 | CHAPTER X. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure |  |
10. CHAPTER X.
By this time the Indians, who had
come to a sudden halt when the strange
sound and furious attack of the hounds
so unexpectedly and fiercely commenced,
had recovered from their surprise and
fear, and were slowly and cautiously advancing
towards our little party, whose
skillful horsemanship and the fleetness
of whose steeds had not escaped their
observation; but most especially their
presence so close to the strange animals,
and their evident familiarity with them,
had emboldened them.
Charles quickly called the dogs off,
while Le Beaux, riding up, jumped from
his horse, and taking his hunting knife,
passed it across the buffalo's throat;
then, re-loading his rifle, and telling his
companions to do the same, he called all
of his party up to him, and then made a
sign for the Indians to come forward.
This they seemed at first reluctant to do,
and did not at once act upon it. When
our little party first espied them, there
were but two visible—one, probably the
best mounted, was close upon the flying
buffalo; the other followed in his track,
a short distance behind him; then, on a
sudden, the hounds appeared, and rushed
upon their prey with loud baying, that
resounded far and wide over the sweeping
plain, and checked, as we have seen
already, the pursuit of the red men.
Perhaps a minute or two elapsed,
when Le Beaux, having found a piece
of white cotton cloth, converted it into a
flag, the sign of peace and good will,
beckoned with it for them to approach.
Meantime their number had received
quite an addition, from the coming up of
those who had fallen behind in the
chase. Seeing the friendly invitation,
few minutes. The result was that they
immediately came forward and joined
our party.
They now numbered some fourteen,
all well mounted on wild horses, and
dressed in the usual Indian style: a
buckskin shirt, leggins and moccasins
of the same material, and armed with
rifles and long knives. Their long, glossy
black hair, gathered and confined by
a band to the back of the head, floating in
a thick long tress in the wind, tended to
heighten the wild aspect they presented,
as bounding along the level prairie on
their fleet little nags, it streamed out in
the breeze, above their neck and shoulders.
Their faces were marked in various
places with blotches and lines,
painted according to their savage notion
of ornament and beauty.
Charles watched them with eager curiosity
and strong interest. It was the
first time he had enjoyed the opportunity
of seeing the Indian in his native
home, and in his own wild costume.—
Their horses, though they had evidently
had a smart chase, and their sides were
covered with foam and streaming sweat,
were yet full of life and mettle, and
moved with a proudly light step, as they
now advanced in a body.
As I have said, all were excellent riders,
and directed the movement of their
horses with infinite skill and ease.—
When they were sufficiently near to be
distinguished, Le Beaux, who was regarding
them attentively, suddenly uttered a
sound indicative of surprise; and his
features which had worn a sharp, anxious
look, relapsed into their usual calm
repose. He saluted the leader, who,
from some little extra ornaments that
were appended to his dress, was distinguished
as their chief, with an expression
of sudden satisfaction; he returned
the salutation, recognizing at once, the
guide as an old acquaintance; and then
turning round to his followers, addressed
a few words to them in their
own tongue, the purport of which Charles
did not understand; but he saw that
they had the effect at once to put them
more at ease; though they still cast suspicious
glances upon the animals that
had broken up their sport so singularly,
and which were now quietly standing
by their master's side.
Le Beaux made a sign for them to
dismount and be seated. They obeyed
this by jumping from their horses, which
they left without fastening where they
stood together; and then forming a circle,
they seated themselves, and awaited the
talk of Le Beaux, which they were led
to expect. Looking deliberately over
the circle, and at last fixing his eyes upon
their leader, he said in a firm but
friendly voice:
“My brother Otter has hunted the
buffalo since the first light of the dawn—
has he found many fat cows on his hunting
path? and is his lodge well stored
with meat? This is a noble animal,”
said he, pointing to the buffalo before
them, “that he has brought to the feet
of the pale face hunter.”
Otter listened, with his keen, black
eyes bent closely upon the speaker, as if
he could read in his face the thoughts
passing in his mind, and discover his intentions.
When he had ceased speaking,
in a dignified, calm manner, he replied:
“My dear brother is right; he reads
the red man with much wisdom; his
eyes are sharper than the eagle's and
quicker than the lynx', to detect the
hearts and ways of those around him.—
Otter and his people followed the hunting
path when the dew was falling from
the dusky sky; they found many buffalo
in their path. They willingly give to
the white chief the bison which his strong
dogs took from their path, and which my
brother's fatal rifle killed.”
“Otter is a great chief, and a brave
warrior,” replied Le Beaux, “and his
hand is open to his friends; but his enemies
tremble at the sound of his name,
and the fierce wild buffale falls like a
timid rabbit before his quick, bold hand.
Many strong warriors follow his war-path
when he digs up the hatchet, and
many scalps hang at his lodge. The
white chief is his friend, and will accept
his gift, for the pale face claims not the
game; he saw that he was already wounded,
and was almost in the hand of Otter
and his hunters, and he only shot him
by?”
The Indian, who continued to watch
him closely all the time, hesitated a few
minutes, and then replied:
“My brother speaks true, and there
are no lies on his tongue. The Pawnees
are warriors; the feet of their braves
are swift to follow the war-path when
his wrongs cry out for vengeance. Their
tomahawks have drank the blood of their
enemies, the Osage, who are dogs, and
speak false words; they have cowardly
hearts—the Pawnees despise them.—
But Otter and his tribe are friends to the
white man; the great chief of the pale
faces is very rich, his tribe is very strong,
and many warriors are in his towns: he
has many guns, and his stores of cloth
are like leaves on the trees: he is good
to the poor Indian, and will give him
guns and powder, that he may hunt, and
fight the enemies of his white brother.”
After thus craftily wording his answer,
and begging of his new acquaintances,
he added, “Otter's lodge is by the
stream, close at the edge of the prairie;
my brother is welcome to his lodge.”
Le Beaux immediately answered:
“The pale face is journeying to hunting
grounds far off, by the great mountains.
He has no guns to give his Indian
brother, but he is a friend to the Pawnees,
and will feast with them. Let Otter
tell his hunters to carry the bison to
the village, his white brother and his
party will go with him.”
Otter turned and spoke a few words
to his followers, upon which they immediately
pulled out their hunting knives,
and commenced the labor of dressing
and cutting up the bison; this done,
they divided it amongst themselves, and
all prepared to depart. Le Beaux, turning
to his little party, told them in their
own language that they were going to
dine with their Indian acquaintance; he
earnestly advised them all to be watchful.
He cautioned Charles to keep his hounds
by him, as they would serve to keep the
Indians at a respectful distance and prevent
their attempting to plunder, “For,”
said he, “notwithstanding their smooth
tongues, they are a thievish, lying pack,
and will carry off whatever they can lay
hold of.” He further told them that the
leader of this party, Otter, was well
known to him, that he was a great chief
among them, and exercised a powerful
control over them; and after they had
smoked the pipe of friendship, which it
was customary to present to their friends,
they would then be safe—not from
thievish attacks, he added, but from bodily
harm.
When he had finished, all moved on
together over the prairie at a moderate
pace, to accommodate the horses of such
as carried burdens. Passing some distance
in the direction of the woods that
skirted the side of the prairie, they came
soon to a small opening where were
about an hundred lodges situated near by
a stream, whose cool waters supplied all
their wishes for their rude culinary purposes,
and its grassy, green banks, which
stretched out on either side a considerable
distance, furnished the freshest and most
desirable grazing for their horses.
The presence of the party was announced
by the barking of a score or
more of lean, hungry looking dogs, that
hung about the camp, and now came
forth howling and growling in wild confusion.
The squaws, and old men and
children, filled the doors of the lodges,
and although they seemed surprised to
see the party that accompanied their
great chief, they said not a word. The
hunters in Otter's party, who had charge
of the game, each stopped at his own
lodge, and deposited the burden, while
Otter led his white friends through the
village, until they came to the great
council lodge, which stood some distance
from the others, by itself. The chief
then addressed a few words to Le
Beaux, in the Pawnee tongue, which the
guide understood, and which he told his
party was an invitation to alight. Charles
and Jonathan, with Le Beaux, dismounted
immediately, and giving their horses
in charge of the half-breeds, they cautioned
them not to leave them for an instant,
and to call them in case of any
accident. They then entered the lodge,
where they found the principal men of
the village already assembled, and awaiting
them.
Otter introduced them as his friends,
his meeting with them, and recommending
them to the kindness of the tribe.
One, who was, from appearances, the
oldest among them, then addressed them
through Le Beaux, who acted as interpreter,
and bade them welcome.
Charles replied to him, thanking him
and his people for their hospitality, and
declaring his desire to feast with them.
When he finished, the pipe was
lighted, and first being placed in the
hands of the chief who had addressed
them, and he having puffed a few clouds
of smoke, then passed it to Charles, and
so it went round the circle, from one to
another, till all had received it. This
concluded the assembly, and they each
sought their own lodge.
Otter acted as host to our little party,
and conducted them to his own lodge.
He invited them to rest there until the
feast was prepared. They found their
new quarters very comfortable, and the
odge more tidy than usual among Indians.
The ground was strown with leaves,
over which buffalo robes were stretched,
making an easy and soft bed. Their
horses were unsaddled, and their baggage
brought into the tent by the half-breeds.
Otter then called to some young Indians,
who led off the horses to the pasture
ground.
Le Beaux explained to his young
friends, when they were left alone, some
of the customs and ceremonies which
were observed by the tribe on occasions
like the present, and earnestly requested
Jonathan, who was disposed to be rather
too independent, and even regardless of
his tawny entertainer's ways, to use
great care in these matters, and not displease
them.
“After we have feasted with them,”
aid he, “we will, without further delay,
proceed on our route: by so doing, we
hall escape being at all molested by
them; for they will not at once over-come
the fear with which I see your
sounds have inspired them.”
An hour and a half might have elapsed
since their arrival at the village, when
the feast was announced; and Otter, as
their particular friend and host, led them
on due form to the scene of operations.
Here they found the chiefs, and braves,
and some of the distinguished warriors
of the tribe, already assembled. They
were sitting cross-legged on the ground,
in grave silence, and only by a silent
token acknowledged the entrance of the
pale face guests. You might, and would
have supposed that any thing but a feast
was the object that brought them together:
the most serious business could not have
been graced with more serious expression,
or more dignified deportment. An
unoccupied space on the right hand of
the principal chief was reserved for
them: buffalo robes were spread upon
the ground for their use, to supply the
want of chairs, and they were invited by
Otter to occupy these places. They immediately
seated themselves, after the
fashion of their savage entertainers. As
soon as this took place, the feast began.
In a moment the grave, dignified manner
of the Indians was thrown off, like a
useless robe, and they rushed upon the
steaming piles of meat like half-famished
wolves. Large rounds of buffalo, and
venison, and elk, with a variety of wild
fowl, furnished forth the festive board.
Each one helped himself as best he
could, as fast as he might. Charles and
his cousin performed feats, in the way
of demolishing the substantials before
them, which would have amazed the
gourmands of the east, when in their
prime; but they found themselves no
match for their new companions: long
after they ceased eating, having completely
gorged themselves, the red men
kept on, with unabated spirit and energy:
they ate as though they had not
tasted food for days, and did not expect
to have another opportunity for days to
come; and so, like the camel on the
desert and parched plains, who drinks
water sufficient for days at one draught,
they seemed bent to ward off hunger for
a long time, by taking, at this meal,
enough for a week at least.
Charles and his cousin looked on in
perfect amazement: they did not deem
it possible for any thing human, or in
the shape of man, to devour so much.
They were prepared, from what they
had read and knew of the habits of the
Indian, to find them great trenchermen;
into the shade, and reminded
them of the story of a famous glutton
of old, who, sitting down to a table
spread for ten men, ate what was prepared
for all; and, on being questioned
why he did it, replied, it was a duty
binding upon him; he ate it that it might
not be lost, or prepared in vain.
Jonathan said to his cousin, that he had
heretofore been sceptical with regard to
the stories which were told of the immense
herds of bison that roam the western
prairies, but he should never doubt
again; for he believed they were all
necessary for food. He hoped that no
band of these robbers would ever get
into his native village; for a famine
would be certain.
They ate voraciously and long, each
one minding only himself; and when
they ceased, it was because they could
eat no more. They were literally filled
with fatness; and now, giving lingering,
parting looks to the remaining heaps,
they went to their lodges, and soon the
curling wreaths of smoke, that were
seen ascending from the openings in their
camps, gave assurance that they were in
the enjoyment of the only luxury indulged
in, to any extent, by the Indian—
his pipe; and to this he is wedded most
strongly.
Charles having asked Otter whether
he would be allowed to visit the lodges
in the village, and receiving from him
assurance that he would be welcome
whenever he might wish to go, with his
cousin set off on a stroll through the village.
As he passed along, he frequently
stopped to observe the sports with which
the young sanaps, or male Indians, diverted
themselves, and passed their time.
They were sporting upon the grass plats
adjoining the various lodges, with bows
and arrows, in the use of which they
displayed much skill and address. Their
arrows were shot with all the precision
and correctness of a rifle ball, at the distance
of twenty, and even thirty, yards.
They are early trained to this exercise;
and they saw little fellows, eight and ten
years of age, there, handling their bows,
that were longer than they were tall.
Young as they were, they showed, in
this exercise, much of the gravity and
stoicism of their fathers. A hit of better
aim and closer point than others,
would sometimes draw forth a single exclamation
of triumph and satisfaction,
from the lucky shooter; but it was for
an instant only that he indulged himself:
the gratified expression flitted across his
face like a flying sunbeam, and almost
instantly his countenance regained its
habitual gravity.
In some of the lodges they visited,
they found companies of young squaws,
sitting together, and busily engaged in
making and ornamenting the various articles
of dress which were to be worn
by the chiefs and braves of the band.
Perhaps it was a token of their love that
they were preparing, to be bestowed
upon their lover, when he should return
victorious from his first war-path, which
he followed to distinguish himself in the
eyes of these dusky maidens; and then
again perhaps it was not.
In these little circles of females, Charles
observed there was not that restraint, that
studied reserve, which prevailed among
the men. The tongue of woman is that
unruly member which may not be curbed.
It matters not whether you go into the
midst of civilized, refined society, or
whether, as in this instance, you visit
the dusky daughters of the wild forest,
the chattering of busy tongues leads the
way to the female apartments. They
spoke in soft, low voices, with the liquid
flow of euphonious sounds that characterize
the language of the North American
savage; and from time to time their
merriment found utterance in the soft,
silvery laugh, that rung in clearest tones,
like sweet music wafted on the delighted
air. The laugh of the Indian squaw is
the mellowest, sweetest laugh, I ever
heard. It is always low and soft; not
bursting broadly, suddenly out, and then
as suddenly and abruptly subsiding, but
swelling gradually forth in low tones at
first, it gently dies away, leaving you entranced
at its sweet undulations.
For an hour the two young men wandered
in delighted interest through the
lodges; and many a smile from the youthful
forest maids would greet our handsome
young gentleman, as standing by
employed about their various domestic
tasks: and often would he meet their
dark, lustrous eyes, with mild, kindly expression
bent upon him.
The expression which the dark, piercing
eye of the Indian wears, is keen,
nay almost fierce; but in woman its burning,
scorching fire, is softened: shaded,
as it were, and beams with a subdued,
winning light, that attracts and pleases.
In one of the lodges where our hero entered,
he found an Indian girl sitting
alone. She was so intently employed
in ornamenting a pair of fine buckskin
moccasins, that she did not observe his
approach; and he was there allowed to
stand undisturbed for some minutes, admiring
her beautiful features, and the unstudied
but charming grace of her attitude
and motions. Suddenly she turned
her head, and looking up met his gaze
fixed upon her. She uttered a low exclamation
of surprise and astonishment,
at the same time involuntarily starting
back, but as if by a glance reading the
friendly disposition of her visitor, other
feelings seemed to take possession of her;
the warm blood mounted to her face and
gave a richer glow to her clear olive skin,
while in maiden modesty she hung down
her pretty head. The long, black, silken
eyelashes that fringed their delicate lids,
were dropped till they rested on her fair
cheek. Charles had learned the words
of greeting that were used in her tribe,
and immediately gave this salutation.—
She raised her eyes again to his, and replied
to him, at the same time motioning
him with her hand to be seated.
Oh how he longed for the knowledge
to speak to this fair creature in her own
tongue! What a pleasure it deprived
him of; but it was vain to regret it. She
was fair, very fair, and her features delicate
and beautiful. Her form, beautifully
rounded, was perfect in its proportion,
and full of grace and beauty; she looked
like a fair daughter of the hunting god's,
that in days of yore dwelt in the dark
glades of happy, proud Greece.
He soon, however, found himself able
to interchange his wishes, and convey
his thoughts to her through signs. He
told her by these means how happy he
was to see her land—he loved her people,
and would be their friend. Then
drawing a string of beads from his pocket,
presented them to her. Her bright eyes
sparkled with pleasure as she took from
his hand the esteemed treasure, and as
best she could she thanked him for it;
then, after turning them over in her little
hand in silent admiration, she rose from
her seat and going to the corner of the
lodge, drew forth a pair of tastily worked
moccasins and presented them to him
with a naive expression and gracefulness
of action that quite captivated him.
Charles gallantly advanced to receive
them, and retaining her hand in his own,
while he bade her farewell, as a last token
(for you know he could only address in
this way) drew her to him and implanted
a warm kiss upon her lips, and then departed,
bearing his gift with him. On
arriving at the lodge, he found the little
party awaiting him, ready to leave: bidding
his host, and the other chiefs good-bye,
and waving his hand to the fair girl
who stood at the door of her lodge, looking
after him, they departed.
They now traveled for several days.
Sometimes their path led them across
broad prairies, that looked to the eye like
a vast ocean of water. The waving of the
tall grass, as it bowed its head to the gentle
breezes that swept in light gusts over
its bosom, resembled the swell of the ocean
waves, that break the smooth, glassy surface,
when the storm has passed over it.
The bright and gay flowers that here
raised their heads, above the surrounding
luxuriant growth of prairie grass, as if to
claim the admiration of the passer by, were
of the richest colors; and often you would
see them of great size and thick with their
bright clusters. In addition to these, there
were thousands of more modest natures,
that delighted to spread their beautiful
leaves, beneath the shade of the more aspiring
grass; a variety of hues and tints
were displayed on their unpretending but
lovely flowers; while all over these wide
plains the various herds of wild animals
that rove in innumerable droves, and find
abundant food in their natural pastures,
would be seen feeding undisturbed in their
freedom. The droves of wild horses, or
mustangs, as they are called, which supply
steeds, would be seen sometimes at their
gambols. It was a pleasant sight to see
those beautifully formed animals displaying
before each other, as if in rivalry, their
graceful carriage; and, then, dashing with
the speed of light across the open plain,
and again wheeling quickly about, prance
proudly back, and join the silent, admiring
herd. This we repeatedly witnessed,
and were highly delighted with the spectacle.
When frightened by the approach
of an enemy, we could then see them
close up in ranks; the fleet and brave leaders
taking the lead, often going out in
the direction from whence they expected
the danger, throwing their beautiful heads
aloft in the air, expanding wide their
pliant nostrils and sniffing up the wind,
when catching, as they seemed to do, the
evidence of their enemy's presence: they
would snort almost like a trumpet of
warning, and tossing aside the long hair
that flowed about their heads and obstructed
their sight, their flashing, fiery eyes
would search the wide plain in pursuit of
the object that startled them. Then, as
if satisfied, they joined their band with
proud, prancing steps, and, like generals,
would lead off the band, keeping in advance
of the ranks, their heads raised up,
their long silky manes streaming in the
wind, their tails sweeping the ground, and
in the order of a troop of cavalry they
would bound along with great speed, till
they were lost to the eye of the spectator in
the distance. Droves of deer and antelope,
with their wide branching antlers, would
sometimes sweep by in majesty, raising
their antlered heads, and leaping with easy
bounds, in graceful curves, they seemed
to scorn pursuit and bid defiance to their
sluggard foes; their springy, elastic limbs
lend them a swiftness, that in fair field
would soon outrun the fleetest pursuer.
They are, indeed, beautifully formed
animals; their long and slender legs;
their light, slim bodies; their velvet coats
of fawn color; their large, round, mild
eyes; their strong and branching antlers
—all serve to render their beauty more
striking, more apparent. They visit the
prairies in large herds at certain seasons
of the year, when they are sought and
hunted by the red man, and by the roving
bands of trappers. If once put fairly to
flight, they escape; and it is only by surprise
they are ever taken.
Our little party had also, in the midst
of these scenes, an opportunity of witnessing
one of those mighty herds of buffaloes,
which are, by way of pre-eminence,
the tenants—the masters of the
western prairies. They were passing
over a green covered prairie, where the
grass was long and thick, and offered the
strongest inducements to the hungry animals,
when the guide pointed out to them,
away off in the distance, a sight which,
to their eyes, seemed like small black
dots among the grass.
“There is a large herd of buffaloes,”
said he, pointing in the direction. “Let
us ride to that little eminence, in the direction,
and you can from there see them
plainly.”
Riding on to the spot designated, a
sight presented itself such as they never
forgot. Standing upon this eminence of
the prairie, with neither tree nor bush
to obstruct the vision in any direction,
they saw animals grazing upon the plain,
and literally darkening it on all sides.
Far as the eye could reach they crowded
upon each other, in numbers like the
leaves of the forest. A low, indistinct
sound that marked their movements came
far across their great natural pasture, to
the ears of our party, and filled them
with eager excitement for the hunt, and
amazement at the grandeur of the scene.
Under the direction of the guide, they
loaded their guns with balls—their rifles
were also loaded, and their pistols. The
pack horses were left in charge of the
half-breeds; and putting spurs to their
horses, they galloped over the plain, and
reaching the herd, rode in amongst them,
selecting their victims as deliberately as
the excited state of their feelings would
permit. They fired their guns at them;
a commotion was raised in the herd; the
wounded ones madly plunged through
the drove, raising their tails aloft, and
dashing off in full flight, followed by those
around them. A sound like the roaring
of the ocean proclaimed that the whole
vast herd was in motion. Our little party
were now completely hemmed in, and
surrounded on all sides by the frightened
the excitement, that they gave not a
thought to the very great risk they incurred
of being run over and trampled down
by the herd. Separated from each other
in their ardor, they saw at intervals, the
smoke of each others' guns, succeeded
instantaneously by the report, and then
followed a general and confused scattering.
Jonathan selected a bull for once,
as the largest and fattest looking of the
herd, and gave him battle. The quick,
sharp crack of his rifle told upon him;
he reeled under it; his tail swung in circles,
lashed the air with fury, he then tumbled
headlong to the earth. Here our
hero wounded a fine cow with a pistolshot,—maddened
and furious by the pain,
she rushed fiercely and blindly after him.
Here it was his well-trained horse stood
him in good stead. Waiting until she
came up, he quickly darted aside, and
avoided the plunge she aimed at him, and
as quickly wheeling alongside of the flying
animal, he stood unflinchingly for his
master's fire. Charles, taking better aim,
discharged a second pistol, which brought
her to the earth in a dying struggle. For
a long time they kept up the sport, the
guide coolly looking on most of the time,
watching the young men, and occasionally
selecting carefully a fat cow, he sent
the ball with unerring aim through the
heart.
When they, tired and exhausted, were
ready to leave, the guide skillfully extricated
them from the flying mass; and
gaining the eminence once more, they
turned to look upon the herd, now in full
flight. They galloped heavily over the
prairie, pressing close after each other,
and extending for miles in line and depth.
The ground shook beneath their heavy
tramp, and a noise like thunder came
booming over the plain. On they went,
and slackened not their speed. Our little
party watched till they were out of sight.
They had killed eight buffaloes. They
took along with them only a small portion
of the huge animal, the robes, and
the nice bits,—being a load for their
horses, and supplying them with food for
several days, until they should reach the
spot chosen for their fixed hunting-ground.
This place was near the sources
of the Missouri and Platte rivers, and
near to the Sweet Water river, which
flows through a green and fertile-looking
country. The highest peak of the Rocky
Mountains is also visible from this point.
The character of the scenery in this section
is various and of the most marked
nature. Along the bottoms of the rivers
and upon the gentle declivities, there is
a luxuriant growth of grass in open plats,
with here and there a line or cluster of
willows; and all over the ground various
and rich flowers springing up, and growing
in wild profusion. Along the sides
of the hills, brilliant flowering plants
abounded, seeking the shelter of the
steep rocks, that sheltered them from the
cold north winds, and afforded the warm,
sunny spots they love so well. The floral
beauty of these luxurious and green
spots, that lay embosomed in the valleys
and along the more gentle slopes, is
truly magnificent. Its beauty is much
heightened, too, by the scenery which
surrounds it, and meets the eye, as you
extend your vision to the everlasting
mountains that rise in the distance, whose
tops seem to mingle with the sky; their
snow-capped summits shining like polished
silver in the bright sun's rays, and
towering in solitary grandeur through
summer's heat and winter's cold alike,
glistening with their snow-white robes.
The grandeur and sublimity of the scenery
in these regions cannot be surpassed.
Here, large and gigantic masses of rock
meet the eye on either side; bold bluffs,
and craggy steeps; precipices, sharp and
steep, look upon peaceful and silvery
lakes, that reflect from their smooth and
glassy surface, as a mirror, the gorgeous
display of the heavens, kindling under a
bright sun, or softly beaming beneath pale
Cynthia's more modest light. So high
these perpendicular cliffs are raised that
the eye, upon looking down the dizzy
height, loses its steadiness, and wanders
in confusion. The giddy brain whirls
round and round with very diziness, and
the rash adventurer clings for support to
the strong branches that on its top o'erhang
the bold steep. Ridge after ridge
rise one above the other, their sides jutting
forth in broken masses of rock, exhibiting
wild and fantastic shapes and
seems to have undergone some great and
terrible convulsion, overturning, crushing,
and piling up the great bed of
rocks that was once, doubtless, hid beneath
her smooth and even bosom. Columns
and spires and tall minarets rise
from the top of each ridge along the
mountain's rugged top. Deep chasms
and fissures, that seem to have been rent
with her gigantic throes, yawn with deep
and wide openings along its sides. Foaming
torrents come leaping and whirling
on their way from the heights to the quiet
valley, plunging with mad haste over
the large rocks which rise in vain in their
path; and as they follow on, they make
a music well fitted to the wild and grand
scenery around, roaring like the thunder-tones,
with a deafening sound. Save this,
no sound breaks upon the ear to disturb
the perfect solitude that reigns in this
wild region.
Near this spot old Le Beaux fixed his
quarters for the winter. To such a mind
as Charles possessed—so highly imaginative,
so highly cultivated, and always
eager to discover the grand and beautiful
manifestations of nature, this spot afforded
the greatest delight. He could never
tire of roaming among the flowery dells
that lay in the bosom of the sweet valleys,
filling the air with their delicious
perfume, and lading the breeze with the
sweetest odors; or, winding his way
along the banks of the gently murmuring
streams, that were carpeted with soft
green grass, and variegated with wild
flowers. These were scenes to bless
his repose and sweeten his reflections.
For other moments of excitement and
restlessness, the grand but terrible display
of nature's power and might—the awfully
sublime—the lofty mountains, with all
their wild scenery and undisturbed solitude,
offered him a refuge—a place that
would suit the wildest tumult of the soul,
and awaken a feeling sense of the power
and wisdom and might of their and his
Creator.
Our little party immediately on arriving
here, set about preparing a camp
for their accommodation. Without difficulty
they discovered a spot on the banks
of the Sweet Water, near to which bub
bled up from the earth a clear and cool
spring; a little cluster of green trees afforded
them at once a shady retreat from
the summer's sun, and a defence against
the chilling blasts of winter. In a short
space of time every thing was ready, and
they felt themselves extremely comfortably
settled in their own dwelling. It
was large enough to accommodate a dozen
well; the skins of the buffalo and
deer our hunters had taken, formed soft
and warm beds, when stretched upon the
ground, which had been strewed thick with
leaves, for them to rest upon; each member
of the party also spread out above
them, and to cover their fairy couch,
other skins; by this means, they were
made entirely secure from the dampness
and moisture which might possibly leak
through their rustic roof; the baggage
had a corner devoted to it, which was
carefully prepared and protected from the
slightest effects of exposure. Adjoining
this tent, the half-breeds built a second,
for the purpose of housing the horses in
storms and bad nights. An opening connected
the two together. The opening
was the post occupied by the hounds,
who acted as watchmen for both and over
all the camp. When every thing was
ready, our two young gents went out
with the guide to explore the neighborhood.
They visited several small lakes
that lay between steep hills; they also
traced the course of several winding
streams, that found their way through
thick groves and luxuriant bottoms. In
all of these, as Le Beaux had anticipated,
they found traces of abundance of beaver;
dams were built across the streams, fresh
stripped bark showed that the sagacious
little workmen had recently been busy at
their labors. The silence that reigned unbroken
was an evidence to Le Beaux that
they were the sole adventurers in this
remote spot. As they passed along he
carefully noted every object that was at
all singular, or at all likely to attract attention.
These he pointed out to his
young companions, and told them the necessity
of their being careful in this respect;
for it was from such observations
they would have to depend in finding
their way through the forests, and from
the camp to the traps. He gave them in
which would serve them, in case they
happened to lose their path and get benighted
in the woods. A day was spent
in this way, and at night they returned to
their camp, where they found a blazing
fire and a warm reception from the half
breeds, who had gotten a smoking hot
supper all ready for them. Their horses
were unsaddled and unbridled as soon as
they reached here, and turned out to graze
upon the rich grass that spread over the
bottom around the camp. Being hungry
they set down to their meal: buffalo
tougues, and venison steaks are sufficiently
tempting without the addition of sharpened
appetites, and long fasting, and now
combined with these the little party did
trencher feats worthy of the red men
whose exploits had so much astonished
them. The guide had pointed out to
them on their route during the day fresh
signs of deer and antelope, and when
they once ascended the hills they had
heard the bleats of the mountain goats;
from all this they argued a plentiful and
various supply of food for the camp. The
traps and gear for trapping were brought
out after supper, and put in order, and
the camp looked like a scene of bustling
activity. Charles had now acquired sufficient
of the Delaware tongue to be able
to hold conversations, upon all ordinary
topics, in that language with Le Beaux,
and he was constant and persevering in
his efforts to master it. The guide often
spoke in terms of the highest praise of
that tribe, and seemed to manifest strong,
deep feelings of attachment to them.
Charles loved to listen to the anecdotes
he recounted of their bravery, their honesty,
and the sacred regard they invariably
paid to their pledged word. All these
traits were illustrated by a thousand incidents
that had passed under our guide's
observation, and showed that he was
well acquainted with the tribe. He told
his young friends that he should not be
at all surprised if they met the Delawares
in this vicinity during the winter; they
were bold hunters, he said, and brave
horsemen, and wandered farther from
their villages than the other tribes.
Charles, who was most anxious to become
acquainted with a tribe whom he
knew already from the many descriptions
Le Beaux had drawn of them, eagerly
said he did sincerely hope that
they might meet them; it would afford
him the greatest satisfaction, and he was
now able to speak to them in their own
tongue, too, he said, laughing. As yet he
had had but little opportunity to become
acquainted with the Indian from actual,
personal observation, and to him this
was a more important and more desired
object than the hunting and taking furs,
though he was, as they had seen, exceedingly
fond of this sport. The Indian
character had from a boy interested him,
and he was very anxious to become thoroughly
acquainted with it, and as anxious
to use his utmost efforts to promote
their welfare and better their condition.
He spoke eloquently, warmly, upon
this point. He dwelt upon the wrongs
they had suffered at the hands of his people;
the evils that they were exposed to;
the vices that were fast consuming and
destroying them. As he went on, his
face lightened up with excitement, and
he presented that beauty of person for
which he was so distinguished, and
which was so strikingly displayed when
his feelings were aroused.
Le Beaux gazed intently into his face,
he caught the feelings that filled his mind,
his eye glistened in pity as he pictured
their low condition; it blazed in anger at
the story of their wrongs, and again it
gladdened in gratitude to the noble youth
who had devoted himself to their cause.
He had already formed a strong attachment
to our hero, though he had been
born and brought up in the forests, and
had possessed but comparatively few opportunities
for educating himself, yet had
he acquired much knowledge; no time
had been squandered or thrown away
in his father's lodge; who, as we have
already said, was a Frenchman; he had
learned him to read and write. Possessing
a mind naturally reflective, and
strong common sense, he had indulged
in the one to his profit, and been judiciously
guided by the other in his efforts;
he therefore was better able to judge, and
more ready to appreciate the elevated
character of Charles, than many whose
advantages had been tenfold greater than
all the aids and helps of civilization. As
he listened his heart expanded and his
feelings warmed towards Charles. Now
he loved him with a strong and everenduring
love; he loved him as if he
were his son, and secretly in his own
heart resolved to watch over him, and
serve him with all his strength.
Jonathan, whose chief object in the expedition
was the accumulation of money,
the profits to be made from his furs, felt
his heart kindle with a new and kindly
interest towards the savage and rude children
of the forest, and caught something
of the spirit that actuated and inspired his
cousin.
The next day they commenced their
hunting operations; the best places were
selected for setting their traps, and everything
carefully and cunningly prepared to
cheat the sagacious animal, and lead him
to the snare. At night the traps were all
set.
A buck had been run into the camp, in
the afternoon, by the hounds, which were
allowed to hunt on their own account,
and proved to be good purveyors for the
camp. The buck was shot by one of
the half-breeds,—skinned and cut up for
use. These men acted as servants to
our little party, and performed most of
the labor at the camp; but their generous
employer allowed them most of their
time; to be spent as should please them,
either in hunting or in any other manner
they chose. Jonathan drove a bargain
with them for all the skins and furs they
would take, to stimulate their efforts, and
now all indicated a stirring life in the
camp; guns were kept in readiness;
powder and shot and bullets were assorted,
the trapping-gear was put to rights,
and they had fairly got under way.
The traps were visited early the next
morning by our interested little party,
and they found themselves more successful
than they could have expected; they
had trapped ten fine looking beaver, round
the beaver dams, and two or three seals
had been caught in other spots; these
were killed and brought to the camp.—
Our young friends took their first turn in
dressing their furs this morning.
Thus passed many days at the camp,
visiting the traps morning and evening,
preparing the skins during the day, and
often hunting the deer and antelope, and
mountain goats, with the hounds, during
the afternoon; occasionally fishing in the
lakes and streams, which abounded in
excellent fish. They were very successful,
and being apt scholars, were soon
pronounced by Le Beaux as first rate
trappers and hunters. They kept an
abundant supply of meats and fish and
wild fowl in the larder. Their horses
grew sleek and fat, feeding on the rich
bottoms, and nothing occurred to mar
their sport, or interrupt their enjoyment.
It was about a month from the time
they first pitched their camp on this beautiful
spot, when, late in the afternoon, or
rather in the beginning of the evening,
for the sun had gone down below the
western horizon, and the dusky shades of
evening prevailed, when the ever-watchful
hounds roused themselves from the
quiet sleep they appeared to be enjoying,
and showing signs of uneasiness, began
to snuff the air and search around, as if
something unusual were taking place.—
Charles noticed this, and mentioned it to
the others.
“Let them take their own way,” said
Le Beaux; “the Great Spirit has given
them the gift of perceiving the approach
of objects from a long distance, and they
never err. We shall soon see what is
stirring, that has so troubled them.—
Meanwhile, it is better for us to look to
our weapons, and be ready for whatever
may come.”
As he was saying this, the dogs started
off from the camp, with their heads
thrown up in the air, their eyes glaring,
and the stiff hair bristling upon their
backs, uttering all the while low and fierce
growls. They were gone but a short
time, when they came bounding back, and
taking their places by their master's side,
pointed in a direction opening upon the
door of the camp; while they set themselves
to watch, growling and giving, in
their own manner, evident warning of an
approaching foe.
“'T is wonderful,” said Le Beaux,
“with what unerring certainty and exactness
these animals use their gift. I'll be
bound that something is coming up to the
with the most close watching or listening,
see or hear anything.”
The hounds now ran forward a few
steps, and gave repeated loud barks.
just then, looking in that direction, they
saw objects advancing towards them, and
Le Beaux said he distinguished the tread
of horses. Each one of our little party
clutched firmly his rifle, and, secreting
himself as well as he was able, prepared
to defend themselves against whatever
might attack them. As the new comers
kept on, without making any effort to
conceal themselves or prevent their approach
being distinctly seen, Le Beaux
said, thinking aloud rather than addressing
any one of his companions—
“Their intentions are not hostile, whoever
they may be. Let us keep still and
await their coming, for I can see they
mean to approach the camp.”
They soon came up, and Charles and
his cousin were surprised to see a tall, noble-looking
Indian leap from his horse
and salute Le Beaux, who hastily stepped
forward to meet him, and seized his hand
with every appearance of pleasure and
strong friendship. They talked together
for a few moments, when Le Beaux,
guiding him to where Charles stood, presented
to him his adopted son, Ottahontas.
The two young men stood for a few
moments regarding each other with the
most careful attention, and seemingly each
well pleased with the other. They were,
indeed, two of the finest specimens of
their respective races the world over.
About the same age, in all the vigor of
young manhood, their fine forms having
acquired a full and perfect development,
they exhibited still a striking contrast.
Ottahontas was tall, very tall, and straight
as an arrow; his head was large, but
well formed; his hair and eye-brows
black as jet; his eye, that sparkled beneath
his heavy eye-brows, was keen and
proud as the eagle's, and seemed as if it
would look into your secret soul as it
scrutinized you. His form was stouter
than our hero's, but closely knit and muscular;
his limbs were fashioned most
beautifully—round and tapering at the extremities,
they exhibited proofs of that
great agility and strength for which the
chief was remarkable; the whole bearing
and carriage of the man lofty and noble,
he looked as if nature had fitted him
to rule his fellows. There was a native
grace and majesty about him that impressed
those who approached him, in spite of
themselves, and claimed their respect
and extorted their homage. Charles we
have already described. The young
men withdrew into the camp when their
introduction was over, interested and
pleased each with the other, and both
thinking within themselves that rarely,
if ever, had they met their equal; and
resolving to cultivate the acquaintance
they had commenced.
Ottahontas was presented in due form
to Jonathan, who accosted him in a hearty
tone, asked him when he left the settlements,
and what was stirring. The chief
replied in laconic style to these questions.
Pointing with his hand to a couple of pack
horses, under the care of a true Indian,
Jonathan recognized the pack horses as
his stock in trade for bartering with the
Indians for furs, which had been left behind
when he came out. These were
speedily stowed away; and everything
being quiet again, they all sat down to
supper, which was nearly ready when
Ottahontas' sudden arrival interrupted
them.
The explanation of the young chief's
appearance, in this manner, amongst
them, is easy. When Le Beaux left the
cabin where, as we have related, our hero
fell in with him, he wrote a note, which
he left with the host, to be delivered to
his adopted son on his arrival there, containing
instructions as to the route and
the company with him; and, also, directing
him to bring out with him the packages
of goods, which it had not been convenient
for them to carry with them; and,
also, any letters that might arrive for his
party meantime. He gave him a brief
sketch of the route he was to take, some
directions of the marks and signs he
would make, which he knew would be
more than sufficient to enable the best
scout in the West to follow them; for he
had the greatest confidence in the skill
and ability of Ottahontas. And good reason,
indeed, had he for such trust. Often
had they, together, followed the trail
with the most cunning skill; often, when
his own quick, practiced eye (and few
could boast a sharper or keener pair of
optics) had failed to detect any trace of
their path, the wonderful sagacity, or instinct,
it appeared to him, of the young
chief, would point with unerring certainty
the course to be pursued. Amongst a
crowd of noted chiefs, he took the palm
for sharp-sightedness, and the ease with
which he could follow the footsteps of an
enemy. This had gained for him the
title of the Eagle Eye, by which he was
distinguished among the tribes; and his
companion, Le Beaux, who always
fought by his side, whose dreaded rifle
had sent many a bold chief and brave to
another world, was known, also, by another
title: they called him Leloim Lelu,
which signifies, the Sharp Panther. But,
to return to our narrative.
When the Eagle Eye entered the cabin,
and received the note which informed
him his companion was a thousand
miles away, he lost no time in getting
everything in order, and setting out to
overtake him. He followed the trail
without difficulty, although there had
been several rain storms since our party
passed over the route, which had, to the
eye of any but a trained scout, obliterated
all marks that might possibly betray the
path pursued. He made great haste to
reach them, traveling early in the morning
and late in the evening, stopping in
the heat of the day, but only sufficiently
long to rest and refresh the horses. He
brought with him two Delawares, who
accompanied him on his journey before.
These were his old friends. He was
accustomed to hunt and fight in company
with them. His father's tribe was a
branch of the Delawares, and they were
his natural friends. Our young friends
admired their athletic, well proportioned
figures, their intelligent faces, and their
dignified and grave bearing. They were
both young chiefs in their tribe, and
friends of Le Beaux, who seemed glad
to meet and cordially welcome them to
his tent, or our party's tent. He presented
them both to Charles in due form.
The oldest was called Wahallah, and was
a leading chief in his tribe, and a great
warrior; the other was quite young, and
though from a highly esteemed family,
had yet a name and fame to carve out for
himself. His name was Shooshoone,
and he was the best looking by far of
the two. There was a native grace and
unassuming deportment in him, which
could not fail to please. His features
were uncommonly regular and delicate;
his voice, full of feeling and rich in tone,
sent a thrill through the listener. Charles
entered into conversation with him in the
evening, while Le Beaux was deeply engaged
in the account Ottahontas and
Wahallah gave him of their journey.
Charles addressed him in his own language.
Shooshoone's eyes glistened as
he listened to his white brother speaking
his own language, and he did not attempt
to hide the pleasure it afforded him. He
replied in the same language, although
he spoke the English quite fluently.
Our hero asked him if his people were
far from here, and if they were engaged
in hunting.
He replied that the Delawares were
hunting, and the smoke of their fires
might be seen from the high mountain
yonder.
Charles asked him if there were many
lodges in the party.
Shooshoone said that they left behind
many of their tribe—it was but a small
band—there might be a hundred and
fifty lodges. Among them, he said, was
Wahallah's lodge, and, also, his father's;
and the Flower of the Valley came, too,
with them.
Charles asked him what he meant by
the Flower of the Valley.
Shooshoone hesitated for a moment,
and looked as though he felt surprised
that he should ask such a question, or
be ignorant of the loveliest maiden the
tribe could boast. He, however, soon
launched forth again, and spoke her
praises in such terms as not only left no
doubt on his mind as to whom the Flower
of the Valley might be, but even raised
his curiosity, and excited an interest in
his heart with regard to her. In answer
to his questions, Shooshoone said her
step was light as the fawn's, the grass
scarce bent beneath it, the dew-drops
were scarce shaken from the leaf that she
dove's, her voice sweeter than the robin's
song, her lips like ripe cherries, and dark
roses flowered on her fair cheeks; her
silky hair was more shining than the
humming bird's plumage, and blacker
than the night-clouds; her voice, again
he said, was like all sweet birds that ever
sung—now the robin's notes were repeated
from her lips, and now the lark's
sweet song was warbled on her tongue:
like all she sings, said he, but better than
them all. The Great Spirit had given
her power to heal the sick and make the
diseased well. She held long talks with
the Great Spirit by herself, and the tribe
dared not interrupt her then. They all
loved her, too, he said, because she was
so kind and gentle.
Charles asked him if there were among
them no chiefs who wished to marry
her.
“The sun shines not in the night,”
said he; “the dove mates not with the
eagle. No, brother,” said he, “she will
never marry an Indian,” and he sighed as
he uttered this declaration.
“Is she not an Indian?” asked our
hero, becoming more and more interested
in her.
“No,” said Shooshoone; “her father
is a pale face chief. He is a great warrior,
and his enemies are afraid to hear
his voice. He lives with the Delawares,
and is one of them. They love him.
His wife is the great Delaware chief's
daughter, and the mother of Coquese,
who is called the Flower of the Valley.
But,” said Shooshoone, “the white chief
will hunt with the Delawares—he will
see the Flower of the Valley. Shall it
not be so?”
“It shall,” said Charles. “I will
visit them.”
Thus did Charles and the youthful
chief pass the evening, in speaking of
the Delawares, Charles often asking
questions, and listening with pleasure to
the ready answers and beautiful language
of his friend. The Indian is full of similes
and comparisons, which he draws
from natural scenes and existences, and
this often renders his speech highly figurative
and beautiful.
Charles resolved that he would soon
visit the Delawares' camp, and spend
some time with them, while Jonathan
should continue the trapping and trading
business of the camp.
But what has Jonathan been doing all
this evening? Look at that bright pitch
knot that is giving a brilliant light over
the camp; close by it sits the Yankee,
and in his hand is an open letter; his eyes
are fixed upon it earnestly; deep feelings
of tenderness and love are stirring in his
heart; as he reads, his thoughts fly back
to his early, happy home; they nestle in
the bosom of that bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked
girl, Nancy, the farmer's daughter;
her soft low voice whispers in his
ear, her charming breath is warm on his
cheek, and her bright eyes are bending a
look full of love and happiness upon him;
her plump, soft, little hand seeks his
palm, as if its home were there, and it
loved to rest there; now comes another
seene, she is sitting down on the grassy
mound, where he, at her feet, poured out
the torrent of his bursting love; her rosy
lips are pressed to his, and winding his
arm about her slender waist, she is locked
in a lover's fond embrace; warm are
the kisses he gives, and sweet, honeyed,
the nectar that he steals from her lips;
nay, steals not, she gives him all, she
gives her heart, it is his. Where else
should her kisses be bestowed except on
the manly, noble youth who loves her,
and is beloved by her? Look at Jonathan,
and see the changes that come over
his open, manly countenance, as these
tender recollections, one after another
rush through his mind; now a smile
breaks over his face and dimples his sun
burnt cheeks, with youthful laughter;
now the color forsakes his tell-tale face;
his look is like a suppliant that kneels to
beg for life, yet fears his prayer will find
a cold reception; but see, the truant
blood that ran away, comes leaping back,
the modest eye that drooped and played
the suppliant so well, is sparkling with
sudden joy and hope; his parting lips
kiss the air, his hand seeks an airy phantom,
in vain he draws his arm in a closer
embrace. The dream is over, and he
looks with staring and astonished gaze
about him.
Such was the scene which might have
where Jonathan sat reading a letter; none
of your little, short, cramped-up, unsatisfactory
letters; but a bold hand, a well
covered sheet and home-sounding words,
all breathing unabating and unchanging
love to him,—poor, wandering, unworthy
mortal.
This was the letter that Nancy wrote
months ago to him, and it had followed
him from place to place, and sought him
long, in vain; but here at last, close at the
foot of the highest peak of the Rocky
Mountains, it had come up with him,
and oh! how it gladdened him with its
presence! how often he pressed it to his
lips, and kissed it, and how happy it
made him feel to hug it to his breast, and
fancy that it was his dear, laughing, loving,
mirthful little Nancy, that had come
after him.
But what in the world did she say
in her letter, that had such an effect
upon our friend, and made him silent
a whole evening at a stretch? such a
thing had not happened before since his
acquaintance with the present party commenced.
They both noticed his unusual
silence, and saw the cause, but like sensible
men they allowed him to enjoy an
uninterrupted evening over it. Nancy
had written him, like a good, true-hearted
girl, that she was well, how she loved him
better, if possible, than-ever, how she
longed to see him, and hoped with all her
heart, he would soon come home again
to leave no more; she dreamed of him
when she slept, she said, and then, oh!
how happy she was; he seemed to be
again by her side, and then his clear
voice, so full of love and tenderness whispered
in her ear in tones sweeter than all
other sounds; this, she said, was her
only happy time; and then how she
loved to sleep now, that she might dream
of him, and that kind letter he sent her
from St. Louis; but it was a dangerous
city, so sickly she was glad he had left
it; but oh! what a mighty distance he
had gone from home, and how much she
feared lest he should be sick, and have no
kind friend to help and take care of him.
Then she told him how well her father
and mother were, and how they prospered;
what a great crop they had reap
ed, and how healthy her brothers and
sisters were.
But we will not intrude farther into
Jonathan's letter: we have already seen
enough of it, we think, to satisfy any
sensible man, that those antics and somewhat
uncommon faces that he made this
evening, were all right and perfectly correct;
he did as he should do, and it was
nobody's business but his own. That
night sweet sleep came to him and
brought him dreams, sweeter even than
his waking fancies had conjured up before
him. He kissed the dear letter
again and again, a hundred times before
he went to sleep, and when at last he settled
himself to rest, he placed it close by
the side of that shiny braid of glossy hair
he wore over his heart, and before he
closed his eyes, he asked for all Heaven's
blessings to rest on his dear Nancy.
Such were Jonathan's thoughts and
actions that night; and all arose from
that noiseless, silent letter, that had
reached him. What a charm or joy there
is in a letter from a dear friend! There
is nothing so like to seeing the friend
himself, as holding in your hand his, actually
his, or her letter. It is not so
much the words of the letter, though they
may convey the most interesting intelligence;
it is not the length of it, nor the
brevity of it; it is not the flowing wit
and humor, nor is it the deep feeling, the
tender love, the sober tone, or lively
painting, that so much enchants us. No,
none, nor all of these can do for the
reader what Jonathan's letter did for him.
It is the sight of that hand, the feeling
that it comes from home—from loved
friends—has, in itself, independent of
any and everything else, has a power to
awaken and arouse old associations, to
call up from their hiding places the absent
ones that we love so well, and make
them stand out before us again in all their
freshness and well-remembered forms.
Their features are distinct to the sight;
all, everything, is as we left them; again
we are transported back to the scene of
the writer; we walk with him through
the shady garden alley; every familiar
bush and sprig smiles upon and greets us.
The same little birds are singing in the
trees in front of the house; nothing is
is perfect: and, as it stands out in all its
glowing colors before our mind's eye,
we are filled with delight and pleasure.
Such is the mystery that wrought upon
our Yankee friend's mind, on the receipt
of that wonder-working epistle. Had he
visited his home and his friends, and
looked with his bodily eyes upon them,
they would not have appeared more distinct
to him than they were when he looked
at the letter he held in his hand. But
it is time we gave a thought to old Le
Beaux, whom we left very unceremoniously
to talk with Ottahontas and Wahhallah.
He had succeeded in his object in visiting
Astoria; he had led safely the little
band of settlers, whose lives were
sought by hostile Indians. They had
been defeated in their purpose, and disappointed
of their expected plunder.
Four of his mortal enemies had fallen by
his own hand in fight; and now he had
safely returned. A little band of Delawares
were encamped about an hundred
and fifty miles to the south of them,
where they proposed to spend the winter
in hunting and collecting furs. There
were about an hundred and fifty lodges
in the encampment; and those two Delawares
with him, belonged to one of the
lodges.
Such was the character of the information
which Ottahontas had to give Le
Beaux, which I give only in the outline.
There was much of exceeding interest,
of a strictly personal nature, which we
cannot relate. The evening was far
spent when our little party retired to
sleep that night. A new arrival was, in
itself, a great event in their camp life.
| CHAPTER X. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure | |