Several years previous to the Revolution a Scotchman and his wife, named M'Dougal, emigrated to America. Having but very little money, he purchased land where it was then sold for almost nothing, in a country thinly peopled, and on the extreme verge of civilization.
His first care was to construct a house and clear away some of the trees around it This done, he spent his whole time, early and late, in making a garden and cultivating a few fields. By unwearied industry and with the occasional help of older settlers, he by degrees acquired a stock of cattle, sheep, and pigs, and was in a rough way, possessed of a comfortable independence. His greatest discomforts were, distance from his neighbors, the church, market, and even the mill; but, above all, the complete separation from his friends; and this he would have felt still more had he been an idle man.
One day, Farmer M'Dougal, having a quantity of corn to grind, knowing that the distance was considerable, and the road none of the smoothest, set out in the morning at sunrise, hoping he should reach home again before dark.
When the farmer was at home he always drove up the cows for his wife to milk, morning and evening; but now this care devolved on her, and the careful woman went out in quest of them. Not accustomed to go far from the house, she found herself in an unknown country, and, with neither pocket compass nor notched trees to guide, it is not to be wondered that she wandered long and wearily to very little purpose. Tall trees seemed to encompass her on every side, or where the view was more open, she beheld the distant blue hills rising one behind another; but no village spire or cottage chimney was there to cheer her on her way, and fatigued with the search, and despairing of finding the cattle, she resolved while it was yet light, to retrace her steps homeward.
But this resolution was more easily formed than executed; she became completely bewildered; she knew not in which direction to turn, and, at length, with tears in her eyes, and her mind agitated almost to distraction, she sunk on the ground. But she had not rested there many minutes before she was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps, and, on looking up, she beheld before her an Indian hunter.
Although Mrs. M'Dougal knew that there were Indians living in the neighborhood, she had never yet seen one, and her terror was very great. The Indian, however, knew her; he had seen her before, he knew where she lived, and he instantly guessed the cause of her distress. He could speak but a few words of English; but he made signs for her to follow him. She did so, and after a few minutes' walk, they arrived at the door of an Indian wigwam. He invited her to enter, but not being able to persuade her to do so, he darted into the wigwam, and spoke a few words to his wife, who instantly appeared, and by the kindness of her manner induced the stranger to enter their humble abode. Venison was prepared for supper, and Mrs. M'Dougal, though still alarmed at the novelty of her situation, could not refuse to partake of the savory meal.
Seeing that their guest was weary, the Indians removed from their place two beautiful deer skins, and, by stretching and fixing them across, divided the wigwam into two apartments. Mats were then spread in both, and the stranger was made to understand that one division was for her accommodation. But here again her courage failed her, and to the most pressing entreaties she replied that she would sit and sleep by the fire. This determination seemed to puzzle the Indian and his squaw sadly. They looked at one another, and conversed softly in their own language; and at length, the squaw taking her guest by the hand, led her to her couch and became her bedfellow.
In the morning she awoke greatly refreshed, and anxious to depart without further delay; but this her new friends would not permit, until she had eaten of their corn cakes and venison. Then the Indian accompanied his guest, and soon conducted her to the spot where the cattle were grazing. These he drove from the wood, on the edge of which Mrs. M'Dougal descried her husband, who was equally delighted at seeing her, as her absence from home all night had caused him great uneasiness. They invited their Indian benefactor to their house, and, on his departure, presented him with a suit of clothes.
Three days after, he returned and endeavored, partly by signs, and partly by broken English, to induce Farmer M'Dougal to follow him into the forest; but he refused. Time was precious to him, who had to work hard for every thing he possessed, and the Indian repeated his entreaties in vain. The poor fellow looked grieved and disappointed; but a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. He hit on an expedient which none but an Indian hunter would have thought of.
Mrs. M'Dougal had a young child, which the Indian's quick eye had not failed to notice; and, finding that his eloquence was completely thrown away upon the parents, he approached the cradle, seized the child, and darted out of the house with the speed of an antelope. The father and mother instantly followed, calling loudly on him to return; but he had no such intention. He led them on, now slower, now faster, and occasionally turning towards them, laughing, and holding up the child to their view.
It is needless to go into all the details of this singular journey, further than to say that the Indian, instead of enticing them to his own wigwam, as they expected, halted on the margin of a most beautiful prairie, covered with the richest vegetation, and extending over several thousand acres. In a moment the child was restored to its parents, who, wondering what so strange a proceeding could mean, stood awhile panting for breath, and looking at one another with silent astonishment.
The Indian, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed at the success of his manoeuvre, and never did a human being frisk about and gesticulate with greater animation. We have heard of a professor of signs, and if such a person were wanted, the selection would not be a matter of difficulty, so long as any remnant exists in the aborigines of North America. All travellers agree in describing their gestures as highly dignified, and their countenances intelligent; and we have Mr. M'Dougal's authority for stating that the hero of this tale proved himself a perfect master of the art of eloquence his broken English was nearly in these words:
"You think Indian treacherous; you think him wish steal the child. No, no; Indian has child of his own. Indian knew you long ago; saw you when you not see him; saw you hard working man. Some white men bad, and hurt poor Indian. You not bad; you work hard for your wife and child; but you choose bad place; you never make rich there. Indian see your cattle go in forest; think you come and catch them; you not come; your wife come. Indian find her faint and weary; take her home; wife fear go in; think Indian kill her! No, no; Indian lead her back; meet you very sad; then very glad to see her. You kind to Indian; give him meat and drink, and better clothes than your own. Indian grateful; wish you come here; not come; Indian very sorry; take the child; know you follow child. If Indian farm, Indian farm here. Good ground; not many trees; make road in less than half a moon; Indians help you; Indians your friends; come, live here."
M'Dougal immediately saw the advantage that such a change would be to him, and, taking the Indian's advice, the day was soon fixed for the removal of the log-house, along with the rest of his goods and chattels; and the Indian, true to his word, brought a party of his red brethren to assist in one of the most romantic removals that ever took place, either in the Old World, or the New.
In a few days a roomy log-house was raised, and garden marked out in the most fertile and beautiful part of the prairie. The Indians continued friendly and faithful, and the good understanding; between them and the white settlers was a source of great comfort to both parties.