University of Virginia Library

12. CHAPTER XII.

The procession approached the river, passing by the
skin tents and log houses on its line of march, the route
having been planned to please the greatest possible number.
The head of the column was led by Diving Duck, (the meaning
of her Indian name, its orthography forgotten,) who

was to adopt Paddy and Peter into her family. This old
squaw was a worthless creature, having never lived happily
with her husband, and had always been addicted to immoderate
drinking.

Next to Diving Duck came Peter Shaver, mounted on his
jackass and surrounded by all the boys. Every now and
then some one would hold a piece of raw meat to the ass's
nose, and then he brayed. This was succeeded by prolonged
laughter, which, beginning with the boys, spread
like an epidemic through all classes up to the most stoical
octogenarian.

Paddy followed immediately behind the ass, and was accompanied
by Van Wiggens and his dog. The Scots and
other white prisoners were farther in the rear, serving to
lengthen the procession.

When they arrived on the bank of the river, Peter dismounted,
and his ass was led away braying by one of the
boys having raw meat or pepper-corns.

“And now,” said Paddy, “before we go any furder
in this family bisness, I wud like to be towld what I am
to be.”

“You are to be an Indian,” said Charles, who acted as
interpreter.

“I know that, Misther Charles,” said Paddy. “But, I
mane, what am I to be in the family? Am I to be the
black old Didapper's son or husband?”

Charles, after speaking to the squaw, said she was not
yet prepared to announce the lucky man of her choice.

“She manes,” said Paddy, musing painfully, “to take
us both on trial. Tell her, Mr. Charles, I won't go into
her family until I know what futting I am to go on.”

“Paddy, she wishes to know the position you would
prefer.”

“Position? Och, she manes sitiation! Say SON, by
all manes, and board and mending; I'll saa after the
wages widout her assistance.”

“And what would you be, Peter?” asked Charles.

“I guess any thing rather than be sculped,” said Peter.
“But you will please make the best bargain for me you
can. Although I'd rather be her husband than die at the
stake, I rather think I would prefer dying any easy way
than to marry such an ugly infernal old—”

“Howld yer tongue!” cried Paddy, furiously. “Would
ye be afther having that translated till her? Would ye
have her to be scratching yer nasty piebald face here in
this company? To be sure ye would! And thin you think
she wouldn't have ye, and be afther taking me, do ye?
And that would be one of yer Yankee tricks, would it?
It's dishonest! it's ungintlemanly! it's—rascality! to
take advantage of a rival in that fashion! And, if ye was
to succeed, I'd pound yer head to a jelly with me two fists.
And then to talk about dying in any aisy way! I would
like to know the difference atwane dying by having the
breath burnt out, bled out, drownded out, or physicked out?
Dying aisy, is it?”

Now, Charles had rapidly translated such portions of this
speech as best suited his purpose, which, together with
Paddy's menacing attitude and gestures, produced a prodigious
burst of merriment. Even the young prisoner, Simon
Kenton, whose arms were stretched asunder and made fast
by thongs to a strong stake that ran across his breast,
laughed so heartily (for he had a sound pair of lungs) as to
attract general attention. Boone, taking advantage of this,
and seeming to be an entire stranger to the tall captive,
(although they were intimate friends,) remarked to one of
the warriors that no man could laugh without pain when
bound in that manner; and, the good-humour of the latter
preponderating over his prudence, he drew his knife and
liberated the captive's arms.

Diving Duck, comprehending what had passed between
Paddy and Peter, turned her ugly face toward the latter
and uttered a torrent of vituperation which it would have
been difficult for Charles to render into intelligible English;
but the purport of it could hardly have been mistaken even
by a dog. And Van Wiggens's little mongrel cur retreated
a few paces and barked at the virago, no doubt detecting
some resemblance between her and Mrs. Van Wiggens.

“And that's the reward you get for blabbing in that
undacent way,” said Paddy. “Och! you ought to be
ashamed of yerself!”

This little speech being made known to the squaw, she
approached Paddy with a ghastly grin, meant, no doubt,
for a grateful smile, and, taking his hand, called him her
husband.

“What does she mane by that?” asked Paddy.

“She says,” continued Charles, “that she thanks you
for resenting the vile aspersions of the Yankee Popcorn, the
chief of the asses, and a thousand other pleasant things I
am unable to translate in this modest company. And, as
a slight manifestation of her gratitude, she is determined to
bestow her hand upon you.”

“Murther! how am I to get out of this scrape? I'll
give you a broken head, Misther Pater Shaver, for yer foul
play. You're a vile chating rival, and, be the sowl of St.
Patrick, ye shall not succade! Be the powers, ye shall
marry her or burn! Misther Charles, tell 'em to tie me to
the stake; for I'm ready to die, aisy or hard, jist as they
plase. I wont be a blackguard savage and the towl of a
little fat nose-talking Yankee! Let us both burn together
at the same stake, as me Catholic ancestors did in the time
of Elizabeth, who was nicknamed the Vargin Quane. The
Holy Vargin presarve us! It sames that the whole family
of Pences are to be the victims of the women! Tell 'em
to pile up their fagots! Grane ones will do. The grase
of my fat companion will make 'em burn. And when we
are both wrapped in the flames, Pater,” he continued,
doubling his fists and assuming a boxing attitude, “I'll
give you a taste of the science by way of dessert to the
fry!”

This, too, when interpreted to the Indians, produced
peals of laughter, and the old chiefs patted Paddy's back,
calling him a brave man.

“I would have been a dutiful son to ye,” continued
Paddy, moved to tears, “and maintained ye at yer aise;
and, instead of being grateful, you must be calling me mother
names. No! I won't be the father of any sich a vile
varmint!”

“Paddy!” said Peter, moved by the tears, for they convinced
him he was in earnest, “oh, Paddy, say no more
about burning! I'll save you from that. I'll marry her
rather than die. I guess I can manage her. I'll marry
her, Paddy!”

“Then I shall be bound to pay you riverence. And, in
the first place, I beg yer pardon for what I have said to
your disparagement, and take it all back again.”

This being rendered into the Indian tongue, Diving Duck

became more furious than ever, and said they should both
burn, as she would not marry either of them.

Then Peter, amid shouts of laughter, got down on his
knees and humbly begged her to pardon him and accept his
hand.

“You see what it is,” said Paddy, kneeling behind Peter,
“for a woman to have two strings to her bow. Kape at
her, Pater; she'll yeald prisently. Depind upon it, she'll
not let ye die if she's to lose a husband by it.”

And Peter, persisting, received a blow on the side of his
face which sent him sprawling on the earth.

“What do ye mane by trating me rispicted father in that
ungintlemanly manner?” cried Paddy, springing up and
seizing the old squaw, whom he held securely by the arms
in despite of her kicks and cries, to the infinite amusement
of the crowd. “If you are to be me mother I must tache
ye betther manners. And is this an example to sit before
the face of yer childer? Is this the sort of brading ye
would bring yer darlint son up to? Ye ought to be
ashamed of yerself!”

And the Didapper uttered two words to Paddy's one.
But, when he relinquished his hold, Charles announced to
the disappointed multitude that the ceremony of fire would
have to be substituted for that of water, as Diving Duck
would have neither of them for her husband.

At this juncture Van Wiggens, who had been a contemplative
spectator of the scene, stepped forward and whispered
to Charles that, although he did not fear burning at
the stake half so much as he did the scathing tongue of
Mrs. “Wan Viggens,” if it would not be bigamy and subject
him to the penalty of the law, he was willing to save
his two friends from death by becoming himself their
father and the husband of the furious squaw.

When this was announced to Diving Duck, she scrutinized
the Dutchman very carefully, and, after walking round
him as if examining the limbs of a horse, signified her
willingness to accept him as a substitute, provided he would
whip both of his sons after the wedding.

To this condition both Paddy and Peter readily consented,
and the squaw then grasped the hand of her
affianced lord. But the little stump-tailed mongrel cur of
Van Wiggens seemed to have some objection to the arrangement,

and flew round, barking fiercely at the squaw, who paid
no further attention to his violence than to seize him by the
back of his neck and cast him over the bank into the river,
whence he speedily swam ashore, cowed into submission.

“Tam her! he thought it was Mrs. Wan Viggens!” said
the Dutchman.

All the preliminaries being adjusted, six young Indian
girls, supposed from their stature to be about midway in
their teens, came gliding forward. Each of them grasped
a hand of the three candidates for adoption, and led them
down the river-bank and along the edge of the water to a
gigantic sycamore, whose broad leaves, though deeply reddened
by the early frosts, yet hung over the stream and
intercepted the rays of the descending sun. The great
crowd of Indians posted themselves a short distance apart,
where they could see the operation of initiation to the
greatest advantage. Boone and Charles, however, attended
the candidates under the tree.

“You must submit without resistance,” said Boone, addressing
the men; “for, if you do not comply with their
demands, you will not be considered perfect Indians.”

“Be the powers,” said Paddy, looking to his right and
his left, “such cratures as these don't same as if they meant
to do us any harm. But, if ye plase, Misther Bone, I'd
take it as a favour if you'd tell me what they mane to do
wid us in the wather.”

“No matter what: all you have to do is to obey them
in every particular,” was the reply.

“And they mane to go in wid us?” continued Paddy.

“Certainly,” said Charles; “don't you see they are prepared
to do so?”

Paddy examined the costume of the girls, which consisted
merely of blankets and narrow breech-cloths. Their leggins
and moccasins had been left behind.

The Indian maids proceeded, according to the usual custom
with candidates for adoption, to disencumber the men of
their clothing.

Peter Shaver, being in Indian costume, was easily disrobed,—one
of the girls removing his blanket, while the
other undid his moccasins and leggins, leaving nothing but
his breech-cloth,—a sort of apron going round the body
above the hips and reaching nearly to the knees.

The girls were exceedingly amused and interested. Peter's
corpulency, and his very white skin where the sun had
not shone upon it and where the dust of travel had not
accumulated, particularly arrested their attention.

Peter had been so much among the Indians of late, assimilating
with their habits, that he did not think of blushing
at the exposure of his neck, shoulders, breast, and knees.

It was different with Paddy and Van Wiggens. They
submitted in silence to the removal of their coats, and even
their shirts, and stood with all the indifference they could
command, like pugilists prepared for encounter in the lists.

“Mr. Bone! Mr. Bone!” whispered Paddy at this stage
of the proceedings, “plase tell 'em we haven't got any
breech-clouts on.”

They seemed to be aware of this, and proceeded to remove
only the moccasins and leggins, rolling up their
breeches, however, and exposing their legs as much as possible.

“You must submit without complaining,” remarked
Charles, with a seriousness well affected, when the girls
again seized their hands and led them toward the edge of
the water.

“Complainin', did ye say?” responded Paddy; “and if
it's killing they're going to do, ye may be sure we'll die an
aisy death. Mr. Bone, if you are acquainted wid the
parents of these girls, you'd do me a favour to bespake one
of 'em—and be me faith you may include both—for me, as
soon as we are turned to savages. And if there are no
praists to marry us, Mr. Jones might do till we could find
one.”

“The Indians will let you have as many wives as you
can support,” said Mr. Boone; “but the priest would ban
you if you had more than one.”

“I know it! But do ye think he'd curse a man afther
he'd turned Indian? He would marry me to one and I'd
marry meself to the other. Like a good Christian, I'd have
one lawfully-wedded wife, and, like an Indian, I'd have
anither which the praist'd have no business to meddle
wid. It's forward, is it, me darlints? On wid ye! I can
stand in as dape water as any o' ye,” he continued, as he
was led into the stream.

They waded out until the water rose to the shoulders of

the girls, and then commenced the process of scrubbing.
Each of the maidens had taken into the water the cob of
an ear of Indian corn, with which they rasped the breasts
and limbs of the white men.

“Mr. Bone,” cried Paddy, “what d'ye think they're
rubbing us for? There's no flays under the water to bite
us.”

“But dere's a tam crawfish biting my leg,” said Van
Wiggens, “and I wish dey'd rub furder down.”

“You needn't rub me so hard,” said Peter to his attendants.
“I'm almost an Indian now. Don't you know
they made me a chief?”

“Popcorn! chief!” said one of his girls, who could speak
a few English words.

“Murther!” cried Paddy.

“Are they hurting you?” asked Charles.

“Hurting, is it? It's tackling one to death! What are
they rubbing us for?”

“Ask them,” said Boone; “they can answer in English,
and have been taught our language for the purpose of explaining
such things.”

“My most lovely and beautiful miss,—and there's a
charming pair o' ye, as much alike as two cherries,—be
plased to tell me what're ye rubbing the small of me back
for?”

“Wash white blood away,” was the answer.

“White blood, is it? Be my sowl, ye're mistaken, for
it's as red as a rose.”

“White man's blood—wash away—Indian's blood come.”

“Now I understhand! And ye're a charming one to do
it! And she spakes as good English as Paddy himself!
And won't you be me swate little wife? Och, murther!”
cried he, turning to the other, “you naadn't tear me flesh
away, for I meant to take both of ye.”

“Dey ton't know enough of English to scold,” said the
contemplative Van Wiggens, “and I'll marry one too. Do
you scold?” he asked of one of his scrubbers.

“Me no talk. Diving Duck talk much,” she replied,
smiling mischievously.

“Tam te old Titapper!” said Van Wiggens; “I forgot
her. She's an old granny of sixty. I'm only dirty, and
Mrs. Wan Viggens is dirty-two. I vant a young vife.”

“Why are you so silent, Peter?” asked Charles, observing
the Connecticut man plunged in deep abstraction.

“I guess I'll stop at that,” said Peter, endeavouring to
thrust aside his attendants. “Maybe there's more in this
operation than we are aware of. By water our sins are
washed away, and we are made Christians. This may be
an invention of the devil to wash away Christianity and
make us hisn.”

“Och, murther!” cried Paddy. “Begone, ye divil's
imps! 'scat, ye witches!” continued he, and by a powerful
effort succeeded in thrusting the girls momentarily away
from him, to the great diversion of the spectators on the
bank, whose silence hitherto indicated that they were
awaiting some such scene.

“Me wash good! Hold still!” said one of the girls,
returning.

“No! 'scat! Begone! or I'll drownd ye like blind puppies.
It's a contrivance to sell our sowls for the price of
our bodies! And I wont be a savage widout I can be a
civilized Catholic Christian too.”

“Oh, you may be a Christian,” said Charles, “if you
can be content to put up with one wife.”

“I'll do it, and defy the divil!” said Paddy; “and I'll
draw lots betwixt 'em. Hillo!” he continued, seeing the
girls dragging him and his companions into still deeper
water. “Don't do that! It's up to me breast now, and
it'll soon be over yer heads. It wouldn't be safe, me
darlints, to go in ony daaper. Hillo, I say! It's up to me
chin, and the divil's daughters are swamming like bavers.
Stop, I tell ye! Would ye drownd yer future husband?
I can't swame! I tell ye I can't swame!” And when
Paddy uttered this earnest protestation he had to hold
back his head to keep his nose above water.

“Wash all white blood out! Wash head too!” said the
girls; and, making a simultaneous effort, they succeeded at
the same moment in pushing the heads of all three beneath
the surface. Then, springing nimbly aside, (for they were
skilful swimmers,) they laughed very heartily, while the
spectators on the shore made the welkin ring with their
plaudits.

“I guess that'll do, won't it?” cried Peter, popping up
again and expelling a stream of water from his mouth.

“Murther!” cried Paddy, rising, puffing and floundering
like a porpoise. “Me swate lovely gals!” said he, after
succeeding in fixing his toes in the sand at the bottom, and
keeping his mouth and nose an inch above the surface, but
unable to see the shore, and incapable of proceeding in any
direction without danger of submersion, “och, me swate
cratures, I'll marry ayther of ye, or both thegither, as
soon as ye plase, if ye'll only pull me out o' this!”

“Tam dem!” roared the Dutchman, rising the last of
the three, and, being able to swim, struck for the shore.
But he was seized by his attendants and forcibly thrust
under again.

“Tam der skins!” he continued, rising again and facing
his tormentors. They seized his hands, and he endeavoured
to kick them. But at every attempt to do so they
thrust his head under, amid shouts from the whole population
of the town assembled on the bank.

There was one witness to this struggle, however, who
did not remain an idle spectator. This was Watch, Van
Wiggens's faithful little mongrel cur. He leaped into the
stream and swam to the rescue of his master. But, before
he could reach him, he came near forfeiting his life; for a
young brother of one of the girls aimed an arrow at his
head, which grazed his nose; and he was fixing another to
the string when one of the chiefs snatched the bow away.
The girls themselves did not fear the dog.

“Make Indian dog too,” said one of them, when Watch
exposed his teeth.

“He'll bite!” said Van Wiggens.

“Wash white man's blood out of dog too,” said the girl,
and the next moment she dived beneath the surface. An
instant after, Watch uttered a sharp cry and disappeared.

“Dey are de teiffle's taughters temselves!” said Van
Wiggens.

“He's Indian dog now,” said the girl, rising, after
several moments of breathless suspense, during which it was
generally feared poor Watch had descended too deeply
and remained too long under the water ever to rise again.
“He won't bite Indian now,” she continued, holding the
almost lifeless animal's nose above the surface. “He
won't die,” said she, reversing the body and causing the
water to flow out of his mouth. And, when animation re

[ILLUSTRATION]

THE CEREMONY OF BAPTISM IN AN INDIAN FAMILY.—P. 161.

[Description: 622EAF. Illustration page. Image of a White man in the water with a number of Native Americans. He has his arms around the torsos of two of the women. A number of people of both races stand watching on the shore. ]

turned, poor Watch, released, paddled back to the shore in
piteous submission, and did not open his mouth again.

“Aha! me darlints!” cried Paddy, watching an opportunity,
and seizing both of his girls round their waists,
“I've got ye now! We'll sink or swame thegether! If you
can howld your breaths the longest under the wather, you'll
find Paddy Pence can squeeze the hardest above it, and
he'll die with his death-grip upon ye!”

The Indians on the bank yelled with delight, and the
girls begged to be released.

“Divil the bit!” cried Paddy. “I'll saa ye at the bottom
first! Will ye be me squaws? Answer me that, my
darlints.”

“Must ask mother in a basket,” was the reply. The
mode of declaration among the Indians is to leave a present
in a basket at the tent of the girl's mother.

“In a basket, is it? No! it's in the strame! And ye
must answer for yerselves, and I'll fax the mother aftherward.
Onyhow, ye can jist let me have a kiss or two to
sale the bargain;” and Paddy, in despite of their cries and
struggles, kissed them repeatedly, while the spectators
greeted him with cheering shouts.

Van Wiggens, following the example of his dog and of
Peter Shaver, submitted to the will and pleasure of his attendants,
and was glad to find that when he ceased to make
sport for them they ceased to torment him.

This ceremony lasted more than an hour, and was terminated
by one of the old men, a sachem, who approached
the water's edge, leading the old squaw into whose family
the men were to be received. Some words of investiture
were uttered during the profound silence that ensued when
the girls led the washed candidates to the shore. They
were to the effect that the adopted Indians must forget that
they ever were white men, and love and honour none but
Indians. They were to hunt game in time of peace, and
to steal horses and scalp their enemies in time of war.
Van Wiggens's dog was to watch at the door of his wigwam
while Diving Duck hoed the corn in the garden;
and he besought his new brother not to beat his squaw so
much as her first husband had done.

The Dutchman, who had looked with dread and aversion
on his second Mrs. Van Wiggens, plucked new spirits upon

learning that among the Indians husbands were allowed to
whip their wives and be masters of their own households.
And without the least delay he ordered his wife to prepare
a dozen roasting-ears for his dinner, which being translated
by Charles, the old squaw went away grumbling,
doubtless to obey the command.

Then the next thing to be done was the assuming of the
Indian costume by Paddy and the Dutchman. The latter
objected to having any of his hair cut off, while Paddy was
for having his head entirely denuded. He had a deadly
aversion to scalp-locks. Boone and Charles superintended
that portion of the ceremony, and in a very short time the
two new Indians—one Dutch and the other Irish—were
strutting proudly through the streets.

But Paddy and Peter saw no more of the girls that day.
Nor could they form a matrimonial alliance, according to
the lex non scripta of the tribe, without the concurrence
of their mothers. Nor could Van Wiggens, in his capacity
of the head of a family, cede away lands without the sanction
of his spouse. Thus, in civil transactions, and particularly
in hereditary matters, such as successions to titles
and estates, the squaws performed a most important part.
But, if the husband could do nothing without the permission
of his wife, he might beat her if she displeased him,—that
is, if he possessed the physical ability to do so; if not, she
might beat him.

During the dusk of the deepening twilight, Boone and
Charles, who still lingered on the margin of the river,
espied a slight movement in a tuft of blackberry-bushes at
the edge of the embankment and not exceeding six paces
from where they sat. A moment after, they beheld a man
slowly and noiselessly lift his head and gaze toward the
village. They grasped their knives, for they had been
talking of their meditated escape, determined, if it were an
Indian who had been listening, to prevent him from frustrating
their plans by taking his life, as they considered
such a sacrifice justifiable when necessary for their own
salvation. But they were relieved on seeing the man approach
them. It was Kenton, who had succeeded in secreting
himself while the Indians were enjoying their sport,
with the intention to effect his escape as soon as it grew dark;
but, fortunately, hearing the project of Boone and Charles,

he wisely and nobly relinquished his purpose of immediate
flight. He knew his disappearance would subject the rest
of the prisoners to a stricter vigilance, and might cause the
death of some of them.

“You are a noble fellow!” said Charles, upon learning
his motive.

“And you shall escape with us,” said Boone.

“Yes—never fear me!” said Kenton. “I'm harder to
hold than an eel. They're in a good humour now. I
didn't want any of 'em to see I had hid, though! The
devil can soon get into 'em.”

“And now, when you return voluntarily with us,” said
Boone, “their suspicion will be lulled.”

“I thought of that,” said Kenton, sitting on the root of
the sycamore beside them. “Let's wait till they miss me
and give the yell. There it is now! I knew it! They'd've
given me a hard race! They're coming! Now let us
meet them.”

They did so, and the warriors patted Simon on the back,
and said, “You honest man; but mustn't steal Indian's hoss.
Don't be hoss-steal; don't be dam white man.”

The Indians generally can speak enough of our language
to make themselves understood; and they first learn how
to swear. They have no oaths in their own language.