2. CHAPTER II.
In the autumn of the year after the events outlined
in the previous chapter, I received a visit at my residence
on the Susquehannah, from a friend I had never
before seen a mile from St. James's street—a May-fair
man of fashion who took me in his way back from
Santa Fe. He stayed a few days to brush the cobwebs
from a fishing-rod and gun which he found in
inglorious retirement in the lumber-room of my cottage,
and, over our dinners, embellished with his trout
and woodcock, the relations of his adventures (compared,
as everything was, with London experience exclusively)
were as delightful to me as the tales of
Scheherezade to the calif.
“I have saved to the last,” he said, pushing me the
bottle, the evening before his departure, “a bit of romance
which I stumbled over in the prairie, and I
dare swear it will surprise you as much as it did me,
for I think you will remember having seen the heroine
at Almack's.”
“At Almack's?”
“You may well stare. I have been afraid to tell
you the story, lest you should think I drew too long
a bow. I certainly should never be believed in London.”
“Well—the story?”
“I told you of my leaving St. Louis with a trading
party for Santa Fe. Our leader was a rough chap,
big-boned, and ill put together, but honestly fond of
fight, and never content with a stranger till he had
settled the question of which was the better man. He
refused at first to take me into his party, assuring me
that his exclusive services and those of his company
had been engaged at a high price, by another gentleman.
By dint of drinking `juleps' with him, however,
and giving him a thorough `mill' (for though
strong as a rhinoceros, he knew nothing of `the science'),
he at last elected me to the honor of his friendship,
and took me into the party as one of his own
men.
“I bought a strong horse, and on a bright May
morning the party set forward, bag and baggage, the
leader having stolen a march upon us, however, and
gone ahead with the person who hired his guidance.
It was fine fun at first, as I have told you, to gallop
away over the prairie without fence or ditch, but I
soon tired of the slow pace and the monotony of the
scenery, and began to wonder why the deuce our
leader kept himself so carefully out of sight—for in
three days' travel I had seen him but once, and then
at our bivouac fire on the second evening. The men
knew or would tell nothing, except that he had one
man and a packhorse with him, and that the `gentleman'
and he encamped farther on. I was under promise
to perform only the part of one of the hired carriers
of the party, or I should soon have made a push to
penetrate `the gentleman's' mystery.
“I think it was on the tenth day of our travels that
the men began to talk of falling in with a tribe of Indians,
whose hunting-grounds we were close upon,
and at whose village, upon the bank of a river, they
usually got fish and buffalo-hump, and other luxuries
not picked up on the wing. We encamped about
sunset that night as usual, and after picketing my
horse, I strolled off to a round mound not far from the
fire, and sat down upon the top to see the moon rise.
The east was brightening, and the evening was delicious.
“Up came the moon, looking like one of the duke
of Devonshire's gold plates (excuse the poetry of the
comparison), and still the rosy color hung on in the
west, and turning my eyes from one to the other, I at
last perceived, over the southwestern horizon, a mist
slowly coming up, which indicated the course of a
river. It was just in our track, and the whim struck
me to saddle my horse and ride on in search of the
Indian village, which, by their description, must be on
its banks.
“The men were singing songs over their supper,
and with a flask of brandy in my pocket, I got off unobserved,
and was soon in a flourishing gallop over the
wild prairie, without guide or compass. It was a silly
freak, and might have ended in an unpleasant adventure.
Pass the bottle and have no apprehensions,
however.
“For an hour or so, I was very much elated with
my independence, and my horse too seemed delighted
to get out of the slow pace of the caravan. It was as
light as day with the wonderful clearness of the atmosphere,
and the full moon and the coolness of the
evening air made exercise very exhilarating. I rode
on, looking up occasionally to the mist, which retreated
long after I thought I should have reached the
river, till I began to feel uneasy at last, and wondered
whether I had not embarked in a very mad adventure.
As I had lost sight of our own fires, and might miss
my way in trying to retrace my steps, I determined to
push on.
“My horse was in a walk, and I was beginning to
feel very grave, when suddenly the beast pricked up
his ears and gave a loud neigh. I rose in my stirrups,
and looked round in vain for the secret of his improved
spirits, till with a second glance forward, I discovered
what seemed the faint light reflected upon the smoke
of a concealed fire. The horse took his own counsel,
and set up a sharp gallop for the spot, and a few min
utes brought me in sight of a fire half concealed by a
clump of shrubs, and a white object near it, which to
my surprise developed to a tent. Two horses picketed
near, and a man sitting by the fire with his hands
crossed before his shins, and his chin on his knees,
completed the very agreeable picture.
“`Who goes there?' shouted this chap, springing
to his rifle as he heard my horse's feet sliding through
the grass.
“I gave the name of the leader, comprehending at
once that this was the advanced guard of our party;
but though the fellow lowered his rifle, he gave me a
very scant welcome, and motioned me away from the
tent-side of the fire. There was no turning a man out
of doors in the midst of a prairie; so, without ceremony,
I tethered my horse to his stake, and getting
out my dried beef and brandy, made a second supper
with quite as good an appetite as had done honor to
the first.
“My brandy-flask opened the lips of my sulky friend
after a while, though he kept his carcass very obstinately
between me and the tent, and I learned that the
leader (his name was Rolfe, by-the-by), had gone on
to the Indian village, and that `the gentleman' had
dropped the curtain of his tent at my approach, and
was probably asleep. My word of honor to Rolfe that
I would `cut no capers' (his own phrase in administering
the obligation), kept down my excited curiosity,
and prevented me, of course, from even pumping the
man beside me, though I might have done so with a
little more of the contents of my flask.
“The moon was pretty well overhead when Rolfe
returned, and found me fast asleep by the fire. I awoke
with the trampling and neighing of horses, and, springing
to my feet, I saw an Indian dismounting, and Rolfe
and the fire-tender conversing together while picketing
their horses. The Indian had a tall feather in his cap,
and trinkets on his breast, which glittered in the moonlight;
but he was dressed otherwise like a white man,
with a hunting-frock and very loose large trowsers.
By the way, he had moccasins, too, and a wampum
belt; but he was a clean-limbed, lithe, agile-looking
devil, with an eye like a coal of fire.
“`You've broke your contract, mister!' said Rolfe,
coming up to me; `but stand by and say nothing.'
“He then went to the tent, gave an `ehem!' by
way of a knock, and entered
“`It's a fine night!' said the Indian, coming up to
the fire and touching a brand with the toe of his moccasin.
“I was so surprised at the honest English in which
he delivered himself, that I stared at him without answer.
“`Do you speak English?' he said.
“`Tolerably well,' said I, `but I beg your pardon
for being so surprised at your own accent that I forgot
to reply to you. And now I look at you more closely,
I see that you are rather Spanish than Indian.'
“`My mother's blood,' he answered rather coldly,
`but my father was an Indian, and I am a chief.'
“`Well, Rolfe,' he continued, turning the next instant
to the trader, who came toward us, `who is this
that would see Shahatan?'
“The trader pointed to the tent. The curtain was
put aside, and a smart-looking youth, in a blue cap
and cloak, stepped out and took his way off into the
prairie, motioning to the chief to follow.
“`Go along! he won't eat ye!' said Rolfe, as the
Indian hesitated, from pride or distrust, and laid his
hand on his tomahawk.
“I wish I could tell you what was said at that interview,
for my curiosity was never so strongly excited.
Rolfe seemed bent on preventing both interference and
observation, however, and in his loud and coarse voice
commenced singing and making preparations for his
supper; and, persuading me into the drinking part of
it, I listened to his stories and toasted my shins till I
was too sleepy to feel either romance or curiosity;
and leaving the moon to waste its silver on the wilderness,
and the mysterious colloquists to ramble and
finish their conference as they liked, I rolled over on
my buffalo-skin and dropped off to sleep.
“The next morning I rubbed my eyes to discover
whether all I have been telling you was not a dream,
for tent and demoiselle had evaporated, and I lay with
my feet to the smouldering fire, and all the trading
party preparing for breakfast around me. Alarmed at
my absence, they had made a start before sunrise to
overtake Rolfe, and had come up while I slept. The
leader after a while gave me a slip of paper from the
chief, saying that he should be happy to give me a
specimen of Indian hospitality at the Shawanee village,
on my return from Santa Fe—a neat hint that I
was not to intrude upon him at present.”
“Which you took?”
“Rolfe seemed to have had a hint which was probably
in some more decided shape, since he took it for
us all. The men grumbled at passing the village without
stopping for fish, but the leader was inexorable,
and we left it to the right and `made tracks,' as the
hunters say, for our destination. Two days from there
we saw a buffalo—”
“Which you demolished. You told me that story
last night. Come, get back to the Shawanees! You
called on the village at your return?”
“Yes, and an odd place it was. We came upon it
from the west, Rolfe having made a bend to the westward,
on his return back. We had been travelling all
day over a long plain, wooded in clumps, looking very
much like an immense park, and I began to think that
the trader intended to cheat me out of my visit—for
he said we should sup with the Shawanees that night,
and I did not in the least recognise the outline of the
country. We struck the bed of a small and very beautiful
river, presently, however, and after following it
through a wood for a mile, came to a sharp brow
where the river suddenly descended to a plain at least
two hundred feet lower than the table-land on which
we had been travelling. The country below looked
as if it might have been the bed of an immense lake,
and we stood on the shore of it.
“I sat on my horse geologizing in fancy about this
singular formation of land, till, hearing a shout, I
found the party had gone on, and Rolfe was hallooing
to me to follow. As I was trying to get a glimpse of
him through the trees, up rode my old acquaintance
Shahatan, with his rifle across his thigh, and gave me
a very cordial welcome. He then rode on to show me
the way. We left the river, which was foaming among
some fine rapids, and by a zig-zag side-path through
the woods, descended about half way to the plain,
where we rounded a huge rock, and stood suddenly in
the village of the Shawanees. You can not fancy any
thing so picturesque. On the left, for a quarter of a
mile, extended a natural steppe, or terrace, a hundred
yards wide, and rounding in a crescent to the south.
The river came in toward it on the right in a superb
cascade, visible from the whole of the platform, and
against the rocky wall at the back, and around on the
edge overlooking the plain, were built the wigwams
and log-huts of the tribe, in front of which lounged
men, women, and children, enjoying the cool of the
summer evening. Not far from the base of the hill
the river reappeared from the woods, and I distinguished
some fields planted with corn along its banks,
and horses and cattle grazing. What, with the pleasant
sound of the falls, and the beauty of the scene altogether,
it was to me more like the primitive Arcadia
we dream about, than anything I ever saw.
“Well, Rolfe and his party reached the village presently,
for the chief had brought me by a shorter cut,
and in a moment the whole tribe was about us, and
the trader found himself apparently among old acquaintances.
The chief sent a lad with my horse
down into the plain to be picketed where the grass was
better, and took me into a small hut, where I treated
myself to a little more of a toilet than I had been accustomed
to of late, in compliment to the unusual
prospect of supping with a lady. The hut was lined
with bark, and seemed used by the chief for the same
purpose, as there were sundry articles of dress and
other civilized refinements hanging to the bracing-poles,
and covering a rude table in the corner.
“Fancy my surprise, on coming out, to meet the
chief strolling up and down his prairie shelf with, not
one lady, but half a dozen—a respectable looking gentleman
in black (I speak of his coat), and a bevy of
nice-looking girls, with our Almack's acquaintance in
the centre—the whole party, except the chief, dressed
in a way that would pass muster in any village in England.
Shahatan wore the Indian's blanket, modified
with a large mantle of fine blue cloth, and crossed over
his handsome bare chest something after the style of
a Hieland tartan. I really never saw a better made or
more magnificent looking fellow, though I am not sure
that his easy and picturesque dress would not have improved
a plainer man.
“I remembered directly that Rolfe had said something
to me about missionaries living among the Shawanees,
and I was not surprised to hear that the gentleman
in a black coat was a reverend, and the ladies the
sisterhood of the mission. Miss Trevanion seemed
rather in haste to inform me of the presence of `the
cloth,' and in the next breath claimed my congratulations
on her marriage! She had been a chieftainess
for two months.
“We strolled up and down the grassy terrace, dividing
our attention between the effects of the sunset on
the prairie below and the preparations for our supper,
which was going on by the light of pine-knots stuck
in the clefts of the rock in the rear. A dozen Indian
girls were crossing and recrossing before the fires,
and with the bright glare upon the precipice, and the
moving figures, wigwams, &c., it was like a picture of
Salvator Rosa's. The fair chieftainess, as she glided
across occasionally to look after the people, with a step
as light as her stately figure would allow, was not the
least beautiful feature of the scene. We lost a fine
creature when we let her slip through our fingers, my
dear fellow!”
“Thereby hangs a tale, I have little doubt, and I
can give you some data for a good guess at it—but as
the `nigger song' has it—
“Tell us what dey had for supper—
Black-eyed pease, or bread and butter?”
“We had everything the wilderness could produce
—appetites included. Lying in the track of the trading-parties,
Shahatan, of course, made what additions
he liked to the Indian mode of living, and except that
our table was a huge buffalo-skin stretched upon stakes,
the supper might have been a traveller's meal among
Turks or Arabs, for all that was peculiar about it. I
should except, perhaps, that no Turk or Arab ever saw
so pretty a creature as the chief's sister, who was my
neighbor at the feast.”
“So—another romance!”
“No, indeed! For though her eyes were eloquent
enough to persuade one to forswear the world and turn
Shawanee, she had no tongue for a stranger. What
little English she had learned of the missionaries she
was too sly to use, and our flirtation was a very unsatisfactory
pantomime. I parted from her at night in
the big wigwam, without having been out of ear-shot
of the chief for a single moment; and as Rolfe was inexorable
about getting off with the daybreak the next
morning, it was the last I saw of the little fawn. But
to tell you the truth, I had forty minds between that
and St. Louis to turn about and have another look
at her.
“The big wigwam, I should tell you, was as large
as a common breakfast-room in London. It was built
of bark very ingeniously sewed together, and lined
throughout with the most costly furs, even the floor
covered with highly-dressed bear-skins. After finishing
our supper in the open air, the large curtain at the
door, which was made of the most superb gold-colored
otters, was thrown up to let in the blaze of the pine
torches stuck in the rock opposite, and, as the evening
was getting cool, we followed the chieftainess to her
savage drawing-room, and took coffee and chatted till
a late hour, lounging on the rude, fur-covered couches.
I had not much chance to talk with our old
friend, but I gathered from what little she said that
she had been disgusted with the heartlessness of London,
and preferred the wilderness with one of nature's
nobility to all the splendors of matrimony in high-life.
She said, however, that she should try to induce Shahatan
to travel abroad for a year or two, and after that,
she thought their time would be agreeably spent in
such a mixture of savage and civilized life as her fortune
and his control over the tribe would enable them
to manage.”
When my friend had concluded his story, I threw
what little light I possessed upon the undeveloped
springs of Miss Trevanion's extraordinary movements,
and we ended our philosophizings on the subject by
promising ourselves a trip to the Shawanees some day
together. Now that we are together in London, however,
and have had the benefit of Mrs. Melicent's additional
chapter, with the still later news that Shahatan
and his wife were travelling by the last accounts in the
east, we have limited our programme to meeting them
in England, and have no little curiosity to see whether
the young savage will decide like his wife in the question
of “Wigwam versus Almack's.”
