 | CHAPTER XV. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure |  |
15. CHAPTER XV.
The Delawares, who had been attentive
observers of all that had transpired
at M. Boileau's lodge, and whose attachment
to him and his family, was of a
strong and most endearing nature, were
prepared to receive the intelligence which
was now made known to them by the
distressed and suffering father, M. Boileau.
He had so far learned and adopted
the Indian customs, as to be able to control
and conceal, even the most violent
feelings which might possess and agitate
him. As he now stood up before them
and addressed them, a stranger would not
have supposed that anything of deep and
heart-filling moment had arcused him,
and was moving his soul. In a clear,
but stern tone, like one whose resolution
is not to be shaken, he addressed them:
“Why does Boileau come out to meet
the brave and tried warriors of the Delawares,
and address them? Is it because
a foreign foe has taken the war-club and
the tomahawk, and has come on the
war-path as enemies to the Delawares,
to fight their young men, and burn their
village? Or is it to tell them that the
trail of a panther had crossed their village?
No, it is none of these. The
Delawares have smoked the pipe of
peace with the surrounding nations, and
the hatchet lies buried in their camp,—
brave chiefs and warriors of the Delawares
are feared by their enemies, and
none dare break the pipe they have
smoked in peace with them. Has the
hostile envoy from an open foe cut the
wampum belt before their council? No,
it is none of these things that M. Boileau
has to tell his tribe; but,” said he, and
his voice grew louder, and his eye kindled
in fierce anger and determined hostility,
as he said he had come to them to
tell them of the foul wrongs he had received
at the hands of the lying and cowardly
Black Feet, who were their guests.
He had come to tell them they are
snakes, and have crept into their village
to steal away the daughter of their chief.
While the Delawares pursued the hunting
path and slew the strong bear with
a bold arm, the dogs who have forked
tongues, and lying words in their lips;
who have red skins, but whose hearts
are pale, have deceived them, and turned
back to the village, and like cowards have
attacked the women of the Delawares.
They came to the hunting-ground of the
Delawares but few in number, and feeble,
and poor. We gave them lodges to
dwell in,—we opened wide our arms to
receive them,—we gave them meat to
satisfy their hunger,—we smoked the
pipe of peace and friendship with them,
—we treated them like brothers, though
we knew the hearts of the Black Feet to
be black, to be false; yet we would not
turn away our faces from them, or drive
them from our village. The Delawares
are warriors, the pale face is their friend,
their father, and they are afraid of none.
But the Black Feet came from far to
their camp,—they were poor,—their
tongues were filled with fair words,—
they begged the friendship of the Delawares,
and we listened to their talk, and
pitied them.
A low but deep murmur ran through
the band, testifying that they felt and
acknowledged the truth of what he said.
M. Boileau continued, “the snakes
that we have warmed to life, have turned
their sting upon us, they have thrown
dirt upon our lodges, they have cut the
wampum belts at our hearth's side, and
defied the warriors of our tribe.”
A louder and deeper murmur here
greeted M. Boileau's ears, and showed
him their feelings were aroused to a
higher pitch of excitement. In a louder
strain, and drawing himself up to his
fullest height, his eyes shooting forth
beams of fire, he continued still further,
“is not M. Boileau a chief? has he not
slain his enemies on the war path? has
his hand ever faltered? has his back ever
been turned to his foes? have not the
enemies of the Delawares often and long
mourned the warriors that fell before his
arm, and never more returned to their
lodge from the war path? do not the
Delawares love him?”
As he said this, a shout of affection
and attachment burst simultaneously from
the lips of all. Acknowledging with an
inclination of his head, their testimony
of friendship, he went on.
“M. Boileau was good to the Black
Feet, he received and treated them like
brothers; but the Black Feet have turned
to wolves, they have false hearts, their
tongues are forked, and their arms weak.
They have feared to meet the Delawares
in battle, hence they have skulked away
from the hunting-path when all our warriors
were absent, and have by stratagem
seized and carried off the daughter of
your chief. Shall it be so? Shall our
hospitality be violated? Shall our children
be stolen by false-hearted dogs from
our lodges? and shall not the enemies of
our happiness tremble, and be crushed
like snakes under our avenging feet?
Shall the Delaware chiefs be treated like
dogs?” he exclaimed, in a voice of
thunder.
A loud, long shout of anger, and clamor
for revenge burst from the band of warriors
who stood before him.
“It is enough,” said he, “M. Boileau
is content that the Delawares feel his
wrongs, and are ready to punish his and
their enemies. The pale chief will now
tell them what he has seen. Let the
chiefs speak their minds how we shall
pursue them.”
Charles, with a flashing brow and a
bold voice narrated to them all the facts
he had gathered in his search, relating to
the carrying off of Coquese, and in earnest
and moving entreaties begged them
the track of Red Hand. They all readily
signified their assent to his proposition.
A moment's consultation was
sufficient to determine their course.—
Two chosen scouts, whose eyes were
quick to follow and to find any sign or
token of a trail, however slight, which
might be made, were dispatched under
Wahalla, to search for the trail of Red
Hand and his party; while the remainder
of them hastily entered their lodges and
prepared their arms, and all that was
necessary for them in setting out upon
the war path of an enemy whom they
were resolutely determined to overtake
and destroy, and whom they might be
obliged to follow for many successive
days and nights.
Their meals were quickly dispatched,
their rifles loaded, their tomahawks stuck
into their girdles, the lines of war paint
were drawn upon their faces, and filling
their leather pouches with a store of dried
meat, and meal cakes for their food while
absent, in less than an hour they were
again assembled in the village, ready to
mount their horses and pursue their enemies,
whom they now hated with a
deadly and constant hate.
Le Beaux was eager to take the trail
after them. His counsel was sought by
M. Boileau, as to the course they should
pursue. He proposed, that, leaving at
home only sufficient warriors to protect
the village, the remainder should at once
set out together, and with all haste follow
the trail of Red Hand. He now thought
of the hounds of Charles, and the wonderful
instinct with which they scent the
track of their foe. As this thought flashed
upon his mind, he uttered a cry of
joy, which surprised both M. Boileau
and Charles, who were listening attentively
to his plans. “I have it,” said he,
striking his head, “we cannot now by
any possibility fail of reaching them, or
lose their trail. How fortunate, Charles,
you are.”
Charles in utter astonishment asked
him to explain what he meant, for he
could not readily understand how he was
to contribute towards finding and following
the trail, in any special manner.
“But you are, though,” said Le Beaux,
“and in such a manner, too, that Red
Hand, were he fifty times as cunning as
I believe him to be, (and a more cunning
red skin, I believe breathes not, or a
more villainous rascal, too), but I reckon
it will take more keenness than even he
can boast to cheat those keen blood-hounds
that follow you, Charles.”
In the grief and anxiety he felt for
Coquese, and in the eager haste with
which he had rushed upon and formed
plans for setting off at once, Charles had
forgotten his hounds; but now, when Le
Beaux mentioned them as the means of
tracing the footsteps of Red Hand,
Charles fairly clapped his hands for joy.
“You are right, Le Beaux. I defy the
shrewd rascal, cunning as he is, to cheat
my faithful hounds. We shall certainly
overtake him, and then woe be to him.”
All the preparations were now made,
and it only remained for our three friends
to join the warriors, who were waiting
only their presence to start off in pursuit.
M. Boileau drew his wife to him, and
bade her be of good heart, for he felt
convinced that they would soon return
and bring back their darling Coquese
with them.
In a low, earnest voice, Charles added,
“Rest assured I will never return again
without her.”
Leila looked with a mother's fondness
upon his noble form and handsome face.
She felt a pang of sorrow for him, and,
drawing him to her, she impressed a kiss
upon his brow, and bade him adieu.—
She pressed the hand of the faithful and
generous Le Beaux, as he bade nor farewell,
and encouraged her with his hopeful
words and confident manner. But
now, to part with her husband. She
threw herself into his arms, and looked
with affection, strong, deep, enduring
affection, into his face. A tear gathered
in her beautiful dark eyes, her heart
heaved with its deep, full emotions, she
spoke not a word, but clung to him in a
close, fast embrace. Gently he folded
his arms around her, and kissing her
with all the strong, ardent feeling of love
which he felt when first he wooed her,
and which she as ardently returned, he
bade her good bye, promising soon, very
soon, to return, and bring with him the
her arms, which she had thrown
about his neck, he led her to a seat, and
placing her in it, he once more kissed
her, and then left the lodge.
Immediately on his approach, the two
scouts, who with Wahalla had been to
look for the trail, came in. M. Boileau
inquired of Wahalla whether they had
found any signs to guide them on the
track of their foe?
Wahalla answered that there was a
fresh trail, evidently the one made by
Red Hand and his party, and that it ran
to the south-east, along the bed of the
river. That they had searched all the
ground near there, and this was the only
trail to be discovered, and he was persuaded
that this would guide them aright,
provided they could keep it.
M. Boileau thanked him for his successful
services, and assured him that
there was no fears of losing it, for the
hounds of the pale face chief, their
brother, which were standing by the side
of our hero, would guide them on it. As
he said this, all eyes were turned with
wonder and admiration upon the noble
blood hounds, who seemed to be aware
that they were the objects of interest
and importance to the party, and looked
both grave and resolute.
A shout of joy burst from the lips of
all at the promise of M. Boileau, and
springing upon their horses, in a moment
all were in motion. Wahalla led the
way to the trail they had discovered.—
Charles and Le Beaux followed close
upon him, accompanied by the hounds.
As soon as they came upon the trail, and
took the scent, they uttered a long, loud
bay, that astonished the Delawares very
much, and no less delighted them. Then
they started off, following it closely, keeping
their noses to the ground. They
were instantly followed at a rapid pace
by the whole party.
As we stated before, the course pursued
by Red Hand and his followers,
when they left the village with Coquese,
was concealed as much as possible by
him. He had taken great pains to cover
all traces of his direction, and, if possible,
to confuse and mislead the Delawares
in the pursuit which he knew
would be made, on discovering that he
had fled and had taken Coquese with
him. In order, therefore, to accomplish
his purpose, he had selected from his
little band a few upon whose skill and
courage he could implicitly rely, and
ordered them to follow a different and
nearly opposite direction from that which
he took with his prisoner and the rest of
his party, and while he with his men
used the utmost caution to hide all signs
from the keen eyes of the Delaware
warriors, who would soon be upon him.
They went freely and boldly forward,
leaving very evident and perceptible
marks behind them of the course they
pursued.
But we must now go back to the former
part of the day which had been so
sad a day to our hero, and so disastrous
and unhappy to his beloved Coquese,
and see the manner in which Red Hand
had accomplished his daring, but foul
deed. It will be recollected that in the
morning when the whole body of warriors
divided themselves off into small
parties, that they might the better pursue
their search along the hills, Red Hand
had contrived to keep all of his followers
together, and also to have the lowest
part of the tract over which they were to
extend their hunt altogether to him and
his men. And this part, it will also be
recollected, lay considerably nearer the
village than any of the other paths which
were pursued by the other sportsmen.—
It was but a few minutes after the respective
bands left the rendezvous where
they had made their arrangements, and
to which spot they were to return at the
close of the day, when they had finished
the hunt preparatory to re-entering the
village, which they all proposed to do
together, when the different scouts, who
by instructions received beforehand from
Red Hand, came back to where he and
the remainder of his followers had concealed
themselves, having dogged the
progress and watched unobserved by the
Delawares the course they followed, and
having seen them fairly out of sight, and
plunged into the forest, in the excitement
of the chase, which had sufficiently
assured them so that they would not be
in danger of being missed or watched by
hastily, in answer to Red Hand's questions,
told him what they had observed,
that the parties were scattered in the
different directions chosen, and were so
much engaged in the hunt, that it were
safe to follow his plans.
“It is well,” said Red Hand, “no
time is to be lost; let every one mount
and follow me.” And immediately they
were on their way retracing the steps
which they had just come, and approaching
the village. At a little distance from
it, sufficiently distant, however, to render
it probable that they could not, or would
not, be observed by any of those that
remained at home in the village, they
turned aside from the path which would
have conducted them immediately into
the village, and took a direction which
carried them to a spot the other side
of the stream, which we have often
before spoken of as flowing close by
the spot where the little arbor of Coquese
lay hidden in the green branches
of the tall trees growing upon its pretty
banks. Here they halted, and quickly
concealed themselves in the underwood
that grew luxuriantly on every side of
the spot; and it was partly from this
reason that Red Hand had selected this
particular place, as being the best fitted
to hide such articles of property as they
valued, and designed to bear off with
them when they left the camp of the
unsuspecting Delawares. Hither they
had, in a quiet, secret manner, borne all
those articles two days before, and hidden
them, that everything might be in readiness
at the moment Red Hand should
carry out the rest of his plan, and that
nothing should for a moment delay
them and make them lose time, which
would be so precious in giving them the
start of their foes, for such, they well
knew, this act would render the Delawares.
As they opened the place which
held the concealed goods, and found
them all there and safe, they uttered a
low exclamation of delight.
In a few words the prompt chief gave
his directions to them, and selecting from
his band two of his most trusty and agile
followers, he crossed the stream in a
canoe, which they drew from its place of
concealment in a little cove, which was
shielded from view by the thick bushes
of the banks, and was but a short distance
below the spot where Coquese's
bower stood. He then gave them directions
to secrete themselves near the spot,
and hold themselves ready at a signal
which he would give them to rush forward,
enter the bower and make sure of
the young squaw, and he further ordered
them to cover her mouth with a piece of
cotton cloth he gave them, to prevent her
cries and screams from being heard, and
arousing the Indians who were left in
the village, or who might be lounging
through the woods. “But,” said he,
“use no further violence to her. Fail
not in doing what I have appointed you.
If you do,” said he “fail, or deceive me
in either point, by the powers of the
Black Spirit, I promise you I will bury
my tomahawk deep to its head in your
brains, and tear your bloody scalps from
your mangled bodies.” His eyes glared
like a serpent upon them, as he uttered
this injunction and threat. His shaggy
brows met in a dark frown, his lips were
drawn together, and he clenched his hard
fist; his whole expression being full of
stern resolution and determination, showed
them he was in earnest, and taught
them what they might expect, should
they dare to betray him, and they trembled
at the thought.
Red Hand was satisfied with the effect
his words produced upon them; and although
he knew his men, and knew he
might trust them in whatever he confided
to them, and that they would unhesitatingly
sacrifice everything in obeying
his commands, yet had the gentleness
and beauty, the simplicity and artless innocence
of Coquese, her kindness and
generosity to the sick and wounded, all
produced such an effect upon their hearts
during their stay at the village, that it
had caused their cruel and wily minds
even to love her. It was to guard against
their feelings of pity towards her distress,
and entreaties to them, that he had said
what we have just written.
Seeing them in their hiding-places and
ready, he now left them and cautiously
approached in the direction of the village.
He took his way slowly, looking continually
cover of the trees and bushes, and anxiously
searching in every direction for
some one. He had at first thought of
waiting in ambush until Coquese should
of her own accord, come to visit her
bower. He knew this was her daily
custom, and it would have excited less
suspicion than any other course he could
pursue; but then he saw that in this way
he might lose much precious time; she
might wait until late in the afternoon ere
she chose to walk, even might not come
at all. These reflections led him to
adopt another, and different course. He
determined to wait for some of the children
of the village, whom he hoped to
meet in the woods, and tell them a feigned
story about our hero, and that he was
awaiting her at the bower, and send them
with his instruction, which he pretended
Charles gave them, to Coquese. He
had taken the precaution to disguise himself
so well, that it would be impossible
for a simple child to have known him,
even if a wise warrior could have penetrated
his disguise, which was no easy
matter, for he was a master in this art.
He looked long, and was fast losing patience,
and revolved in his mind the idea
of boldly rushing into the village with his
warriors, and carrying her off by force.
when at last his watchful eye saw a
young boy coming in the direction towards
him. Leaving his hiding-place,
he walked towards him in a careless
manner. The boy saw him and called
to him, and run up to him. Red Hand,
in a careless, indifferent tone, asked him
some questions about his sports, and
talked with him in a friendly way. He
then put his hand into his pouch, that he
carried with him, and drew forth a small
knife, which he gave to him, telling him
he was a good lad, and by and by, when
he grew up to be a man, he would become
a great warrior. In this way he
won the boy over to him, and prepared
him to do his errand. Then suddenly
striking his forehead with his hand, as if
he just recollected something which was
of importance, he exclaimed aloud,
“I like to have forgotten that I was to
do an errand for the pale face chief to
Coquese! Do you know Coquese, my
good little sanap?” said Red Hand to
him.
The boy replied that he did, and looking
somewhat surprised, he added, “who
does not know and love the Flower of
the Valley?”
“Will you, then, carry a message to
her from the pale face?”
The boy was delighted with the opportunity
to show his regard and love to
Coquese, and eagerly replied, “oh, yes!
I will run to her all the way; just tell
me what I shall say to her. What is it
you wish me to do?”
Red Hand then told him that the pale
face loved Coquese, and that he was a
brave and good chief, worthy to have the
beautiful and lovely Valley Flower in
his wigwam for his squaw. “And,
moreover,” said he, “Coquese loves the
pale face, and she will thank you, and
love you if you carry my message to her,
and do as I tell you.”
The boy listened attentively, and
seemed eager to run to Coquese with
this errand, which was going to make her
love him more, and which would make
her feel happy too, for so Red Hand told
him.
“Go to her, then,” said the wily
chief, “and wait till you find her alone,
so that nobody else can hear what you
say to her, and no one can see you, and
then tell her that the pale chief is waiting
to see her at her little bower, and asks
her to come and meet him before he goes
back to the hills again to hunt. Now be
careful, remember what I have told you,
and be sure you tell her where no one
else can hear what you say, or see you,
for if they should she would be unhappy,
and the pale face chief would be angry,
too, for perhaps they would not let her
come to him.”
The boy lost not a word of what Red
Hand said, and although he could not
understand why it was necessary to be
so secret in telling his message to Coquese,
or how it would make her unhappy,
or anger the pale face chief, who
seemed so kind, and who had given him
such a pretty, bright string of beads, and
patted him on the head, and spoken so
pleasantly to him; yet so strong was his
wish to please Coquese and our hero
the pale face chief, and the boy knew it,—
that he forgot his suspicions, and only
felt how happy it would make him to
serve them both, and how proud he
should be to hear them praise him, and
see them happy.
Red Hand, after he had sufficiently
charged him, to feel sure that he would
do as he told him, let him depart, for the
little fellow was impatient to go; and
watching him till he had disappeared behind
the trees from his sight, he turned
and with hasty steps approached the
canoe that he had left by the bank, a few
steps below the bower of Coquese,
drawing it close to the bank where some
tall grass was growing, that completely
hid it from view. He got into it, and laid
close down upon the bottom, keeping his
head alone raised above the side, and his
eyes turned up the stream in the direction
he expected to see her.
The boy ran on with his supposed
joyful tidings, to meet Coquese. He
soon came into the village, and then from
a fear of drawing attention to himself,—
for young as he was, he already displayed
some of that caution and cunning,
which so remarkably distinguishes the
North American Indian, and which seems
almost to take the nature of instinct with
them,—he changed his pace into a careless
walk. He went to M. Boileau's
lodge, looking all about as he went, to
see Coquese, but she was no where to
be seen. Happy for her would it have
been if she had continued undiscovered
by him. But after a few minutes waiting,
lingering about her father's lodge, to
his joy he saw her come out. She was
prepared to visit the lodge of a neighboring
chief, but seeing him, as was her
custom, she called to him and spoke
some kind words to him. As she looked
down into the little fellow's face, she
saw that it wore an unusual, important,
and meaning expression; and that he had
something he wished, but hardly dared
to tell her. Her curiosity became interested,
and she asked him what he wished
to say to her.
The little fellow looked up to her full
of affection, and then cautiously casting
his eyes around to see that he was unob
served, he told her his message. Coquese
received it with a good deal of
surprise at first, but as her thoughts
turned upon her lover, she dismissed the
suspicions that rose in her mind, and felt
delighted at this proof of his tenderness
and love towards her. She thanked the
boy warmly for his kindness, and told
him she should remember him, and
would give him a pretty pair of moccasins
as she came back; and without
stopping longer, or going back to her
father's lodge, she took her way to meet
Charles, full of sweet thoughts of love
and visions of happiness dancing before
her mind's eye. Gaily and swiftly she
tripped as on light foot over the soft
grassy turf, and in a few minutes entered
her little rustic arbor, where she expected
to find Charles awaiting her. But she
had no time to feel surprise or disappointment
at seeing it untenanted, for the
watchful, cunning eyes of Red Hand had
followed her, and as she entered he gave
the signal to his fellows that he had
agreed upon. They were waiting with
eager attention for it, and no sooner was
it sounded than they leaped from their
covert like a tiger on his prey.
The noise they made caused Coquese
to look up. They were beside her at
that instant, and seized her in their strong
arms. She uttered a wild scream of
fear and terror as she recognized in them
the followers of Red Hand. The truth
of her situation at once flashed upon her
mind, and, oh! what a moment of agony
and wretchedness was this to her! All
her bright, happy visions fled. The
future that had seemed so enchanting,
that she had painted to herself in such
lively, bright colors, the delight and
pleasure she had looked forward to in
passing her life with Charles, and watching
over his happiness, and receiving his
love, which she knew was so true, so
deep, so complete for her, all, all, gone in
a moment, and a fate, than which she
could conceive of none more bitter or
terrible, was open before her. She
would have tried the power of persuasion
and entreaty upon her captors, she
would have bribed them, if possible, to
release her, by promises of reward; anything
she would have given them for liberty.
doing, for, true to their promise to Red
Hand, they had taken away all possibility
of her tempting them, for they had
bound the fold of cotton cloth he gave
them for that purpose, over her mouth.
And had she been free it would have
been of no avail, for hardly a minute
elapsed before Red Hand was at the
opening.
He glared upon her with his fierce,
wild, snake-like eyes. A grim smile of
satisfaction and triumph sat upon his
bold, but revolting face. There was
such an expression of devilish cunning
and malice in his countenance, that you
could not see him without dreading him.
It developed too well the character he
bore, not to awaken distrust and hate.—
He lost no time, however, now, in boasting
or triumphing over her. He paid no
attention to the look of suffering and
heart-rending appeal she turned upon
him, nor to the signs that she made him
with her hands that she wished to speak
to him, for she had not lost her self presence
under these most trying circumstances.
True it was, that when she looked
up and saw the base ruffians beside her,
and felt their strong hands lay hold of
her, she screamed with fright, and came
nigh fainting, but then her clear mind
saw all at a glance. She saw that should
she faint, or lose her consciousness, all
was lost. Her only hope was that by
her entreaties and promises, which, if
she preserved courage and presence of
mind, she might offer them, she could
induce them to let her go. But the
instant Red Hand joined them, this last
feeble hope of prevailing upon them fled.
But like a brave spirit that she was,
although nothing could happen to utterly
overcome her, more than what now was
upon her, yet she resolved to make every
effort to appear calm, and watch all their
movements, and, if possible, to leave
some token behind her that should guide
her friends and apprise them of her
situation.
Such were the reflections that passed
in an instant through her mind, and she
acted nobly up to her determination.—
Red Hand, in a voice that commanded
obedience, ordered his followers to bear
her to the canoe, and all getting into it,
they crossed the stream without delay.
They bore her to the thicket where his
comrades were waiting for him, having
everything in readiness, and in haste
mounted their horses, Red Hand placing
her in front of him upon his powerful
steed, and then having given a fiendish
cheer of exultation, they gave the rein to
their horses, Red Hand taking the lead,
and at a fast gallop they left the village
every moment further behind, and made
the pursuit of their enemies more
difficult.
As we have said before, part of the
band took another route, but the great
body kept with their daring chief. They
rode in this way all day, choosing the
route which would best baffle their pursuers,
and be most difficult to follow.—
And Red Hand was no boy in this art.
His quick eye devoured every object
around him, and nothing which could
aid him in his purpose, was left undone,
or passed unseen.
They stopped about the middle of the
afternoon to breathe and rest their panting,
tired horses, and feed them, and at
the same time to refresh themselves. A
few minutes were allowed to this only,
and they were again on their horses, and
urging them to their utmost speed, scampered
along in the direction which took
them farthest from the village.
They kept on the route pointed out by
their chief, and on which he led the way,
until a late hour in the evening. They
had traveled now fourteen hours since
they left the village, and that too at the
highest speed of their agile and hardy
horses. They had come a distance of
nearly a hundred miles. It was a clear,
beautiful night. The stars were brightly
shining in their home of etherial blue.—
The moon was moving with queenly
majesty in her unvarying, ever constant
path in the traceless fields of heaven's
wide firmament, shedding her sweetest
and lovely light on the sleeping world,
over which she reigned by her Creator's
wise appointed rule. All nature was
hushed in sweet repose, and invited man
to rest and sleep;—but there was no
thought of sleep or rest in this little band
of Indian warriors. The fierce tumult
forbade rest and banished all thoughts and
wishes for sleep.
And Coquese, although wearied and
much fatigued by the long and tiresome
ride, had no thought of sleep. Grief
and sorrow were busy in her heart, and
her excited imagination, like a busy
artist, painted in living colors that challenged
her attention and bound her gaze
to the future in all the horror and misery
that her thick coming fears could suggest.
But the wearied animals, more obedient
to nature's laws than their rebel
masters, sought rest and the renewing of
their exhausted strength in sleep. They
were completely tired out with their
mighty labors and protracted exertions,
and their circumstances alone forced
Red Hand to order a halt and make
preparations to pass the night in rest.—
He had selected a spot well suited for a
camp ground. A thick growth of trees
and underbrush by the side of a clear
stream offered them both protection and
concealment. The long, green grass
that grew on and around its banks
afforded abundance of nourishing food for
their horses.
In a few minutes from the time they
halted, they had finished their preparations
for passing the night here; the
horses were loosed to graze and rest themselves,
a hasty, rude shelter made from
green boughs, which they cut from the
trees, was prepared for Coquese, and a
bed of the same, arranged for her. Red
Hand opened his leather bag, containing a
supply of dried meat, and endeavored to
persuade her to eat, but she refused to
touch it. He uttered some jesting taunts
at her obstinacy, and coolly said that he
would wait until she was ready; he had
no wish to force her to eat.
His presence was repulsive and sickening
to her; she felt as if an evil spirit
oppressed her mind, while he stood near
her, and rejoiced at the relief she experienced
when he was gone. He had said
little to her on the route; his whole soul
was now bent upon effecting his escape;
but he now congratulated himself on the
success which he believed he had attained.
He calculated, and we can see with
what correctness, that the Delawares
would spend the whole day in the chase,
and would return at night, wearied and
fatigued, when it would be too dark for
them to track his trail with any chance
of success, or prospect of doing so with
certainty. And now he believed he had
gained a whole day the start of them,
and could easily baffle pursuit, and laughed
at the idea of being overtaken. He
expected, nay, he knew they would follow
him, but he believed that they could
not do so until the light of the next morning
should enable them to search and
distinguish his footsteps; and he had
taken such care to conceal them, that he
thought, with all their pains, and with
the advantage of daylight, it would be
no easy task, and would render their
pursuit both tardy and uncertain.
How all his calculations were happily
frustrated, and rendered idle by the unerring
instinct of our hero's hounds, that
guided the way of his foes with absolute
certainty, as well in the darkness of night
as in the broad sunlight, we have already
seen. His good success thus far
had turned against him, and was an advantage
to the friends of Coquese, that
it made him less careful, and the feeling
of security which he vainly indulged, led
him to loiter, and made him defer to a
later hour, the time of starting on the
next morning. And when at last, he did
leave, his course was more careless; riding
leisurely along, he indulged in jest,
and mocked at the dullness of his enemies,
who had been blinded and outwitted
by his cunning. He expected to
meet his friends in the course of a few
days, when he believed he would have
no reason to fear the anger of his deceived
foes, but would be able to meet
and conquer them in fight, should they
overtake him.
Swift as the cunning panther, or the
hungry wolf follow their prey, did the
Delawares, guided by the cheering bay
of the noble, and untiring hounds, whose
noses directed their course, follow after
him. Their anger and hostility was
kindled into a flame, by the injuries, and
daring wrongs which Red Hand, under
the guise of friendship, and while entertained
by them as their guests, had inflicted
upon them.
M. Boileau, their wise and beloved
chief, had suffered the loss of His darling
child, by the cunning and devilish artifice
of Red Hand, and the help of his servile
followers. No other one was more dear
to the hearts of the warriors than M.
Boilcau. For no other would they so
readily lay down their lives, unless perchance,
for that one who was now a captive,
stolen from her home, and from their
very midst, by this daring, robber, villain
chief. Her benevolent and kind deeds
were the themes of their praise, and the
prompters of their love and gratitude.
There was scarcely one among them all,
who had not experienced the blessing of
her generous assistance, and who did not
owe to her a debt of gratitude and affection,
for the timely and kind relief which
she had at various times, and on many
occasions afforded them, and freely bestowed
upon them.
One who knows the character of the
North American Indian, will need no
further words to show him the fury, and
fierce hatred which fired the breasts of
the Delawares, and lent them wings to
follow this deadly foe. They forgot their
fatigue,—they remembered not that they
had gone without sleep for more than
twenty-four hours,—that a hasty supper
was the only food, since the morning before,
that had passed their lips; and now
as they came up to the spot which their
enemies had used as a camp for the past
night, and which the still burning embers
showed they had left but a short time
before, they would have continued to
push their patient and gallant horses forward
without resting, on the trail, but
M. Boileau, and his wary, trusty friend,
Le Beaux, knew better how to act, and
by their convincing words, checked the
heated, and fiery spirit of their friends.
They proposed to stop here a couple of
hours, to refresh their horses, which had
so nobly borne them on their forced, and
hurried pursuit, to rest themselves, and
put everything in readiness for instant
use, when they came up with their enemies.
In this way they would be able
to more completely surprise, and better
encounter them. Their horses would
be comparatively fresh, and fit to match
the horses which Red Hand and his war
riors rode, which had rested during the
night. But if they were to keep on in
the plight their animals were in now,
Red Hand could easily outrun, and for
the time, at least, escape them; and then,
too, he would be put upon his guard,
knowing they were so near him, and
would resort to artifices, which would
prolong the pursuit and render success
doubtful.
The wisdom of these views was at
once perceived and acknowledged by
their friends, although they hardly knew
how to restrain themselves, now that
they felt they were near, close upon the
heels of their foe. The excited and impetuous
feelings which filled our hero's
heart, led him to join the Delawares in
their wish to proceed. He could ill
brook delay, when all that was dearest
to him in life, was staked on their success,
and when he believed that success was
within reach of their efforts. But the
friendly and cheerful words of Le Beaux,
whom he relied upon with the most perfect
confidence, and whose knowledge
of Indian character, and the modes of Indian
warfare, were so thorough and perfect,
overcame his desire to go on, and
it was agreed by all to be the best counsel
to follow.
And now they halt on the same spot,
where a few hours before, Red Hand
and his warriors stopped and rested;
where they mocked at the mortification,
and laughed to scorn the vain, and ineffectual
anger, which they so mistakenly
believed the Delawares would experience
on discovering their flight, and the loss of
their adored maiden. They sat down
to rest themselves, and more carefully to
prepare their weapons, which should
deal death to the proud and deceitful
chief, who had so basely wronged them.
Their horses,—which were far superior
to those ridden by their enemy, and
which were selected from their drove
with great care, for their swiftness, and
powers of endurance,—were turned out
upon the grass-plot, to feed.
Although they had traveled with all
haste since they left the village, and had
come at a speed considerably faster than
Red Hand had ridden, the horses were
still full of mettle, and unbroken spirit, and
graze and rest, reinvigorated and renewed
their strength. Le Beaux advised that
all eat a substantial luncheon, and then
try and get an hour's sleep, if possible.
He said they would be the gainers by it,
and that their arms would deal heavier
blows upon their accursed and devoted
enemies for every minute they slept
during that hour. He persuaded Charles
to stretch his limbs out upon the green
grass, under a spreading tree, and laying
down by his side, they both soon fell
asleep. A sentinel was to arouse them
when the time expired. Most of the
tribe followed their example, and at the
expiration of their time for rest they
were ready, refreshed by their short nap,
and eager to start.
Before doing so, however, a council
was held as to the method of attack they
should pursue on overtaking their foes.
The safety of Coquese was the first
object to be looked after, but not, now,
the only one. A feeling of revenge for
their wrongs and the insults offered them
burnt in their hearts, and could only be
quenched by the blood of their hated
enemies. Le Beaux proposed that Wahalla,
in whose bravery and skill they all
placed the utmost faith, with half a dozen
chosen warriors, should go ahead as
scouts, and when they had come up with
their enemies and observed their order
of march, or flight, should immediately
return and inform the rest. The hounds,
who were exceedingly well trained, and
would obey the slightest word or sign
from our hero, were to be kept back
with the main body, lest their noise
should alarm Red Hand's party, and
apprise them of their approach. And it
was by surprising them and dashing in
upon them, that the best chance for
the safety of Coquese lay. These
arrangements being concluded, they again
resumed their way, their hearts filled
with the hope of succouring speedily
their lost friend, and burning with the
wish of revenge upon their foes.
But this time they rode more cautiously,
and kept in close rank, watching
every object in their path, and prepared
for instant service. I almost forgot to
mention one little circumstance that hap
pened at the halting place. One of the
Delawares, who happened to stray to the
spot where Coquese had passed the
night, in throwing aside the branches
which had been cut and spread for her
couch, found a small slip of paper concealed
beneath them, and covered with
strange marks. He carried it at once to
M. Boileau, who uttered a cry of surprise
and joy, as he recognized the handwriting
of his dear child upon it. He
read these simple words, written with a
pencil:
“I am a prisoner in the hands of Red
Hand. He seized me at the bower, and
has hurried me along with his band on
horseback to this place. He now believes
himself safe from pursuit, and
ceases to hurry, or take the precautions
he observed yesterday. He has offered
me no violence thus far, but I can put no
trust in his word for the future. I am
well, but very much fatigued.” This
was signed, Coquese.
As soon as M. Boileau had read it he
clasped his hands, and in a thankful, but
suppressed voice exclaimed, “I thank
God my dear child is yet safe.”
Charles, to whom he gave the paper,
was overjoyed at this proof, that no violence
had been done her, and hope
had gained new life in his anxious breast
from this little, and apparently trifling
incident. He kissed it when by himself
and away from the eyes of his companions,
again and again, and folding it
up, he placed it upon his devoted heart,
exclaiming as he did so, in a resolute,
but tender voice, “Ah! my dear, dear
Coquese, if you are yet alive, (and God
protect you,) I will save you, or this
fond heart shall pour out its life's blood
in the attempt.”
A friendly, deep voice near him at the
same instant, responded, “and so will I,
too.”
But let us resume our story. It was
late in the afternoon, and still our friends
were proceeding onward, the marks of
their enemy growing more and more
fresh, and apprising them that they were
not far distant, when they saw Wahalla
and his little party approaching them.—
In a minute they had halted, and the
chiefs gathering about him in silence,
spoke in an animated tone, saying they
were but a little way in advance of
them, and were proceeding carelessly,
and at a slow pace, evidently being on
the lookout for a good place to stop.
"This is good news," said Le Beaux,"
it will give us a chance to reach
Coquese, and take her out of danger
before the fight begins, if we are cunning.
How is she riding?" he inquired.
Wahalla replied that she was with
Red Hand on his horse.
"It is well," said Le Beaux, "and
now I have a plan, which cannot fail of
success. Let us follow close after them
with a few warriors a little in advance,
to watch them attentively, and give us
notice when they halt. Let a part of
our number strike off a little to one side,
so that they may not be discovered, and
gain the advance of them, when they
shall halt for the purpose of encamping,
as I doubt not Red hand will soon do.—
Then we will at once attack them on
both sides at the same instant. All
retreat or flight will be cut off by the
party on the other side, and the surprise
will be complete. We will first endeavor
to reach Coquese, and if possible,
remove her from danger. Two or three
cunning and light-footed warriors shall
steal noiselessly to her side, for I doubt
not Red Hand will place her at a spot
by herself, but her goodness, and beauty,
and the sight of her suffering and unhappiness,
should move even the stony
hearts of his cold, cruel warriors." A
deep growl, or something very much
like it, broke from the Delawares, at
these words, but Le Beaux waved his
hand for silence, and told them the
necessity of being noiseless as the air
now, they were so near their cunning enemy.
Wahalla, the brave chief, was again
appointed to lead the division who were
to head the enemy, and took with him
nearly one-half of the whole number.—
But still, either of the divisions were, by
themselves, sufficiently strong and superior,
in number, to overcome alone their
enemies. Wahalla was right in his conjecture
with regard to Red Hand's plans
and intentions. That crafty chief was
now trapped in his own plans, for he
chose a spot, the most favorable he possibly
could, had such been his intention,
to afford every advantage to the Delawares.
It was a level grassy bank,
close to a wild, foaming, noisy river, that
rushed in mad fury over a rocky and
uneven bed, rendering it, if not impossible,
still very unlikely that they should
hear the approach of their enemies in the
wild roar of the disturbed waters. A
short distance from the banks ran a thick,
luxuriant grove of wood, and here and
there clustering vines twining their tendrils
together and hanging upon the
branches of the trees, formed natural and
very beautiful arbors. It was a most
lovely and romantic spot, combining
many of the most lovely and attractive
features of nature's most enchanting
landscapes, chosen with the love for the
beautiful, which distinguishes the Indian,
and forms a prominent part of his
character.
| CHAPTER XV. The trapper's bride, or, Spirit of adventure | |