Wild Western Scenes Part 30

The remainder of the party, except the oarsmen, accepted Glenn's invitation to remain with him till morning. When the gate was thrown open, the faithful hounds manifested great delight to behold their master again, and also Mary, for they pranced so much in the path before them that it was almost impossible to walk. They barked in ecstasy. The poor fawn had been forgotten, neglected, and had suffered much for food. Mary placed her arm round its neck and wept. Glenn ordered Joe, who was in the stable caressing the horses, to feed the drooping pet instantly.

The party then entered the house, leading in the chief, and soon after Sneak had a bright fire blazing on the hearth.

The food that remained from the last repast amply sufficed, the captive refusing to partake with them, and Joe having dined during the last twelve miles of the journey on the way.

"How we'll be able to keep this Indian here, when we go out, I should like to know," said Joe, regarding the manly and symmetrical form of the young chief, who was now unbound, and sat silent and thoughtful by the fire.

"I think he ought to be killed," said Sneak.

"Oh, no!" said Mary; "he is not bad like the other Indians." The Indian, for the first time since his capture, raised his head while she spoke, and looked searchingly in her face. "Oh!" continued Mary, thinking of the horrors of savage warfare, and bursting into tears, "you will never attempt to kill any of us again, will you?"

"No!" said the chief, in a low but distinct tone. Every one in the house but Mary started.

"You understand our language, do you? Then why did you not answer my questions?" asked Roughgrove, turning to the captive. The young chief made no answer, but sat with his arms folded, and still regarding the features of Mary.

"He's a perfect fool!" said Sneak.

"He's a snake in the gra.s.s, and'll bite some of us some of these times, before we know any thing about it," said Joe.

"Be silent," said Glenn. "If the hope that fills my breast should be realized, the young chief will cause more rejoicing than sorrowing among us. The wisdom of Providence surpa.s.ses all human understanding.

Events that bear a frightful import to the limited comprehensions of mortals, may nevertheless be fraught with inestimable blessings. Even the circ.u.mstance of your capture, Mary, however distressing at the time to yourself and to all your friends, may some day be looked upon as a happy and fortunate occurrence."

"I hope so," said Mary.

"G.o.d is great--is present everywhere, and governs every thing--let us always submit to his just decrees without murmuring," said the old ferryman, his eyes brightening with fervent devotion.

"They've a notion to preach a little, I believe," whispered Sneak to Joe.

"Let 'em go ahead, then," replied Joe, who was busily engaged with a long switch, that he occasionally thrust in the fire, and when the end was burnt to a coal, slyly applied it to the heel of the young chiefs moccasin.

"You'd better not let him ketch you at that," said Sneak.

"He'll think its a tick biting him--I want to see if the Indians scratch like other people," said Joe.

Mary, being so requested by her father, began to relate every thing that transpired up to her rescue, while she was in the possession of the savages. The Indian riveted his eyes upon her during the recital, and seemed to mark every word. Whether he understood all she said, or was enchanted with her soft and musical tones, could not be ascertained; but the listeners more than once observed with astonishment his gleaming eyes, his attentive att.i.tude, and the intense interest exhibited in his face. It was during a moment when he was thus absorbed that he suddenly sprang erect. Joe threw down his switch, convulsed with internal laughter. Sneak leaned back against the wall, and while he grinned at the amusing scene, seemed curious to know what would be the result. Mary paused, and Glenn inquired the cause of the interruption.

"Its nothing, hardly," said Sneak: "only a spark of fire got agin the Indian's foot. He ain't as good pluck as the other one we had--he could stand burning at the stake without flinching."

"Did either of you _place_ the fire against his foot?" demanded Glenn, in something like anger. But before he could receive an answer, the young chief, who had whirled round furiously, and cast a fierce look at his tormentor, relaxing his knit brows into an expression of contempt, very deliberately took hold of Joe's ear, and turning on his heel like a pivot, forced him to make many circles round him on the floor.

"Let go my ear!" roared Joe, pacing round in pain.

"Hold your holt, my snarvilerous yaller prairie dog!" cried Sneak, inexpressibly amused.

"Let go my ear, I say!" cried Joe, still trotting round, with both hands grasping the Indian's wrist. "Mr. Glenn! Mr. Glenn!" continued Joe, "he's pinching a hole through my ear! Shoot him down, shoot him down. There's my gun, standing against the wall--but its not loaded!

Take my knife--oh, he's tearing my ear off!" When the Indian thought he was sufficiently punished, he led him back to his seat, and relinquished his hold. He then resumed his own seat, and composedly turning his eyes to Mary, seemed to desire her to proceed with the narration. She did so, but when she spoke of her attempt to escape in the prairie, of the young chief's n.o.ble conduct, and his admiration of her ring (and she pulled off her glove and exhibited it as she spoke,) he again rose from his seat, and walking, apparently unconsciously, to where she reclined upon her father's knees, fixed his eyes upon the jewel in a most mysterious manner. He no longer dwelt upon the maiden's sweet tones. He did nothing but gaze at the ring.

"He's got a notion to steal that ring!" said Joe, with a sneer.

"Shot your mouth!" said Sneak, observing that Mary looked reproachfully at Joe, and paused.

"Don't talk that way, Joe!" said the offended girl. "If he wanted it, why did he not take it when I was his prisoner? I will freely let him have it now," she continued, slipping it off from her finger.

"No! keep it, child--it is a family ring," said Roughgrove.

"I will lend it to him--I know he will give it me again," she continued, placing it in the extended hand of the young chief, who thanked her with his eyes, and resumed his seat. He now seemed to disregard every thing that was said or done, and only gazed at the ring, which he held first in one hand and then in the other, with the sparkling diamond uppermost. Sometimes he would press his forehead with his hand and cover his eyes, and then gaze at the ring again.

Then staring wildly around, and slightly starting, he would bite his fingers to ascertain whether the scene was reality or a dream.

Finally, giving vent to a piteous sigh, while a tear ran down his stained cheek, he placed his elbows upon his knees, and, bending forward, seemed to muse over some event of the past, which the jewel before him had called to remembrance.

Glenn narrowly watched every look and motion of the young chief, and when Mary finished the account of her capture, he introduced the subject of the lost child, Mary's brother, that Roughgrove had spoken about before starting in pursuit of the war-party.

"I can remember him!" said Mary, "and mother, too--they are both in heaven now--poor brother! poor mother!"

The young chief raised his head quickly, and staring at the maiden's face, seemed to regard her tears and her features with an interest similar to that of a child when it beholds a rare and curious toy.

"Has it not occurred to you," said Glenn, addressing Roughgrove, "that this young chief might possibly be your own son?"

"No!" replied the old man, promptly, and partially rising, "_he_ my son--_he_ Mary's brother--and once in the act of plunging the tomahawk--"

"But, father," interrupted Mary, "he would never have harmed me--I know he would not--for every time he looked me in the face he seemed to pity me, and sometimes he almost wept to think I was away from my friends, among savages, cold and distressed. But I don't think he can be my brother--my little brother I used to love so much--yet I could never think how he should have fallen in the river without my knowing it. Sometimes I remember it all as if it were yesterday. He was hunting wild violets--"

"Oh! oh!" screamed the young chief, springing from his seat towards Mary. Fear, pain, apprehension, joy and affection, all seemed to be mingled in his heaving breast.

"He's crazy, dod"--the word died upon Sneak's lip.

"I should like to know who burnt his foot then," said Joe.

"Silence! both of you," said Glenn.

"What does he mean?" at length asked Roughgrove, staring at the young chief.

"Let us be patient, and see," said Glenn.

Ere long the Indian turned his eyes slowly downward, and resumed his seat mournfully and in silence.

"Oh!" said Mary, "if he _is_ my poor brother, my heart will burst to see him thus--a wild savage."

"How old are you, Mary?" asked Glenn.

"Nineteen," said she.

"Your brother, then, has been lost thirteen years. He may yet be restored to you--re-taught our manners and speech--bless his aged father's declining years, and merit sister's affection."

"Oh! Mr. Glenn! is he then alive? is this he?" cried Mary.

"No, child!" said Roughgrove, "do not think of such a thing, for you will be most bitterly disappointed. Your brother was _white_--look at this Indian's dark face!"

Glenn approached the chief, extending his hand in a friendly manner.

It was frankly grasped. He then gently drew the furs aside and exposed the young man's shoulder. It was as white as his own! Roughgrove, Mary, and all, looked on in wonder. The young chief regarded it with singular emotions himself. He seemed to a.s.sociate it in some manner with the ring he held, for he glanced from one to the other alternately.