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Jane's reception of the Indian woman. Whirlwind's indifference. Condition of the party. Sidney begins to use his broken arm. Their health. They cannot calculate the day nor month. The chief imagines he has found the locality of the Arapahoes hunting grounds. He becomes enamored of Jane. The party troubled about it. Howe explains his experience in love matters. A reconnoitre suggested. Edward joins them. Deer chased by a wild man. The chief lassoes him. A desperate struggle. The wild man captured and taken into camp. Things in the camp, &c. The young mother and her babe received a warm welcome from Jane, whose tender heart ached as she scanned the half frozen, emaciated beings before her; and even repining Sidney was forced to acknowledge that his sufferings had been nothing in comparison to those the mother and babe had endured. A few weeks spent under the hands of their gentle nurse had a wonderful effect in their condition, and the babe, especially, had regained its infantile merriment, and played at rough and tumble on the soft skins before the fire like any other child of two years, as the squaw reckoned its age. It was very lively and frolicsome, and served to make merry many an hour that otherwise would have lagged heavily on their hands. Not so its mother; she had regained her strength, but no effort could bring back the smile to her lip or chase the look of sadness from her brow. She had, from the first, exhibited great signs of fear of the chief, and did she catch his eye resting on her she would hurriedly gather her child in her arms, and with a wild look of terror cower away into the corner of the room farthest from him she could get, and there sit murmuring in wailing tones to the babe nestling in her arms.
The chief, after the first day of her rescue, exhibited perfect indifference to her presence, and rarely gave her a glance; but they had noticed that when his eye did rest on her or the child it had a peculiar exulting savage glitter seen at no other times, for his eye usually had a mild expression, and they had known him to exhibit disinterested humane acts that set at defiance the supposition that he was devoid of sensibility.
This was a new phase in the character of the Indian, and one that highly amazed the young people. As for Howe, though he did sometimes open his eyes with wonder, it did not interest him, and he never spoke to them of the "by play" that was every day growing more interesting to the younger ones, and becoming a great torture to the young mother. Jane, who was daily becoming more and more attached to her guests, used every art in her power to inspire her with more confidence, and at the same time assure her of the kindness and friendship of the chief, but without success. She was equally silent as to what tribe she belonged; for, though she had learned to use many words correctly in expressing her wants, she never seemed to learn any to express the past with regard to herself, except that she was lost, and could not find her way home. Jane had made her and the babe clothing before she had recovered her strength; but, though it was as neatly done as that she herself wore, the squaw had, as soon as she was able to move around, taken some skins, and had manufactured a suit for herself and child, that was really pretty, so neatly was it done. This finished, she made one also for Jane, presenting it to her with gestures of gratitude for the kindness she and her babe had received at her benefactress' hands.
Jane looked really much better when adorned in the handiwork of the young squaw, than she did in her own, for the suits they had on when carried off by the Indians, had been worn and torn to shreds in their wanderings, and they were all dressed in skins dried with the fur on, having been made soft and pliable under the skilful hands of Howe and the chief.
It was now midwinter, and the valley was covered with a mantle of snow, but not as deep as they had anticipated it would be. They found they were partly defended from the storms, by a spur curving round to the principal range of mountains, giving the valley the form of a horse shoe--three high, precipitous sides breaking the storms of wind and snow, so as to make it really a very desirable situation. And a most fortunate one it was to the wanderers, the trapper often declaring, that if he ever reached home again, he would conduct the whole family to the spot, as it would not only make a desirable farm, but afford rare facilities for hunting and trapping, which desideratum was of the utmost importance to both Howe and Mr. Duncan.
It is really surprising to one reared in the lap of luxury, how little is actually necessary to support the human body healthfully. Take these wanderers, for instance, utterly debarred from procuring the simplest products of civilization, entirely thrown on such resources as savages are called to practice to sustain life and health, yet they have not only surmounted great obstacles, but are undaunted by those that lay before them, and have actually made themselves comfortable. Simple as their abode and fare were, nay, even extremely rude, yet they experienced a satisfaction and enjoyment when they retraced their wanderings since they were carried away captives, and the feeling of thankfulness for their wonderful escape from the savage cannibals, begat one of contentment in their present lot. It is true, they were fortunate in having found and occupied the building in ruins, as it afforded them a more secure shelter than they could have built, with the small complement of tools they possessed, yet it is a safe venture to conclude, that had they not discovered them, they would have made themselves an abode that would have shielded them from wet and cold.
There were four rooms in the temple, two only of which had been cleared. They had often been in the others, but as they had no use for them, they were left unmolested. The goat and the kid were stabled nightly in the hall, but as she had become so tame as to return at nightfall, she was allowed to roam at pleasure through the day. Following her instinct, she sought her food among the crags and defiles of the mountains, thus relieving them from the trouble of providing for her. When the snow first began to cover the ground in early winter, it caused them much anxiety as to how she was to be provided for until spring. Her milk was of too much importance to think of killing her, or turning her loose to run wild again, and she was at first tethered so as to prevent her wandering away. This was relinquished after a while, when they saw she returned of her own accord.
The colt caused them more trouble. Recently captured, they did not dare to turn it loose to seek food as they did the goat; and the only way left for them, was to tether it in the thickets of maple and basswood--the young tender growth of which the wild prairie horses are very fond of. These thickets were usually studded with a luxuriant undergrowth of small shrubs and evergreens that were very nutritious, and of which the fat condition of the wild horses, buffaloes, deer, antelope, mountain sheep, and goats that feed thereon, is sufficient proof. Often in the winter, plats of grass may be found in patches sheltered from the storms; but the chief dependences for food of the multitudes of cattle that roam through the western wilds, is the luxuriant growth of shrubs that spring up uncropped in the summer, as the cattle then prefer the tender grass on the prairies.
Sidney, to his great satisfaction, now began to use his arm without the slightest difficulty, and with his strength his spirits resumed their wonted healthful vigor, greatly to the relief of the trapper and Jane, who had been under the necessity of keeping a watch over him to prevent his coming to a rupture with the chief. He was now active, and only laughed heartily at what had annoyed him before, and tormented Jane unmercifully on the conquest she had made.
They were all in excellent health, and only waited with impatience for the winter to break up, so that they could resume their journey in safety in search of home. One thing alone grieved them--the evident increasing terror with which Mahnewe, the Indian mother, regarded the chief. In order to free her as much from his presence as possible, Howe had proposed long hunts, by going to the forest at early dawn, and not returning until evening. They enjoyed the sport, as it not only placed Mahnewe at ease, but they gained a perfect knowledge of the surrounding country, which was of much importance to them, as well as kept their larder supplied with abundance of game.
They had lost the day and month; and now their only guide was the fluctuations of the weather, of which, fortunately for themselves, they were good observers, and could calculate within half a month of the time at any season of the year. About the middle of February, as they calculated time, Howe and the chief went out one morning for a hunt, and following the valley down a mile or two, crossed the stream, and ascending a knoll, stood on its summit, surveying the country around them. The trees being shorn of their foliage, gave them an uninterrupted view of the broad valley, with its barrier of hills, and peak rising above peak, until they towered up and seemed almost to pierce the sky.
"I do not think it would be safe for us to cross this mountain," said the trapper. "Our homes, I do not think, are in that direction. We must have been deceived in our course."
"Yonder," said the chief, pointing down the valley, "are the hunting grounds of the Arapahoes. Far away, over a broad prairie, four days' journey, the warriors of Whirlwind follow another chief to battle, and listen to him in council, as they were wont to their lost chief, whose death song they have sung amidst the wail of the squaws. Yet Whirlwind does not grieve. He has found another squaw, fleeter than the antelope, more graceful than the fawn, whose voice is like the singing birds, and face fairer than imagery of the spirit land. Let my brother go to his home, but Whirlwind's home is where the antelope is, he will live and die with her."
"Pshaw! chief. You will be as much the chief of your people when you return as ever. Probably they have supposed you dead and elected another chief; still, according to your customs, if you return, the authority would be by universal acclamation, given back into your hands. As for that other little matter, why the child is too young to talk of it. Our first great object is to find our way out of this scrape, and the rest will then come natural enough."
"Whirlwind will hunt the deer and beaver here: this is his home; he is not a child, but a warrior, and can wait for the antelope," said the chief in a tone of decision not to be mistaken.
"I can tell you, chief," said Howe, "we will find our way out, and bring the whole family here. This place will exactly suit Jane's father, and then you know she would be so much more contented if they were here?" he added.
The chief regarded the speaker with an inquiring glance for a moment, then said: "Whirlwind is not to be played with. When the antelope says she will go with him, he will take her, if she is hemmed in with arrows."
"Whirlwind, I will be plain with you," said Howe, "for I know you are noble, generous, and brave. Jane is not my child, and is not mine to dispose of; but as she has no other guardian here, I will protect her until once more restored to her family. You must wait until then, and if her family consent, and she desires it, I shall make no objections. Perhaps by that time your love fit will be over, and you will not want her. There is Mahnewe, why don't you make love to her?"
"The eagle mates not with the owl, nor the Arapahoe with the Snake," retorted the savage angrily.
"Oh! well, just as you like; yet I think she is rather pretty. Come, chief, you cannot help but see it, as well as I. Don't you think she would make a wigwam look comfortable, and more homelike than Jane?"
"I cannot tell; I never see the stars when the sun shines," returned the Indian.
"It is a pity no one but an old bachelor heard that compliment it is such a waste," laughed the trapper. "I see you are over ears in love, chief. I know precisely how you feel. I was once in love myself. It did not last long though, for my flame gave my keepsakes to a good for nothing popinjay from down east; one for a string to bind round a broken knapsack, the other to carry home with him for a show. That was enough for me. I just told her I was done with her."
"You in love! that is capital! ha! ha!" rang out a voice behind the speaker, who, turning round, stood face to face with Edward, who had taken it into his head to share in the sport, and, following their track in the snow, had come up with them unperceived.
"What sent you here? anything the matter at the camp?" they asked in a breath.
"Nothing at all, that is why I came. I mistrusted you had some fun together out here, and I came to share it. Come, uncle, give the whole history of your love making. The bare idea of your being in love is rich," and the merry boy laughed until the woods rang with the joyous peals.
"I shall do no such thing. Do you think because I am old and ugly now, that I have always been so. There has been a day, boy, when----"
"You were once handsome, uncle, that is a fact, and they do say I look just as you used to. Come now, tell us about this affair."
"Well," said the trapper, mollified by the flattery, "when I was about three-and-twenty, I was just about as green as young, and took it into my head to get married, having persuaded myself that I was in love, and that, if I did not, I should not live long. Polly Crane was a nice girl, she could hoe corn, thresh grain, break fractious colts, or shoot a bear, just as well as I could myself. She was just the one for me, and we had got everything all fixed to be married, when a chap came travelling up there, (making mischief I thought) dressed exactly like a minister, only I knew he was not, he used such profane language. Well what does he do but begin making love to Polly, which made me very angry."
"'Never mind, Andy,' said Polly. 'You know I don't care for him or anybody else but you. I am only trying to see how bad he will feel when we are married.'
"'Go ahead then,' I said, 'if that is your game,' and sure enough she did go ahead, as I soon found out. When I was up round Lake Superior, the winter before, trapping with father, we got one night by mistake, into a grizzly bear's den, intending to spend the night. We soon found out our mistake, when we saw some cubs, and got ourselves out of the scrape as soon as we got in; but, as the cubs were such pretty things, I thought what a nice keepsake one of them would make Polly. So I hid one under my jacket unbeknown to father, until the old bear came snarling about us, after we had built a fire and laid down to sleep.'
"'Wonder what's the matter with the beast,' said father, 'guess she has tracked us from her den.'
"'Guess she misses her cub,' said I.
"'By George, Andy, you have got us in a fine scrape. However, my lady,' said the old man to the bear, 'you can't have that cub now: we never give up to anybody;' and, with that, he fired a ball between her eyes. But instead of dying, she attacked us, and we had a desperate fight. She got the worst of it though, for we carried off both her skin and cub. You ought to have seen the cub, it was a beauty, and when I gave it to Polly, she pretended that she thought it the nicest keepsake she ever saw. The other was, the skin of a snake. It was nearly six feet long, and very wide, spotted all over its back with white, brown, and black spots, and its sides were striped with brown, so that, when I split it open in the middle, it looked like a ribbon. I made it as soft, smooth and pretty as anything you ever saw.
"I did really think Polly was trying to deceive him, until he was going away, when I saw that pretty snake skin tied around his plunder, and as if that was not enough with a string in hand, he was leading away the cub of the grizzly bear that I had brought all the way from Superior for her."
"My brother's squaw's tongue was forked--the antelope's tongue is not forked, she cannot lie," said the chief.
"Look here, chief; they are all alike. When they say they will have you, they mean they will if they don't get out of the notion of it."
"My brother's heart is dark, and, looking through it, he sees nothing but gloom, where I see sunshine," returned the chief.
"That is, I am to understand, you are in love, and uncle thinks it is an exploded fallacy," said Edward, laughing; for, in truth, he was in a merry mood, and his uncle's mishaps did not have a tendency to lessen it in the least.
"It is nonsense, all nonsense," said the trapper.
"Hist!" said the chief, laying his finger on his lip, "there is large game approaching!--there! I hear it again: have your arrows in readiness," he continued, after a moment's pause.
"Deer, perhaps," said the trapper, "it comes in leaps; I hear it distinctly."
"Yes, deer," said the chief, drawing his bow to his shoulder as a noble buck bounded in sight, with his tongue protruding from his mouth, and his eyes had a wild look of agony and terror, such as is only seen at a moment of despair.
"Chased by a wolf! let the deer pass and shoot the pursuer," said the trapper; but, scarcely were the words spoken, when a giant form covered with hair, but bearing in form a semblance to humanity, came bounding after, clearing from ten to twelve feet at every bound. On he came, and, at the base of the knoll on which they stood, overtook his prey, and grasping it by the throat, with one hand dealt it a succession of furious blows on the head which knocked it down, when choking it until life was extinct, he stood upright contemplating his prey.
They had instinctively dropped their arrows when they saw the pursuer; and Whirlwind motioning the others to keep still, glided on towards the singular creature, slipping from tree to tree until within a few rods of him, when, taking from beneath his tunic his lasso, which he always carried with him, he cut a circle with it in the air, then giving it a throw, it quickly descended, girdling the strange being in its fold. With an unearthly yell, he attempted to free himself from its coil. Unfortunately it did not confine either arm, as the chief hoped it would, and the creature finding it could neither break the stout hide nor gnaw it off, sprang with ferocity at his captor, who had just succeeded in fastening the other end of the lasso to a tree, and before he had time to get out of the way, seized and threw him on the snow with terrific force.
Howe saw the chief at the mercy of the monster, and in a moment an arrow winged its flight, burying itself in its shoulder, causing the monster to lose his hold. Another and another were shot in quick succession, striking where they would not give a mortal wound, for it looked so human, the trapper would not kill him if he could save the life of the chief otherwise. This new attack puzzled the monster for a moment; then seeing Howe and Edward, who had approached within a few yards of him, he rushed with such force upon them, that they had no time to get out of reach, and they were also caught by him and hurled to the ground, but not before a blow dealt by Edward with a club had broken his left arm. At that moment the chief, who had recovered from the stunning effect of the fall, rushed upon the monster, and with a single blow of his tomahawk, felled him to the ground, and before he could rally, the lasso that was still on him, was tied around his arms and feet to render him powerless. In defiance of the wounds he had received, he was in nowise tamed, but glared on them, howling and gnashing his teeth, while the foam rolled from his mouth, and he writhed and rolled with rage on the snow a captive. The stout lasso of hide they had cut in pieces, and so tied his hands and feet that he was powerless to do them harm.
They now had a chance to examine the powerful creature at leisure. He was entirely naked, with a perfect human form and face, but was perfectly covered with hair, except the forehead, eyelids, palms of the hands, and soles of the feet. They were surprised to see that the skin, where it was protected from the sun by the hair, was white and fair as their own. He was powerfully built, full six feet high, and uttered no sound that approached the pronunciation of words; a succession of snarls, growls, and yells, were all the sounds he uttered, and these approached, when accompanied by his efforts to release himself, the terrific, nearer than anything they had ever heard.
"Well, uncle, what will you do with him now you have got him?" said Edward.
"Kill him," spoke up the chief, indignantly.
"Take him home and tame him," said the trapper. "He is a human being like ourselves; probably has been lost in infancy, and grown up wild, without doubt, never having seen his kind before to-day."
"He will kill us if you take him home," said the chief; "better shoot him."
"No, chief, I could not kill him, but will see he does us no harm. I will make him as tame as a kitten in a month."
"How will you get him home, uncle? We can not carry him, and if you untie his feet he will run away."
"That is what I was just thinking about. I think one of us had better return for the colt, and make him ride."
"Very good, if you can get him on and make him stay there," said the chief.
"Make him go himself: tie him so he cannot run away," suggested Edward.
"I am not sure but that would be the best plan," said Howe. "I am sorry he got that blow on his arm; I am sure it pains him; see how he attempts to raise it, and groans at every motion he makes."
"Do you really think, uncle, he is human? It strikes me he is a monkey, or an orang-outang, rather than human."
"There is neither monkey nor orang-outang in the North American forests. One such snow as now lies on the ground, would kill a myriad of them. I am quite confident of the customer I have to deal with. He is no more nor less than a wild man, whose long exposure to the elements, and total isolation from every human being, has caused the hair to grow over his body. This also explains why he cannot speak like us."
They then endeavored to get him forward, having partly untied his feet so as to allow him to move. The chief, with a stout cord, went forward and endeavored to urge him on, but the wild man refused to move. After exhausting every plan they could devise, they bethought themselves of coercion. Howe accordingly raised a club as if he would strike, when, with a wild cry of alarm, he raised his eyes imploringly, at the same time starting forward, when the chief moving on, gave him to understand he was to follow.
On perceiving what was required of him, and finding it was useless to attempt an escape, he made no further opposition to follow, although it was not safe to be near him as he gnashed with his teeth at every one that approached him.
Reaching the temple without further trouble, Edward called the attention of Jane to the new addition to their family, and said with perfect gravity--
"I really think you have one of the most devoted wooers; see what a rare prize he has risked life and limb in securing for you, which he begs you will have the kindness to accept from him in token of the love he bears you."
"Why, what a monster it is," said Sidney, walking round and round it. "It is a comical keepsake to give a girl, I must say. Really, chief, you Indians have curious tastes about such matters."
"My brother gave his squaw a cub," retorted the chief, angrily, as they all burst into a laugh at the very idea of the monster being presented to Jane, who was casting furtive glances from it to the chief, and was just beginning to think that she might next be called on to accept a wolf or panther, and was casting in her mind the chances she had in escaping such an infliction, when the chief said, as if divining her thoughts.
"It is not for the antelope. See, Whirlwind kill it," and he raised his tomahawk, and would have driven it into the wild man's skull had not his arm been caught by the trapper.
"Chief! would you be a murderer?" asked the trapper, sternly. "See him crouch! he fears you, and depend upon it, if we use our power over him discreetly, we shall tame him."
The chief dropped his arm and doggedly walked away. Jane brought some nuts and placing them where he could reach them, begged her uncle to unbind the cord around his hand so that he could eat them. This he did not think prudent to do until the broken bone was set, which, after a great deal of trouble, he succeeded in doing, effectually binding up the fracture with soft strips of the mountain sheep skin, of which they had an abundance in their store room.
After this was done he was dressed in a tunic and small clothes, the long hair was cut from his face as well as they could with their hunting-knives, to which they had given an extra sharpening for the occasion. Tightening the cord around his feet they unbound the cord that confined his hands, when he seized the nuts, cracked them with his teeth and devoured them with avidity.
"Broil him some steaks, Jane," said the trapper, "I think he is hungry."
"There is a cold haunch of venison in the store room; perhaps he will eat that," said Jane.
"Of course he will; bring it in." Cutting off some thick slices she laid them before him; eyeing them intently for a moment as if not knowing what they were, he cautiously turned them over and then turned his eye with an inquiring look towards Jane, who smiling, cut off another slice and commenced eating it. Seeing the action he cautiously raised his slice to his lips; but as soon as he had tasted it all doubt seemed to vanish, for the venison disappeared rapidly. Jane continued to cut as long as he continued to eat, and when he had done gave him a gourd of water to drink.
"I am afraid we have fed him too highly for his broken arm. There will be danger of fever," said the trapper. They miscalculated his nature, and supposed causes produced the same effects in a healthful and an enervated constitution. This knowledge gradually dawned on them as day after day went by without exhibiting the least derangement in his system. From the first, he had been docile and obedient to Jane, and when in the most violent paroxysms, if she spoke to him, his anger vanished and his countenance assumed a pleasing expression. He had eyes of clear, deep blue, large, quick and varying as the emotion in his heart. They could see the passion that held sway over him by his eye; for he had not, like his brothers, learned to dissemble and hide the workings of the soul within. Howe had also become a great favorite with him; but he feared the chief, always cowering and uttering a shrill cry of fear if he came near him. Edward was also a favorite and spent much of his time in learning him to pronounce words in which he was quite successful, his powers of imitation seeming to be boundless. After he had pronounced the first the difficulty seemed to vanish, and he was never tired of repeating words after others. The greatest trouble they experienced with him was during his fits of passion. Then he was furious, tore his fur garments in shreds, and threw down every thing in his reach. They had not dared to liberate him on account of these paroxysms of anger, over which he did not seem to have the least control. He evidently pined to be free again; for if left to himself he uttered a low moan, while tears chased each other down his weather-beaten cheeks. _