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swift, narrow river, rushing noisily over its rocky bed. The banks of the
stream were lined with rows of canoes; here and there a bridge made of a
single tree spanned the stream. From the camp fires long, thin columns of blue
smoke curled lazily upward; giant maple trees, in them garb of purple and
gold, rose high above the wigwams, adding a further beauty to this peaceful
scene.
As Isaac was led down a lane between two long lines of tepees the watching
Indians did not make the demonstration that usually marked the capture of a
paleface. Some of the old squaws looked up from their work round the campfires
and steaming kettles and grinned as the prisoner passed. The braves who were
sitting upon their blankets and smoking their long pipes, or lounging before
the warm blazes maintained a stolid indifference; the dusky maidens smiled
shyly, and the little Indian boys, with whom Isaac had always been a great
favorite, manifested their joy by yelling and running after him. One youngster
grasped Isaac round the leg and held on until he was pulled away.
In the center of the village were several lodges connected with one another
and larger and more imposing than the surrounding tepees. These were the
wigwams of the chief, and thither Isaac was conducted. The guards led him to a
large and circular apartment and left him there alone. This room was the
council-room. It contained nothing but a low seat and a knotted war-club.
Isaac heard the rattle of beads and bear claws, and as he turned a tall and
majestic Indian entered the room. It was Tarhe, the chief of all the Wyandots.
Though Tarhe was over seventy, he walked erect; his calm face, dark as a
bronze mask, showed no trace of his advanced age. Every line and feature of
his face had race in it; the high forehead, the square, protruding jaw, the
stern mouth, the falcon eyes--all denoted the pride and unbending will of the
last of the Tarhes.
"The White Eagle is again in the power of Tarhe," said the chief in his
native tongue. "Though he had the swiftness of the bounding deer or the flight
of the eagle it would avail him not. The wild geese as they fly northward are
not swifter than the warriors of Tarhe. Swifter than all is the vengeance of
the Huron. The young paleface has cost the lives of some great warriors. What
has he to say?"
"It was not my fault," answered Isaac quickly. "I was struck down from behind
and had no chance to use a weapon. I have never raised my hand against a
Wyandot. Crow will tell you that. If my people and friends kill your braves I
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am not to blame. Yet I have had good cause to shed Huron blood. Your warriors
have taken me from my home and have wounded me many times."
"The White Chief speaks well. Tarhe believes his words," answered Tarhe in
his sonorous voice. "The Lenapee seek the death of the pale face. Wingenund
grieves for his son. He is Tarhe's friend. Tarhe is old and wise and he is
king here. He can save the White Chief from Wingenund and Cornplanter. Listen.
Tarhe is old and he has no son. He will make you a great chief and give you
lands and braves and honors. He shall not ask you to raise your hand against
your people, but help to bring peace. Tarhe does not love this war. He wants
only justice. He wants only to keep his lands, his horses, and his people. The
White Chief is known to be brave; his step is light, his eye is keen, and his
bullet is true. For many long moons Tarhe's daughter has been like the singing
bird without its mate. She sings no more. She shall be the White Chief's wife.
She has the blood of her mother and not that of the last of the Tarhes. Thus
the mistakes of Tarhe's youth come to disappoint his old age. He is the friend
of the young paleface. Tarhe has said. Now go and make your peace with
Myeerah."
The chief motioned toward the back of the lodge. Isaac stepped forward and
went through another large room, evidently the chief's, as it was fitted up
with a wild and barbaric splendor. Isaac hesitated before a bearskin curtain
at the farther end of the chief's lodge. He had been there many times before,
but never with such conflicting emotions. What was it that made his heart beat
faster? With a quick movement he lifted the curtain and passed under it.
The room which he entered was circular in shape and furnished with all the
bright colors and luxuriance known to the Indian. Buffalo robes covered the
smooth, hard-packed clay floor; animals, allegorical pictures, and fanciful
Indian designs had been painted on the wall; bows and arrows, shields, strings
of bright-colored beads and Indian scarfs hung round the room. The wall was
made of dried deerskins sewed together and fastened over long poles which were
planted in the ground and bent until the ends met overhead. An oval-shaped
opening let in the light. Through a narrow aperture, which served as a door
leading to a smaller apartment, could be seen a low couch covered with red
blankets, and a glimpse of many hued garments hanging on the wall.
As Isaac entered the room a slender maiden ran impulsively to him and
throwing her arms round his neck hid her face on his breast. A few broken,
incoherent words escaped her lips. Isaac disengaged himself from the clinging
arms and put her from him. The face raised to his was strikingly beautiful.
Oval in shape, it was as white as his own, with a broad, low brow and regular
features. The eyes were large and dark and they dilated and quickened with a
thousand shadows of thought.
"Myeerah, I am taken again. This time there has been blood shed. The Delaware
chief was killed, and I do not know how many more Indians. The chiefs are all
for putting me to death. I am in great danger. Why could you not leave me in
peace?"
At his first words the maiden sighed and turned sorrowfully and proudly away
from the angry face of the young man. A short silence ensued.
"Then you are not glad to see Myeerah?" she said, in English. Her voice was
music. It rang low, sweet, clear-toned as a bell.
"What has that to do with it? Under some circumstances I would be glad to see
you. But to be dragged back here and perhaps murdered--no, I don't welcome it.
Look at this mark where Crow hit me," said Isaac, passionately, bowing his
head to enable her to see the bruise where the club had struck him.
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"I am sorry," said Myeerah, gently.
"I know that I am in great danger from the Delawares."
"The daughter of Tarhe has saved your life before and will save it again."
"They may kill me in spite of you."
"They will not dare. Do not forget that I saved you from the Shawnees. What
did my father say to you?"
"He assured me that he was my friend and that he would protect me from
Wingenund. But I must marry you and become one of the tribe. I cannot do that.
And that is why I am sure they will kill me."
"You are angry now. I will tell you. Myeerah tried hard to win your love, and
when you ran away from her she was proud for a long time. But there was no
singing of birds, no music of the waters, no beauty in anything after you left
her. Life became unbearable without you. Then Myeerah remembered that she was
a daughter of kings. She summoned the bravest and greatest warriors of two
tribes and said to them. "Go and bring to me the paleface, White Eagle. Bring
him to me alive or dead. If alive, Myeerah will smile once more upon her
warriors. If dead, she will look once upon his face and die. Ever since
Myeerah was old enough to remember she has thought of you. Would you wish her
to be inconstant, like the moon?"
"It is not what I wish you to be. It is that I cannot live always without
seeing my people. I told you that a year ago."
"You told me other things in that past time before you ran away. They were [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]