest, the buoyant hilarity of his disposition did not long resist his friend’s endeavours to banish that subject from his thoughts, and to turn the conversation to topics more immediately connected with the object of their present expedition.

Reginald having once confided to Ethelston his love for Prairie–bird, found a pleasure in describing to him her beauty, her natural grace, her simplicity,—in short, all those charms and attractions which had carried by storm the fortress of his heart; and it seemed that his friend was no less willing to listen than he to talk upon the subject; repeating question after question, regarding her with an unwearied intensity of curiosity that excited at length the surprise of Reginald himself.

“Indeed, Edward,” he said, laughing, “did I not know that you are devoted to a certain lady on the banks of the Muskingum, and that your attachments are reasonably steady, I could almost believe that the fidelity and eloquence with which I have described Prairie–bird had made you fall in love with her yourself.”

“Perhaps you are claiming more merit for your own eloquence than is due to it,” said Ethelston, in a similar tone, “you forget that before I joined you, Paul Müller and I had travelled many hundred miles together; and it is a topic upon which he speaks as warmly and partially as yourself.”

“Well he may!” replied Reginald with energy, “for sheowes everything to his affectionate care and instruction, in return for which she loves and venerates him as if he were her father.”

In such conversation did the friends while away many weary hours on the march; and at the midday halt and evening camp, they were joined by the worthy missionary, who, justly proud of his pupil, and knowing that he was addressing those who would not soon be weary of hearing her praises, told them many anecdotes of her early youth, with an earnestness and feeling which often caused Reginald to avert his face, and Ethelston to shade his brow thoughtfully with his hand.

Nor was the march unenlivened by scenes of a merrier kind, for Pierre, Baptiste, and Monsieur Perrot kept up a constant round of fun and raillery around their camp–kettle; the latter continuing to act as chief cook for all the white men and half–bred in the party, and leaving the Delawares to dress their food after their own fancy. Provisions were abundant in the camp, and Perrot contrived by his ingenuity to give a variety both in appearance and flavour to supplies, which in truth consisted of little more than parched maize, biscuit, coffee, and bison–meat. He talked incessantly, and his lively sallies not only amused his two companions, but often drew a smile from Reginald, in spite of the anxiety occasioned by the object of the expedition.

“Master Baptiste,” said the valet cook (as nearly as his language may be rendered into English), “methinks those great hands of yours are better skilled in chopping Sioux skulls, or felling bee–trees, than in the science of butchery; see here, what unchristian lumps of meat you have brought me to dress!”

“Were it not for these great hands, as you call them,” replied the sturdy guide, “you, Master Perrot, with those fine–skinned fingers, would often ere this have seen little of either deer or bison–meat for your supper.”

“As for that, I deny not that you are tolerably successful in hunting, and your load of venison is sometimes brought decently home; but in the cutting up of a bison, your education has been much neglected.”

“It may be so, Monsieur Perrot,” answered Baptiste: “I do not pretend to much skill in the matter, and yet methinksI should understand as much of it as one who had never seen a bison a month since; and who could not now dress a cow’s udder half so well as an Osage squaw.” Pierre laughed outright at his comrade’s depreciation of Perrot’s culinary skill; and the latter, whose temper was not a whit ruffled by this disparagement of his talents, inquired with the utmost gravity,

“Pray, Baptiste, instruct me in this matter, for I doubt not, although you have so grievously mutilated the ox, that your method of dressing the cow’s udder must be worth learning.”

“Nay,” replied Baptiste, “I will show you that when we come among cows and squaws; meanwhile I recommend you to make yourself a spare peruke, as we may soon be running foul of those Osages, or some other roving Indians, who may chance to carry off that moveable scalp on the top of your head.”

This allusion to Perrot’s disaster and narrow escape among the Sioux, turned the laugh against him; but he quickly checked its current by placing before his companions some buffalo steaks, and cakes of maize flour, which practically contradicted all that they had been saying in his disparagement of the good–humoured Frenchman’s cookery.

Towards the close of the second day’s march, one of the Delawares, who had been sent forward to reconnoitre, galloped to the rear and reported that he had seen one or two men at a great distance a–head, nearly in the line of the trail which they were now following. Reginald immediately sprung upon Nekimi, who was walking like a pet–dog at his side; and, accompanied by Ethelston, rode forward to examine the strangers with his telescope. The undulations of the intervening ground hid them for a considerable time from his view, and when they reappeared they were near enough to be clearly distinguished through his glass.

“War–Eagle,” he exclaimed, “Heaven be praised! It is my brave Indian brother returning with young Wingenund. Edward, I will now present to you the noblest creature that ever yet I encountered in human shape. My feelings would prompt me to rush forward and embrace him; but we must conform ourselves to Indian usage here, or we shall lose the good opinion of our Delaware friends.”

Reginald had confided to his friend all that had passed between himself and War–Eagle, not even omitting his unfortunate and long–cherished passion for Prairie–bird, so that Ethelston awaited his approach with no ordinary interest.

As the Delaware chieftain advanced with erect front, his expanded chest thrown slightly forward, and the fine symmetry of his form developed in every movement as he stepped lightly over the prairie, Ethelston felt that he had never seen, either in nature or in the works of art, a finer specimen of manhood; and when he witnessed the grave simplicity which mingled with his cordial greeting of Reginald Brandon, he could not deny that features, form, and bearing stamped the Delaware chieftain at once as one of the lords of the creation. Neither did the gentle gracefulness of the slighter figure by whom he was accompanied escape Ethelston’s notice, and he felt no difficulty in recognising, in the interesting features of the youth, that Wingenund of whose high and amiable qualities he had heard so much from Reginald.

“These are, indeed,” said Ethelston to himself, “worthy descendants of the Lenapé princes, whose sway in bygone days extended over many hundred leagues of fertile territory, from the Ohio to the Atlantic coast: whose broad lands are now tilled by the Saxon plough, on the site of whose ancient villages now stand the churches and the popular streets of Baltimore, and the city of Brotherly Love. With the loss of their dominion, most of these once–powerful tribes have lost the highest and best characteristics of their race; subdued by the rifle, corrupted by the silver, degraded by the ardent spirits of the white man, they present but too often a spectacle in which it is difficult to recognise any traces of the attributes with which the narratives of our early travellers and missionaries invest them. But these are, indeed, features which a Titian would not have scorned to delineate; these are forms which the pencil of Michael Angelo and the chisel of Praxiteles would have rejoiced to immortalise.”

While these thoughts were rapidly passing through the mind of Ethelston, the greeting between Reginald and War–Eagle was exchanged; and the former had given to his Indian brother a hasty sketch of the events which had occurred in his absence and of those which had led to the reinforcement brought by Ethelston. A gleam of joy shot athwart the features of theDelaware, as he learnt the vengeance which his warriors had taken of their enemies; and his quick eye glanced with gratified pride over the scalps which they displayed, and the magnificent bear–claw collar dependent from Attō’s neck. The Lenapé braves saw too that the tomahawk of their leader had not slept in its belt on his solitary war–path, for the scalps of the two unfortunate Osages whom he had slain hung close to its handle; and though there was no shout of triumph, an audible murmur of satisfaction ran through the whole band.

When Reginald presented Ethelston to War–Eagle as his earliest and most faithful friend from childhood, the chief, taking him by the hand, said, “The friend of Netis is the friend of War–Eagle,—their hearts are one; he is very welcome.” Reginald then presented Wingenund to his friend, as the gallant youth who had saved his life on the banks of the Muskingum.

“I feel as if I had long known him,” said Ethelston, shaking his hand cordially; “I have come lately from Mooshanne, where his name is not forgotten.”

“Is the Lily of Mooshanne well?” inquired the youth, fixing his dark and earnest eyes full upon the countenance of the person whom he was addressing. Ethelston had been prepared by his friend’s description of Wingenund for a demeanour and character highly interesting; but there was a melody, a pathos, a slight tremor in the tone in which he spoke those few words, there was also in his countenance a touching expression of melancholy, that thrilled to the heart of Ethelston. How quick is the jealous eye of love! Ethelston knew that Wingenund had passed only one day in the society of Lucy, yet he saw in an instant the deep impression which that day had left on the young Indian’s mind.

“The Lily of Mooshanne is well,” he replied. “If she had known that I should visit her brother, and his Lenapé friends, she would have bid me speak many kind words to them from her.”

Wingenund passed on, and War–Eagle related to the two friends the leading circumstances of his own expedition, omitting all mention of the fatigue, the hunger, the sleepless nights that he had undergone, before he discovered and reached the Osage camp.

As he described the scene of Wingenund being tied to thepost, with the dried faggots at his feet, and the appearance of Prairie–bird when Mahéga called upon her to pronounce her own or her brother’s fate, both of his auditors held their breath with anxious suspense, which gave place to astonishment, as he proceeded to relate with undisguised awe the mystery of the solar eclipse, which led to the liberation of Wingenund.

When he had concluded his narrative, Reginald was speechless; and Ethelston, catching the Delaware’s arm, inquired in a low whisper, “Has the Osage dared, or will he dare, to make Prairie–bird his wife by force?”

“He has not,” replied the chief; “the words of Olitipa, and the black sun, made him afraid.” He added, drawing himself proudly to his full height, “Had the wolf threatened to touch her with his paw, the tomahawk of War–Eagle would have pierced his heart, or the bones of the Lenapé chief and his brother would have been picked by the buzzards of the mountains.” So saying, War–Eagle joined his expectant warriors.

In the meantime Mahéga returned to his camp, in a vexed and gloomy state of mind; as he passed the tent of Prairie–bird, a darker frown lowered upon his brow; and having entered his lodge, he seated himself, without speaking to any of those who had assembled there in expectation of his return.

The youngest of the Osages present having handed him a lighted pipe, retired to a corner of the lodge, where he resumed his occupation of sharpening the head of a barbed arrow, leaving the chief to his own meditations. These dwelt mainly upon Prairie–bird, and were of a nature so mingled and vague, as to cause him the greatest perplexity. The effect of her beauty and attractions upon his passions had rather increased than diminished: he loved her as much as one so fierce and selfish could love another; yet, on the other hand, he felt that he ought to hate her, as being the sister of War–Eagle, and the betrothed of the man who had struck and disgraced him: with these contending feelings there was blended a superstitious awe of her communion with the world of spirits, and a remote hope that some of these supernatural agencies might turn her heart in his favour, and induce her not only to become his bride, but zealously to employ all her mysterious powers in the furtherance of his ambitious schemes.

Such was the train of thought pursued by the Osage, as he leaned against the pile of furs that supported his back, and stretching his huge limbs at their ease, watched the eddying wreaths of fragrant smoke, which gently puffed from his mouth andnostril, wound their slow way to the fissures in the lodge–roof by which they escaped.[60]

The suggestion of Toweno had made a strong impression upon Mahéga’s mind, and led him to expect, at no distant period, an attack on the part of the Delawares; and as he was uncertain of the force which his enemy might bring against him, he resolved to make a timely retreat to some spot where a pursuit, if attempted by the Delawares, might enable him to take them at a disadvantage.

Calling to him an Osage who was leaning against one of the outer posts that supported the lodge, he desired him to make, with a comrade, a careful search of the neighbourhood, and to report any trail or suspicious appearance that they might find; and when he had given these orders he summoned Toweno, and started with him towards the head of the little valley, without informing him of the object which he had in view; but as the latter was the only person to whom the chief had entrusted the secret of the câche, where his most valuable spoils were deposited, and as they were now marching in that direction, he was not at a loss to divine Mahéga’s intentions. After a brief silence, the chief said to his follower, “Do the thoughts of Toweno walk upon the same path with the thoughts of Mahéga?”

“They do,” he replied.

“Can Toweno speak them?”

“Mahéga intends to leave the camp before the Lenapé come; and taking some goods with him as presents to the mountain tribes, to find a safe place where the enemy cannot follow him.”

“Toweno says well,” answered the chief, with a grim smile, “but that is not enough, the Lenapé must be made a fool, he must be put upon a wrong trail.”

“That is good, if it can be done,” said Toweno, gravely, “but it is not easy to put sand in the eyes of War–Eagle.”

“Mahéga will put sand into his eyes, and a knife into his heart before this moon becomes a circle,” replied the chief, clutching as he went the haft of his scalp–knife, and unconsciously lengthening his stride under the excitement produced by the thoughts of a conflict with his hated foe. They had now reached the “câche,” which was a large dry hole in the side of a rocky bank, the entrance to which was closed by a stone, and admirably concealed by a dense thicket of brambles and wild raspberry bushes: having rolled away the stone, Mahéga withdrew from the câche a plentiful supply of beads, vermillion, powder, and cloths of various colour, being part of the plunder taken from the camp of the unfortunate Delawares, and wrapping in two blankets as much as he and his companion could carry, they replaced the stone, carefully concealing their foot–prints as they retreated, by strewing them with leaves and grass. At a spot very near the câche was the skeleton of a deer, which Mahéga had killed on a former occasion, and purposely dragged thither. As soon as they reached this point, they took no further precaution to conceal their trail, because, even if it were found, the party discovering it would stop under the impression that it was made by the hunters who had killed the deer. On returning to the camp they met the two Osages who had been despatched to reconnoitre, and who reported that they had found one fresh Indian trail in the woods opposite the little valley, and that they had followed it as far as the stream, where, from its direction and appearance, they were assured it was the trail of War–Eagle; and Mahéga now first learnt that his daring foe had been within eighty yards of the spot selected for the torture of Wingenund. His was not a nature to give way to idle regrets; equally a stranger to fear and to remorse, the future troubled him but little, the past not at all, excepting when it afforded him food wherewith to cherish his revenge; so the information now received did not interrupt him in carrying into execution his plans for retreat. Accordingly, he desired Toweno to summon his warriors to a council, and in a short time the band, now reduced to eight besides himself, assembled in front of his lodge. Here he harangued them with his usual cunning sagacity, pointing out to them the riskof remaining in their present position, and setting before them in the most favourable light the advantages which might accrue from their falling in with some of the peaceable tribes among the mountains, and carrying back from them to the banks of the Osage and Kansas rivers a plentiful cargo of beaver and other valuable skins. Having concluded his harangue, he opened before them the largest (although the least precious) of the bales brought from the câche, which he divided equally amongst them, so that each warrior knowing what belonged to him, might use it as he thought fit; the remaining bale he ordered to be carefully secured in wrappers of hide, and to be reserved for negotiations for the benefit of the whole band. The Osages were loud in their approbation of the speech, and of the liberal distribution of presents by which it had been accompanied, and they retired from his lodge to make immediate preparations for departure.

While these were rapidly advancing, Mahéga, who had made himself thoroughly familiar with the neighbouring locality, considered and matured his plans for retreat, the chief object of which was to mislead the Delawares, in the event of their attempting a pursuit. The result of his meditations he confined to his own breast, and his followers neither wished nor cared to know it, having full reliance upon his sagacity and judgment. Meanwhile, Prairie–bird remained quietly in her tent, grateful for the deliverance of her young brothers, and indulging in a thousand dreamy visions of her own escape, contrived and effected by Reginald and War–Eagle. These were suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Lita, who, while engaging in carrying water from the brook, had gathered from one of the Osages some intelligence of what was going forward. If the truth must be told, this Indian, separated from the woman–kind of his own tribe, had begun to look on the expressive gipsy countenance of the Comanche girl with an eye of favour; and she not being slow to detect the influence which she had acquired, encouraged him just enough to render him communicative, and willing to offer her such attentions as were admissible in their relative situations. Yet in her heart she scorned him as a “dog of an Osage,” and though he knew her to be only a slave, there was something in her manner that attracted him in spite of himself; it was not difficult for the quick girl to gather from her admirer thenews of Wingenund’s escape, and the death of the two Osages sent to guard him; but when she heard the latter attributed with an execration to the hand of War–Eagle, she was obliged to avert her face, that her informant might not observe the look of triumph that gleamed in her dark eyes.

Having ascertained at the same time that Mahéga was about to strike his camp and resume his march, she rewarded the Osage by an arch smile, that sent him away contented, while she, taking up her water–vessel, pursued her way to her mistress’s tent.

To the latter Lita lost no time in communicating what she had learnt, and was disappointed to observe that Prairie–bird seemed rather vexed than gratified by the intelligence.

“Does Olitipa not rejoice?” inquired she eagerly, “that the scalps of the Washashee dogs who kept Wingenund prisoner are hanging at the belt of the Lenapé chief?”

“Olitipa is tired of blood,” answered the maiden, mournfully, “and the loss of his warriors will make Mahéga more fierce and cruel to us. See already he prepares to go on a distant path, where the eyes of War–Eagle and Netis may not find us;” and the poor girl shuddered at the prospect of a journey to regions yet more wild and remote, and a captivity yet more hopeless of deliverance.

“Let him go where never Washashee foot stepped before,” replied Lita, “where no trail is seen but that of the bighorn, and the black–tailed deer: War–Eagle will follow and will find him.”

Prairie–bird smiled sadly at the eagerness of her companion, and then desired her aid in getting their wardrobe and few moveables ready for the expected journey. While they were thus employed Mahéga called Prairie–bird to the door of her tent, where she found the chief, with his arm wrapped round with a cloth; and believing him to be wounded, she acceded at once to his request that she would give him one of her kerchiefs for a bandage. During the remainder of the evening she saw nothing more of him or of his people, and she slept undisturbed until an hour before dawn, when she was awakened by the bustle of preparation for departure.

As soon as her light tent was struck and fastened to the poles which supported it, she observed that a kind of cradle had been constructed by the Osages, which was covered withskins, and was adapted to the purpose of carrying herself or her moveables, when slung to the tent–poles, as well as to convey its contents dry over any river that might obstruct their passage.

The Osage party was now divided into two, of which one was reserved by Mahéga for his own guidance, the other being entrusted to that of Toweno: all the horses were placed under the charge of the latter, including those carrying the packages, and the palfrey usually ridden by Prairie–bird: this party bent their course to the northward, and Mahéga accompanied them a few hundred yards, repeating many instructions to Toweno, which seemed from his earnest gesticulation to be both minute and important.

The heart of Prairie–bird sank within her, when she saw her favourite horse led away, and herself left with Lita on foot, attended by Mahéga and four of his men: knowing, however, the inutility of any present attempt either at resistance or flight, she awaited in uncomplaining silence the further commands of her captor, although she easily saw through the mocking veil of courtesy with which he disguised his anticipated triumph over her baffled friends. To his inquiry whether she preferred travelling on foot to being carried in the wicker–frame by two of his men, she replied, without hesitation, in the affirmative; upon which he presented her with a pair of mocassins, to be worn over her own, so ingeniously contrived that although they did not encumber her movements by their weight, they yet rendered it impossible that her foot–print should be recognised, even by the practised eye of War–Eagle. A similar pair was also placed on the feet of Lita.

It may easily be imagined that the Osages, during their residence at this encampment, made various excursions for hunting and other purposes; they had used on these occasions old trails made by native tribes or by the bison; one of these ran in a north–east direction, skirting the base of the high western hills, and offering the prospect of easy travelling, through an undulating and partially wooded country. Into this path Mahéga struck at once, leading the way himself, followed by Prairie–bird and Lita, the four Osages bringing up the rear. This line of march being adopted by the cunning chief, first, that he might have frequent opportunity of watching and speaking with the maiden, and secondly, thathis men might be the better enabled to fulfil his strict injunction that they should carefully remove any trace which she might purposely or accidentally leave on the trail.

Such an idea did not, however, appear to have entered the thoughts of Prairie–bird, for she followed the Osage chief with a blithe and cheerful air, replying good–humouredly to the observations which he from time to time addressed to her, and pointing out to Lita the beauties of the scenery through which they were passing.

It was indeed a lovely region, abounding in rock, herbage, and magnificent timber, the latter affording an agreeable shelter from the rays of the sun, while the fresh breeze, blowing from the snow–capped mountains, which bounded the western prospect, rendered the exercise of walking pleasant in the highest degree.

They had followed the trail for some time without meeting with any game when the quick eye of Mahéga detected a mountain–deer, browsing at no great distance, and in a moment an arrow from his bow pierced its flank; the wounded animal bounded onward into the glade, and the chief sprang forward in pursuit. The Osages fixed their keen and eager eyes on the chase, muttering half–aloud expressions of impatient discontent at being prevented from joining it. Swift as had been the arrow of Mahéga, it was not more so than the thought and hand of Prairie–bird, who contrived while her guards were gazing intently on the deer and its pursuer, to let fall unperceived a small slip of paper upon the trail: so completely did she appear absorbed in watching the chase, that the movement was unnoticed even by Lita, and the party continued their way a few hundred steps when a signal from Mahéga, now out of sight, soon brought one of his followers to assist him in cutting up the quarry.

Before leaving her tent, Prairie–bird had prepared and secreted about her person several small slips of paper, on each of which she had written the word, “Follow,” trusting to her own ingenuity to find an opportunity of dropping one now and then unobserved by the Osages.

Such an opportunity having now occurred, it had been successfully employed, and the maiden went forward with a lighter heart, in the confident hope that Providence wouldcause some friendly eye to rest upon the slight, yet guiding token left upon her path.

For two days Mahéga pursued his march leisurely, as if fearless of pursuit, halting frequently to afford rest and refreshment to Prairie–bird, and camping at night, on some sheltered spot, where his men constructed for her protection a hut, or bower of branches, over which was thrown a covering of skins: before setting out in the morning this bower was destroyed, and the branches dragged to some distance in several directions; and Mahéga having carefully examined the spot, was the last to leave it, in order to ensure that no indication or trace of his fair prisoner might remain.

On the third day about noon they reached the banks of a broad stream, which two of the Osages crossed immediately, with instructions from their chief to make a visible trail in a N.E. direction for some distance, when they were to enter the river again at another place, and to wade or swim down it until they rejoined him: meanwhile Prairie–bird and Lita, with such articles as they wished to keep dry, were placed in the light coriole or wicker–boat covered with skins, and Mahéga guided its course down the stream, followed by the remainder of his men: they descended the bed of the river for several miles in this way; and although more than one trail appeared on the banks as a crossing–place for Indians or bison, he passed them all unheeded, until he came to a broad track which had very lately been trodden by so many feet that the trail of his own party could not be distinguished upon it; here he halted until he was rejoined by the men whom he had left behind, when they proceeded forward at a brisk pace, towards the spot which he had appointed as the rendezvous for his party in charge of the packages and the horses.

Mahéga was now in high spirits, being confident that the precautions which he had taken would throw the pursuers off the scent, and enable him to follow out his plans, which were to trade during the summer, with the Shosonies and other tribes hovering about the spurs of the mountains, procuring from them beaver and other valuable furs in exchange for the fine cloths and goods which he had brought from the Delaware camp; after which he proposed to return to the northern portion of the Osage country, enriched by his traffic, andglorying in the possession of his mysterious and beautiful bride.

Such were the projects entertained by the Osage chief, and he brooded over them so abstractedly, that he afforded to the ever–watchful Prairie–bird an opportunity of dropping another of her small slips of paper unperceived; she did not neglect it, although almost hopeless of her friends ever discovering her path after the many precautions taken by Mahéga, and the long distance down the course of the river, where no trail nor trace of the passage of his party could be left.

On reaching the rendezvous he found his detachment with the horses and luggage already arrived: they had come by a circuitous route, availing themselves of several Indian trails by the way, on one of which Toweno had, by direction of his chief, scattered some shreds of the kerchief that he obtained from Prairie–bird; after which he had returned upon the same trail, and diverged into a transverse one, which had enabled him to reach the rendezvous by the time appointed.

Prairie–bird being again mounted upon her favourite palfrey, the whole party set forward with increased speed, which they did not relax until towards evening, when they saw in the distance numerous fires, betokening the neighbourhood of a populous Indian village. Mahéga then ordered a halt, and having sent forward Toweno to reconnoitre, encamped in a sheltered valley for the night. When Prairie–bird found herself once more, after the fatigues of the two preceding days, under the cover of her own tent, she looked round its small circular limits, and felt as if she were at home! Casting herself upon her couch of furs, she offered up her grateful thanks to the Almighty Being who had hitherto so mercifully protected her, and soon forgot her cares and weariness in sound and refreshing slumbers.

END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.

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