CHAPTER XXXVI.
"And I could weep"-- th' Oneida chief His descant wildly thus begun-- "But that I may not stain with grief The death-song of my father's son." --Gertrude of Wyoming.
It was yet early on the following morning, when Elizabeth and Louisa metby appointment, and proceeded to the store of Monsieur Le Quoi, in orderto redeem the pledge the former had given to the Leather-Stocking. Thepeople were again assembling for the business of the day, but the hourwas too soon for a crowd, and the ladies found the place in possessionof its polite owner, Billy Kirby, one female customer, and the boy whodid the duty of helper or clerk.
Monsieur Le Quoi was perusing a packet of letters with manifest delight,while the wood-chopper, with one hand thrust in his bosom, and the otherin the folds of his jacket, holding an axe under his right arm, stoodsympathizing in the Frenchman's pleasure with good-natured interest.The freedom of manners that prevailed in the new settlements commonlylevelled all difference in rank, and with it, frequently, allconsiderations of education and intelligence. At the time the ladiesentered the store, they were unseen by the owner, who was saying toKirby:
"Ah! ha! Monsieur Beel, dis lettair mak me de most happi of mans. Ah! machere France! I vill see you again."
"I rejoice, monsieur, at anything that contributes to your happiness,"said Elizabeth, "but hope we are not going to lose you entirely."
The complaisant shopkeeper changed the language to French and recountedrapidly to Elizabeth his hopes of being permitted to return to his owncountry. Habit had, however, so far altered the manners of this pliableperson age, that he continued to serve the wood-chopper, who was inquest of some tobacco, while he related to his more gentle visitorthe happy change that had taken place in the dispositions of his owncountrymen.
The amount of it all was, that Mr. Le Quoi, who had fled from his owncountry more through terror than because he was offensive to the rulingpowers in France, had succeeded at length in getting an assurance thathis return to the West Indies would be unnoticed; and the Frenchman, whohad sunk into the character of a country shopkeeper with so much grace,was about to emerge again from his obscurity into his proper level insociety.
We need not repeat the civil things that passed between the parties onthis occasion, nor recount the endless repetitions of sorrow that thedelighted Frenchman expressed at being compelled to quit the society ofMiss Temple. Elizabeth took an opportunity, during this expenditure ofpolite expressions, to purchase the powder privately of the boy, whobore the generic appellation of Jonathan. Be fore they parted, however,Mr. Le Quoi, who seemed to think that he had not said enough, solicitedthe honor of a private interview with the heiress, with a gravity in hisair that announced the importance of the subject. After conceding thefavor, and appointing a more favorable time for the meeting, Elizabethsucceeded in getting out of the store, into which the countrymen nowbegan to enter, as usual, where they met with the same attention andbien seance as formerly.
Elizabeth and Louisa pursued their walk as far as the bridge in profoundsilence; but when they reached that place the latter stopped, andappeared anxious to utter something that her diffidence suppressed.
"Are you ill, Louisa?" exclaimed Miss Temple; "had we not better return,and seek another opportunity to meet the old man?"
"Not ill, but terrified. Oh! I never, never can go on that hill againwith you only. I am not equal to it, in deed I am not."
This was an unexpected declaration to Elizabeth, who, although sheexperienced no idle apprehension of a danger that no longer existed,felt most sensitively all the delicacy of maiden modesty. She stood forsome time, deeply reflecting within herself; but, sensible it was atime for action instead of reflection, she struggled to shake off herhesitation, and replied, firmly:
"Well, then it must be done by me alone. There is no other than yourselfto be trusted, or poor old Leather-Stocking will be discovered. Wait forme in the edge of these woods, that at least I may not be seen strollingin the hills by myself just now, One would not wish to create remarks,Louisa--if--if--You will wait for me, dear girl?"
"A year, in sight of the village, Miss Temple," returned the agitatedLouisa, "but do not, do not ask me to go on that hill."
Elizabeth found that her companion was really unable to proceed,and they completed their arrangement by posting Louisa out of theobservation of the people who occasionally passed, but nigh the road,and in plain view of the whole valley. Miss Temple then proceededalone. She ascended the road which has been so often mentioned in ournarrative, with an elastic and firm step, fearful that the delay in thestore of Mr. Le Quoi, and the time necessary for reaching the summit,would prevent her being punctual to the appointment Whenever she pressedan opening in the bushes, she would pause for breath, or, per haps,drawn from her pursuit by the picture at her feet, would linger a momentto gaze at the beauties of the valley. The long drought had, however,changed its coat of verdure to a hue of brown, and, though the samelocalities were there, the view wanted the lively and cheering aspect ofearly summer. Even the heavens seemed to share in the dried appearanceof the earth, for the sun was concealed by a haziness in the atmosphere,which looked like a thin smoke without a particle of moisture, if sucha thing were possible. The blue sky was scarcely to be seen, though now,and then there was a faint lighting up in spots through which massesof rolling vapor could be discerned gathering around the horizon, as ifnature were struggling to collect her floods for the relief of man. Thevery atmosphere that Elizabeth inhaled was hot and dry, and by the timeshe reached the point where the course led her from the highwayshe experienced a sensation like suffocation. But, disregarding herfeelings, she hastened to execute her mission, dwelling on nothingbut the disappointment, and even the helplessness, the hunter wouldexperience without her aid.
On the summit of the mountain which Judge Temple had named the "Vision,"a little spot had been cleared, in order that a better view mightbe obtained of the village and the valley. At this point Elizabethunderstood the hunter she was to meet him; and thither she urgedher way, as expeditiously as the difficulty of the ascent, and theimpediment of a forest, in a state of nature, would admit. Numberlesswere the fragments of rocks, trunks of fallen trees, and branches,with which she had to contend; but every difficulty vanished before herresolution, and, by her own watch, she stood on the desired spot severalminutes before the appointed hour.
After resting a moment on the end of a log, Miss Temple cast a glanceabout her in quest of her old friend, but he was evidently not in theclearing; she arose and walked around its skirts, examining every placewhere she thought it probable Natty might deem it prudent to conceal himself. Her search was fruitless; and, after exhausting not only herself,but her conjectures, in efforts to discover or imagine his situation,she ventured to trust her voice in that solitary place.
"Natty! Leather-Stocking! old man!" she called aloud, in everydirection; but no answer was given, excepting the reverberations of herown clear tones, as they were echoed in the parched forest.
Elizabeth approached the brow of the mountain, where a faint cry, likethe noise produced by striking the hand against the mouth, at the sametime that the breath is strongly exhaled, was heard answering to her ownvoice. Not doubting in the least that it was the Leather-Stocking lyingin wait for her, and who gave that signal to indicate the place where hewas to be found, Elizabeth descended for near a hundred feet, until shegained a little natural terrace, thinly scattered with trees, that grewin the fissures of the rocks, which were covered by a scanty soil.She had advanced to the edge of this platform, and was gazing over theperpendicular precipice that formed its face, when a rustling amongthe dry leaves near her drew her eyes in another direction. Our heroinecertainly was startled by the object that she then saw, but a momentrestored her self-possession, and she advanced firmly, and with someinterest in her manner, to the spot.
Mohegan was seated on the trunk of a fallen oak, with his tawny visageturned toward her, and his eyes fixed on her face with a
n expression ofwildness and fire, that would have terrified a less resolute female.His blanket had fallen from his shoulders, and was lying in folds aroundhim, leaving his breast, arms, and most of his body bare. 'The medallionof Washington reposed on his chest, a badge of distinction thatElizabeth well knew he only produced on great and solemn occasions. Butthe whole appearance of the aged chief was more studied than common, andin some particulars it was terrific. The long black hair was plaited onhis head, failing away, so as to expose his high forehead and piercingeyes. In the enormous incisions of his ears were entwined ornamentsof silver, beads, and porcupine's quills, mingled in a rude taste, andafter the Indian fashions. A large drop, composed of similar materials,was suspended from the cartilage of his nose, and, falling below hislips, rested on his chin. Streaks of red paint crossed his wrinkledbrow, and were traced down his cheeks, with such variations in the linesas caprice or custom suggested. His body was also colored in the samemanner; the whole exhibiting an Indian warrior prepared for some eventof more than usual moment.
"John! how fare you, worthy John?" said Elizabeth, as she approachedhim; "you have long been a stranger in the village. You promised me awillow basket, and I have long had a shirt of calico in readiness foryou."
The Indian looked steadily at her for some time without answering, andthen, shaking his head, he replied, in his low, guttural tones:
"John's hand can make baskets no more--he wants no shirt."
"But if he should, he will know where to come for it," returned MissTemple. "Indeed old John. I feel as if you had a natural right to orderwhat you will from us."
"Daughter," said the Indian, "listen: Six times ten hot summers havepassed since John was young tall like a pine; straight like the bulletof Hawk-eye, strong as all buffalo; spry as the cat of the mountain. Hewas strong, and a warrior like the Young Eagle. If his tribe wanted totrack the Maquas for many suns, the eye of Chingachgook found the printof their moccasins. If the people feasted and were glad, as they countedthe scalps of their enemies, it was on his pole they hung. If the squawscried because there was no meat for their children, he was the firstin the chase. His bullet was swifter than the deer. Daughter, thenChingachgook struck his tomahawk into the trees; it was to tell the lazyones where to find him and the Mingoes--but he made no baskets."
"Those times have gone by, old warrior," returned Elizabeth; "since thenyour people have disappeared, and, in place of chasing your enemies, youhave learned to fear God and to live at peace."
"Stand here, daughter, where you can see the great spring, the wigwamsof your father, and the land on the crooked river. John was youngwhen his tribe gave away the country, in council, from where the bluemountain stands above the water, to where the Susquehanna is hid by thetrees. All this, and all that grew in it, and all that walked over it,and all that fed there, they gave to the Fire-eater----for they lovedhim. He was strong, and they were women, and he helped them. No Delawarewould kill a deer that ran in his woods, nor stop a bird that flew overhis land; for it was his. Has John lived in peace? Daughter, since Johnwas young, he has seen the white man from Frontinac come down on hiswhite brothers at Albany and fight. Did they fear God? He has seen hisEnglish and his American fathers burying their tomahawks in each other'sbrains, for this very land. Did they fear God, and live in peace? He hasseen the land pass away from the Fire-eater, and his children, and thechild of his child, and a new chief set over the country. Did they livein peace who did this? did they fear God?"
"Such is the custom of the whites, John. Do not the Delawares fight, andexchange their lands for powder, and blankets, and merchandise?"
The Indian turned his dark eyes on his companion, and kept them therewith a scrutiny that alarmed her a little.
"Where are the blankets and merchandise that bought the right of theFire-eater?" he replied in a more animated voice; "are they with him inhis wigwam? Did they say to him, Brother, sell us your land, and takethis gold, this silver, these blankets, these rifles, or even this rum?No; they tore it front him, as a scalp is torn from an enemy; and theythat did it looked not behind them, to see whether he lived or died. Dosuch men live in peace and fear the Great Spirit?"
"But you hardly understand the circumstances," said Elizabeth, moreembarrassed than she would own, even to herself. "If you knew our lawsand customs better, you would Judge differently of our acts. Do notbelieve evil of my father, old Mohegan, for he is just and good."
"The brother of Miquon is good, and he will do right. I have said it toHawk-eye---I have said it to the Young Eagle that the brother of Miquonwould do justice."
"Whom call you the Young Eagle?" said Elizabeth, averting her face fromthe gaze of the Indian, as she asked the question; "whence comes he, andwhat are his rights?"
"Has my daughter lived so long with him to ask this question?" returnedthe Indian warily. "Old age freezes up the blood, as the frosts coverthe great spring in winter; but youth keeps the streams of the bloodopen like a sun in the time of blossoms. The Young Eagle has eyes; hadhe no tongue?"
The loveliness to which the old warrior alluded was in no degreediminished by his allegorical speech; for the blushes of the maiden wholistened covered her burning cheeks till her dark eyes seemed to glowwith their reflection; but, after struggling a moment with shame, shelaughed, as if unwilling to understand him seriously, and replied inpleasantry:
"Not to make me the mistress of his secret. He is too much of a Delawareto tell his secret thoughts to a woman."
"Daughter, the Great Spirit made your father with a white skin, and hemade mine with a red; but he colored both their hearts with blood. Whenyoung, it is swift and warm; but when old, it is still and cold. Isthere difference below the skin? No. Once John had a woman. She wasthe mother of so many sons"--he raised his hand with three fingerselevated--"and she had daughters that would have made the youngDelawares happy. She was kind, daughter, and what I said she did. Youhave different fashions; but do you think John did not love the wife ofhis youth--the mother of his children?"
"And what has become of your family, John--your wife and your children?"asked Elizabeth, touched by the Indian's manner.
"Where is the ice that covered the great spring? It is melted, and gonewith the waters. John has lived till all his people have left him forthe land of spirits; his time has come, and he is ready."
Mohegan dropped his head in his blanket, and sat in silence. Miss Templeknew not what to say. She wished to draw the thoughts of the old warriorfrom his gloomy recollections, but there was a dignity in his sorrow,and in his fortitude, that repressed her efforts to speak. After a longpause, however, she renewed the discourse by asking:
"Where is the Leather-Stocking, John? I have brought this canisterof powder at his request; but he is nowhere to be seen. Will you takecharge of it, and see it delivered?"
The Indian raised his head slowly and looked earnestly at the gift,which she put into his hand.
"This is the great enemy of my nation. Without this, when could thewhite man drive the Delawares? Daughter, the Great Spirit gave yourfathers to know how to make guns and powder, that they might sweep theIndians from the land. There will soon be no red-skin in the country.When John has gone, the last will leave these hills, and his family willbe dead." The aged warrior stretched his body forward, leaning an elbowon his knee, and appeared to be taking a parting look at the objects ofthe vale, which were still visible through the misty atmosphere, thoughthe air seemed to thicken at each moment around Miss Temple, who becameconscious of an increased difficulty of respiration. The eye of Moheganchanged gradually from its sorrowful expression to a look of wildnessthat might be supposed to border on the inspiration of a prophet, as hecontinued: "But he will go on to the country where his fathers have met.The game shall be plenty as the Ash in the lakes. No woman shall cry formeat: no Mingo can ever come The chase shall be for children; and alljust red men shall live together as brothers."
"John! this is not the heaven of a Christian," cried Miss Temple; "youdeal now in the s
uperstition of your forefathers."
"Fathers! sons!" said Mohegan, with firmness.--"all gone--allgone!--have no son but the Young Eagle, and he has the blood of a whiteman."
"Tell me, John," said Elizabeth, willing to draw his thoughts to othersubjects, and at the same time yielding to her own powerful interestin the youth; "who is this Mr. Edwards? why are you so fond of him, andwhence does he come?"
The Indian started at the question, which evidently recalled hisrecollection to earth. Taking her hand, he drew Miss Temple to a seatbeside him, and pointed to the country beneath them.
"See, daughter," he said, directing her looks toward the north; "as faras your young eyes can see, it was the land of his. But immense volumesof smoke at that moment rolled over their heath, and, whirling in theeddies formed by the mountains, interposed a barrier to their sight,while he was speaking. Startled by this circumstance, Miss Temple sprangto her feet, and, turning her eyes toward the summit of the mountain,she beheld It covered by a similar canopy, while a roaring sound washeard in the forest above her like the rushing of winds.
"What means it, John?" she exclaimed: "we are enveloped in smoke, and Ifeel a heat like the glow of a furnace."
Before the Indian could reply, a voice was heard crying In the woods:"John! where are you, old Mohegan! the woods are on fire, and you havebut a minute for escape."
The chief put his hand before his mouth, and, making it lay on his lips,produced the kind of noise that had attracted Elizabeth to the place,when a quick and hurried step was heard dashing through the driedunderbrush and bushes, and presently Edwards rushed to his side, withhorror an every feature.
The Pioneers; Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna Page 37
