CHAPTER XVIII.

c118+CHAPTER XVIII.REGINALD AND HIS PARTY REACH THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.The guide and his companion pursued their way leisurely along a beaten track, which led them through a well–timbered valley, watered by one of the branches of Grand River, until it emerged upon a rising slope of open prairie. Having gained its summit, they saw at a little distance the Indian encampment stretched along the banks of a rivulet, which, after curving round the base of the hill on which they now stood, found its way to the line of heavy timber that marked the course of the main river. They were soon hailed by a mounted Delaware scout, to whom Baptiste explained the peaceful nature of his mission, and desired to be shown into the presence of the principal chiefs.As the guide walked through the scattered lodges of the Delawares, his eye rested on more than one Indian to whom he was well known; but as he was now acting in the capacity of ambassador, it was not consistent with Indian usage that he should speak or be spoken to by others on the way. So well did he know the habits of the people among whom he now found himself, that when he arrived before the lodge of the Great Chief, he passed by War–Eagle and Wingenund, who had come to its entrance on the approach of a stranger, and giving them merely a silent sign of recognition, took the place pointed out to him in the centre of the lodge, by the side of the venerable man who was the head of this emigrant band of the Lenapé; to whom, as the highest proof of their respect and veneration, they had given the name of Tamenund[24], by which alone he was now known throughout the nation.The pipe of welcome having been presented, and been smoked for a few minutes with becoming gravity, Baptiste opened to Tamenund the object of his visit, and informed him that a white warrior and chief, already known to some of the Delawares present, desired to eat, to smoke, and to hunt with them for a season as a brother. To this Tamenund, who had already been informed by War–Eagle of the character and conduct of Reginald, as well as of his promised visit, replied with becoming dignity and hospitality, that the young white chief should be welcome; that his heart was known to be great among the Delawares, and that both he and his people should be held as brothers; at the same time he informed the guide, that as they were about to move their encampment immediately to a more favourable spot, it might be better for the white chief to join them on the following morning, when all should be prepared for his reception.The guide having acceded to this suggestion, rose to take his leave, and retired with his companion from the village. Before they had gone a mile on their return, they heard behind them the trampling of horses, and Baptiste recognised War–Eagle and Wingenund approaching at full speed, who greeted him cordially, and made many inquiries about Netis and the Lily of Mooshanne.Having acquired the desired information, it was agreed, that before noon on the following day Reginald should come to the spot where they were now conversing, and that War–Eagle should be there to escort and accompany him to his first meeting with the Delaware and Osage chiefs.These preliminaries being arranged, the Indians galloped back to the village, and Baptiste returned without accident or interruption to Reginald’s camp, where he gave an account of his mission and of the arrangements for the morrow’s conference.Early on the following morning they set forth towards the Indian village. By Baptiste’s advice, Reginald attired himself more gaily than usual; his hunting–shirt and leggins of elk–skin were ornamented with fringes; the bugle slung across his shoulders was suspended by a green cord adorned with tassels; on his head he wore a forage–cap, encircled by a gold band; a brace of silver–mounted pistols were stuck in his belt, and a German boar–knife hung at his side; he hadallowed Baptiste to ornament Nekimi’s bridle with beads after the Indian fashion; and the noble animal pranced under his gallant rider, as if conscious that he was expected to show his beauty and his mettle. The dress and appearance of Reginald, though fanciful and strange, was rendered striking by the grace and muscular vigour of his frame, as well as by the open, fearless character of his countenance; and the party of white men went gaily forward, confident in the favourable impression which their young leader would make on their Indian allies.When they reached the spot where Baptiste had, on the preceding day, parted from War–Eagle, they descried two Indians sitting at the root of an old maple–tree, as if awaiting their arrival: a single glance enabled Reginald to recognise them, and springing from his horse, he greeted War–Eagle and Wingenund with affectionate cordiality, and read in the looks of both, though they spoke little, that he was heartily welcome. When they had saluted Baptiste, Reginald introduced them in form to the other members of his party, and, among the rest, to Monsieur Perrot, who having as yet seen few Indians, and those of the meanest class, was surprised at the noble and dignified appearance of War–Eagle, to whom he doffed his cap with as much respect as if he had been a field–marshal of France.Having made a short halt, during which the pipe was passed round, and some cakes of Indian corn and honey set before their guests, the party again moved forward, under the guidance of War–Eagle. Leaving the heavy timber in the valley, they ascended the opposite hill, where a magnificent prospect opened upon their view; below them was an undulating prairie of boundless extent, through the middle of which ran a tributary branch of Grand River; behind them lay the verdant mass of forest from which they had lately emerged; the plain in front was dotted with the lodges of the Delawares and Osages, while scattered groups of Indians, and grazing horses, gave life, animation, and endless variety to the scene.Halting for a moment on the brow of the hill, War–Eagle pointed out to Reginald the lodge of his father Tamenund, distinguished above the rest by its superior size and elevation, and at the same time showed him at the other extremity ofthe encampment, a lodge of similar dimensions, which he described as being that of the Osage chief.“How is he called?” inquired Reginald.“Mahéga,” replied the War–Eagle.At the mention of this name, the guide uttered one of those peculiar sounds, something between a whistle and a grunt, by which Reginald knew that something was passing in his mind; but on this occasion, without apparently noticing the interruption, he continued, addressing War–Eagle, “Will Mahéga receive me too as a brother—is the Osage chief a friend to the white men?”“Mahéga is a warrior,” replied the Indian; “he hunts with the Lenapé, and he must be a friend of their brother.”Not only did this answer appear evasive, but there was also something more than usually constrained in the tone and manner of War–Eagle, which did not escape the observation of Reginald, and with the straightforward openness of his character, he said, “War–Eagle, my heart is open to you, and my tongue can be silent if required—speak to me freely, and tell me if Mahéga is a friend or not; is he a brave or a snake?”War–Eagle, fixing his searching eye upon Reginald’s countenance, replied, “Mahéga is a warrior—the scalps in his lodge are many—his name is not a lie, but his heart is not that of a Lenapé—War–Eagle will not speak of him:—Grande–Hâche knows him, and my brother’s eyes will be open.”Having thus spoken, the young chief added a few words in his own tongue to Baptiste; and making a sign for Wingenund to follow, he galloped off at speed towards the encampment.Reginald, surprised, and somewhat inclined to be displeased by their abrupt departure, turned to the guide, and inquired the cause of it, and also the meaning of War–Eagle’s last words.Baptiste, shaking his head significantly, replied in a low voice, “I know Mahéga well—at least I have heard much of him; his name signifies ‘Red–hand,’ and, as the young chief says, it tells no lie, for he has killed many: last year he attacked a war–party of the Outagamis[25]near the Great River, and cut them off to a man; he himself killed their chief andseveral of their warriors: they say he is the strongest and the bravest man in the nation.”“It seems to me,” said Reginald, “that War–Eagle and he are not very good friends.”“They are not,” replied Baptiste; “the young Delaware has evidently some quarrel with him, and therefore would not speak of him—we shall learn what it is before many days are over: meanwhile, Master Reginald, say nothing to any others of the party on this subject, for they may take alarm, or show suspicion; and if they do, your summer hunt may chance to end in rougher play than we expect. I will keep my eye on ‘Red–hand,’ and will soon tell you what tree he’s making for.”“Why did they gallop off so abruptly?” inquired Reginald.“They are gone to rejoin the bands which are coming out to receive us on our entrance,” replied the guide. “We must put our party in the best array, and get the presents ready, for we have not many minutes to spare.”The event proved the correctness of his calculation; for they had scarcely time to select from the packs those articles destined to be presented to the chiefs at this interview, before they saw two large bands of mounted Indians gallop towards them from the opposite extremities of the encampment. As they drew near that which came from the Delaware quarter, and was headed by War–Eagle in person, they checked their speed, and approached slowly; while their leader, advancing in front of the band, saluted Reginald and his party with dignified courtesy. Meanwhile the body of Osages continued their career with headlong speed, shouting, yelling, and going through all the exciting manœuvres of a mock fight, after their wild fashion. Their dress was more scanty and less ornamented than that of the Delawares; but being tricked out with painted horsehair, porcupine quills, and feathers, it bore altogether a more gay and picturesque appearance; neither can it be denied that they were, in general, better horsemen than their allies; and they seemed to delight in showing off their equestrian skill, especially in galloping up to Reginald’s party at the very top of their speed, and then either halting so suddenly as to throw their horses quite back upon their haunches, or dividing off to the right and to the left, and renewing theirmanœuvres in another quarter with increased extravagance of noise and gesture.Reginald having learned from Baptiste that this was their mode of showing honour to guests on their arrival, awaited patiently the termination of their manœuvres; and when at length they ceased, and the Osage party reined their horses up by the side of the Delawares, he went forward and shook hands with their leader, a warrior somewhat older than War–Eagle, and of a fine martial appearance. As soon as he found an opportunity, Reginald, turning to Wingenund, who was close behind him, inquired, in English, if that Osage chief was Mahéga?“No,” replied the youth, “that is a brave[26], called in their tongue the Black–Wolf. Mahéga,” he added, with a peculiar smile, “is very different.”“How mean you, Wingenund?”“Black–Wolf,” replied the youth, “is a warrior, and has no fear, but he is not like Mahéga;—an antelope is not an elk!”While this conversation was going on, the party entered the encampment, and wound their way amongst its scattered lodges, towards that of Tamenund, where, as the War–Eagle informed Reginald, a feast was prepared for his reception, to which Mahéga and the other Osage leaders were invited.On arriving before the Great Lodge, Reginald and his companions dismounted, and giving their horses to the youths in attendance, shook hands in succession with the principal chiefs and braves of the two nations. Reginald was much struck by the benevolent and dignified countenance of the Delaware chief; but in spite of himself, and of a preconceived dislike which he was inclined to entertain towards Mahéga, or Red–hand, his eye rested on that haughty chieftain with mingled surprise and admiration. He was nearly a head taller than those by whom he was surrounded; and his limbs, thoughcast in an Herculean mould, showed the symmetrical proportions which are so distinctive of the North American Indians: his forehead was bold and high, his nose aquiline, and his mouth broad, firm, and expressive of most determined character; his eye was rather small, but bright and piercing as a hawk’s; his hair had been all shaven from his head, with the exception of the scalp–lock on the crown, which was painted scarlet, and interwoven with a tuft of horsehair dyed of the same colour. Around his muscular throat was suspended a collar formed from the claws of the grisly bear, ornamented with party–coloured beads, entwined with the delicate fur of the white ermine; his hunting–shirt and leggins were of the finest antelope skin, and his mocassins were adorned with beads and the stained quills of the porcupine. He leant carelessly on a bow, which few men in the tribe could bend. At his back were slung his arrows in a quiver made with wolf–skin, so disposed that the grinning visage of the animal was seen above his shoulder; while a war–club and scalping–knife, fastened to his belt, completed the formidable Mahéga’s equipment.As he glanced his eye over the party of white men, there was an expression of scornful pride on his countenance, which the quick temper of their youthful leader was ill–disposed to brook, had not the prudent counsels of the guide prepared him for the exercise of self–command. Nevertheless, as he turned from the Osage chief to the bulky proportions of his gigantic follower, Mike Smith, he felt that it was like comparing a lion with an ox; and that, in the event of a quarrel between them, the rifle alone could render its issue doubtful.The feast of welcome was now prepared in the lodge of Tamenund, which was composed of bison–skins stretched upon poles, arranged in the form of a horse–shoe, and covering an extent of ground apparently not less than twenty yards in length. Reginald observed also several smaller lodges immediately adjoining that of the chief, on one side, and on the other a circular tent of wax–cloth, or painted canvasss, evidently procured from white men, as it was of excellent texture, and its door, or aperture, protected by double folds of the same material.Whilst he was still looking at this comparatively civilised dwelling, with some curiosity to know by whom it might betenanted, the folds of the opening were pushed aside, and an elderly man appeared, who, after contemplating for a moment the newly–arrived group, came forward to offer them a friendly salutation. He was apparently between fifty and sixty; but his years were not easily guessed, for his snow–white hair might seem to have numbered seventy winters; while from the uprightness of his carriage, and the elasticity of his step, he seemed scarcely past the vigour of middle life. In figure he was tall and slight; his countenance, though tanned by long exposure to the sun, was strikingly attractive, and his mild blue eye beamed with an expression of benevolence not to be mistaken. His dress was a black frock of serge, fastened at the waist by a girdle of the same colour, from which was suspended a small bag, wherein he carried the few simples and instruments requisite for his daily offices of charity and kindness. Dark grey trowsers of the coarsest texture, and mocassins of buffalo–hide, completed the dress of Paul Müller, already mentioned by Wingenund to Reginald as the “Black Father:” under which name, translated according to their various languages, the pious and excellent missionary was known among the Delawares, Osages, Ioways, Otoes, Konsas, and other tribes then inhabiting the regions lying between the Missouri and the Arkansas.Such was the man who now came forward to greet the newly–arrived party; and such was the irresistible charm of his voice and manner, that from the first Reginald felt himself constrained to love and respect him.The feast being now ready, and Reginald having pointed out Baptiste and Bearskin as his officers, or lieutenants, they were invited with him to sit down in the lodge of Tamenund, with the principal chiefs of the Delawares, the chief and Great Medicine–man[27]of the Osages, and the Black Father. (Mike Smith and the other white men being feasted by a brave in an adjoining lodge.) The pipe was lighted, and having been passed twice round the party with silent gravity, the GreatMedicine–man made a speech, in which he praised the virtues and hospitality of Tamenund, and paid many compliments to the white guests; after which a substantial dinner was set before them, consisting of roasted buffalo–ribs, venison, and boiled maize.Reginald had never before been present at an Indian feast, and though he had the appetite naturally belonging to his age and health, he soon found that he was no match, as a trencherman, for those among whom he was now placed; and before they had half finished their meal, he replaced his knife in its sheath, and announced himself satisfied.The old chief smiled good–humouredly, and said that he would soon do better; whilst Mahéga, quietly commencing an attack upon a third buffalo–rib, glanced at him with a look of contempt, that he was at no pains to conceal, and which, as may well be imagined, increased our hero’s dislike for the gigantic Osage.END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.c201SECOND VOLUME.CHAPTER I.REGINALD AND HIS PARTY AT THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.While Reginald and his two companions were feasting with Tamenund, a similar repast was laid before the rest of the party, in the lodge of a brave named Maque–o–nah, or the “Bear–asleep,” at which Mike Smith occupied the centre or principal seat, and next to him sat Monsieur Perrot,—the latter personage being very curious to see the culinary arrangements made for this, his first Indian banquet. He was horrified at observing the carelessness with which they thrust half the side of a buffalo to the edge of a huge fire of undried wood, leaving a portion of the meat to be singed and burnt, while other parts were scarcely exposed to the heat: he could not refrain from expressing to one of the Canadian coureurs des bois, in his own language, his contempt and pity for the ignorant savages who thus presumed to desecrate a noble science, which ranked higher, in his estimation, than poetry, painting, or sculpture: but he was warned that he must be very careful neither to reject nor show any distaste for the food set before him, as by so doing he would give mortal offence to his entertainers. It was ludicrous in the extreme to watch the poor Frenchman’s attempts at imparting to his features a smile of satisfaction, when a wooden bowl was placed before him, filled with half–boiled maize, and beside it one of the buffalo–ribs, evidently less favoured by the fire, as it was scarcely warmed through, and was tough and stringy as shoe–leather. After bestowing upon sundry portions of it many fruitless attempts at mastication, he contrived, unperceived, to slip what remained of the meat into the pocket ofhis jacket, and then laughed with great self–satisfaction at the trick he had played his uncivilised hosts.When the feast was concluded in Tamenund’s lodge, Reginald desired his men to unpack one of the bales, which he pointed out, and to spread its contents before him; the savages gathered round the coveted and glittering objects with eager but silent astonishment, while he separated the presents which, by the advice of Baptiste, were now distributed among their chiefs; to Tamenund he apportioned a large blanket of scarlet cloth, a silver–mounted pistol, and a basket containing mirrors, beads, and trinkets, for his wives and daughters; to Mahéga, a bridle ornamented with beads, several pounds of tobacco, powder, and lead, a fowling–piece, and a blanket of blue woollen–stuff. The features of the Osage chief relaxed into a grim smile of satisfaction as he received these valuable gifts; and he so far overcame the repulsive sternness of his usual character as to seize Reginald’s hand, and to tell him that he was a great chief, and good to his Indian brothers. The other presents having been distributed among the chiefs and braves, according to their rank, the feast was broken up, and they retired to their respective lodges; Reginald, Baptiste, and M. Perrot being accommodated in that of Tamenund’s himself, and Bearskin, with the rest of the white men’s party, in those lodges which have before been mentioned as being contiguous to that of the old chief.During the first night that he spent in his new quarters, the excitement and novelty of the scene banished sleep from the eyes of Reginald; and, finding himself restless, he arose half an hour before daybreak, to enjoy the early freshness of the morning. Throwing his rifle over his arm, he was about to leave the lodge, when Baptiste touched him, and inquired, in a low voice, if he were prepared with a reply in case of being challenged by any of the scouts around the encampment; with some shame he confessed he had forgotten it; and the guide then instructed him, if he were challenged, to say “Lenapé n’a ki Netis,” or “I am Netis, the friend of the Delawares.” Being thus prepared, and carrying with him the few articles requisite for a Prairie toilet, he stepped out into the open air. Close by the opening of the lodge, he saw a tall figure stretched on the grass, enveloped in a buffalo robe, the hairy fell of which was silvered with the heavy night–dew: itwas War–Eagle, who rarely slept in lodge or tent, and whose quick eye, though he neither moved nor spoke, discerned his white brother in a moment, although the latter could not recognise his friend.Reginald pursued his way through the encampment to its extremity, where the streamlet before mentioned wound its course among the dells and hillocks of the Prairie, until it reached the larger river that flowed through the distant forest. After following the banks of the stream for one or two miles, the red streaks in the eastern horizon gave notice of day’s approach, and observing near him a hill, somewhat more elevated than those by which it was surrounded, Reginald climbed to its top, in order to witness the effect of sunrise on that wild and picturesque scene.To the westward, the undulations of the Prairie, wrapped in heavy folds of mist, rose in confused heaps, like the waves of a boundless ocean: to the south he could just distinguish the lodges and the smouldering fires of the encampment, whence, at intervals, there fell upon his ear mingled and indistinct sounds, disagreeable perhaps in themselves, but rendered harmonious by distance, and by their unison with the wildness of the surrounding objects; while to the eastward lay a dense and gloomy range of woods, over the summits of whose foliage the dawning sun was shedding a stream of golden light.Reginald gazed upon the scene with wonder and delight; and every moment while he gazed called into existence richer and more varied beauties. The mists and exhalations rising from the plain curled themselves into a thousand fantastic shapes around the points and projections of the hills, where they seemed to hang like mantles which the earth had cast from her bosom, as being rendered unnecessary by the appearance of the day; swarms of children and of dusky figures began to emerge from the encampment, and troops of horses to crop the pasture on the distant hills; while the splendour of the sun, now risen in its full glory, lit up with a thousand varying hues the eastern expanse of boundless forest. Reginald’s heart was not insensible to the impressions naturally excited by such a scene; and while he admired its variegated beauties, his thoughts were raised in adoration to that almightyand beneficent Being, whose temple is the earth, and whose are the “cattle upon a thousand hills.”Having made his way again to the banks of the stream, and found a spot sheltered by alder and poplar trees, he bathed and made his morning toilet; after which he returned towards the encampment, his body refreshed by his bathe, and his mind attuned to high and inspiring thoughts by the meditation in which he had been engaged. As he strolled leisurely along, he observed a spot where the trees were larger, and the shade apparently more dense than the other portions of the valley; and, being anxious to make himself acquainted with all the localities in the neighbourhood of his new home, he followed a small beaten path, which, after sundry windings among the alders, brought him to an open space screened on three sides by the bushes, and bounded on the fourth by the stream. Reginald cast his eyes around this pleasant and secluded spot, until they rested upon an object that riveted them irresistibly. It was a female figure seated at the root of an ancient poplar, over a low branch of which one arm was carelessly thrown, while with the other she held a book, which she was reading with such fixed attention as to be altogether unconscious of Reginald’s approach. Her complexion was dark, but clear and delicate, and the rich brown hair which fell over her neck and shoulders, still damp and glossy from her morning ablutions, was parted on her forehead by a wreath of wild flowers twined from amongst those which grew around the spot: the contour of her figure, and her unstudied attitude of repose, realised the classic dreams of Nymph and Nereid, while her countenance wore an expression of angelic loveliness, such as Reginald had never seen or imagined.He gazed—and gazing on those sweet features, he saw the red full lips move unconsciously, while they followed the subject that absorbed her attention; and forgetful that he was intruding on retirement, he waited, entranced, until those downcast eyes should be raised. At length she looked up, and seeing the figure of a man within a few paces of her, she sprang to her feet with the lightness of a startled antelope; and darting on him a look of mingled surprise and reproof, suppressed the exclamation of alarm that rose to her lips. Reginald would fain have addressed the lovely being beforehim—he would fain have excused his unintended intrusion; but the words died upon his lips, and it was almost mechanically that he doffed his hunting–cap, and stood silent and uncovered before her! Recovering from the momentary confusion, she advanced a step towards him, and with an ingenuous blush held out her hand, saying in a gentle tone of inquiry, and with the purest accent, “Netis, my brother’s friend?”“The same, fair creature,” replied Reginald, whose wonder and admiration were still more excited by the untaught grace and dignity of her manner, as well as by hearing his own tongue so sweetly pronounced; “but, in the name of Heaven, who—what—whence can you be?” Blushing more deeply at the animation and eagerness of his manner, she was for a moment silent; when he continued, striking his hand on his forehead:—“Oh, I have it, fool, tortoise, that I was. You are ‘Prairie–bird,’ the sister of whom Wingenund has told me so much.” Then, gently pressing the little hand which he had taken, he added, “Dear Wingenund! he saved my life; his sister will not consider me a stranger?”Again a warmer blush mantled on the cheek of Prairie–bird, as she replied, “You are no stranger: you speak of Wingenund’s good deed: you are silent about your own! You drew War–Eagle from the deep and swift waters. I have heard it all, and have often wished to see you and thank you myself.” There was a modest simplicity in her manner, as she uttered these few words that confirmed the impression made on Reginald by the first glimpse of her lovely form and features; but beyond this there was something in the tone of her voice that found its way direct to his heart; it fell upon his ear like an old familiar strain of music, and he felt unwilling to break the silence that followed its closing accents.It is not our province, in a simple narrative of this kind, to discuss the oft–disputed question, whether love at first sight deserves the name of love; whether it is merely a passing emotion, which, though apparently strong, a brief lapse of time may efface; or, whether there be really secret irresistible natural impulses, by which two human beings, who meet together for the first time, feel as if they had known and loved each other for years, and as if the early cherished visions of fancy, the aspirations of hope, the creations of imagination, the secret, undefined longings of the heart, were all at onceembodied and realised.[28]We are inclined to believe that, although not frequent, instances sometimes occur of this instinctive sympathy and attraction, and that, when they do so, the tree of affection (like the fabled palm at the touch of the genius’ wand) starts into immediate luxuriance of flower and foliage, striking its tenacious roots far into the kindly soil, destined thenceforward to become the nurture of its verdant youth, the support of its mature strength, and at length the resting–place of its leafless and time–stricken decay.Such seemed to be the case with Reginald and Prairie–bird; for, as they looked one at the other, each was unconsciously occupied with teeming thoughts that neither could define nor express, and both felt relieved at hearing approaching footsteps and the voice of the Black Father, who called out in English,“Come, my child, I have allowed you full time this morning; we will return to the camp.” As he spoke his eye fell upon Reginald, and he added, courteously, “You have been early abroad, young sir.”“I have,” replied Reginald. “I went to the top of yonder heights to see the sun rise, and was amply repaid by the beauty of the scene: on my return, I wandered accidentally into this secluded spot, and trust that my intrusion has been forgiven.”“I believe that my dear child and pupil would forgive a greater offence than that, in one who has shown so much kindness to her brothers,” replied the missionary, smiling: and he added, in a low voice, addressing the Prairie–bird in his own language, “Indeed, my child, I think he deserves our friendly welcome; for, unless his countenance strongly belies his character, it expresses all those good qualities which Wingenund taught us to expect.”“Stay, sir,” and Reginald, colouring highly; “let me not participate, without your knowledge, in your communications to Prairie–bird. I have travelled much in Germany, and the language is familiar to me.”“Then, my young friend,” said Paul Müller, taking his hand kindly, “you have only learnt, from what I said, how hard a task you will have to fulfil the expectations that Wingenund has led us to entertain.”“I can promise nothing,” replied Reginald, glancing towards the maiden, “but a true tongue, a ready hand, and an honest heart; if these can serve my friend’s sister, methinks she may expect them without being disappointed.”The words in themselves were nothing remarkable, but there was an earnest feeling in the tone in which they were spoken that made Prairie–bird’s heart beat quicker: she answered him by a look, but said nothing. Wonderful is the expression, the magic eloquence of the human eye; and yet how is its power tenfold increased when the rays of its glance pass through the atmosphere even of dawning love. Reginald longed to know whence and who she could be, this child of the wilderness, who had so suddenly, so irresistibly, engaged his feelings; above all, he longed to learn whether her heart and affections were free; and that single look, translated by the sanguine self–partiality of love, made him internally exclaim, “Her heart is not another’s!” Whether his conjecture proved correct the after–course of this tale will show: meanwhile we cannot forbear our admiration at the marvellous rapidity with which our hero, at his first interview with Prairie–bird, settled this point to his own satisfaction. The little party now strolled towards the camp; and as they went, Reginald, seeing that Prairie–bird still held in her hand the book that he had seen her peruse with so much attention, said,“May I inquire the subject of your studies this morning?”“Certainly,” she replied, with grave and sweet simplicity; “it is the subject of my study every morning: the book was given me by my dear father and instructor now by my side. I have much to thank him for; all I know, all I enjoy, almost all I feel, but most of all for this book, which he has taught me to love, and in some degree to understand.”As she spoke she placed in Reginald’s hand a small copy of Luther’s translation of the Bible. In the fly–leaf before the title–page was written, “Given to Prairie–bird by her loving father and instructor, Paul Müller.” Reginald read this inscription half aloud, repeating to himself the words “Müller,” “father;” and coupling them with the strange enigmas formerly uttered by Wingenund respecting the origin of Prairie–bird, he was lost in conjecture as to their meaning.“I see your difficulty,” said the missionary, “you do notunderstand how she can call Wingenund and War–Eagle brothers, and me father. In truth, she has from her earliest childhood been brought up by Tamenund as his daughter, and as I reside chiefly with this Delaware band, I have made it my constant occupation and pleasure to give her such instruction as my humble means admit; she has been entrusted to us by the mysterious decrees of Providence; and though the blood of neither flows in her veins, Tamenund and I have, according to our respective offices, used our best endeavours to supply the place of natural parents.”“Dear, dear father,” said Prairie–bird, pressing his hand to her lips, and looking up in his face with tearful eyes, “you are and have been every thing to me,—instructor, comforter, guide, and father! My Indian father, too, and my brothers, are all kind and loving to me. I have read in the books that you have lent me many tales and histories of unkindness and hatred between parents and children, among nations enlightened and civilised. I have had every wish gratified before expressed, and every comfort provided. What could a father do for a child that you have not done for me?”As she spoke she looked up in the missionary’s face with a countenance so beaming with full affection, that the old man pressed her in his arms, and kissing her forehead, muttered over her a blessing that he was too much moved to pronounce aloud; after a pause of a few minutes, he said to Reginald, with his usual benevolent smile, “We only know you yet by your Indian name of ‘Netis’—how are you called in the States? We inquired of War–Eagle and Wingenund, but they either did not remember, or could not pronounce your name?”“Reginald Brandon,” replied our hero.Prairie–bird started, and abruptly said, “Again, again; say it once more?”Reginald repeated it, and she pronounced the first name slowly after him, pressing her hand upon her forehead, and with her eye fixed on vacancy, while broken exclamations came from his lips.“What are you thinking of, dear child?” said the missionary, somewhat surprised and alarmed by her manner.“Nothing, dear father,” she replied, with a faint smile; “it was a dream, a strange dream, which that name recalled,and confused my head: we are now close to the camp, I will go in and rest awhile; perhaps you may like to talk more with Ne—I mean,” she added, hesitating, “with Reginald.” So saying, and saluting them with that natural grace which belonged to all her movements, she withdrew towards the camp, and Reginald’s eyes followed her retreating figure until it was lost behind the canvasss folds that protected the opening to her tent.c202CHAPTER II.REGINALD HOLDS A CONVERSATION WITH THE MISSIONARY.Reginald still kept his eyes on the opening through which Prairie–bird had disappeared into the tent, as though they could have pierced through the canvasss that concealed from his view its lovely inhabitant: his feelings were in a state of confusion and excitement, altogether new to him; for if, in his European travels, he had paid a passing tribute of admiration to the beauties who had crossed his path, and whom his remarkable personal advantages had rendered by no means insensible to his homage, the surface only of his heart had been touched; whereas now its deepest fountains were stirred, and the troubled waters gushed forth with overwhelming force.He was recalled to himself by the voice of the missionary, who, without appearing to notice his abstraction, said, “My son, if you choose that we should prolong our walk, I am ready to accompany you.” If the truth must be told, Reginald could at that moment scarcely endure the presence of any human being: he felt an impulse to rush into the woods, or over the plain, and to pour forth in solitude the torrent of feelings by which he was oppressed; but he controlled himself, not only because he really felt a respect for the good missionary, but also because he hoped through him to obtain some information respecting the extraordinary being who had taken such sudden possession of his thoughts: he replied, therefore, that he would willingly accompany him, and they took their way together along the banks of the streamlet, alternately observing on the scenery and surrounding objects.This desultory conversation did not long suit the eager and straightforward character of Reginald Brandon; and he changed it by abruptly inquiring of his companion, whether he knew any thing of the history and parentage of Prairie–bird.“Not much,” replied Paul Müller, smiling; “she was with this band of Delawares when I first came to reside among them: if any one knows her history, it must be Tamenund; but he keeps it a profound secret, and gives out among the tribe that she was sent to him by the Great Spirit, and that as long as she remains with the band they will be successful in hunting and in war.”“But how,” inquired Reginald, “can he make such a tale pass current among a people who are well known to consider the female sex in so inferior and degraded a light?”“He has effected it,” replied the missionary, “partly by accident, partly by her extraordinary beauty and endowments, and partly, I must own, by my assistance, which I have given because I thereby ensured to her the kindest and most respectful treatment, and also endeavoured, under God’s blessing, to make her instrumental in sowing the seed of His truth among these benighted savages.”“Let me understand this more in detail,” said Reginald, “if the narration does not trouble you.”“Her first appearance among the Delawares, as they have told me,” said the missionary, was as follows:—“Their prophet, or Great Medicine–man, dreamt that under a certain tree was deposited a treasure, that should enrich the tribe and render them fortunate: a party was sent by order of the chief to search the spot indicated; and on their arrival they found a female child wrapped in a covering of beaver–skin, and reposing on a couch of turkey–feathers: these creatures being supposed to preside peculiarly over the fate of the Delawares, they brought back the child with great ceremony to the village, where they placed her under the care of the chief; set apart a tent or lodge for her own peculiar use; and ever since that time have continued to take every care of her comfort and safety.”“I suppose,” interrupted Reginald, “the dream of the Great Medicine, and all its accompaniments, were secretly arranged between him and the chief?”“Probably they were,” replied Paul; “but you must beware how you say as much to any Delaware: if you did notrisk your life, you would give mortal offence. After all, an imposition that has resulted in harm to no one, and in so much good to an interesting and unprotected creature, may be forgiven.”“Indeed I will not gainsay it,” replied our hero: “pray continue your narrative.”“My sacred office, and the kindly feelings entertained towards me by these Indians, gave me frequent opportunities of seeing and conversing with Olitipa, or the ‘Prairie–bird;’ and I found in her such an amiable disposition, and so quick an apprehension, that I gave my best attention to the cultivation of talents which might, I hoped, some day produce a harvest of usefulness. In reading, writing, and in music, she needed but little instruction. I furnished her from time to time with books, and paper, and pencils: an old Spanish guitar, probably taken from some of the dwellings of that people in Missouri, enabled her to practise simple melodies; and you would be surprised at the sweetness with which she now sings words, strung together by herself in English and German, and also in the Delaware tongue, adapting them to wild airs, either such as she hears among the Indians, or invents herself. I took especial pains to instruct her in the practical elements of a science that my long residence among the different tribes has rendered necessary and familiar to me,—I mean that of medicine, as connected with the rude botany of the woods and prairies; and so well has she profited by my instruction, and by her own persevering researches, that there is scarcely a tree, or gum, or herb, possessing any sanatory properties, which she does not know and apply to the relief of those around her.”“Indeed,” said Reginald, laughing; “I had not expected to find this last among the accomplishments of Prairie–bird.”“You were mistaken then,” replied Paul Müller; “nay more, I fear that, in your estimate of what are usually termed female accomplishments, you have been accustomed to lay too much stress on those which are light or trifling, and too little on those which are useful and properly feminine: even in settled and civilised countries the most grievous fevers and ailments to which we are subject require the ministration of a female nurse; can it be then unreasonable that we should endeavour to mingle in their education some knowledge of the remedies which they may be called upon to administer,and of the bodily ills which it is to be their province to alleviate?”“You are right,” answered Reginald, modestly; “and I entreat your pardon for the hasty levity with which I spoke on the subject. I am well aware that, in olden times, no young woman’s education was held to be complete without some knowledge both of the culinary and healing arts; and I much doubt whether society has not suffered from their having altogether abandoned the cultivation of these in favour of singing, dancing, and reading of the lightest kind.”“It is the character of the artificial state to which society is fast verging,” replied Paul, “to prefer accomplishments to qualities, ornament to usefulness, luxury to comfort, tinsel to gold: setting aside the consideration of a future state, this system might be well enough, if the drawing–room, the theatre, and the ball were the sum of human life; but it is ill calculated to render man dignified in his character, and useful to his fellow–creatures, or woman what she ought to be,—the comfort, the solace, the ornament of home.”“These observations may be true as regards England or France,” replied Reginald; “but you surely would not apply them to our country?”“To a certain extent, I do,” answered the missionary. “I have been now thirty years on this continent, and have observed that, as colonists, the Americans have been very faithful imitators of these defects in their mother country; I am not sure that they will be rendered less so by their political emancipation.”The conversation was now straying rather too far from the subject to which Reginald desired to confine it: waving, therefore, all reply to the missionary’s last observation, he said, “If I understood you aright, there were, beyond these studies and accomplishments of Prairie–bird, some other means employed by you, to give and preserve to her the extraordinary influence which you say that she possesses over the Indians.”“There were,” replied Paul Müller: “amongst others, I enabled her to vaccinate most of the children in this band, by which means they escaped the fatal effects of a disorder that has committed dreadful ravages among the surrounding tribes: and I have instructed her in some of the elementary calculations of astronomy; owing to which they look upon her as asuperior being, commissioned by the Great Spirit to live among them, and to do them good: thus her person is safe, and her tent as sacred from intrusion as the Great Medicine Lodge. I am allowed to occupy a compartment in it, where I keep our little stores of books and medicines; and she goes about the camp on her errands of benevolence, followed by the attachment and veneration of all classes and ages!”“Happy existence!” exclaimed Reginald; “and yet,” added he, musing, “she cannot, surely, be doomed through life to waste such sweetness on an air so desert!”“I know not,” answered the missionary. “God’s purposes are mysterious, and the instruments that he chooses for effecting them, various as the flowers on the prairie. Many an Indian warrior has that sweet child turned from the path of blood,—more than one uplifted tomahawk has fallen harmless at the voice of her entreaty; nay, I have reason to hope, that in Wingenund, and in several others of the tribe, she has partially uprooted the weeds of hatred and revenge; and sown in their stead the seeds of gospel truth. Surely, Reginald Brandon, you would not call such an existence wasted?”“That would I not, indeed,” replied the young man, with emphasis. “It is an angel’s office!” he added, inaudibly, “and it is performed by an angel!”Although he could have talked or listened on the subject of the Prairie–bird for hours together, Reginald began already to feel that sensitive reserve respecting the mention of her name to another which always accompanies even the earliest dawnings of love; and he turned the conversation by inquiring of the venerable missionary, whether he would kindly communicate something of his own history; and explain how he had come from so remote a distance to pass the evening of life among the Indians.“The tale is very brief, and the motives very simple. I was born in Germany, and having early embraced the tenets of the United Brethren, of whom you have probably heard in that country under the name of ‘Herrn–Hüter,’ I received a pressing invitation from Heckewelder, then in England, to join him in his projected missionary journey to North America. I gladly accepted the offer, and after a short stay in London, embarked with that learned and amiable man,—who soon became what he now is, the nearest and dearest friend I haveon earth;—and I placed myself under his guidance in the prosecution of the grand objects of our undertaking, which were these—to endeavour to convert the Indian nations to Christianity, not, as the Spaniards had pretended to attempt, by fire, and sword, and violence; but by going unarmed and peaceably among them, studying their languages, characters, and history; and while showing in our own persons an example of piety and self–denial, to eradicate patiently the more noxious plants from their moral constitution, and to mould such as were good and wholesome to the purposes of religious truth. God be praised, our labours have not been altogether without effect; but I blush for my white brethren when I confess that the greatest obstacle to our success has been found in the vices, the open profligacy, the violence, and the cruelty of those who have called themselves Christians. Heckewalder has confined his exertions chiefly to the Indians remaining in Pennsylvania and the Western territory; mine have been mostly employed among the wandering and wilder tribes who inhabit this remote and boundless region.”“I have often heard your pious friend’s name,” said Reginald; “he enjoys the reputation of being the most eminent Indian linguist in our country, and he is supposed to know the Delaware language as well as his own.”“He is indeed,” said Paul, “the most skilful and successful labourer in this rude but not unfruitful vineyard. Now and then, at remote intervals, I contrive, by means of some returning hunter or Indian agent, to communicate with him, and his letters always afford me matter of consolation and encouragement; though I was much cast down when he announced to me the cruel and wanton massacre of his Indian flock near the banks of the Ohio.”“I have heard of it,” replied Reginald; “I regret to say that the outrage was committed not very far from the spot where my father lives.”“Do you live in that neighbourhood?” exclaimed the missionary, suddenly catching his arm; “then you may, perhaps,—but no, it cannot be,” he muttered to himself; “this youth can know nothing of it—““My honoured friend,” replied Reginald, colouring at the idea suggested by the words which he had overheard, “I trust you do not believe that my father, or any of my kindred, had a share in those atrocities!”“You misunderstood me altogether, I assure you,” answered the missionary; “my exclamation had reference to another subject. But I see War–Eagle coming this way; probably he is bent upon some hunting excursion, in which you may wish to be his companion.”“I shall gladly do so,” replied Reginald, “as soon as I have breakfasted: my faithful follower, Perrot, desired very much that I should taste some collops of venison, which he said that he could dress in a style somewhat superior to that of the Indian cookery. Will you share them with me?”The missionary excused himself, as he had already taken his morning meal, and was about to return to the tent of Prairie–bird.Reginald assured the good man of the pleasure which he had found in his conversation, and expressed a hope that he would be enabled soon to enjoy it again, as there was much information respecting the habits, religion, and character of the different Indian tribes which he felt anxious to acquire, and which none could be better able to communicate.“Whatever instruction or information I may have collected during my residence among them, is freely at your service,” replied Paul Müller; “and if you find yourself in any difficulty or embarrassment where my advice can be of use, you may always command it. You know,” he added, smiling, “they consider me Great Medicine, and thus I am able to say and do many things among them which would not be permitted in another white man.” So saying, he shook hands with Reginald, and returned slowly towards the encampment.War–Eagle now came up, and greeting his friend with his usual cordiality, inquired whether he would accompany him in the chase of the elk, herds of which had been seen at no great distance. Reginald acceded to the proposal; and, having hastily dispatched the collops prepared by Perrot, the two friends left the village on foot, and took their way towards the timber in the valley.The day was hot, and the speed at which the agile Indian unconsciously strode along, would have soon discomfited a less active pedestrian than Reginald; but having been well seasoned in his hunting excursions with Baptiste, he found no difficulty in keeping pace with his friend; and he amused himself, as they went, by asking him a variety of questions respecting thecountry, the tribe, and its language, to all of which War–Eagle replied with much intelligence and candour.As Reginald had not seen Wingenund, he asked his companion how it happened that the youth did not accompany them. “He is gone,” replied War–Eagle, “to bring turkeys to the camp.”“Does he shoot them?” inquired Reginald.“No, he takes them—my white brother shall see; it is not far from the Elk Path.”When they reached the wooded bottom, War–Eagle struck into a small track which seemed to have been made by a streamlet in spring, and having followed it for about a mile, they came to a more open woodland scene, where the Indian pointed, as they passed along, to scattered feathers, and foot–tracks of turkeys in abundance. They had not proceeded far, when he uttered a low exclamation of surprise as he discovered Wingenund stretched at the foot of a tree, with his eyes busily fixed upon something which he held in his hand, and which so riveted his attention that he was not aware of their approach. Beside him lay two old and two young turkeys, which he had caught and killed: the friends had not looked at him many seconds, before he raised his eyes and perceived them: starting to his feet, he made an ineffectual attempt to conceal that which he had been holding in his hand, which was, in fact, a sheet of coarse white paper. Reginald drew near and said to him, “Come, Wingenund, you must show Netis what you hold in your hand: I am sure it is no harm; and if it is a secret, I will keep it.”Wingenund, in some confusion, handed the scroll to Reginald, who saw at the first glance that it was a fragment of an elementary vocabulary of Delaware and English words, written in a free bold character: he ran his eye over the paper, which contained chiefly phrases of the most simple kind, such as, “N’menne, I drink,” “N’ani pa wi, I stand,” “Tokelân, it rains,” “Loo, true,” “Yuni, this,” “Na–ni, that,” &c. &c., and a smile came over his features when his eye met his own name, “Netis,” with its translation, “dear friend.” Below this he read, “N’quti,” “Nisha,” “Nacha,” “Newo,” and a succession of single words, which he rightly conjectured to be numerals, 1, 2, 3, 4, &c., and at the bottom of the page was a long sentence in the Lenapé tongue, which began as follows:—“Ki wetochemelenktalli epian awassagame, &c.”—“What is this last sentence, Wingenund?” inquired Reginald.“It is the prayer,” replied the youth, “that the Good Spirit taught the white men to say, when he came to live among them.”“And who wrote all these words for you?”“Prairie–bird wrote them, and every day she teaches me to understand the marks on the paper.”Reginald’s eyes strayed unconsciously to that part of the sheet where he had seen his own name written by the Prairie–bird’s hand. “Happy boy!” he mentally ejaculated, “to sit at her feet, and draw instruction from her lips!”—“With such a teacher, methinks I could learn the Lenapé tongue in a month!—What says my brother?” continued he aloud, addressing War–Eagle, whose fine countenance wore an expression of indifference, almost amounting to contempt. “What says my brother of this paper?”“It is perhaps good,” replied the Indian gravely, “for the Black Father, and for the white man—but not for the Lenapé. The Great Spirit has given him a heart to feel, and a hand to fight, and eyes to see the smallest track on the grass—that is enough. Our fathers knew no more, and they were great, and strong, and brave!—chiefs among the nations! What are we now? Few, and weak, and wandering. It is better for us to live and die like them, and we shall hunt with them in the happy fields.—Let us go and show Netis where Wingenund takes the turkeys.” So saying, he turned and led the way, followed by his two companions.

c118+CHAPTER XVIII.REGINALD AND HIS PARTY REACH THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.The guide and his companion pursued their way leisurely along a beaten track, which led them through a well–timbered valley, watered by one of the branches of Grand River, until it emerged upon a rising slope of open prairie. Having gained its summit, they saw at a little distance the Indian encampment stretched along the banks of a rivulet, which, after curving round the base of the hill on which they now stood, found its way to the line of heavy timber that marked the course of the main river. They were soon hailed by a mounted Delaware scout, to whom Baptiste explained the peaceful nature of his mission, and desired to be shown into the presence of the principal chiefs.As the guide walked through the scattered lodges of the Delawares, his eye rested on more than one Indian to whom he was well known; but as he was now acting in the capacity of ambassador, it was not consistent with Indian usage that he should speak or be spoken to by others on the way. So well did he know the habits of the people among whom he now found himself, that when he arrived before the lodge of the Great Chief, he passed by War–Eagle and Wingenund, who had come to its entrance on the approach of a stranger, and giving them merely a silent sign of recognition, took the place pointed out to him in the centre of the lodge, by the side of the venerable man who was the head of this emigrant band of the Lenapé; to whom, as the highest proof of their respect and veneration, they had given the name of Tamenund[24], by which alone he was now known throughout the nation.The pipe of welcome having been presented, and been smoked for a few minutes with becoming gravity, Baptiste opened to Tamenund the object of his visit, and informed him that a white warrior and chief, already known to some of the Delawares present, desired to eat, to smoke, and to hunt with them for a season as a brother. To this Tamenund, who had already been informed by War–Eagle of the character and conduct of Reginald, as well as of his promised visit, replied with becoming dignity and hospitality, that the young white chief should be welcome; that his heart was known to be great among the Delawares, and that both he and his people should be held as brothers; at the same time he informed the guide, that as they were about to move their encampment immediately to a more favourable spot, it might be better for the white chief to join them on the following morning, when all should be prepared for his reception.The guide having acceded to this suggestion, rose to take his leave, and retired with his companion from the village. Before they had gone a mile on their return, they heard behind them the trampling of horses, and Baptiste recognised War–Eagle and Wingenund approaching at full speed, who greeted him cordially, and made many inquiries about Netis and the Lily of Mooshanne.Having acquired the desired information, it was agreed, that before noon on the following day Reginald should come to the spot where they were now conversing, and that War–Eagle should be there to escort and accompany him to his first meeting with the Delaware and Osage chiefs.These preliminaries being arranged, the Indians galloped back to the village, and Baptiste returned without accident or interruption to Reginald’s camp, where he gave an account of his mission and of the arrangements for the morrow’s conference.Early on the following morning they set forth towards the Indian village. By Baptiste’s advice, Reginald attired himself more gaily than usual; his hunting–shirt and leggins of elk–skin were ornamented with fringes; the bugle slung across his shoulders was suspended by a green cord adorned with tassels; on his head he wore a forage–cap, encircled by a gold band; a brace of silver–mounted pistols were stuck in his belt, and a German boar–knife hung at his side; he hadallowed Baptiste to ornament Nekimi’s bridle with beads after the Indian fashion; and the noble animal pranced under his gallant rider, as if conscious that he was expected to show his beauty and his mettle. The dress and appearance of Reginald, though fanciful and strange, was rendered striking by the grace and muscular vigour of his frame, as well as by the open, fearless character of his countenance; and the party of white men went gaily forward, confident in the favourable impression which their young leader would make on their Indian allies.When they reached the spot where Baptiste had, on the preceding day, parted from War–Eagle, they descried two Indians sitting at the root of an old maple–tree, as if awaiting their arrival: a single glance enabled Reginald to recognise them, and springing from his horse, he greeted War–Eagle and Wingenund with affectionate cordiality, and read in the looks of both, though they spoke little, that he was heartily welcome. When they had saluted Baptiste, Reginald introduced them in form to the other members of his party, and, among the rest, to Monsieur Perrot, who having as yet seen few Indians, and those of the meanest class, was surprised at the noble and dignified appearance of War–Eagle, to whom he doffed his cap with as much respect as if he had been a field–marshal of France.Having made a short halt, during which the pipe was passed round, and some cakes of Indian corn and honey set before their guests, the party again moved forward, under the guidance of War–Eagle. Leaving the heavy timber in the valley, they ascended the opposite hill, where a magnificent prospect opened upon their view; below them was an undulating prairie of boundless extent, through the middle of which ran a tributary branch of Grand River; behind them lay the verdant mass of forest from which they had lately emerged; the plain in front was dotted with the lodges of the Delawares and Osages, while scattered groups of Indians, and grazing horses, gave life, animation, and endless variety to the scene.Halting for a moment on the brow of the hill, War–Eagle pointed out to Reginald the lodge of his father Tamenund, distinguished above the rest by its superior size and elevation, and at the same time showed him at the other extremity ofthe encampment, a lodge of similar dimensions, which he described as being that of the Osage chief.“How is he called?” inquired Reginald.“Mahéga,” replied the War–Eagle.At the mention of this name, the guide uttered one of those peculiar sounds, something between a whistle and a grunt, by which Reginald knew that something was passing in his mind; but on this occasion, without apparently noticing the interruption, he continued, addressing War–Eagle, “Will Mahéga receive me too as a brother—is the Osage chief a friend to the white men?”“Mahéga is a warrior,” replied the Indian; “he hunts with the Lenapé, and he must be a friend of their brother.”Not only did this answer appear evasive, but there was also something more than usually constrained in the tone and manner of War–Eagle, which did not escape the observation of Reginald, and with the straightforward openness of his character, he said, “War–Eagle, my heart is open to you, and my tongue can be silent if required—speak to me freely, and tell me if Mahéga is a friend or not; is he a brave or a snake?”War–Eagle, fixing his searching eye upon Reginald’s countenance, replied, “Mahéga is a warrior—the scalps in his lodge are many—his name is not a lie, but his heart is not that of a Lenapé—War–Eagle will not speak of him:—Grande–Hâche knows him, and my brother’s eyes will be open.”Having thus spoken, the young chief added a few words in his own tongue to Baptiste; and making a sign for Wingenund to follow, he galloped off at speed towards the encampment.Reginald, surprised, and somewhat inclined to be displeased by their abrupt departure, turned to the guide, and inquired the cause of it, and also the meaning of War–Eagle’s last words.Baptiste, shaking his head significantly, replied in a low voice, “I know Mahéga well—at least I have heard much of him; his name signifies ‘Red–hand,’ and, as the young chief says, it tells no lie, for he has killed many: last year he attacked a war–party of the Outagamis[25]near the Great River, and cut them off to a man; he himself killed their chief andseveral of their warriors: they say he is the strongest and the bravest man in the nation.”“It seems to me,” said Reginald, “that War–Eagle and he are not very good friends.”“They are not,” replied Baptiste; “the young Delaware has evidently some quarrel with him, and therefore would not speak of him—we shall learn what it is before many days are over: meanwhile, Master Reginald, say nothing to any others of the party on this subject, for they may take alarm, or show suspicion; and if they do, your summer hunt may chance to end in rougher play than we expect. I will keep my eye on ‘Red–hand,’ and will soon tell you what tree he’s making for.”“Why did they gallop off so abruptly?” inquired Reginald.“They are gone to rejoin the bands which are coming out to receive us on our entrance,” replied the guide. “We must put our party in the best array, and get the presents ready, for we have not many minutes to spare.”The event proved the correctness of his calculation; for they had scarcely time to select from the packs those articles destined to be presented to the chiefs at this interview, before they saw two large bands of mounted Indians gallop towards them from the opposite extremities of the encampment. As they drew near that which came from the Delaware quarter, and was headed by War–Eagle in person, they checked their speed, and approached slowly; while their leader, advancing in front of the band, saluted Reginald and his party with dignified courtesy. Meanwhile the body of Osages continued their career with headlong speed, shouting, yelling, and going through all the exciting manœuvres of a mock fight, after their wild fashion. Their dress was more scanty and less ornamented than that of the Delawares; but being tricked out with painted horsehair, porcupine quills, and feathers, it bore altogether a more gay and picturesque appearance; neither can it be denied that they were, in general, better horsemen than their allies; and they seemed to delight in showing off their equestrian skill, especially in galloping up to Reginald’s party at the very top of their speed, and then either halting so suddenly as to throw their horses quite back upon their haunches, or dividing off to the right and to the left, and renewing theirmanœuvres in another quarter with increased extravagance of noise and gesture.Reginald having learned from Baptiste that this was their mode of showing honour to guests on their arrival, awaited patiently the termination of their manœuvres; and when at length they ceased, and the Osage party reined their horses up by the side of the Delawares, he went forward and shook hands with their leader, a warrior somewhat older than War–Eagle, and of a fine martial appearance. As soon as he found an opportunity, Reginald, turning to Wingenund, who was close behind him, inquired, in English, if that Osage chief was Mahéga?“No,” replied the youth, “that is a brave[26], called in their tongue the Black–Wolf. Mahéga,” he added, with a peculiar smile, “is very different.”“How mean you, Wingenund?”“Black–Wolf,” replied the youth, “is a warrior, and has no fear, but he is not like Mahéga;—an antelope is not an elk!”While this conversation was going on, the party entered the encampment, and wound their way amongst its scattered lodges, towards that of Tamenund, where, as the War–Eagle informed Reginald, a feast was prepared for his reception, to which Mahéga and the other Osage leaders were invited.On arriving before the Great Lodge, Reginald and his companions dismounted, and giving their horses to the youths in attendance, shook hands in succession with the principal chiefs and braves of the two nations. Reginald was much struck by the benevolent and dignified countenance of the Delaware chief; but in spite of himself, and of a preconceived dislike which he was inclined to entertain towards Mahéga, or Red–hand, his eye rested on that haughty chieftain with mingled surprise and admiration. He was nearly a head taller than those by whom he was surrounded; and his limbs, thoughcast in an Herculean mould, showed the symmetrical proportions which are so distinctive of the North American Indians: his forehead was bold and high, his nose aquiline, and his mouth broad, firm, and expressive of most determined character; his eye was rather small, but bright and piercing as a hawk’s; his hair had been all shaven from his head, with the exception of the scalp–lock on the crown, which was painted scarlet, and interwoven with a tuft of horsehair dyed of the same colour. Around his muscular throat was suspended a collar formed from the claws of the grisly bear, ornamented with party–coloured beads, entwined with the delicate fur of the white ermine; his hunting–shirt and leggins were of the finest antelope skin, and his mocassins were adorned with beads and the stained quills of the porcupine. He leant carelessly on a bow, which few men in the tribe could bend. At his back were slung his arrows in a quiver made with wolf–skin, so disposed that the grinning visage of the animal was seen above his shoulder; while a war–club and scalping–knife, fastened to his belt, completed the formidable Mahéga’s equipment.As he glanced his eye over the party of white men, there was an expression of scornful pride on his countenance, which the quick temper of their youthful leader was ill–disposed to brook, had not the prudent counsels of the guide prepared him for the exercise of self–command. Nevertheless, as he turned from the Osage chief to the bulky proportions of his gigantic follower, Mike Smith, he felt that it was like comparing a lion with an ox; and that, in the event of a quarrel between them, the rifle alone could render its issue doubtful.The feast of welcome was now prepared in the lodge of Tamenund, which was composed of bison–skins stretched upon poles, arranged in the form of a horse–shoe, and covering an extent of ground apparently not less than twenty yards in length. Reginald observed also several smaller lodges immediately adjoining that of the chief, on one side, and on the other a circular tent of wax–cloth, or painted canvasss, evidently procured from white men, as it was of excellent texture, and its door, or aperture, protected by double folds of the same material.Whilst he was still looking at this comparatively civilised dwelling, with some curiosity to know by whom it might betenanted, the folds of the opening were pushed aside, and an elderly man appeared, who, after contemplating for a moment the newly–arrived group, came forward to offer them a friendly salutation. He was apparently between fifty and sixty; but his years were not easily guessed, for his snow–white hair might seem to have numbered seventy winters; while from the uprightness of his carriage, and the elasticity of his step, he seemed scarcely past the vigour of middle life. In figure he was tall and slight; his countenance, though tanned by long exposure to the sun, was strikingly attractive, and his mild blue eye beamed with an expression of benevolence not to be mistaken. His dress was a black frock of serge, fastened at the waist by a girdle of the same colour, from which was suspended a small bag, wherein he carried the few simples and instruments requisite for his daily offices of charity and kindness. Dark grey trowsers of the coarsest texture, and mocassins of buffalo–hide, completed the dress of Paul Müller, already mentioned by Wingenund to Reginald as the “Black Father:” under which name, translated according to their various languages, the pious and excellent missionary was known among the Delawares, Osages, Ioways, Otoes, Konsas, and other tribes then inhabiting the regions lying between the Missouri and the Arkansas.Such was the man who now came forward to greet the newly–arrived party; and such was the irresistible charm of his voice and manner, that from the first Reginald felt himself constrained to love and respect him.The feast being now ready, and Reginald having pointed out Baptiste and Bearskin as his officers, or lieutenants, they were invited with him to sit down in the lodge of Tamenund, with the principal chiefs of the Delawares, the chief and Great Medicine–man[27]of the Osages, and the Black Father. (Mike Smith and the other white men being feasted by a brave in an adjoining lodge.) The pipe was lighted, and having been passed twice round the party with silent gravity, the GreatMedicine–man made a speech, in which he praised the virtues and hospitality of Tamenund, and paid many compliments to the white guests; after which a substantial dinner was set before them, consisting of roasted buffalo–ribs, venison, and boiled maize.Reginald had never before been present at an Indian feast, and though he had the appetite naturally belonging to his age and health, he soon found that he was no match, as a trencherman, for those among whom he was now placed; and before they had half finished their meal, he replaced his knife in its sheath, and announced himself satisfied.The old chief smiled good–humouredly, and said that he would soon do better; whilst Mahéga, quietly commencing an attack upon a third buffalo–rib, glanced at him with a look of contempt, that he was at no pains to conceal, and which, as may well be imagined, increased our hero’s dislike for the gigantic Osage.END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

c118+

REGINALD AND HIS PARTY REACH THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.

The guide and his companion pursued their way leisurely along a beaten track, which led them through a well–timbered valley, watered by one of the branches of Grand River, until it emerged upon a rising slope of open prairie. Having gained its summit, they saw at a little distance the Indian encampment stretched along the banks of a rivulet, which, after curving round the base of the hill on which they now stood, found its way to the line of heavy timber that marked the course of the main river. They were soon hailed by a mounted Delaware scout, to whom Baptiste explained the peaceful nature of his mission, and desired to be shown into the presence of the principal chiefs.

As the guide walked through the scattered lodges of the Delawares, his eye rested on more than one Indian to whom he was well known; but as he was now acting in the capacity of ambassador, it was not consistent with Indian usage that he should speak or be spoken to by others on the way. So well did he know the habits of the people among whom he now found himself, that when he arrived before the lodge of the Great Chief, he passed by War–Eagle and Wingenund, who had come to its entrance on the approach of a stranger, and giving them merely a silent sign of recognition, took the place pointed out to him in the centre of the lodge, by the side of the venerable man who was the head of this emigrant band of the Lenapé; to whom, as the highest proof of their respect and veneration, they had given the name of Tamenund[24], by which alone he was now known throughout the nation.

The pipe of welcome having been presented, and been smoked for a few minutes with becoming gravity, Baptiste opened to Tamenund the object of his visit, and informed him that a white warrior and chief, already known to some of the Delawares present, desired to eat, to smoke, and to hunt with them for a season as a brother. To this Tamenund, who had already been informed by War–Eagle of the character and conduct of Reginald, as well as of his promised visit, replied with becoming dignity and hospitality, that the young white chief should be welcome; that his heart was known to be great among the Delawares, and that both he and his people should be held as brothers; at the same time he informed the guide, that as they were about to move their encampment immediately to a more favourable spot, it might be better for the white chief to join them on the following morning, when all should be prepared for his reception.

The guide having acceded to this suggestion, rose to take his leave, and retired with his companion from the village. Before they had gone a mile on their return, they heard behind them the trampling of horses, and Baptiste recognised War–Eagle and Wingenund approaching at full speed, who greeted him cordially, and made many inquiries about Netis and the Lily of Mooshanne.

Having acquired the desired information, it was agreed, that before noon on the following day Reginald should come to the spot where they were now conversing, and that War–Eagle should be there to escort and accompany him to his first meeting with the Delaware and Osage chiefs.

These preliminaries being arranged, the Indians galloped back to the village, and Baptiste returned without accident or interruption to Reginald’s camp, where he gave an account of his mission and of the arrangements for the morrow’s conference.

Early on the following morning they set forth towards the Indian village. By Baptiste’s advice, Reginald attired himself more gaily than usual; his hunting–shirt and leggins of elk–skin were ornamented with fringes; the bugle slung across his shoulders was suspended by a green cord adorned with tassels; on his head he wore a forage–cap, encircled by a gold band; a brace of silver–mounted pistols were stuck in his belt, and a German boar–knife hung at his side; he hadallowed Baptiste to ornament Nekimi’s bridle with beads after the Indian fashion; and the noble animal pranced under his gallant rider, as if conscious that he was expected to show his beauty and his mettle. The dress and appearance of Reginald, though fanciful and strange, was rendered striking by the grace and muscular vigour of his frame, as well as by the open, fearless character of his countenance; and the party of white men went gaily forward, confident in the favourable impression which their young leader would make on their Indian allies.

When they reached the spot where Baptiste had, on the preceding day, parted from War–Eagle, they descried two Indians sitting at the root of an old maple–tree, as if awaiting their arrival: a single glance enabled Reginald to recognise them, and springing from his horse, he greeted War–Eagle and Wingenund with affectionate cordiality, and read in the looks of both, though they spoke little, that he was heartily welcome. When they had saluted Baptiste, Reginald introduced them in form to the other members of his party, and, among the rest, to Monsieur Perrot, who having as yet seen few Indians, and those of the meanest class, was surprised at the noble and dignified appearance of War–Eagle, to whom he doffed his cap with as much respect as if he had been a field–marshal of France.

Having made a short halt, during which the pipe was passed round, and some cakes of Indian corn and honey set before their guests, the party again moved forward, under the guidance of War–Eagle. Leaving the heavy timber in the valley, they ascended the opposite hill, where a magnificent prospect opened upon their view; below them was an undulating prairie of boundless extent, through the middle of which ran a tributary branch of Grand River; behind them lay the verdant mass of forest from which they had lately emerged; the plain in front was dotted with the lodges of the Delawares and Osages, while scattered groups of Indians, and grazing horses, gave life, animation, and endless variety to the scene.

Halting for a moment on the brow of the hill, War–Eagle pointed out to Reginald the lodge of his father Tamenund, distinguished above the rest by its superior size and elevation, and at the same time showed him at the other extremity ofthe encampment, a lodge of similar dimensions, which he described as being that of the Osage chief.

“How is he called?” inquired Reginald.

“Mahéga,” replied the War–Eagle.

At the mention of this name, the guide uttered one of those peculiar sounds, something between a whistle and a grunt, by which Reginald knew that something was passing in his mind; but on this occasion, without apparently noticing the interruption, he continued, addressing War–Eagle, “Will Mahéga receive me too as a brother—is the Osage chief a friend to the white men?”

“Mahéga is a warrior,” replied the Indian; “he hunts with the Lenapé, and he must be a friend of their brother.”

Not only did this answer appear evasive, but there was also something more than usually constrained in the tone and manner of War–Eagle, which did not escape the observation of Reginald, and with the straightforward openness of his character, he said, “War–Eagle, my heart is open to you, and my tongue can be silent if required—speak to me freely, and tell me if Mahéga is a friend or not; is he a brave or a snake?”

War–Eagle, fixing his searching eye upon Reginald’s countenance, replied, “Mahéga is a warrior—the scalps in his lodge are many—his name is not a lie, but his heart is not that of a Lenapé—War–Eagle will not speak of him:—Grande–Hâche knows him, and my brother’s eyes will be open.”

Having thus spoken, the young chief added a few words in his own tongue to Baptiste; and making a sign for Wingenund to follow, he galloped off at speed towards the encampment.

Reginald, surprised, and somewhat inclined to be displeased by their abrupt departure, turned to the guide, and inquired the cause of it, and also the meaning of War–Eagle’s last words.

Baptiste, shaking his head significantly, replied in a low voice, “I know Mahéga well—at least I have heard much of him; his name signifies ‘Red–hand,’ and, as the young chief says, it tells no lie, for he has killed many: last year he attacked a war–party of the Outagamis[25]near the Great River, and cut them off to a man; he himself killed their chief andseveral of their warriors: they say he is the strongest and the bravest man in the nation.”

“It seems to me,” said Reginald, “that War–Eagle and he are not very good friends.”

“They are not,” replied Baptiste; “the young Delaware has evidently some quarrel with him, and therefore would not speak of him—we shall learn what it is before many days are over: meanwhile, Master Reginald, say nothing to any others of the party on this subject, for they may take alarm, or show suspicion; and if they do, your summer hunt may chance to end in rougher play than we expect. I will keep my eye on ‘Red–hand,’ and will soon tell you what tree he’s making for.”

“Why did they gallop off so abruptly?” inquired Reginald.

“They are gone to rejoin the bands which are coming out to receive us on our entrance,” replied the guide. “We must put our party in the best array, and get the presents ready, for we have not many minutes to spare.”

The event proved the correctness of his calculation; for they had scarcely time to select from the packs those articles destined to be presented to the chiefs at this interview, before they saw two large bands of mounted Indians gallop towards them from the opposite extremities of the encampment. As they drew near that which came from the Delaware quarter, and was headed by War–Eagle in person, they checked their speed, and approached slowly; while their leader, advancing in front of the band, saluted Reginald and his party with dignified courtesy. Meanwhile the body of Osages continued their career with headlong speed, shouting, yelling, and going through all the exciting manœuvres of a mock fight, after their wild fashion. Their dress was more scanty and less ornamented than that of the Delawares; but being tricked out with painted horsehair, porcupine quills, and feathers, it bore altogether a more gay and picturesque appearance; neither can it be denied that they were, in general, better horsemen than their allies; and they seemed to delight in showing off their equestrian skill, especially in galloping up to Reginald’s party at the very top of their speed, and then either halting so suddenly as to throw their horses quite back upon their haunches, or dividing off to the right and to the left, and renewing theirmanœuvres in another quarter with increased extravagance of noise and gesture.

Reginald having learned from Baptiste that this was their mode of showing honour to guests on their arrival, awaited patiently the termination of their manœuvres; and when at length they ceased, and the Osage party reined their horses up by the side of the Delawares, he went forward and shook hands with their leader, a warrior somewhat older than War–Eagle, and of a fine martial appearance. As soon as he found an opportunity, Reginald, turning to Wingenund, who was close behind him, inquired, in English, if that Osage chief was Mahéga?

“No,” replied the youth, “that is a brave[26], called in their tongue the Black–Wolf. Mahéga,” he added, with a peculiar smile, “is very different.”

“How mean you, Wingenund?”

“Black–Wolf,” replied the youth, “is a warrior, and has no fear, but he is not like Mahéga;—an antelope is not an elk!”

While this conversation was going on, the party entered the encampment, and wound their way amongst its scattered lodges, towards that of Tamenund, where, as the War–Eagle informed Reginald, a feast was prepared for his reception, to which Mahéga and the other Osage leaders were invited.

On arriving before the Great Lodge, Reginald and his companions dismounted, and giving their horses to the youths in attendance, shook hands in succession with the principal chiefs and braves of the two nations. Reginald was much struck by the benevolent and dignified countenance of the Delaware chief; but in spite of himself, and of a preconceived dislike which he was inclined to entertain towards Mahéga, or Red–hand, his eye rested on that haughty chieftain with mingled surprise and admiration. He was nearly a head taller than those by whom he was surrounded; and his limbs, thoughcast in an Herculean mould, showed the symmetrical proportions which are so distinctive of the North American Indians: his forehead was bold and high, his nose aquiline, and his mouth broad, firm, and expressive of most determined character; his eye was rather small, but bright and piercing as a hawk’s; his hair had been all shaven from his head, with the exception of the scalp–lock on the crown, which was painted scarlet, and interwoven with a tuft of horsehair dyed of the same colour. Around his muscular throat was suspended a collar formed from the claws of the grisly bear, ornamented with party–coloured beads, entwined with the delicate fur of the white ermine; his hunting–shirt and leggins were of the finest antelope skin, and his mocassins were adorned with beads and the stained quills of the porcupine. He leant carelessly on a bow, which few men in the tribe could bend. At his back were slung his arrows in a quiver made with wolf–skin, so disposed that the grinning visage of the animal was seen above his shoulder; while a war–club and scalping–knife, fastened to his belt, completed the formidable Mahéga’s equipment.

As he glanced his eye over the party of white men, there was an expression of scornful pride on his countenance, which the quick temper of their youthful leader was ill–disposed to brook, had not the prudent counsels of the guide prepared him for the exercise of self–command. Nevertheless, as he turned from the Osage chief to the bulky proportions of his gigantic follower, Mike Smith, he felt that it was like comparing a lion with an ox; and that, in the event of a quarrel between them, the rifle alone could render its issue doubtful.

The feast of welcome was now prepared in the lodge of Tamenund, which was composed of bison–skins stretched upon poles, arranged in the form of a horse–shoe, and covering an extent of ground apparently not less than twenty yards in length. Reginald observed also several smaller lodges immediately adjoining that of the chief, on one side, and on the other a circular tent of wax–cloth, or painted canvasss, evidently procured from white men, as it was of excellent texture, and its door, or aperture, protected by double folds of the same material.

Whilst he was still looking at this comparatively civilised dwelling, with some curiosity to know by whom it might betenanted, the folds of the opening were pushed aside, and an elderly man appeared, who, after contemplating for a moment the newly–arrived group, came forward to offer them a friendly salutation. He was apparently between fifty and sixty; but his years were not easily guessed, for his snow–white hair might seem to have numbered seventy winters; while from the uprightness of his carriage, and the elasticity of his step, he seemed scarcely past the vigour of middle life. In figure he was tall and slight; his countenance, though tanned by long exposure to the sun, was strikingly attractive, and his mild blue eye beamed with an expression of benevolence not to be mistaken. His dress was a black frock of serge, fastened at the waist by a girdle of the same colour, from which was suspended a small bag, wherein he carried the few simples and instruments requisite for his daily offices of charity and kindness. Dark grey trowsers of the coarsest texture, and mocassins of buffalo–hide, completed the dress of Paul Müller, already mentioned by Wingenund to Reginald as the “Black Father:” under which name, translated according to their various languages, the pious and excellent missionary was known among the Delawares, Osages, Ioways, Otoes, Konsas, and other tribes then inhabiting the regions lying between the Missouri and the Arkansas.

Such was the man who now came forward to greet the newly–arrived party; and such was the irresistible charm of his voice and manner, that from the first Reginald felt himself constrained to love and respect him.

The feast being now ready, and Reginald having pointed out Baptiste and Bearskin as his officers, or lieutenants, they were invited with him to sit down in the lodge of Tamenund, with the principal chiefs of the Delawares, the chief and Great Medicine–man[27]of the Osages, and the Black Father. (Mike Smith and the other white men being feasted by a brave in an adjoining lodge.) The pipe was lighted, and having been passed twice round the party with silent gravity, the GreatMedicine–man made a speech, in which he praised the virtues and hospitality of Tamenund, and paid many compliments to the white guests; after which a substantial dinner was set before them, consisting of roasted buffalo–ribs, venison, and boiled maize.

Reginald had never before been present at an Indian feast, and though he had the appetite naturally belonging to his age and health, he soon found that he was no match, as a trencherman, for those among whom he was now placed; and before they had half finished their meal, he replaced his knife in its sheath, and announced himself satisfied.

The old chief smiled good–humouredly, and said that he would soon do better; whilst Mahéga, quietly commencing an attack upon a third buffalo–rib, glanced at him with a look of contempt, that he was at no pains to conceal, and which, as may well be imagined, increased our hero’s dislike for the gigantic Osage.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

c201SECOND VOLUME.CHAPTER I.REGINALD AND HIS PARTY AT THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.While Reginald and his two companions were feasting with Tamenund, a similar repast was laid before the rest of the party, in the lodge of a brave named Maque–o–nah, or the “Bear–asleep,” at which Mike Smith occupied the centre or principal seat, and next to him sat Monsieur Perrot,—the latter personage being very curious to see the culinary arrangements made for this, his first Indian banquet. He was horrified at observing the carelessness with which they thrust half the side of a buffalo to the edge of a huge fire of undried wood, leaving a portion of the meat to be singed and burnt, while other parts were scarcely exposed to the heat: he could not refrain from expressing to one of the Canadian coureurs des bois, in his own language, his contempt and pity for the ignorant savages who thus presumed to desecrate a noble science, which ranked higher, in his estimation, than poetry, painting, or sculpture: but he was warned that he must be very careful neither to reject nor show any distaste for the food set before him, as by so doing he would give mortal offence to his entertainers. It was ludicrous in the extreme to watch the poor Frenchman’s attempts at imparting to his features a smile of satisfaction, when a wooden bowl was placed before him, filled with half–boiled maize, and beside it one of the buffalo–ribs, evidently less favoured by the fire, as it was scarcely warmed through, and was tough and stringy as shoe–leather. After bestowing upon sundry portions of it many fruitless attempts at mastication, he contrived, unperceived, to slip what remained of the meat into the pocket ofhis jacket, and then laughed with great self–satisfaction at the trick he had played his uncivilised hosts.When the feast was concluded in Tamenund’s lodge, Reginald desired his men to unpack one of the bales, which he pointed out, and to spread its contents before him; the savages gathered round the coveted and glittering objects with eager but silent astonishment, while he separated the presents which, by the advice of Baptiste, were now distributed among their chiefs; to Tamenund he apportioned a large blanket of scarlet cloth, a silver–mounted pistol, and a basket containing mirrors, beads, and trinkets, for his wives and daughters; to Mahéga, a bridle ornamented with beads, several pounds of tobacco, powder, and lead, a fowling–piece, and a blanket of blue woollen–stuff. The features of the Osage chief relaxed into a grim smile of satisfaction as he received these valuable gifts; and he so far overcame the repulsive sternness of his usual character as to seize Reginald’s hand, and to tell him that he was a great chief, and good to his Indian brothers. The other presents having been distributed among the chiefs and braves, according to their rank, the feast was broken up, and they retired to their respective lodges; Reginald, Baptiste, and M. Perrot being accommodated in that of Tamenund’s himself, and Bearskin, with the rest of the white men’s party, in those lodges which have before been mentioned as being contiguous to that of the old chief.During the first night that he spent in his new quarters, the excitement and novelty of the scene banished sleep from the eyes of Reginald; and, finding himself restless, he arose half an hour before daybreak, to enjoy the early freshness of the morning. Throwing his rifle over his arm, he was about to leave the lodge, when Baptiste touched him, and inquired, in a low voice, if he were prepared with a reply in case of being challenged by any of the scouts around the encampment; with some shame he confessed he had forgotten it; and the guide then instructed him, if he were challenged, to say “Lenapé n’a ki Netis,” or “I am Netis, the friend of the Delawares.” Being thus prepared, and carrying with him the few articles requisite for a Prairie toilet, he stepped out into the open air. Close by the opening of the lodge, he saw a tall figure stretched on the grass, enveloped in a buffalo robe, the hairy fell of which was silvered with the heavy night–dew: itwas War–Eagle, who rarely slept in lodge or tent, and whose quick eye, though he neither moved nor spoke, discerned his white brother in a moment, although the latter could not recognise his friend.Reginald pursued his way through the encampment to its extremity, where the streamlet before mentioned wound its course among the dells and hillocks of the Prairie, until it reached the larger river that flowed through the distant forest. After following the banks of the stream for one or two miles, the red streaks in the eastern horizon gave notice of day’s approach, and observing near him a hill, somewhat more elevated than those by which it was surrounded, Reginald climbed to its top, in order to witness the effect of sunrise on that wild and picturesque scene.To the westward, the undulations of the Prairie, wrapped in heavy folds of mist, rose in confused heaps, like the waves of a boundless ocean: to the south he could just distinguish the lodges and the smouldering fires of the encampment, whence, at intervals, there fell upon his ear mingled and indistinct sounds, disagreeable perhaps in themselves, but rendered harmonious by distance, and by their unison with the wildness of the surrounding objects; while to the eastward lay a dense and gloomy range of woods, over the summits of whose foliage the dawning sun was shedding a stream of golden light.Reginald gazed upon the scene with wonder and delight; and every moment while he gazed called into existence richer and more varied beauties. The mists and exhalations rising from the plain curled themselves into a thousand fantastic shapes around the points and projections of the hills, where they seemed to hang like mantles which the earth had cast from her bosom, as being rendered unnecessary by the appearance of the day; swarms of children and of dusky figures began to emerge from the encampment, and troops of horses to crop the pasture on the distant hills; while the splendour of the sun, now risen in its full glory, lit up with a thousand varying hues the eastern expanse of boundless forest. Reginald’s heart was not insensible to the impressions naturally excited by such a scene; and while he admired its variegated beauties, his thoughts were raised in adoration to that almightyand beneficent Being, whose temple is the earth, and whose are the “cattle upon a thousand hills.”Having made his way again to the banks of the stream, and found a spot sheltered by alder and poplar trees, he bathed and made his morning toilet; after which he returned towards the encampment, his body refreshed by his bathe, and his mind attuned to high and inspiring thoughts by the meditation in which he had been engaged. As he strolled leisurely along, he observed a spot where the trees were larger, and the shade apparently more dense than the other portions of the valley; and, being anxious to make himself acquainted with all the localities in the neighbourhood of his new home, he followed a small beaten path, which, after sundry windings among the alders, brought him to an open space screened on three sides by the bushes, and bounded on the fourth by the stream. Reginald cast his eyes around this pleasant and secluded spot, until they rested upon an object that riveted them irresistibly. It was a female figure seated at the root of an ancient poplar, over a low branch of which one arm was carelessly thrown, while with the other she held a book, which she was reading with such fixed attention as to be altogether unconscious of Reginald’s approach. Her complexion was dark, but clear and delicate, and the rich brown hair which fell over her neck and shoulders, still damp and glossy from her morning ablutions, was parted on her forehead by a wreath of wild flowers twined from amongst those which grew around the spot: the contour of her figure, and her unstudied attitude of repose, realised the classic dreams of Nymph and Nereid, while her countenance wore an expression of angelic loveliness, such as Reginald had never seen or imagined.He gazed—and gazing on those sweet features, he saw the red full lips move unconsciously, while they followed the subject that absorbed her attention; and forgetful that he was intruding on retirement, he waited, entranced, until those downcast eyes should be raised. At length she looked up, and seeing the figure of a man within a few paces of her, she sprang to her feet with the lightness of a startled antelope; and darting on him a look of mingled surprise and reproof, suppressed the exclamation of alarm that rose to her lips. Reginald would fain have addressed the lovely being beforehim—he would fain have excused his unintended intrusion; but the words died upon his lips, and it was almost mechanically that he doffed his hunting–cap, and stood silent and uncovered before her! Recovering from the momentary confusion, she advanced a step towards him, and with an ingenuous blush held out her hand, saying in a gentle tone of inquiry, and with the purest accent, “Netis, my brother’s friend?”“The same, fair creature,” replied Reginald, whose wonder and admiration were still more excited by the untaught grace and dignity of her manner, as well as by hearing his own tongue so sweetly pronounced; “but, in the name of Heaven, who—what—whence can you be?” Blushing more deeply at the animation and eagerness of his manner, she was for a moment silent; when he continued, striking his hand on his forehead:—“Oh, I have it, fool, tortoise, that I was. You are ‘Prairie–bird,’ the sister of whom Wingenund has told me so much.” Then, gently pressing the little hand which he had taken, he added, “Dear Wingenund! he saved my life; his sister will not consider me a stranger?”Again a warmer blush mantled on the cheek of Prairie–bird, as she replied, “You are no stranger: you speak of Wingenund’s good deed: you are silent about your own! You drew War–Eagle from the deep and swift waters. I have heard it all, and have often wished to see you and thank you myself.” There was a modest simplicity in her manner, as she uttered these few words that confirmed the impression made on Reginald by the first glimpse of her lovely form and features; but beyond this there was something in the tone of her voice that found its way direct to his heart; it fell upon his ear like an old familiar strain of music, and he felt unwilling to break the silence that followed its closing accents.It is not our province, in a simple narrative of this kind, to discuss the oft–disputed question, whether love at first sight deserves the name of love; whether it is merely a passing emotion, which, though apparently strong, a brief lapse of time may efface; or, whether there be really secret irresistible natural impulses, by which two human beings, who meet together for the first time, feel as if they had known and loved each other for years, and as if the early cherished visions of fancy, the aspirations of hope, the creations of imagination, the secret, undefined longings of the heart, were all at onceembodied and realised.[28]We are inclined to believe that, although not frequent, instances sometimes occur of this instinctive sympathy and attraction, and that, when they do so, the tree of affection (like the fabled palm at the touch of the genius’ wand) starts into immediate luxuriance of flower and foliage, striking its tenacious roots far into the kindly soil, destined thenceforward to become the nurture of its verdant youth, the support of its mature strength, and at length the resting–place of its leafless and time–stricken decay.Such seemed to be the case with Reginald and Prairie–bird; for, as they looked one at the other, each was unconsciously occupied with teeming thoughts that neither could define nor express, and both felt relieved at hearing approaching footsteps and the voice of the Black Father, who called out in English,“Come, my child, I have allowed you full time this morning; we will return to the camp.” As he spoke his eye fell upon Reginald, and he added, courteously, “You have been early abroad, young sir.”“I have,” replied Reginald. “I went to the top of yonder heights to see the sun rise, and was amply repaid by the beauty of the scene: on my return, I wandered accidentally into this secluded spot, and trust that my intrusion has been forgiven.”“I believe that my dear child and pupil would forgive a greater offence than that, in one who has shown so much kindness to her brothers,” replied the missionary, smiling: and he added, in a low voice, addressing the Prairie–bird in his own language, “Indeed, my child, I think he deserves our friendly welcome; for, unless his countenance strongly belies his character, it expresses all those good qualities which Wingenund taught us to expect.”“Stay, sir,” and Reginald, colouring highly; “let me not participate, without your knowledge, in your communications to Prairie–bird. I have travelled much in Germany, and the language is familiar to me.”“Then, my young friend,” said Paul Müller, taking his hand kindly, “you have only learnt, from what I said, how hard a task you will have to fulfil the expectations that Wingenund has led us to entertain.”“I can promise nothing,” replied Reginald, glancing towards the maiden, “but a true tongue, a ready hand, and an honest heart; if these can serve my friend’s sister, methinks she may expect them without being disappointed.”The words in themselves were nothing remarkable, but there was an earnest feeling in the tone in which they were spoken that made Prairie–bird’s heart beat quicker: she answered him by a look, but said nothing. Wonderful is the expression, the magic eloquence of the human eye; and yet how is its power tenfold increased when the rays of its glance pass through the atmosphere even of dawning love. Reginald longed to know whence and who she could be, this child of the wilderness, who had so suddenly, so irresistibly, engaged his feelings; above all, he longed to learn whether her heart and affections were free; and that single look, translated by the sanguine self–partiality of love, made him internally exclaim, “Her heart is not another’s!” Whether his conjecture proved correct the after–course of this tale will show: meanwhile we cannot forbear our admiration at the marvellous rapidity with which our hero, at his first interview with Prairie–bird, settled this point to his own satisfaction. The little party now strolled towards the camp; and as they went, Reginald, seeing that Prairie–bird still held in her hand the book that he had seen her peruse with so much attention, said,“May I inquire the subject of your studies this morning?”“Certainly,” she replied, with grave and sweet simplicity; “it is the subject of my study every morning: the book was given me by my dear father and instructor now by my side. I have much to thank him for; all I know, all I enjoy, almost all I feel, but most of all for this book, which he has taught me to love, and in some degree to understand.”As she spoke she placed in Reginald’s hand a small copy of Luther’s translation of the Bible. In the fly–leaf before the title–page was written, “Given to Prairie–bird by her loving father and instructor, Paul Müller.” Reginald read this inscription half aloud, repeating to himself the words “Müller,” “father;” and coupling them with the strange enigmas formerly uttered by Wingenund respecting the origin of Prairie–bird, he was lost in conjecture as to their meaning.“I see your difficulty,” said the missionary, “you do notunderstand how she can call Wingenund and War–Eagle brothers, and me father. In truth, she has from her earliest childhood been brought up by Tamenund as his daughter, and as I reside chiefly with this Delaware band, I have made it my constant occupation and pleasure to give her such instruction as my humble means admit; she has been entrusted to us by the mysterious decrees of Providence; and though the blood of neither flows in her veins, Tamenund and I have, according to our respective offices, used our best endeavours to supply the place of natural parents.”“Dear, dear father,” said Prairie–bird, pressing his hand to her lips, and looking up in his face with tearful eyes, “you are and have been every thing to me,—instructor, comforter, guide, and father! My Indian father, too, and my brothers, are all kind and loving to me. I have read in the books that you have lent me many tales and histories of unkindness and hatred between parents and children, among nations enlightened and civilised. I have had every wish gratified before expressed, and every comfort provided. What could a father do for a child that you have not done for me?”As she spoke she looked up in the missionary’s face with a countenance so beaming with full affection, that the old man pressed her in his arms, and kissing her forehead, muttered over her a blessing that he was too much moved to pronounce aloud; after a pause of a few minutes, he said to Reginald, with his usual benevolent smile, “We only know you yet by your Indian name of ‘Netis’—how are you called in the States? We inquired of War–Eagle and Wingenund, but they either did not remember, or could not pronounce your name?”“Reginald Brandon,” replied our hero.Prairie–bird started, and abruptly said, “Again, again; say it once more?”Reginald repeated it, and she pronounced the first name slowly after him, pressing her hand upon her forehead, and with her eye fixed on vacancy, while broken exclamations came from his lips.“What are you thinking of, dear child?” said the missionary, somewhat surprised and alarmed by her manner.“Nothing, dear father,” she replied, with a faint smile; “it was a dream, a strange dream, which that name recalled,and confused my head: we are now close to the camp, I will go in and rest awhile; perhaps you may like to talk more with Ne—I mean,” she added, hesitating, “with Reginald.” So saying, and saluting them with that natural grace which belonged to all her movements, she withdrew towards the camp, and Reginald’s eyes followed her retreating figure until it was lost behind the canvasss folds that protected the opening to her tent.

c201

SECOND VOLUME.

REGINALD AND HIS PARTY AT THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT.

While Reginald and his two companions were feasting with Tamenund, a similar repast was laid before the rest of the party, in the lodge of a brave named Maque–o–nah, or the “Bear–asleep,” at which Mike Smith occupied the centre or principal seat, and next to him sat Monsieur Perrot,—the latter personage being very curious to see the culinary arrangements made for this, his first Indian banquet. He was horrified at observing the carelessness with which they thrust half the side of a buffalo to the edge of a huge fire of undried wood, leaving a portion of the meat to be singed and burnt, while other parts were scarcely exposed to the heat: he could not refrain from expressing to one of the Canadian coureurs des bois, in his own language, his contempt and pity for the ignorant savages who thus presumed to desecrate a noble science, which ranked higher, in his estimation, than poetry, painting, or sculpture: but he was warned that he must be very careful neither to reject nor show any distaste for the food set before him, as by so doing he would give mortal offence to his entertainers. It was ludicrous in the extreme to watch the poor Frenchman’s attempts at imparting to his features a smile of satisfaction, when a wooden bowl was placed before him, filled with half–boiled maize, and beside it one of the buffalo–ribs, evidently less favoured by the fire, as it was scarcely warmed through, and was tough and stringy as shoe–leather. After bestowing upon sundry portions of it many fruitless attempts at mastication, he contrived, unperceived, to slip what remained of the meat into the pocket ofhis jacket, and then laughed with great self–satisfaction at the trick he had played his uncivilised hosts.

When the feast was concluded in Tamenund’s lodge, Reginald desired his men to unpack one of the bales, which he pointed out, and to spread its contents before him; the savages gathered round the coveted and glittering objects with eager but silent astonishment, while he separated the presents which, by the advice of Baptiste, were now distributed among their chiefs; to Tamenund he apportioned a large blanket of scarlet cloth, a silver–mounted pistol, and a basket containing mirrors, beads, and trinkets, for his wives and daughters; to Mahéga, a bridle ornamented with beads, several pounds of tobacco, powder, and lead, a fowling–piece, and a blanket of blue woollen–stuff. The features of the Osage chief relaxed into a grim smile of satisfaction as he received these valuable gifts; and he so far overcame the repulsive sternness of his usual character as to seize Reginald’s hand, and to tell him that he was a great chief, and good to his Indian brothers. The other presents having been distributed among the chiefs and braves, according to their rank, the feast was broken up, and they retired to their respective lodges; Reginald, Baptiste, and M. Perrot being accommodated in that of Tamenund’s himself, and Bearskin, with the rest of the white men’s party, in those lodges which have before been mentioned as being contiguous to that of the old chief.

During the first night that he spent in his new quarters, the excitement and novelty of the scene banished sleep from the eyes of Reginald; and, finding himself restless, he arose half an hour before daybreak, to enjoy the early freshness of the morning. Throwing his rifle over his arm, he was about to leave the lodge, when Baptiste touched him, and inquired, in a low voice, if he were prepared with a reply in case of being challenged by any of the scouts around the encampment; with some shame he confessed he had forgotten it; and the guide then instructed him, if he were challenged, to say “Lenapé n’a ki Netis,” or “I am Netis, the friend of the Delawares.” Being thus prepared, and carrying with him the few articles requisite for a Prairie toilet, he stepped out into the open air. Close by the opening of the lodge, he saw a tall figure stretched on the grass, enveloped in a buffalo robe, the hairy fell of which was silvered with the heavy night–dew: itwas War–Eagle, who rarely slept in lodge or tent, and whose quick eye, though he neither moved nor spoke, discerned his white brother in a moment, although the latter could not recognise his friend.

Reginald pursued his way through the encampment to its extremity, where the streamlet before mentioned wound its course among the dells and hillocks of the Prairie, until it reached the larger river that flowed through the distant forest. After following the banks of the stream for one or two miles, the red streaks in the eastern horizon gave notice of day’s approach, and observing near him a hill, somewhat more elevated than those by which it was surrounded, Reginald climbed to its top, in order to witness the effect of sunrise on that wild and picturesque scene.

To the westward, the undulations of the Prairie, wrapped in heavy folds of mist, rose in confused heaps, like the waves of a boundless ocean: to the south he could just distinguish the lodges and the smouldering fires of the encampment, whence, at intervals, there fell upon his ear mingled and indistinct sounds, disagreeable perhaps in themselves, but rendered harmonious by distance, and by their unison with the wildness of the surrounding objects; while to the eastward lay a dense and gloomy range of woods, over the summits of whose foliage the dawning sun was shedding a stream of golden light.

Reginald gazed upon the scene with wonder and delight; and every moment while he gazed called into existence richer and more varied beauties. The mists and exhalations rising from the plain curled themselves into a thousand fantastic shapes around the points and projections of the hills, where they seemed to hang like mantles which the earth had cast from her bosom, as being rendered unnecessary by the appearance of the day; swarms of children and of dusky figures began to emerge from the encampment, and troops of horses to crop the pasture on the distant hills; while the splendour of the sun, now risen in its full glory, lit up with a thousand varying hues the eastern expanse of boundless forest. Reginald’s heart was not insensible to the impressions naturally excited by such a scene; and while he admired its variegated beauties, his thoughts were raised in adoration to that almightyand beneficent Being, whose temple is the earth, and whose are the “cattle upon a thousand hills.”

Having made his way again to the banks of the stream, and found a spot sheltered by alder and poplar trees, he bathed and made his morning toilet; after which he returned towards the encampment, his body refreshed by his bathe, and his mind attuned to high and inspiring thoughts by the meditation in which he had been engaged. As he strolled leisurely along, he observed a spot where the trees were larger, and the shade apparently more dense than the other portions of the valley; and, being anxious to make himself acquainted with all the localities in the neighbourhood of his new home, he followed a small beaten path, which, after sundry windings among the alders, brought him to an open space screened on three sides by the bushes, and bounded on the fourth by the stream. Reginald cast his eyes around this pleasant and secluded spot, until they rested upon an object that riveted them irresistibly. It was a female figure seated at the root of an ancient poplar, over a low branch of which one arm was carelessly thrown, while with the other she held a book, which she was reading with such fixed attention as to be altogether unconscious of Reginald’s approach. Her complexion was dark, but clear and delicate, and the rich brown hair which fell over her neck and shoulders, still damp and glossy from her morning ablutions, was parted on her forehead by a wreath of wild flowers twined from amongst those which grew around the spot: the contour of her figure, and her unstudied attitude of repose, realised the classic dreams of Nymph and Nereid, while her countenance wore an expression of angelic loveliness, such as Reginald had never seen or imagined.

He gazed—and gazing on those sweet features, he saw the red full lips move unconsciously, while they followed the subject that absorbed her attention; and forgetful that he was intruding on retirement, he waited, entranced, until those downcast eyes should be raised. At length she looked up, and seeing the figure of a man within a few paces of her, she sprang to her feet with the lightness of a startled antelope; and darting on him a look of mingled surprise and reproof, suppressed the exclamation of alarm that rose to her lips. Reginald would fain have addressed the lovely being beforehim—he would fain have excused his unintended intrusion; but the words died upon his lips, and it was almost mechanically that he doffed his hunting–cap, and stood silent and uncovered before her! Recovering from the momentary confusion, she advanced a step towards him, and with an ingenuous blush held out her hand, saying in a gentle tone of inquiry, and with the purest accent, “Netis, my brother’s friend?”

“The same, fair creature,” replied Reginald, whose wonder and admiration were still more excited by the untaught grace and dignity of her manner, as well as by hearing his own tongue so sweetly pronounced; “but, in the name of Heaven, who—what—whence can you be?” Blushing more deeply at the animation and eagerness of his manner, she was for a moment silent; when he continued, striking his hand on his forehead:—“Oh, I have it, fool, tortoise, that I was. You are ‘Prairie–bird,’ the sister of whom Wingenund has told me so much.” Then, gently pressing the little hand which he had taken, he added, “Dear Wingenund! he saved my life; his sister will not consider me a stranger?”

Again a warmer blush mantled on the cheek of Prairie–bird, as she replied, “You are no stranger: you speak of Wingenund’s good deed: you are silent about your own! You drew War–Eagle from the deep and swift waters. I have heard it all, and have often wished to see you and thank you myself.” There was a modest simplicity in her manner, as she uttered these few words that confirmed the impression made on Reginald by the first glimpse of her lovely form and features; but beyond this there was something in the tone of her voice that found its way direct to his heart; it fell upon his ear like an old familiar strain of music, and he felt unwilling to break the silence that followed its closing accents.

It is not our province, in a simple narrative of this kind, to discuss the oft–disputed question, whether love at first sight deserves the name of love; whether it is merely a passing emotion, which, though apparently strong, a brief lapse of time may efface; or, whether there be really secret irresistible natural impulses, by which two human beings, who meet together for the first time, feel as if they had known and loved each other for years, and as if the early cherished visions of fancy, the aspirations of hope, the creations of imagination, the secret, undefined longings of the heart, were all at onceembodied and realised.[28]We are inclined to believe that, although not frequent, instances sometimes occur of this instinctive sympathy and attraction, and that, when they do so, the tree of affection (like the fabled palm at the touch of the genius’ wand) starts into immediate luxuriance of flower and foliage, striking its tenacious roots far into the kindly soil, destined thenceforward to become the nurture of its verdant youth, the support of its mature strength, and at length the resting–place of its leafless and time–stricken decay.

Such seemed to be the case with Reginald and Prairie–bird; for, as they looked one at the other, each was unconsciously occupied with teeming thoughts that neither could define nor express, and both felt relieved at hearing approaching footsteps and the voice of the Black Father, who called out in English,

“Come, my child, I have allowed you full time this morning; we will return to the camp.” As he spoke his eye fell upon Reginald, and he added, courteously, “You have been early abroad, young sir.”

“I have,” replied Reginald. “I went to the top of yonder heights to see the sun rise, and was amply repaid by the beauty of the scene: on my return, I wandered accidentally into this secluded spot, and trust that my intrusion has been forgiven.”

“I believe that my dear child and pupil would forgive a greater offence than that, in one who has shown so much kindness to her brothers,” replied the missionary, smiling: and he added, in a low voice, addressing the Prairie–bird in his own language, “Indeed, my child, I think he deserves our friendly welcome; for, unless his countenance strongly belies his character, it expresses all those good qualities which Wingenund taught us to expect.”

“Stay, sir,” and Reginald, colouring highly; “let me not participate, without your knowledge, in your communications to Prairie–bird. I have travelled much in Germany, and the language is familiar to me.”

“Then, my young friend,” said Paul Müller, taking his hand kindly, “you have only learnt, from what I said, how hard a task you will have to fulfil the expectations that Wingenund has led us to entertain.”

“I can promise nothing,” replied Reginald, glancing towards the maiden, “but a true tongue, a ready hand, and an honest heart; if these can serve my friend’s sister, methinks she may expect them without being disappointed.”

The words in themselves were nothing remarkable, but there was an earnest feeling in the tone in which they were spoken that made Prairie–bird’s heart beat quicker: she answered him by a look, but said nothing. Wonderful is the expression, the magic eloquence of the human eye; and yet how is its power tenfold increased when the rays of its glance pass through the atmosphere even of dawning love. Reginald longed to know whence and who she could be, this child of the wilderness, who had so suddenly, so irresistibly, engaged his feelings; above all, he longed to learn whether her heart and affections were free; and that single look, translated by the sanguine self–partiality of love, made him internally exclaim, “Her heart is not another’s!” Whether his conjecture proved correct the after–course of this tale will show: meanwhile we cannot forbear our admiration at the marvellous rapidity with which our hero, at his first interview with Prairie–bird, settled this point to his own satisfaction. The little party now strolled towards the camp; and as they went, Reginald, seeing that Prairie–bird still held in her hand the book that he had seen her peruse with so much attention, said,

“May I inquire the subject of your studies this morning?”

“Certainly,” she replied, with grave and sweet simplicity; “it is the subject of my study every morning: the book was given me by my dear father and instructor now by my side. I have much to thank him for; all I know, all I enjoy, almost all I feel, but most of all for this book, which he has taught me to love, and in some degree to understand.”

As she spoke she placed in Reginald’s hand a small copy of Luther’s translation of the Bible. In the fly–leaf before the title–page was written, “Given to Prairie–bird by her loving father and instructor, Paul Müller.” Reginald read this inscription half aloud, repeating to himself the words “Müller,” “father;” and coupling them with the strange enigmas formerly uttered by Wingenund respecting the origin of Prairie–bird, he was lost in conjecture as to their meaning.

“I see your difficulty,” said the missionary, “you do notunderstand how she can call Wingenund and War–Eagle brothers, and me father. In truth, she has from her earliest childhood been brought up by Tamenund as his daughter, and as I reside chiefly with this Delaware band, I have made it my constant occupation and pleasure to give her such instruction as my humble means admit; she has been entrusted to us by the mysterious decrees of Providence; and though the blood of neither flows in her veins, Tamenund and I have, according to our respective offices, used our best endeavours to supply the place of natural parents.”

“Dear, dear father,” said Prairie–bird, pressing his hand to her lips, and looking up in his face with tearful eyes, “you are and have been every thing to me,—instructor, comforter, guide, and father! My Indian father, too, and my brothers, are all kind and loving to me. I have read in the books that you have lent me many tales and histories of unkindness and hatred between parents and children, among nations enlightened and civilised. I have had every wish gratified before expressed, and every comfort provided. What could a father do for a child that you have not done for me?”

As she spoke she looked up in the missionary’s face with a countenance so beaming with full affection, that the old man pressed her in his arms, and kissing her forehead, muttered over her a blessing that he was too much moved to pronounce aloud; after a pause of a few minutes, he said to Reginald, with his usual benevolent smile, “We only know you yet by your Indian name of ‘Netis’—how are you called in the States? We inquired of War–Eagle and Wingenund, but they either did not remember, or could not pronounce your name?”

“Reginald Brandon,” replied our hero.

Prairie–bird started, and abruptly said, “Again, again; say it once more?”

Reginald repeated it, and she pronounced the first name slowly after him, pressing her hand upon her forehead, and with her eye fixed on vacancy, while broken exclamations came from his lips.

“What are you thinking of, dear child?” said the missionary, somewhat surprised and alarmed by her manner.

“Nothing, dear father,” she replied, with a faint smile; “it was a dream, a strange dream, which that name recalled,and confused my head: we are now close to the camp, I will go in and rest awhile; perhaps you may like to talk more with Ne—I mean,” she added, hesitating, “with Reginald.” So saying, and saluting them with that natural grace which belonged to all her movements, she withdrew towards the camp, and Reginald’s eyes followed her retreating figure until it was lost behind the canvasss folds that protected the opening to her tent.

c202CHAPTER II.REGINALD HOLDS A CONVERSATION WITH THE MISSIONARY.Reginald still kept his eyes on the opening through which Prairie–bird had disappeared into the tent, as though they could have pierced through the canvasss that concealed from his view its lovely inhabitant: his feelings were in a state of confusion and excitement, altogether new to him; for if, in his European travels, he had paid a passing tribute of admiration to the beauties who had crossed his path, and whom his remarkable personal advantages had rendered by no means insensible to his homage, the surface only of his heart had been touched; whereas now its deepest fountains were stirred, and the troubled waters gushed forth with overwhelming force.He was recalled to himself by the voice of the missionary, who, without appearing to notice his abstraction, said, “My son, if you choose that we should prolong our walk, I am ready to accompany you.” If the truth must be told, Reginald could at that moment scarcely endure the presence of any human being: he felt an impulse to rush into the woods, or over the plain, and to pour forth in solitude the torrent of feelings by which he was oppressed; but he controlled himself, not only because he really felt a respect for the good missionary, but also because he hoped through him to obtain some information respecting the extraordinary being who had taken such sudden possession of his thoughts: he replied, therefore, that he would willingly accompany him, and they took their way together along the banks of the streamlet, alternately observing on the scenery and surrounding objects.This desultory conversation did not long suit the eager and straightforward character of Reginald Brandon; and he changed it by abruptly inquiring of his companion, whether he knew any thing of the history and parentage of Prairie–bird.“Not much,” replied Paul Müller, smiling; “she was with this band of Delawares when I first came to reside among them: if any one knows her history, it must be Tamenund; but he keeps it a profound secret, and gives out among the tribe that she was sent to him by the Great Spirit, and that as long as she remains with the band they will be successful in hunting and in war.”“But how,” inquired Reginald, “can he make such a tale pass current among a people who are well known to consider the female sex in so inferior and degraded a light?”“He has effected it,” replied the missionary, “partly by accident, partly by her extraordinary beauty and endowments, and partly, I must own, by my assistance, which I have given because I thereby ensured to her the kindest and most respectful treatment, and also endeavoured, under God’s blessing, to make her instrumental in sowing the seed of His truth among these benighted savages.”“Let me understand this more in detail,” said Reginald, “if the narration does not trouble you.”“Her first appearance among the Delawares, as they have told me,” said the missionary, was as follows:—“Their prophet, or Great Medicine–man, dreamt that under a certain tree was deposited a treasure, that should enrich the tribe and render them fortunate: a party was sent by order of the chief to search the spot indicated; and on their arrival they found a female child wrapped in a covering of beaver–skin, and reposing on a couch of turkey–feathers: these creatures being supposed to preside peculiarly over the fate of the Delawares, they brought back the child with great ceremony to the village, where they placed her under the care of the chief; set apart a tent or lodge for her own peculiar use; and ever since that time have continued to take every care of her comfort and safety.”“I suppose,” interrupted Reginald, “the dream of the Great Medicine, and all its accompaniments, were secretly arranged between him and the chief?”“Probably they were,” replied Paul; “but you must beware how you say as much to any Delaware: if you did notrisk your life, you would give mortal offence. After all, an imposition that has resulted in harm to no one, and in so much good to an interesting and unprotected creature, may be forgiven.”“Indeed I will not gainsay it,” replied our hero: “pray continue your narrative.”“My sacred office, and the kindly feelings entertained towards me by these Indians, gave me frequent opportunities of seeing and conversing with Olitipa, or the ‘Prairie–bird;’ and I found in her such an amiable disposition, and so quick an apprehension, that I gave my best attention to the cultivation of talents which might, I hoped, some day produce a harvest of usefulness. In reading, writing, and in music, she needed but little instruction. I furnished her from time to time with books, and paper, and pencils: an old Spanish guitar, probably taken from some of the dwellings of that people in Missouri, enabled her to practise simple melodies; and you would be surprised at the sweetness with which she now sings words, strung together by herself in English and German, and also in the Delaware tongue, adapting them to wild airs, either such as she hears among the Indians, or invents herself. I took especial pains to instruct her in the practical elements of a science that my long residence among the different tribes has rendered necessary and familiar to me,—I mean that of medicine, as connected with the rude botany of the woods and prairies; and so well has she profited by my instruction, and by her own persevering researches, that there is scarcely a tree, or gum, or herb, possessing any sanatory properties, which she does not know and apply to the relief of those around her.”“Indeed,” said Reginald, laughing; “I had not expected to find this last among the accomplishments of Prairie–bird.”“You were mistaken then,” replied Paul Müller; “nay more, I fear that, in your estimate of what are usually termed female accomplishments, you have been accustomed to lay too much stress on those which are light or trifling, and too little on those which are useful and properly feminine: even in settled and civilised countries the most grievous fevers and ailments to which we are subject require the ministration of a female nurse; can it be then unreasonable that we should endeavour to mingle in their education some knowledge of the remedies which they may be called upon to administer,and of the bodily ills which it is to be their province to alleviate?”“You are right,” answered Reginald, modestly; “and I entreat your pardon for the hasty levity with which I spoke on the subject. I am well aware that, in olden times, no young woman’s education was held to be complete without some knowledge both of the culinary and healing arts; and I much doubt whether society has not suffered from their having altogether abandoned the cultivation of these in favour of singing, dancing, and reading of the lightest kind.”“It is the character of the artificial state to which society is fast verging,” replied Paul, “to prefer accomplishments to qualities, ornament to usefulness, luxury to comfort, tinsel to gold: setting aside the consideration of a future state, this system might be well enough, if the drawing–room, the theatre, and the ball were the sum of human life; but it is ill calculated to render man dignified in his character, and useful to his fellow–creatures, or woman what she ought to be,—the comfort, the solace, the ornament of home.”“These observations may be true as regards England or France,” replied Reginald; “but you surely would not apply them to our country?”“To a certain extent, I do,” answered the missionary. “I have been now thirty years on this continent, and have observed that, as colonists, the Americans have been very faithful imitators of these defects in their mother country; I am not sure that they will be rendered less so by their political emancipation.”The conversation was now straying rather too far from the subject to which Reginald desired to confine it: waving, therefore, all reply to the missionary’s last observation, he said, “If I understood you aright, there were, beyond these studies and accomplishments of Prairie–bird, some other means employed by you, to give and preserve to her the extraordinary influence which you say that she possesses over the Indians.”“There were,” replied Paul Müller: “amongst others, I enabled her to vaccinate most of the children in this band, by which means they escaped the fatal effects of a disorder that has committed dreadful ravages among the surrounding tribes: and I have instructed her in some of the elementary calculations of astronomy; owing to which they look upon her as asuperior being, commissioned by the Great Spirit to live among them, and to do them good: thus her person is safe, and her tent as sacred from intrusion as the Great Medicine Lodge. I am allowed to occupy a compartment in it, where I keep our little stores of books and medicines; and she goes about the camp on her errands of benevolence, followed by the attachment and veneration of all classes and ages!”“Happy existence!” exclaimed Reginald; “and yet,” added he, musing, “she cannot, surely, be doomed through life to waste such sweetness on an air so desert!”“I know not,” answered the missionary. “God’s purposes are mysterious, and the instruments that he chooses for effecting them, various as the flowers on the prairie. Many an Indian warrior has that sweet child turned from the path of blood,—more than one uplifted tomahawk has fallen harmless at the voice of her entreaty; nay, I have reason to hope, that in Wingenund, and in several others of the tribe, she has partially uprooted the weeds of hatred and revenge; and sown in their stead the seeds of gospel truth. Surely, Reginald Brandon, you would not call such an existence wasted?”“That would I not, indeed,” replied the young man, with emphasis. “It is an angel’s office!” he added, inaudibly, “and it is performed by an angel!”Although he could have talked or listened on the subject of the Prairie–bird for hours together, Reginald began already to feel that sensitive reserve respecting the mention of her name to another which always accompanies even the earliest dawnings of love; and he turned the conversation by inquiring of the venerable missionary, whether he would kindly communicate something of his own history; and explain how he had come from so remote a distance to pass the evening of life among the Indians.“The tale is very brief, and the motives very simple. I was born in Germany, and having early embraced the tenets of the United Brethren, of whom you have probably heard in that country under the name of ‘Herrn–Hüter,’ I received a pressing invitation from Heckewelder, then in England, to join him in his projected missionary journey to North America. I gladly accepted the offer, and after a short stay in London, embarked with that learned and amiable man,—who soon became what he now is, the nearest and dearest friend I haveon earth;—and I placed myself under his guidance in the prosecution of the grand objects of our undertaking, which were these—to endeavour to convert the Indian nations to Christianity, not, as the Spaniards had pretended to attempt, by fire, and sword, and violence; but by going unarmed and peaceably among them, studying their languages, characters, and history; and while showing in our own persons an example of piety and self–denial, to eradicate patiently the more noxious plants from their moral constitution, and to mould such as were good and wholesome to the purposes of religious truth. God be praised, our labours have not been altogether without effect; but I blush for my white brethren when I confess that the greatest obstacle to our success has been found in the vices, the open profligacy, the violence, and the cruelty of those who have called themselves Christians. Heckewalder has confined his exertions chiefly to the Indians remaining in Pennsylvania and the Western territory; mine have been mostly employed among the wandering and wilder tribes who inhabit this remote and boundless region.”“I have often heard your pious friend’s name,” said Reginald; “he enjoys the reputation of being the most eminent Indian linguist in our country, and he is supposed to know the Delaware language as well as his own.”“He is indeed,” said Paul, “the most skilful and successful labourer in this rude but not unfruitful vineyard. Now and then, at remote intervals, I contrive, by means of some returning hunter or Indian agent, to communicate with him, and his letters always afford me matter of consolation and encouragement; though I was much cast down when he announced to me the cruel and wanton massacre of his Indian flock near the banks of the Ohio.”“I have heard of it,” replied Reginald; “I regret to say that the outrage was committed not very far from the spot where my father lives.”“Do you live in that neighbourhood?” exclaimed the missionary, suddenly catching his arm; “then you may, perhaps,—but no, it cannot be,” he muttered to himself; “this youth can know nothing of it—““My honoured friend,” replied Reginald, colouring at the idea suggested by the words which he had overheard, “I trust you do not believe that my father, or any of my kindred, had a share in those atrocities!”“You misunderstood me altogether, I assure you,” answered the missionary; “my exclamation had reference to another subject. But I see War–Eagle coming this way; probably he is bent upon some hunting excursion, in which you may wish to be his companion.”“I shall gladly do so,” replied Reginald, “as soon as I have breakfasted: my faithful follower, Perrot, desired very much that I should taste some collops of venison, which he said that he could dress in a style somewhat superior to that of the Indian cookery. Will you share them with me?”The missionary excused himself, as he had already taken his morning meal, and was about to return to the tent of Prairie–bird.Reginald assured the good man of the pleasure which he had found in his conversation, and expressed a hope that he would be enabled soon to enjoy it again, as there was much information respecting the habits, religion, and character of the different Indian tribes which he felt anxious to acquire, and which none could be better able to communicate.“Whatever instruction or information I may have collected during my residence among them, is freely at your service,” replied Paul Müller; “and if you find yourself in any difficulty or embarrassment where my advice can be of use, you may always command it. You know,” he added, smiling, “they consider me Great Medicine, and thus I am able to say and do many things among them which would not be permitted in another white man.” So saying, he shook hands with Reginald, and returned slowly towards the encampment.War–Eagle now came up, and greeting his friend with his usual cordiality, inquired whether he would accompany him in the chase of the elk, herds of which had been seen at no great distance. Reginald acceded to the proposal; and, having hastily dispatched the collops prepared by Perrot, the two friends left the village on foot, and took their way towards the timber in the valley.The day was hot, and the speed at which the agile Indian unconsciously strode along, would have soon discomfited a less active pedestrian than Reginald; but having been well seasoned in his hunting excursions with Baptiste, he found no difficulty in keeping pace with his friend; and he amused himself, as they went, by asking him a variety of questions respecting thecountry, the tribe, and its language, to all of which War–Eagle replied with much intelligence and candour.As Reginald had not seen Wingenund, he asked his companion how it happened that the youth did not accompany them. “He is gone,” replied War–Eagle, “to bring turkeys to the camp.”“Does he shoot them?” inquired Reginald.“No, he takes them—my white brother shall see; it is not far from the Elk Path.”When they reached the wooded bottom, War–Eagle struck into a small track which seemed to have been made by a streamlet in spring, and having followed it for about a mile, they came to a more open woodland scene, where the Indian pointed, as they passed along, to scattered feathers, and foot–tracks of turkeys in abundance. They had not proceeded far, when he uttered a low exclamation of surprise as he discovered Wingenund stretched at the foot of a tree, with his eyes busily fixed upon something which he held in his hand, and which so riveted his attention that he was not aware of their approach. Beside him lay two old and two young turkeys, which he had caught and killed: the friends had not looked at him many seconds, before he raised his eyes and perceived them: starting to his feet, he made an ineffectual attempt to conceal that which he had been holding in his hand, which was, in fact, a sheet of coarse white paper. Reginald drew near and said to him, “Come, Wingenund, you must show Netis what you hold in your hand: I am sure it is no harm; and if it is a secret, I will keep it.”Wingenund, in some confusion, handed the scroll to Reginald, who saw at the first glance that it was a fragment of an elementary vocabulary of Delaware and English words, written in a free bold character: he ran his eye over the paper, which contained chiefly phrases of the most simple kind, such as, “N’menne, I drink,” “N’ani pa wi, I stand,” “Tokelân, it rains,” “Loo, true,” “Yuni, this,” “Na–ni, that,” &c. &c., and a smile came over his features when his eye met his own name, “Netis,” with its translation, “dear friend.” Below this he read, “N’quti,” “Nisha,” “Nacha,” “Newo,” and a succession of single words, which he rightly conjectured to be numerals, 1, 2, 3, 4, &c., and at the bottom of the page was a long sentence in the Lenapé tongue, which began as follows:—“Ki wetochemelenktalli epian awassagame, &c.”—“What is this last sentence, Wingenund?” inquired Reginald.“It is the prayer,” replied the youth, “that the Good Spirit taught the white men to say, when he came to live among them.”“And who wrote all these words for you?”“Prairie–bird wrote them, and every day she teaches me to understand the marks on the paper.”Reginald’s eyes strayed unconsciously to that part of the sheet where he had seen his own name written by the Prairie–bird’s hand. “Happy boy!” he mentally ejaculated, “to sit at her feet, and draw instruction from her lips!”—“With such a teacher, methinks I could learn the Lenapé tongue in a month!—What says my brother?” continued he aloud, addressing War–Eagle, whose fine countenance wore an expression of indifference, almost amounting to contempt. “What says my brother of this paper?”“It is perhaps good,” replied the Indian gravely, “for the Black Father, and for the white man—but not for the Lenapé. The Great Spirit has given him a heart to feel, and a hand to fight, and eyes to see the smallest track on the grass—that is enough. Our fathers knew no more, and they were great, and strong, and brave!—chiefs among the nations! What are we now? Few, and weak, and wandering. It is better for us to live and die like them, and we shall hunt with them in the happy fields.—Let us go and show Netis where Wingenund takes the turkeys.” So saying, he turned and led the way, followed by his two companions.

c202

REGINALD HOLDS A CONVERSATION WITH THE MISSIONARY.

Reginald still kept his eyes on the opening through which Prairie–bird had disappeared into the tent, as though they could have pierced through the canvasss that concealed from his view its lovely inhabitant: his feelings were in a state of confusion and excitement, altogether new to him; for if, in his European travels, he had paid a passing tribute of admiration to the beauties who had crossed his path, and whom his remarkable personal advantages had rendered by no means insensible to his homage, the surface only of his heart had been touched; whereas now its deepest fountains were stirred, and the troubled waters gushed forth with overwhelming force.

He was recalled to himself by the voice of the missionary, who, without appearing to notice his abstraction, said, “My son, if you choose that we should prolong our walk, I am ready to accompany you.” If the truth must be told, Reginald could at that moment scarcely endure the presence of any human being: he felt an impulse to rush into the woods, or over the plain, and to pour forth in solitude the torrent of feelings by which he was oppressed; but he controlled himself, not only because he really felt a respect for the good missionary, but also because he hoped through him to obtain some information respecting the extraordinary being who had taken such sudden possession of his thoughts: he replied, therefore, that he would willingly accompany him, and they took their way together along the banks of the streamlet, alternately observing on the scenery and surrounding objects.

This desultory conversation did not long suit the eager and straightforward character of Reginald Brandon; and he changed it by abruptly inquiring of his companion, whether he knew any thing of the history and parentage of Prairie–bird.

“Not much,” replied Paul Müller, smiling; “she was with this band of Delawares when I first came to reside among them: if any one knows her history, it must be Tamenund; but he keeps it a profound secret, and gives out among the tribe that she was sent to him by the Great Spirit, and that as long as she remains with the band they will be successful in hunting and in war.”

“But how,” inquired Reginald, “can he make such a tale pass current among a people who are well known to consider the female sex in so inferior and degraded a light?”

“He has effected it,” replied the missionary, “partly by accident, partly by her extraordinary beauty and endowments, and partly, I must own, by my assistance, which I have given because I thereby ensured to her the kindest and most respectful treatment, and also endeavoured, under God’s blessing, to make her instrumental in sowing the seed of His truth among these benighted savages.”

“Let me understand this more in detail,” said Reginald, “if the narration does not trouble you.”

“Her first appearance among the Delawares, as they have told me,” said the missionary, was as follows:—“Their prophet, or Great Medicine–man, dreamt that under a certain tree was deposited a treasure, that should enrich the tribe and render them fortunate: a party was sent by order of the chief to search the spot indicated; and on their arrival they found a female child wrapped in a covering of beaver–skin, and reposing on a couch of turkey–feathers: these creatures being supposed to preside peculiarly over the fate of the Delawares, they brought back the child with great ceremony to the village, where they placed her under the care of the chief; set apart a tent or lodge for her own peculiar use; and ever since that time have continued to take every care of her comfort and safety.”

“I suppose,” interrupted Reginald, “the dream of the Great Medicine, and all its accompaniments, were secretly arranged between him and the chief?”

“Probably they were,” replied Paul; “but you must beware how you say as much to any Delaware: if you did notrisk your life, you would give mortal offence. After all, an imposition that has resulted in harm to no one, and in so much good to an interesting and unprotected creature, may be forgiven.”

“Indeed I will not gainsay it,” replied our hero: “pray continue your narrative.”

“My sacred office, and the kindly feelings entertained towards me by these Indians, gave me frequent opportunities of seeing and conversing with Olitipa, or the ‘Prairie–bird;’ and I found in her such an amiable disposition, and so quick an apprehension, that I gave my best attention to the cultivation of talents which might, I hoped, some day produce a harvest of usefulness. In reading, writing, and in music, she needed but little instruction. I furnished her from time to time with books, and paper, and pencils: an old Spanish guitar, probably taken from some of the dwellings of that people in Missouri, enabled her to practise simple melodies; and you would be surprised at the sweetness with which she now sings words, strung together by herself in English and German, and also in the Delaware tongue, adapting them to wild airs, either such as she hears among the Indians, or invents herself. I took especial pains to instruct her in the practical elements of a science that my long residence among the different tribes has rendered necessary and familiar to me,—I mean that of medicine, as connected with the rude botany of the woods and prairies; and so well has she profited by my instruction, and by her own persevering researches, that there is scarcely a tree, or gum, or herb, possessing any sanatory properties, which she does not know and apply to the relief of those around her.”

“Indeed,” said Reginald, laughing; “I had not expected to find this last among the accomplishments of Prairie–bird.”

“You were mistaken then,” replied Paul Müller; “nay more, I fear that, in your estimate of what are usually termed female accomplishments, you have been accustomed to lay too much stress on those which are light or trifling, and too little on those which are useful and properly feminine: even in settled and civilised countries the most grievous fevers and ailments to which we are subject require the ministration of a female nurse; can it be then unreasonable that we should endeavour to mingle in their education some knowledge of the remedies which they may be called upon to administer,and of the bodily ills which it is to be their province to alleviate?”

“You are right,” answered Reginald, modestly; “and I entreat your pardon for the hasty levity with which I spoke on the subject. I am well aware that, in olden times, no young woman’s education was held to be complete without some knowledge both of the culinary and healing arts; and I much doubt whether society has not suffered from their having altogether abandoned the cultivation of these in favour of singing, dancing, and reading of the lightest kind.”

“It is the character of the artificial state to which society is fast verging,” replied Paul, “to prefer accomplishments to qualities, ornament to usefulness, luxury to comfort, tinsel to gold: setting aside the consideration of a future state, this system might be well enough, if the drawing–room, the theatre, and the ball were the sum of human life; but it is ill calculated to render man dignified in his character, and useful to his fellow–creatures, or woman what she ought to be,—the comfort, the solace, the ornament of home.”

“These observations may be true as regards England or France,” replied Reginald; “but you surely would not apply them to our country?”

“To a certain extent, I do,” answered the missionary. “I have been now thirty years on this continent, and have observed that, as colonists, the Americans have been very faithful imitators of these defects in their mother country; I am not sure that they will be rendered less so by their political emancipation.”

The conversation was now straying rather too far from the subject to which Reginald desired to confine it: waving, therefore, all reply to the missionary’s last observation, he said, “If I understood you aright, there were, beyond these studies and accomplishments of Prairie–bird, some other means employed by you, to give and preserve to her the extraordinary influence which you say that she possesses over the Indians.”

“There were,” replied Paul Müller: “amongst others, I enabled her to vaccinate most of the children in this band, by which means they escaped the fatal effects of a disorder that has committed dreadful ravages among the surrounding tribes: and I have instructed her in some of the elementary calculations of astronomy; owing to which they look upon her as asuperior being, commissioned by the Great Spirit to live among them, and to do them good: thus her person is safe, and her tent as sacred from intrusion as the Great Medicine Lodge. I am allowed to occupy a compartment in it, where I keep our little stores of books and medicines; and she goes about the camp on her errands of benevolence, followed by the attachment and veneration of all classes and ages!”

“Happy existence!” exclaimed Reginald; “and yet,” added he, musing, “she cannot, surely, be doomed through life to waste such sweetness on an air so desert!”

“I know not,” answered the missionary. “God’s purposes are mysterious, and the instruments that he chooses for effecting them, various as the flowers on the prairie. Many an Indian warrior has that sweet child turned from the path of blood,—more than one uplifted tomahawk has fallen harmless at the voice of her entreaty; nay, I have reason to hope, that in Wingenund, and in several others of the tribe, she has partially uprooted the weeds of hatred and revenge; and sown in their stead the seeds of gospel truth. Surely, Reginald Brandon, you would not call such an existence wasted?”

“That would I not, indeed,” replied the young man, with emphasis. “It is an angel’s office!” he added, inaudibly, “and it is performed by an angel!”

Although he could have talked or listened on the subject of the Prairie–bird for hours together, Reginald began already to feel that sensitive reserve respecting the mention of her name to another which always accompanies even the earliest dawnings of love; and he turned the conversation by inquiring of the venerable missionary, whether he would kindly communicate something of his own history; and explain how he had come from so remote a distance to pass the evening of life among the Indians.

“The tale is very brief, and the motives very simple. I was born in Germany, and having early embraced the tenets of the United Brethren, of whom you have probably heard in that country under the name of ‘Herrn–Hüter,’ I received a pressing invitation from Heckewelder, then in England, to join him in his projected missionary journey to North America. I gladly accepted the offer, and after a short stay in London, embarked with that learned and amiable man,—who soon became what he now is, the nearest and dearest friend I haveon earth;—and I placed myself under his guidance in the prosecution of the grand objects of our undertaking, which were these—to endeavour to convert the Indian nations to Christianity, not, as the Spaniards had pretended to attempt, by fire, and sword, and violence; but by going unarmed and peaceably among them, studying their languages, characters, and history; and while showing in our own persons an example of piety and self–denial, to eradicate patiently the more noxious plants from their moral constitution, and to mould such as were good and wholesome to the purposes of religious truth. God be praised, our labours have not been altogether without effect; but I blush for my white brethren when I confess that the greatest obstacle to our success has been found in the vices, the open profligacy, the violence, and the cruelty of those who have called themselves Christians. Heckewalder has confined his exertions chiefly to the Indians remaining in Pennsylvania and the Western territory; mine have been mostly employed among the wandering and wilder tribes who inhabit this remote and boundless region.”

“I have often heard your pious friend’s name,” said Reginald; “he enjoys the reputation of being the most eminent Indian linguist in our country, and he is supposed to know the Delaware language as well as his own.”

“He is indeed,” said Paul, “the most skilful and successful labourer in this rude but not unfruitful vineyard. Now and then, at remote intervals, I contrive, by means of some returning hunter or Indian agent, to communicate with him, and his letters always afford me matter of consolation and encouragement; though I was much cast down when he announced to me the cruel and wanton massacre of his Indian flock near the banks of the Ohio.”

“I have heard of it,” replied Reginald; “I regret to say that the outrage was committed not very far from the spot where my father lives.”

“Do you live in that neighbourhood?” exclaimed the missionary, suddenly catching his arm; “then you may, perhaps,—but no, it cannot be,” he muttered to himself; “this youth can know nothing of it—“

“My honoured friend,” replied Reginald, colouring at the idea suggested by the words which he had overheard, “I trust you do not believe that my father, or any of my kindred, had a share in those atrocities!”

“You misunderstood me altogether, I assure you,” answered the missionary; “my exclamation had reference to another subject. But I see War–Eagle coming this way; probably he is bent upon some hunting excursion, in which you may wish to be his companion.”

“I shall gladly do so,” replied Reginald, “as soon as I have breakfasted: my faithful follower, Perrot, desired very much that I should taste some collops of venison, which he said that he could dress in a style somewhat superior to that of the Indian cookery. Will you share them with me?”

The missionary excused himself, as he had already taken his morning meal, and was about to return to the tent of Prairie–bird.

Reginald assured the good man of the pleasure which he had found in his conversation, and expressed a hope that he would be enabled soon to enjoy it again, as there was much information respecting the habits, religion, and character of the different Indian tribes which he felt anxious to acquire, and which none could be better able to communicate.

“Whatever instruction or information I may have collected during my residence among them, is freely at your service,” replied Paul Müller; “and if you find yourself in any difficulty or embarrassment where my advice can be of use, you may always command it. You know,” he added, smiling, “they consider me Great Medicine, and thus I am able to say and do many things among them which would not be permitted in another white man.” So saying, he shook hands with Reginald, and returned slowly towards the encampment.

War–Eagle now came up, and greeting his friend with his usual cordiality, inquired whether he would accompany him in the chase of the elk, herds of which had been seen at no great distance. Reginald acceded to the proposal; and, having hastily dispatched the collops prepared by Perrot, the two friends left the village on foot, and took their way towards the timber in the valley.

The day was hot, and the speed at which the agile Indian unconsciously strode along, would have soon discomfited a less active pedestrian than Reginald; but having been well seasoned in his hunting excursions with Baptiste, he found no difficulty in keeping pace with his friend; and he amused himself, as they went, by asking him a variety of questions respecting thecountry, the tribe, and its language, to all of which War–Eagle replied with much intelligence and candour.

As Reginald had not seen Wingenund, he asked his companion how it happened that the youth did not accompany them. “He is gone,” replied War–Eagle, “to bring turkeys to the camp.”

“Does he shoot them?” inquired Reginald.

“No, he takes them—my white brother shall see; it is not far from the Elk Path.”

When they reached the wooded bottom, War–Eagle struck into a small track which seemed to have been made by a streamlet in spring, and having followed it for about a mile, they came to a more open woodland scene, where the Indian pointed, as they passed along, to scattered feathers, and foot–tracks of turkeys in abundance. They had not proceeded far, when he uttered a low exclamation of surprise as he discovered Wingenund stretched at the foot of a tree, with his eyes busily fixed upon something which he held in his hand, and which so riveted his attention that he was not aware of their approach. Beside him lay two old and two young turkeys, which he had caught and killed: the friends had not looked at him many seconds, before he raised his eyes and perceived them: starting to his feet, he made an ineffectual attempt to conceal that which he had been holding in his hand, which was, in fact, a sheet of coarse white paper. Reginald drew near and said to him, “Come, Wingenund, you must show Netis what you hold in your hand: I am sure it is no harm; and if it is a secret, I will keep it.”

Wingenund, in some confusion, handed the scroll to Reginald, who saw at the first glance that it was a fragment of an elementary vocabulary of Delaware and English words, written in a free bold character: he ran his eye over the paper, which contained chiefly phrases of the most simple kind, such as, “N’menne, I drink,” “N’ani pa wi, I stand,” “Tokelân, it rains,” “Loo, true,” “Yuni, this,” “Na–ni, that,” &c. &c., and a smile came over his features when his eye met his own name, “Netis,” with its translation, “dear friend.” Below this he read, “N’quti,” “Nisha,” “Nacha,” “Newo,” and a succession of single words, which he rightly conjectured to be numerals, 1, 2, 3, 4, &c., and at the bottom of the page was a long sentence in the Lenapé tongue, which began as follows:—“Ki wetochemelenktalli epian awassagame, &c.”—“What is this last sentence, Wingenund?” inquired Reginald.

“It is the prayer,” replied the youth, “that the Good Spirit taught the white men to say, when he came to live among them.”

“And who wrote all these words for you?”

“Prairie–bird wrote them, and every day she teaches me to understand the marks on the paper.”

Reginald’s eyes strayed unconsciously to that part of the sheet where he had seen his own name written by the Prairie–bird’s hand. “Happy boy!” he mentally ejaculated, “to sit at her feet, and draw instruction from her lips!”—“With such a teacher, methinks I could learn the Lenapé tongue in a month!—What says my brother?” continued he aloud, addressing War–Eagle, whose fine countenance wore an expression of indifference, almost amounting to contempt. “What says my brother of this paper?”

“It is perhaps good,” replied the Indian gravely, “for the Black Father, and for the white man—but not for the Lenapé. The Great Spirit has given him a heart to feel, and a hand to fight, and eyes to see the smallest track on the grass—that is enough. Our fathers knew no more, and they were great, and strong, and brave!—chiefs among the nations! What are we now? Few, and weak, and wandering. It is better for us to live and die like them, and we shall hunt with them in the happy fields.—Let us go and show Netis where Wingenund takes the turkeys.” So saying, he turned and led the way, followed by his two companions.

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