University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

“There's no need to tell you the whole story of this war between
our people and the redskins. It's enough that I tell you
of what happened to us, and our share in it. Of the great affair,
and all the fights and burnings, you'll find enough in the printed
books and newspapers. What I tell you, though you can't find it
in any books, is jest as true, for all that. Of our share in it, the
worst has already been told you. The young chief, Oloschottee
—for that was his name—the cousin and the enemy of Lenatewá,
had command of the Indians that were to surprise our settlements;
and though he didn't altogether do what he expected and intended,
he worked us quite enough of mischief as it was. He soon put
fire to all our farms to draw us out of the block, but finding that
wouldn't do, he left us; for an Indian gets pretty soon tired of a
long siege where there is neither rum nor blood to git drunk on.
His force was too small to trouble us in the block, and so he
drawed off his warriors, and we saw no more of him until the
peace. That followed pretty soon after General Middleton gave
the nation that licking at Echotee,—a licking, I reckon, that they'll
remember long after my day. At that affair Lenatewá got an
ugly bullet in his throat, and if it hadn't been for one of his men,
he'd ha' got a bag'net in his breast. They made a narrow run
with him, head foremost down the hill, with a whole swad of the
mounted men from the low country at their heels. It was some
time after the peace before he got better of his hurt, though the
Indians are naterally more skilful in cures than white men. By
this time we had all gone home to our farms, and had planted and
rebuilt, and begun to forget our troubles, when who should pop
into our cabin one day, but Lenatewá. He had got quite well
of his hurts. He was a monstrous fine-looking fellow, tall and
handsome, and he was dressed in his very best. He wore pantaloons,
like one of us, and his hunting shirt was a raally fine blue,
with a white fringe. He wore no paint, and was quite nice and

neat with his person. We all received him as an old friend, and
he stayed with us three days. Then he went, and was gone for
a matter of two weeks, when he came back and stayed with us
another three days. And so, off and on, he came to visit us, until
Betsy said to me one day, `Daniel, that Indian, Lenatewá,
comes here after Lucy. Leave a woman to guess these things.'
After she told me, I recollected that the young prince was quite
watchful of Lucy, and would follow her out into the garden, and
leave us, to walk with her. But then, again, I thought—`What
if he is favourable to my daughter? The fellow's a good fellow;
and a raal, noble-hearted Indian, that's sober, is jest as good, to
my thinking, as any white man in the land.` But Betsy wouldn't
hear to it. `Her daughter never should marry a savage, and a
heathen, and a redskin, while her head was hot:'—and while her
head was so hot, what was I to do? All I could say was this
only, `Don't kick, Betsy, till you're spurred. 'Twill be time
enough to give the young Chief his answer when he asks the
question; and it won't do for us to treat him rudely, when we
consider how much we owe him.' But she was of the mind that
the boot was on the other leg,—that it was he and not us that
owed the debt; and all that I could do couldn't keep her from
showing the lad a sour face of it whenever he came. But he didn't
seem much to mind this, since I was civil and kind to him. Lucy
too, though her mother warned her against him, always treated
him civilly as I told her; though she naterally would do so, for
she couldn't so easily forget that dreadful night when she was a
prisoner in the camp of the enimy, not knowing what to expect,
with an Indian tomahawk over her head, and saved, in great part,
by the cunning and courage of this same Lenatewá. The girl
treated him kindly, and I was not sorry she did so. She walked
and talked with him jest as if they had been brother and sister,
and he was jest as polite to her as if he had been a born Frenchman.

“You may be sure, it was no pleasant sight to my wife to see
them two go out to walk. `Daniel Nelson,' said she, `do you see
and keep an eye on those people. There's no knowing what may
happen. I do believe that Lucy has a liking for that redskin,
and should they run!'—`Psho!' said I,—but that wouldn't do for

her, and so she made me watch the young people sure enough.
'Twarn't a business that I was overfond of, you may reckon, but
I was a rough man and didn't know much of woman natur'. I left
the judgment of such things to my wife, and did pretty much what
she told me. Whenever they went out to walk, I followed them,
rifle in hand; but it was only to please Betsy, for if I had seen
the lad running off with the girl, I'm pretty sure, I'd never ha'
been the man to draw trigger upon him. As I said before, Lenatewá
was jest as good a husband as she could have had. But,
poor fellow, the affair was never to come to that. One day, after
he had been with us almost a week, he spoke softly to Lucy,
and she got up, got her bonnet and went out with him. I didn't
see them when they started, for I happened to be in the upper
story,—a place where we didn't so much live, but where we used
to go for shelter and defence whenever any Indians came about
us. `Daniel,' said my wife, and I knew by the quickness and
sharpness of her voice what 'twas she had to tell me. But jest
then I was busy, and, moreover, I didn't altogether like the sort
of business upon which she wanted me to go. The sneaking after
an enimy, in raal warfare, is an onpleasant sort of thing enough;
but this sneaking after one that you think your friend is worse than
running in a fair fight, and always gave me a sheepish feeling
after it. Besides, I didn't fear Lenatewá, and I didn't fear my
daughter. It's true, the girl treated him kindly and sweetly, but
that was owing to the nateral sweetness of her temper, and because
she felt how much sarvice he had been to her and all of
us. So, instead of going out after them, I thought I'd give them
a look through one of the loop-holes. Well, there they went,
walking among the trees, not far from the picket, and no time out
of sight. As I looked at them, I thought to myself, `Would n't
they make a handsome couple!' Both of them were tall and well
made. As for Lucy, there wasn't, for figure, a finer set girl in
all the settlement, and her face was a match for her figure. And
then she was so easy in her motion, so graceful, and walked, or
sate, or danced,—jest, for all the world, as if she was born only
to do the particular thing she was doing. As for Lenatewá, he
was a lad among a thousand. Now, a young Indian warrior,
when he don't drink, is about the noblest-looking creature, as he
carries himself in he woods, that God ever did make. So straight,
so proud, so stately, always as if he was doing a great action—
as if he knew the whole world was looking at him. Lenatewa
was pretty much the handsomest and noblest Indian I had ever
seen; and then, I know'd him to be raally so noble. As they
walked together, their heads a little bent downwards, and Lucy's
pretty low, the thought flashed across me that, jest then, he was
telling her all about his feelings; and perhaps, said I to myself,
the girl thinks about it pretty much as I do. Moutbe now, she
likes him better than any body she has ever seen, and what more
nateral? Then I thought, if there is any picture in this life more
sweet and beautiful than two young people jest beginning to feel
love for one another, and walking together in the innocence of
their hearts, under the shady trees,—I've never seen it! I laid
the rifle on my lap, and sat down on the floor and watched 'em
through the loop until I felt the water in my eyes. They walked
backwards and for'ads, not a hundred yards off, and I could see
all their motions, though I couldn't hear their words. An Indian
don't use his hands much generally, but I could see that Lenatewá
was using his,—not a great deal, but as if he felt every
word he was saying. Then I began to think, what was I to do,
if so be he was raally offering to marry Lucy, and she willing!
How was I to do? what was I to say?—how could I refuse him
when I was willing? how could I say `yes,' when Betsy said
`no!'

“Well, in the midst of this thinking, what should I hear but a
loud cry from the child, then a loud yell,—a regular war-whoop,
—sounded right in front, as if it came from Lenatewá himself.
I looked up quickly, for, in thinking, I had lost sight of them, and
was only looking at my rifle; I looked out, and there, in the
twinkle of an eye, there was another sight. I saw my daughter
flat upon the ground, lying like one dead, and Lenatewá staggering
back as if he was mortally hurt; while, pressing fast upon
him, was an Indian warrior, with his tomahawk uplifted, and striking—once,
twice, three times—hard and heavy, right upon the
face and forehead of the young prince. From the black paint on
his face, and the red ring about his eyes, and from his figure and
the eagle feathers in his head, I soon guessed it was Oloschottee,

and I then knew it was the old revenge for the killing of his father;
for an Indian never forgets that sort of obligation. Of
course, I didn't stand quiet to see an old friend, like Lenatewá
tumbled in that way, without warning, like a bullock; and there
was my own daughter lying flat, and I wasn't to know that he
hadn't struck her too. It was only one motion for me to draw
sight upon the savage, and another to pull trigger; and I reckon
he dropped jest as soon as the young Chief. I gave one whoop
for all the world as if I was an Indian myself, and run out to the
spot; but Lenatewá had got his discharge from further service.
He warn't exactly dead, but his sense was swimming. He
couldn't say much, and that warn't at all to the purpose. I
could hear him, now and then, making a sort of singing noise,
but that was soon swallowed up in a gurgle and a gasp, and it
was all over. My bullet was quicker in its working than Oloschottee's
hatchet; he was stone dead before I got to him. As for
poor Lucy, she was not hurt, either by bullet or hatchet; but
she had a hurt in the heart, whether from the scare she had, or
because she had more feeling for the young prince than we reckoned,
there's no telling. She warn't much given to smiling after
that. But, whether she loved Lenatewá, we couldn't know, and
I never was the man to ask her. It's sartain she never married,
and she had about as many chances, and good ones, too, as any
girl in our settlement. You've seen her—some among you—
and warn't she a beauty—though I say it myself—the very
flower of the forest!”