 | CHAPTER XIV. The prairie |  |
14. CHAPTER XIV.
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew.
The day dawned, the following morning, on a
more tranquil scene. The work of blood had entirely
ceased, and as the sun arose, its light was shed
on a broad expanse of quiet and solitude. The
tents of Ishmael were still standing, where they had
been last seen, but not another vestige of human existence
could be traced in any other part of the
waste. Here and there little flocks of ravenous
birds were sailing and screaming above those spots
where some heavy-footed Teton had met his death,
but every other sign of the recent combat had passed
away. The river was to be traced far through the
endless meadows, by its serpentine and smoking bed,
and the little silvery clouds of light vapour, which
hung above the pools and springs, were beginning to
melt in air, as they felt the quickening warmth,
which, pouring from the glowing sky, shed its bland
and subtle influence on every object of the vast and
unshadowed region. The prairie was like the heavens
after the dark passage of the gust, soft, calm,
and soothing.
It was in the midst of such a scene that the family
of the squatter assembled to make their final decision
concerning the several individuals who had been
thrown into their power by the fluctuating chances
of the incidents related. Every being possessing life
and liberty had been afoot since the first streak of
gray had lighted the east, and even the youngest of
the erratic brood seemed deeply conscious that the
moment had arrived, when circumstances were
about to transpire that might leave a lasting impression
on the wild fortunes of their semi-barbarous
condition.
Ishmael moved through his little encampment,
with the seriousness of one who had been unexpectedly
charged with matters of a gravity far exceeding
any of the ordinary occurrences of his irregular existence.
His sons, however, who had so often found
occasions to prove the inexorable severity of their
father's character, saw, in his sullen mien and cold
eye, rather a determination to adhere to his resolutions,
which usually were as obstinately enforced as
they were harshly conceived, than any evidences of
wavering or doubt. Even Esther was sensibly affected
by the important matters that pressed so heavily
on the interests of her family. While she neglected
none of those domestic offices, which would
probably have proceeded under any conceivable circumstances,
just as the world turns round with earthquakes
rending its crust, and volcanoes consuming
its vitals, yet her voice was pitched to a lower and
more foreboding key than common, and the still frequent
chidings of her children were tempered by
something like the milder dignity of parental authority.
Abiram, as usual, seemed the one most given to
solicitude and doubt. There were certain misgivings,
in the frequent glances that he turned on the unyielding
countenance of Ishmael, which might have
betrayed how little of their former confidence and
good-understanding existed between them. His looks
appeared to be strangely vacillating between hope
and fear. At times his countenance lighted with the
gleamings of a sordid joy, as he bent his look on the
tent which contained his recovered prisoner, and
then, again, the impression seemed unaccountably
chased away by the shadows of intense apprehension.
When under the influence of the latter feeling
his eye never failed to seek the visage of his dull
and impenetrable kinsman. But there he rather
found reason for alarm than grounds of encouragement,
expressed the fearful truth, that he had redeemed
his dull faculties from the influence of the
kidnapper, and that his thoughts were now brooding
only on the achievement of his own stubborn intentions.
It was in this state of things that the sons of Ishmael,
in obedience to an order from their father, conducted
the several subjects of his contemplated decisions,
from their places of confinement into the
open air. No one was exempted from this arrangement.
Middleton and Inez, Paul and Ellen, Obed
and the trapper, were all brought forth and placed
in situations that were deemed suitable to receive
the sentence of their arbitrary judge. The younger
children gathered around the spot, in a sort of momentary
but engrossing curiosity, and even Esther
quitted her culinary labours, and drew nigh to listen.
Hard-Heart alone of all his band was present to
witness the novel and far from unimposing spectacle.
He stood leaning, gravely, on his lance, while the
smoking steed, that grazed nigh, showed that he had
ridden far and hard to be a spectator on the occasion.
Ishmael had received his new ally with a coldness
that showed his entire insensibility to that delicacy,
which had induced the young chief to come alone,
in order that the presence of his warriors might not
create uneasiness or distrust. He neither courted
their assistance nor dreaded their enmity, and he now
proceeded to the business of the hour with as much
composure, as though the species of patriarchal power,
he actually wielded, was universally recognized.
There is something elevating in the possession of
authority, however it may be abused. The mind is
apt to make some efforts to prove the fitness between
its qualities and the condition of its owner, though it
may often fail, and render that ridiculous which was
only hated before. But the effect on Ishmael Bush
by temperament, formidable by his physical means,
and dangerous from his lawless obstinacy, his self-constituted
tribunal excited a degree of awe, to which
even the intelligent Middleton could not bring himself
to be entirely insensible. Little time, however,
was given to arrange his thoughts, for the squatter,
though unaccustomed to haste, having previously
made up his mind, was not disposed to waste the moments
in delay. When he saw that all were in their
places, he cast a dull look over his prisoners, and addressed
himself to the Captain, as the principal man
among the imaginary delinquents.
“I am called upon this day to fill the office which
in the settlements you give unto judges, who are set
apart to decide on matters that arise between man and
man. I have but little knowledge of the ways of the
courts, though there is a rule that is known unto all,
and which teaches, that an `eye must be returned
for an eye,' and `a tooth for a tooth.' I am no troubler
of county-houses, and least of all do I like living
on a plantation that the sheriff has surveyed, yet
there is a reason in such a law, that makes it a safe
rule to journey by, and therefore it ar' a solemn fact
that this day shall I abide by it, and give unto all and
each that which is his due and no more.”
When Ishmael had delivered his mind thus far, he
paused and looked about him, as if he would trace
the effects in the countenances of his hearers. When
his eye met that of Middleton, he was answered by
the latter—
“If the evil-doer is to be punished, and he that
has offended none to be left to go at large, you must
change situations with me, and become a prisoner
instead of a judge.”
“You mean to say that I have done you wrong, in
taking the lady from her father's house, and leading
her so far against her will into these wild districts,”
little resentment as he betrayed compunction at the
charge. “I shall not put the lie on the back of an
evil deed, and deny your words. Since things have
come to this pass between us, I have found time to
think the matter over at my leisure, and though none
of your swift thinkers, who can see, or who pretend
to see into the nature of all things by a turn of the
eye, yet am I a man open to reason, and give me my
time, one who is not given to deny the truth. Therefore
have I mainly concluded, that it was a mistake
to take a child from its parent, and the lady shall be
returned whence she has been brought as tenderly
and as safely as man can do it.”
“Ay, ay,” added Esther, “the man is right. Poverty
and labour bore hard upon him, especially as
county-officers were getting troublesome, and in a
weak moment he did the wicked act, but he has listened
to my words, and his mind has got round again
into its honest corner. An awful and a dangerous
thing it is to be bringing the daughters of other people
into a peaceable and well-governed family!”
“And who will thank you for the same, after what
has been already done?” muttered Abiram, with a
grin of disappointed cupidity, in which malignity and
terror were disgustingly united; “when the devil has
once made out his account, you may look for your
receipt in full only at his hands.”
“Peace!” said Ishmael, stretching his heavy hand
towards his kinsman, in a manner that instantly silenced
the speaker. “Your voice is like a raven's
in my ears. If you had never spoken I should have
been spared this shame.”
“Since then you are beginning to lose sight of your
errors, and to see the truth,” said Middleton, “do not
things by halves, but, by the generosity of your conduct,
purchase friends who may be of use in warding
off any future danger from the law—”
“Young man,” interrupted the squatter with a
dark frown, “you, too, have said enough. If fear of
the law had come over me, you would not be here
to witness the manner in which Ishmael Bush deals
out justice.”
“Smother not your good intentions, and remember,
if you contemplate violence to any among us, that
the arm of that law you affect to despise, reaches far,
and that though its movements are sometimes slow,
they are not the less certain!”
“Yes, there is too much truth in his words, squatter;”
said the trapper, whose attentive ears rarely
suffered a syllable to be uttered unheeded in his presence.
“A busy and a troublesome arm it often
proves to be here, in this land of America; where, as
they say, man is left greatly to the following of his
own wishes, compared to other countries; and happier,
ay, and more manly and more honest, too, is he
for the privilege! Why do you know, my men, that
there are regions where the law is so busy as to say,
in this fashion shall you live, in that fashion shall you
die, and in such another fashion shall you take leave
of the world, to be sent before the judgment seat of
the Lord! A wicked and a troublesome meddling is
that, with the business of One who has not made his
creatures to be herded, like oxen, and driven from
field to field, as their stupid and selfish keepers may
judge of their need and wants. A miserable land
must that be, where they fetter the mind as well as
the body, and where the creatures of God, being
born children, are kept so by the wicked inventions
of men who would take upon themselves the office
of the great Governor of all!”
During the delivery of this very pertinent opinion,
Ishmael was content to be silent, though the look,
with which he regarded the speaker, manifested any
other feeling than that of amity. When the old man
subject which the other had interrupted.
“As to ourselves, young Captain, there has been
wrong on both sides. If I have borne hard upon
your feelings, in taking away your wife with an honest
intention of giving her back to you, when the
plans of that devil incarnate were answered, so have
you broken into my encampment, aiding and abetting,
as they have called many an honester bargain, in destroying
my property.”
“But what I did was to liberate—”
“The matter is settled between us,” interrupted
Ishmael, with the air of one who, having made up
his own opinion on the merits of the question, cared
very little for those of other people; “you and your
wife are free to go and come, when and how you
please. Abner, set the Captain at liberty; and now,
if you will tarry until I am ready to draw nigher to
the settlements, you shall both have the benefit of
carriage; if not, never say that you did not get a
friendly offer.”
“Now, may the strong oppress me, and my sins
be visited harshly on my own head, if I forget your
honesty, however slow it has been in showing itself,”
cried Middleton, hastening to the side of the weeping
Inez, the instant he was released; and friend, I offer
you the honour of a soldier, that your own part of
this transaction shall be forgotten, whatever I may
deem fit to have done, when I reach a place where
the arm of government can make itself felt.”
The dull smile, with which the squatter answered
to this assurance, proved how little he valued the
pledge that the youth, in the first revulsion of his
feeling, was so free to make.
“Neither fear nor favour, but what I call justice
has brought me to this judgment,” he said; “do you
that which may seem right in your eyes, and believe
our crossing each other's path, again! If you ar'
content, well; if you ar' not content seek to ease
your feelings in your own fashion. I shall not ask
to be let up, when you once put me fairly down.
And now, Doctor, have I come to your leaf in my
accounts. It is time to foot up the small reckoning,
that has been running on for some time atwixt us.
With you, I entered into open and manly faith; in
what manner have you kept it?”
The singular felicity, with which Ishmael had contrived
to shift the responsibility of all that had passed,
from his own shoulders to those of his prisoners,
backed as it was by circumstances that hardly admitted
of a very philosophical examination of any
mooted point in ethics, was sufficiently embarrassing
to the several individuals, who were so unexpectedly
required to answer for a conduct which, in their simplicity
they had deemed so meritorious. The life of
Obed had been so purely theoretic, that his amazement
was not the least embarrassing at a state of
things, which might not have proved so very remarkable
had he been a little more practised in the ways
of the world. The worthy naturalist was not the
first by many, who found himself, at the precise moment
when he was expecting praise, suddenly arraigned,
to answer for the very conduct on which he rested
all his claims to commendation. Though not a little
scandalized, at the unexpected turn of the transaction,
he was fain to make the best of circumstances,
and to bring forth such matter in justification as first
presented itself to his somewhat disordered faculties.
“That there did exist a certain compactum or
agreement between Obed Batt, M. D., and Ishmael
Bush, viator, or erratic husbandman,” he said, endeavouring
to avoid all offence in the use of terms,
“I am not disposed to deny. I will admit that it
was therein conditioned, or stipulated that a certain
until so many days had been numbered. But
as the said time has fully expired, I presume it fair
to infer that the bargain may now be said to be obsolete.”
“Ishmael!” interrupted the impatient Esther,
“make no words with a man who can break your
bones as easily as set them, and let the poisoning
devil go! He's a cheat from box to phial. Give
him half the prairie and take the other half yourself.
He an acclimator! I will engage to get the brats acclimated
to a fever-and-agy bottom in a week, and
not a word shall be uttered harder to pronounce than
the bark of a cherry-tree, with perhaps a drop or two
of western comfort. One thing ar' a fact, Ishmael;
I like no fellow travellers who can give a heavy feel
to an honest woman's tongue, I—and that without
caring whether her household is in order or out of
order.”
The air of settled gloom, which had taken possession
of the squatter's countenance, lighted for an instant
with a look of dull drollery as he answered—
“Different people might judge differently, Esther,
of the virtue of the man's art. But sin' it is your
wish to let him depart, I will not plough the prairie
to make the walking rough. Friend, you are at liberty
to go into the settlements, and there I would
advise you to tarry, as men like me who make but
few contracts do not relish the custom of breaking
them so easily.”
“And now, Ishmael,” resumed his conquering
wife, “in order to keep a quiet family and to smother
all heart-burnings between us, show yonder Red-skin
and his daughter,” pointing to the aged Le Balafré
and the widowed Tachechana, “the way to their
village, and let us say to them: God bless you and
farewell in the same breath!”
“They are the captives of the Pawnee, according
with his rights.”
“Beware the devil, my man! He's a cheat and a
tempter, and none can say they ar' safe with his awful
delusions before their eyes! Take the advice of
one who has the honour of your name at heart, and
send the tawny Jezebel away.”
The squatter laid his broad hand on her shoulder,
and looking her steadily in the eye he answered, in
tones that were both stern and solemn—
“Woman, we have that before us which calls our
thoughts to other matters than the follies you mean.
Remember what is to come and put your silly jealousy
to sleep.”
“It is true, it is true,” murmured his wife moving
back among her daughters; “God forgive me, that
I should forget it!”
“And, now, young man; you, who have so often
come into my clearing, under the pretence of lining
the bee into his hole,” resumed Ishmael, after a
momentary pause, as if to recover the equilibrium
of his mind, “with you there is a heavier account to
settle. Not satisfied with rummaging my camp, you
have stolen a girl who is akin to my wife, and who
I had calculated to make one day a daughter of my
own.”
A stronger sensation was produced by this than
by any of the preceding interrogations. All the
young men bent their curious eyes on Paul and Ellen,
the former of whom seemed in no small mental
confusion, while the latter bent her face on her
bosom in shame.
“Harkee, friend Ishmael Bush,” returned the bee-hunter,
who found that he was expected to answer to
the charge of burglary as well as to that of abduction;
“that I did not give the most civil treatment to
your pots and pails, I am not going to gainsay. If
you will name the price you put upon the articles, it
us, and all hard feelings forgotten. I was not in a
church-going humour when we got upon your rock,
and it is more than probable there was quite as much
kicking as preaching among your wares; but a hole
in the best man's coat can be mended by money. As
to the matter of Ellen Wade, here, it may not be got
over so easily. Different people have different opinions
on the subject of matrimony. Some think it is
enough to say yes and no, to the questions of the
magistrate, or of the parson if one happens to be
handy, in order to make a quiet house, but I think
that where a young woman's mind is fairly bent on
going in a certain direction, it will be quite as prudent
to let her body follow. Not that I mean to say
Ellen was not altogether forced to what she did, and
therefore she is just as innocent, in this matter, as
yonder jackass, who was made to carry her, and
greatly against his will, too, as I am ready to swear
he would say himself, if he could speak as loud as
he can bray.”
“Nelly,” resumed the squatter, who paid very little
attention to what Paul considered a highly creditable
and ingenious vindication, “Nelly, this is a wide
and a wicked world, on which you have been in such
a hurry to cast yourself. You have fed and you have
slept in my camp for a year, and I did hope that you
had found the free air of the borders enough to your
mind to wish to remain among us.”
“Let the girl have her will,” muttered Esther,
from the rear; “he, who might have persuaded her
to stay, is sleeping in the cold and naked prairie, and
little hope is left of changing her humour; besides a
woman's mind is a wilful thing, and not easily turned
from its way wardness, as you know yourself, my man,
or I should not be here the mother of your sons and
daughters.”
The squatter seemed reluctant to abandon his
answered to the suggestion of his wife, he turned his
usual dull look along the line of the curious countenances
of his boys, as if to see whether there was
not one among them fit to fill the place of the deceased.
Paul was not slow to observe the expression,
and hitting nigher than usual on the secret
thoughts of the other, he believed he had fallen on
an expedient which might remove every difficulty.
“It is quite plain, friend Bush,” he said, “that
there are two opinions in this matter; yours for your
sons and mine for myself. I see but one amicable
way of settling this dispute, which is as follows:—do
you make a choice among your boys of any you will,
and let us walk off together for the matter of a few
miles into the prairies; the one who stays behind,
can never trouble any man's house or his fixen, and
the one who comes back may make the best of his
way he can, in the good wishes of the young woman.”
“Paul!” exclaimed the reproachful but smothered
voice of Ellen.
“Never fear, Nelly,” whispered the literal bee-hunter,
whose straight-going mind suggested no other
motive of uneasiness, on the part of his mistress,
than concern for himself; “I have taken the measure
of them all, and you may trust an eye that has
seen to line so many a bee into his hole!”
“I am not about to set myself up as a ruler of inclinations,”
observed the squatter. “If the heart of
the child is truly in the settlements let her declare it;
she shall have no let or hindrance from me. Speak,
Nelly, and let what you say come from your wishes,
without fear or favour. Would you leave us to go
with this young man into the settled countries, or will
you tarry and share the little we have to give, but
which to you we give so freely?”
Thus called upon to decide, Ellen could no longer
hesitate. The glance of her eye was at first timid
and her breathing became quick and excited, it was
apparent that the native spirit of the girl was gaining
the ascendancy over the bushfulness of sex.
“You took me a fatherless, impoverished and friendless
orphan,” she said, struggling to command her
voice, “when others, who live in what may be called
affluence compared to your state, chose to forget me;
and may Heaven in its goodness bless you for it!
The little I have done will never pay you for that
one act of kindness. I like not your manner of life;
it is different from the ways of my childhood, and it
is different from my wishes; still had you not led this
sweet and unoffending lady from her friends, I should
never have quitted you, until you yourself had said,
`go, and the blessing of God go with you!' ”
“The act was not wise, but it is repented of, and
so far as it can be done, in safety, it shall be repaired.
Now, speak freely; will you tarry, or will you go?”
“I have promised the lady,” said Ellen, dropping
her eyes again to the earth, “not to leave her; and
after she has received so much wrong from our hands,
she may have a right to claim that I keep my word.”
“Take the cords from the young man,” said Ishmael.
When the order was obeyed, he motioned for
all his sons to advance, and he placed them in a row
before the eyes of Ellen. “Now let there be no
trifling, but open your heart. Here ar' all I have to
offer, besides a hearty welcome.”
The distressed girl turned her abashed look from
the countenance of one of the young men to that of
another, until her eye met the troubled and working
features of Paul. Then nature got the better of
forms. She threw herself into the arms of the bee-hunter,
and sufficiently proclaimed her choice by
sobbing aloud. Ishmael signed to his sons to fall
back, and evidently mortified, though perhaps not
disappointed by the result, he no longer hesitated.
“Take her,” he said, “and deal honestly and
kindly by her. The girl has that in her which should
make her welcome, in any man's house, and I should
be loth to hear she ever came to harm. And now I
have settled with you all on terms that I hope you
will not find hard, but on the contrary just and manly.
I have only another question to ask, and that is of
the Captain; do you choose to profit by my teams in
going into the settlements, or not?”
“I hear, that some soldiers of my party are looking
for me near the villages of the Pawness,” said Middleton,
“and I intend to accompany this chief, in
order to join my men.”
“Then the sooner we part the better. Horses are
plenty on the bottom. Go; make your choice and
leave us in peace.”
“That is impossible, while the old man, who has
been a friend of my family near half a century is
left a prisoner. What has he done, that he too is
not released?”
“Ask no questions that may lead to deceitful answers,”
sullenly returned the squatter; “I have dealings
of my own with that trapper that it may not befit
an officer of the States to meddle with. Go, while
your road is open.”
“The man may be giving you honest counsel, and
that which it concerns you all to hearken to,” observed
the old captive, who seemed in no uneasiness at
the extraordinary condition in which he found himself.
“The Siouxes are a numberless and bloody-minded
race, and no one can say how long it may be
afore they will be out again on the scent of revenge.
Therefore I say to you, go, also, and take especial
heed, in crossing the bottoms, that you get not entangled
again in the fires, for the honest hunters often
burn the grass at this season, in order that the buffaloes
may find a sweeter and a greener pasturage in
the spring.”
“I should forget not only my gratitude, but my
duty to the laws, were I to leave this prisoner in your
hands, even by his own consent, without knowing the
nature of his crime, in which we may have all been
his innocent accessaries.”
“Will it satisfy you to know, that he merits all he
will receive?”
“It will at least change my opinion of his character.”
“Look then at this,” said Ishmael, placing before
the eyes of the Captain the bullet that had been
found about the person of the dead Asa; “with this
morsel of lead did he lay low as fine a boy as ever
gave joy to a parent's eyes!”
“I cannot believe that he has done this deed, unless
in self-defence, or on some justifiable provocation.
That he knew of the death of your son, I confess,
for he pointed out the brake in which the body lay,
but that he has wrongfully taken his life, nothing but
his own acknowledgment shall persuade me to believe.”
“I have lived long,” commenced the trapper, who
found, by the general pause, that he was expected to
vindicate himself from the heavy imputation, “and
much evil have I seen in my day. Many are the
prowling bears and leaping panthers that I have met,
fighting for the morsel which has been thrown in their
way, and many are the reasoning men, that I have
looked on striving against each other unto death, in
order that human madness might also have its hour.
For myself, I hope, there is no boasting in saying,
that though my hand has been needed in putting down
wickedness and oppression, it has never struck a
blow of which its owner will be ashamed to hear at
a reckoning that shall be far mightier than this.”
“If my father has taken life from one of his tribe,”
said the young Pawnee, whose quick eye had read
the meaning of what was passing, in the bullet and in
up to the friends of the dead, like a warrior. He is
too just to need thongs to lead him to judgment.”
“Boy, I hope you do me justice. If I had done
the foul deed, with which they charge me, I should
have manhood enough to come and offer my head to
the blow of punishment, as all good and honest Redmen
do the same.” Then giving his anxious Indian
friend a look, to reassure him of his innocence, he
turned to the rest of his attentive and interested listeners,
as he continued in English, “I have a short
story to tell, and he that believes it will believe the
truth, and he that disbelieves it will only lead himself
astray, and perhaps his neighbour too. We were all
outlying about your camp, friend squatter, as by this
time you may begin to suspect, when we found that it
contained a wronged and imprisoned lady, with intentions
neither more honest nor dishonest than to
set her free, as in nature and justice she had a right
to be. Seeing that I was more skilled in scouting than
the others, while they lay back in the cover, I was
sent upon the plain on the business of the reconnoitrings.
You little thought that one was so nigh,
who saw into all the circumventions of your hunt,
but there was I, sometimes flat behind a bush or a
tuft of grass, sometimes rolling down a hill into a
bottom, and little did you dream that your motions
were watched, as the panther watches the drinking
deer. Lord, squatter, when I was a man in the pride
and strength of my days, I have looked in at the tent
door of the enemy, and they sleeping, ay, and dreaming
too of being at home and in peace! I wish there
was time to give you the partic—”
“Proceed with your explanation,” interrupted the
impatient Middleton.
“Ah! and a bloody and wicked sight it was! There
I lay in a low bed of grass, as two of the hunters came
nigh each other. Their meeting was not cordial, nor
other; but I thought they would have parted in
peace, until I saw one put his rifle to the other's
back and do what I call a treacherous and sinful
murder. It was a noble and a manly youth, that
boy!—Though the powder burnt his coat he stood
the shock for more than a minute before he fell.
Then was he brought to his knees and a desperate
and manful fight he made to the brake, like a wounded
bear seeking a cover!”
“And why, in the name of heavenly justice, did
you conceal this!” cried Middleton.
“What! think you, Captain, that a man, who has
spent more than threescore years in the wilderness,
has not learned the virtue of discretion. What red
warrior runs to tell the sights he has seen until a fitting
time? I took the Doctor to the place, in order to see
whether his skill might not come in use, and our
friend, the bee-hunter, being in company, was knowing
to the fact that the bushes held the body.”
“Ay; it ar' true,” said Paul; “but not knowing
what private reasons might make the old trapper
wish to hush the matter up, I said as little about the
thing as possible; which was just nothing at all.”
“And who was the perpetrator of this deed? demanded
Middleton.
“If by perpetrator you mean him who did the act,
1 stands the man; and a shame, and a disgrace
is it to our race, that he is of the blood and family of
the dead.”
“He lies! he lies!” shrieked Abiram. “I did no
murder; I gave but blow for blow.”
The voice of Ishmael was deep and even awful,
as he answered—
“It is enough. Let the old man go. Boys, put
the brother of your mother in his place.”
“Touch me not!” cried Abiram. “I'll call on
God to curse ye if you touch me!”
The wild and disordered gleam of his eye at first
induced the young men to arrest their steps, but
when Abner, older and more resolute than the rest,
advanced full upon him, with a countenance that
bespoke the hostile state of his mind, the affrighted
criminal turned, and making an abortive effort to
fly, fell with his face to the earth, to all appearance
perfectly dead. Amid the low exclamations of horror,
which succeeded, Ishmael made a gesture which
commanded his sons to bear the body into a tent.
“Now,” he said, turning to those who were strangers
in his camp, “nothing is left to be done, but for
each to go his own road. I wish you all well; and
to you, Ellen, though you may not prize the gift, I
say, God bless you!”
Middleton, awe-struck by what he believed a manifest
judgment of Heaven, made no further resistance,
but prepared to depart. The arrangements
were brief and soon completed. When they were
all ready, they took a short and silent leave of the
squatter and his family, and then the whole of the
singularly constituted party was seen slowly and silently
following the victorious Pawnee, towards his
distant villages.
| CHAPTER XIV. The prairie | |