The Prairie

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  The witch, in Smithfield, shall be burned to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows. --Shakspeare.

  The Siouxes had awaited the issue of the foregoing dialogue withcommendable patience. Most of the band were restrained, by the secretawe with which they regarded the mysterious character of Obed; while afew of the more intelligent chiefs gladly profited by the opportunity,to arrange their thoughts for the struggle that was plainly foreseen.Mahtoree, influenced by neither of these feelings, was content to showthe trapper how much he conceded to his pleasure; and when the old mandiscontinued the discourse, he received from the chief a glance, thatwas intended to remind him of the patience, with which he had awaitedhis movements. A profound and motionless silence succeeded the shortinterruption. Then Mahtoree arose, evidently prepared to speak. Firstplacing himself in an attitude of dignity, he turned a steady and severelook on the whole assembly. The expression of his eye, however, changedas it glanced across the different countenances of his supporters andof his opponents. To the former the look, though stern, was notthreatening, while it seemed to tell the latter all the hazards theyincurred, in daring to brave the resentment of one so powerful.

  Still, in the midst of so much hauteur and confidence, the sagacityand cunning of the Teton did not desert him. When he had thrown thegauntlet, as it were, to the whole tribe, and sufficiently assertedhis claim to superiority, his mien became more affable and his eyeless angry. Then it was that he raised his voice, in the midst of adeath-like stillness, varying its tones to suit the changing characterof his images, and of his eloquence.

  "What is a Sioux?" the chief sagaciously began; "he is ruler of theprairies, and master of its beasts. The fishes in the 'river of troubledwaters' know him, and come at his call. He is a fox in counsel; an eaglein sight; a grizzly bear in combat. A Dahcotah is a man!" After waitingfor the low murmur of approbation, which followed this flatteringportrait of his people, to subside, the Teton continued--"What is aPawnee? A thief, who only steals from women; a Red-skin, who is notbrave; a hunter, that begs for his venison. In counsel he is a squirrel,hopping from place to place; he is an owl, that goes on the prairiesat night; in battle he is an elk, whose legs are long. A Pawnee is awoman." Another pause succeeded, during which a yell of delight brokefrom several mouths, and a demand was made, that the taunting wordsshould be translated to the unconscious subject of their bitingcontempt. The old man took his cue from the eyes of Mahtoree, andcomplied. Hard-Heart listened gravely, and then, as if apprized that histime to speak had not arrived, he once more bent his look on thevacant air. The orator watched his countenance, with an expression thatmanifested how inextinguishable was the hatred he felt for the onlychief, far and near, whose fame might advantageously be compared withhis own. Though disappointed in not having touched the pride of onewhom he regarded as a boy, he proceeded, what he considered as far moreimportant, to quicken the tempers of the men of his own tribe, in orderthat they might be prepared to work his savage purposes. "If the earthwas covered with rats, which are good for nothing," he said, "therewould be no room for buffaloes, which give food and clothes to anIndian. If the prairies were covered with Pawnees, there would beno room for the foot of a Dahcotah. A Loup is a rat, a Sioux a heavybuffaloe; let the buffaloes tread upon the rats and make room forthemselves.

  "My brothers, a little child has spoken to you. He tells you, his hairis not grey, but frozen--that the grass will not grow where a Pale-facehas died. Does he know the colour of the blood of a Big-knife? No! Iknow he does not; he has never seen it. What Dahcotah, besides Mahtoree,has ever struck a Pale-face? Not one. But Mahtoree must be silent. EveryTeton will shut his ears when he speaks. The scalps over his lodge weretaken by the women. They were taken by Mahtoree, and he is a woman. Hismouth is shut; he waits for the feasts to sing among the girls!"

  Notwithstanding the exclamations of regret and resentment, whichfollowed so abasing a declaration, the chief took his seat, as ifdetermined to speak no more. But the murmurs grew louder and moregeneral, and there were threatening symptoms that the council woulddissolve itself in confusion; and he arose and resumed his speech, bychanging his manner to the fierce and hurried enunciation of a warriorbent on revenge.

  "Let my young men go look for Tetao!" he cried; "they will find hisscalp drying in Pawnee smoke. Where is the son of Bohrecheena? His bonesare whiter than the faces of his murderers. Is Mahhah asleep in hislodge? You know it is many moons since he started for the blessedprairies; would he were here, that he might say of what colour was thehand that took his scalp!"

  In this strain the artful chief continued for many minutes, callingthose warriors by name, who were known to have met their deaths inbattle with the Pawnees, or in some of those lawless frays which sooften occurred between the Sioux bands and a class of white men, whowere but little removed from them in the qualities of civilisation. Timewas not given to reflect on the merits, or rather the demerits, of mostof the different individuals to whom he alluded, in consequence of therapid manner in which he ran over their names; but so cunningly did hetime his events, and so thrillingly did he make his appeals, aided asthey were by the power of his deep-toned and stirring voice, that eachof them struck an answering chord in the breast of some one of hisauditors.

  It was in the midst of one of his highest flights of eloquence, that aman, so aged as to walk with the greatest difficulty, entered thevery centre of the circle, and took his stand directly in front of thespeaker. An ear of great acuteness might possibly have detected that thetones of the orator faltered a little, as his flashing look first fellon this unexpected object, though the change was so trifling, that none,but such as thoroughly knew the parties, would have suspected it. Thestranger had once been as distinguished for his beauty and proportions,as had been his eagle eye for its irresistible and terrible glance. Buthis skin was now wrinkled, and his features furrowed with so many scars,as to have obtained for him, half a century before, from the French ofthe Canadas, a title which has been borne by so many of the heroes ofFrance, and which had now been adopted into the language of the wildhorde of whom we are writing, as the one most expressive of the deeds oftheir own brave. The murmur of Le Balafre, that ran through the assemblywhen he appeared, announced not only his name and the high estimationof his character, but how extraordinary his visit was considered. Ashe neither spoke nor moved, however, the sensation created by hisappearance soon subsided, and then every eye was again turned uponthe speaker, and every ear once more drunk in the intoxication of hismaddening appeals.

  It would have been easy to have traced the triumph of Mahtoree, in thereflecting countenances of his auditors. It was not long before a lookof ferocity and of revenge was to be seen seated on the grim visages ofmost of the warriors, and each new and crafty allusion to the policy ofextinguishing their enemies, was followed by fresh and less restrainedbursts of approbation. In the height of this success the Teton closedhis speech, by a rapid appeal to the pride and hardihood of his nativeband, and suddenly took his seat.

  In the midst of the murmurs of applause, which succeeded so remarkablean effort of eloquence, a low, feeble and hollow voice was heard risingon the ear, as if it rolled from the inmost cavities of the human chest,and gathered strength and energy as it issued into the air. A solemnstillness followed the sounds, and then the lips of the aged man werefirst seen to move.

  "The day of Le Balafre is near its end," were the first words that weredistinctly audible. "He is like a buffaloe, on whom the hair will growno longer. He will soon be ready to leave his lodge, to go in search ofanother, that is far from the villages of the Siouxes; therefore, whathe has to say concerns not him, but those he leaves behind him. Hiswords are like the fruit on the tree, ripe and fit to be given tochiefs.

  "Many snows have fallen since Le Balafre has been found on the war-path.His blood has been very hot, but it has had time to cool. The Wahcondahgives him dreams of war no longer; he sees that
it is better to live inpeace.

  "My brothers, one foot is turned to the happy hunting-grounds, the otherwill soon follow, and then an old chief will be seen looking for theprints of his father's moccasins, that he may make no mistake, but besure to come before the Master of Life, by the same path, as so manygood Indians have already travelled. But who will follow? Le Balafre hasno son. His oldest has ridden too many Pawnee horses; the bones of theyoungest have been gnawed by Konza dogs! Le Balafre has come to look fora young arm, on which he may lean, and to find a son, that when he isgone his lodge may not be empty. Tachechana, the skipping fawn of theTetons, is too weak, to prop a warrior, who is old. She looks before herand not backwards. Her mind is in the lodge of her husband."

  The enunciation of the veteran warrior had been calm, but distinct, anddecided. His declaration was received in silence; and though several ofthe chiefs, who were in the counsels of Mahtoree, turned their eyes ontheir leader, none presumed to oppose so aged and so venerated a brave,in a resolution that was strictly in conformity to the usages of thenation. The Teton himself was content to await the result with seemingcomposure, though the gleams of ferocity, that played about his eye,occasionally betrayed the nature of those feelings, with which hewitnessed a procedure, that was likely to rob him of that one of all hisintended victims whom he most hated.

  In the mean time Le Balafre moved with a slow and painful step towardsthe captives. He stopped before the person of Hard-Heart, whosefaultless form, unchanging eye, and lofty mien, he contemplated long,with high and evident satisfaction. Then making a gesture of authority,he awaited, until his order had been obeyed, and the youth was releasedfrom the post and his bonds, by the same blow of the knife. When theyoung warrior was led nearer to his dimmed and failing sight, theexamination was renewed, with strictness of scrutiny, and thatadmiration, which physical excellence is so apt to excite in the breastof a savage.

  "It is good," the wary veteran murmured, when he found that all hisskill in the requisites of a brave could detect no blemish; "this is aleaping panther! Does my son speak with the tongue of a Teton?"

  The intelligence, which lighted the eyes of the captive, betrayed howwell he understood the question, but still he was far too haughty tocommunicate his ideas through the medium of a language that belonged toa hostile people. Some of the surrounding warriors explained to the oldchief, that the captive was a Pawnee-Loup.

  "My son opened his eyes on the 'waters of the wolves,'" said Le Balafre,in the language of that nation, "but he will shut them in the bend ofthe 'river with a troubled stream.' He was born a Pawnee, but he willdie a Dahcotah. Look at me. I am a sycamore, that once covered many withmy shadow. The leaves are fallen, and the branches begin to drop. Buta single sucker is springing from my roots; it is a little vine, and itwinds itself about a tree that is green. I have long looked for onefit to grow by my side. Now have I found him. Le Balafre is no longerwithout a son; his name will not be forgotten when he is gone! Men ofthe Tetons, I take this youth into my lodge."

  No one was bold enough to dispute a right, that had so often beenexercised by warriors far inferior to the present speaker, and theadoption was listened to, in grave and respectful silence. Le Balafretook his intended son by the arm, and leading him into the very centreof the circle, he stepped aside with an air of triumph, in orderthat the spectators might approve of his choice. Mahtoree betrayed noevidence of his intentions, but rather seemed to await a moment bettersuited to the crafty policy of his character. The more experiencedand sagacious chiefs distinctly foresaw the utter impossibility of twopartisans so renowned, so hostile, and who had so long been rivals infame, as their prisoner and their native leader, existing amicably inthe same tribe. Still the character of Le Balafre was so imposing, andthe custom to which he had resorted so sacred, that none dared to lifta voice in opposition to the measure. They watched the result withincreasing interest, but with a coldness of demeanour that concealed thenature of their inquietude. From this state of embarrassment, and as itmight readily have proved of disorganisation, the tribe was unexpectedlyrelieved by the decision of the one most interested in the success ofthe aged chief's designs.

  During the whole of the foregoing scene, it would have been difficult tohave traced a single distinct emotion in the lineaments of the captive.He had heard his release proclaimed, with the same indifference as theorder to bind him to the stake. But now, that the moment had arrivedwhen it became necessary to make his election, he spoke in a way toprove that the fortitude, which had bought him so distinguished a name,had in no degree deserted him.

  "My father is very old, but he has not yet looked upon every thing,"said Hard-Heart, in a voice so clear as to be heard by all in presence."He has never seen a buffaloe change to a bat. He will never see aPawnee become a Sioux!"

  There was a suddenness, and yet a calmness in the manner of deliveringthis decision, which assured most of the auditors that it wasunalterable. The heart of Le Balafre, however, was yearning towards theyouth, and the fondness of age was not so readily repulsed. Reprovingthe burst of admiration and triumph, to which the boldness of thedeclaration, and the freshened hopes of revenge had given rise, byturning his gleaming eye around the band, the veteran again addressedhis adopted child, as if his purpose was not to be denied.

  "It is well," he said; "such are the words a brave should use, thatthe warriors may see his heart. The day has been when the voice of LeBalafre was loudest among the lodges of the Konzas. But the root of awhite hair is wisdom. My child will show the Tetons that he is brave, bystriking their enemies. Men of the Dahcotahs, this is my son!"

  The Pawnee hesitated a moment, and then stepping in front of the chief,he took his hard and wrinkled hand, and laid it with reverence on hishead, as if to acknowledge the extent of his obligation. Then recoilinga step, he raised his person to its greatest elevation, and looked uponthe hostile band, by whom he was environed, with an air of loftiness anddisdain, as he spoke aloud, in the language of the Siouxes--

  "Hard-Heart has looked at himself, within and without. He has thoughtof all he has done in the hunts and in the wars. Every where he is thesame. There is no change. He is in all things a Pawnee. He has struckso many Tetons that he could never eat in their lodges. His arrows wouldfly backwards; the point of his lance would be on the wrong end; theirfriends would weep at every whoop he gave; their enemies would laugh. Dothe Tetons know a Loup? Let them look at him again. His head is painted;his arm is flesh; his heart is rock. When the Tetons see the sun comefrom the Rocky Mountains, and move towards the land of the Pale-faces,the mind of Hard-Heart will soften, and his spirit will become Sioux.Until that day, he will live and die a Pawnee."

  A yell of delight, in which admiration and ferocity were strangelymingled, interrupted the speaker, and but too clearly announced thecharacter of his fate. The captive awaited a moment, for the commotionto subside, and then turning again to Le Balafre, he continued, in tonesconciliating and kind, as if he felt the propriety of softening hisrefusal, in a manner not to wound the pride of one who would so gladlybe his benefactor--

  "Let my father lean heavier on the fawn of the Dahcotahs," he said: "sheis weak now, but as her lodge fills with young, she will be stronger.See," he added, directing the eyes of the other to the earnestcountenance of the attentive trapper; "Hard-Heart is not without agrey-head to show him the path to the blessed prairies. If he ever hasanother father, it shall be that just warrior."

  Le Balafre turned away in disappointment from the youth, and approachedthe stranger, who had thus anticipated his design. The examinationbetween these two aged men was long, mutual, and curious. It was noteasy to detect the real character of the trapper, through the mask whichthe hardships of so many years had laid upon his features, especiallywhen aided by his wild and peculiar attire. Some moments elapsed beforethe Teton spoke, and then it was in doubt whether he addressed one likehimself, or some wanderer of that race who, he had heard, were spreadingthemselves, like hungry locusts, throughout the land.


  "The head of my brother is very white," he said; "but the eye of LeBalafre is no longer like the eagle's. Of what colour is his skin?"

  "The Wahcondah made me like these you see waiting for a Dahcotahjudgment; but fair and foul has coloured me darker than the skin of afox. What of that! Though the bark is ragged and riven, the heart of thetree is sound."

  "My brother is a Big-knife! Let him turn his face towards the settingsun, and open his eyes. Does he see the salt lake beyond the mountains?"

  "The time has been, Teton, when few could see the white on the eagle'shead farther than I; but the glare of fourscore and seven winters hasdimmed my eyes, and but little can I boast of sight in my latter days.Does the Sioux think a Pale-face is a god, that he can look throughhills?"

  "Then let my brother look at me. I am nigh him, and he can see that Iam a foolish Red-man. Why cannot his people see every thing, since theycrave all?"

  "I understand you, chief; nor will I gainsay the justice of your words,seeing that they are too much founded in truth. But though born of therace you love so little, my worst enemy, not even a lying Mingo, woulddare to say that I ever laid hands on the goods of another, except suchas were taken in manful warfare; or that I ever coveted more ground thanthe Lord has intended each man to fill."

  "And yet my brother has come among the Red-skins to find a son?"

  The trapper laid a finger on the naked shoulder of Le Balafre, andlooked into his scarred countenance with a wistful and confidentialexpression, as he answered--

  "Ay; but it was only that I might do good to the boy. If you think,Dahcotah, that I adopted the youth in order to prop my age, you doas much injustice to my goodwill, as you seem to know little of themerciless intentions of your own people. I have made him my son, thathe may know that one is left behind him. Peace, Hector, peace! Is thisdecent, pup, when greyheads are counselling together, to break in upontheir discourse with the whinings of a hound! The dog is old, Teton;and though well taught in respect of behaviour, he is getting, likeourselves, I fancy, something forgetful of the fashions of his youth."

  Further discourse, between these veterans, was interrupted by adiscordant yell, which burst at that moment from the lips of the dozenwithered crones, who have already been mentioned as having forcedthemselves into a conspicuous part of the circle. The outcry was excitedby a sudden change in the air of Hard-Heart. When the old men turnedtowards the youth, they saw him standing in the very centre of the ring,with his head erect, his eye fixed on vacancy, one leg advanced and anarm a little raised, as if all his faculties were absorbed in the actof listening. A smile lighted his countenance, for a single moment,and then the whole man sunk again into his former look of dignity andcoldness, suddenly recalled to self-possession. The movement had beenconstrued into contempt, and even the tempers of the chiefs began to beexcited. Unable to restrain their fury, the women broke into the circlein a body, and commenced their attack by loading the captive with themost bitter revilings. They boasted of the various exploits, which theirsons had achieved at the expense of the different tribes of the Pawnees.They undervalued his own reputation, and told him to look at Mahtoree,if he had never yet seen a warrior. They accused him of having beensuckled by a doe, and of having drunk in cowardice with his mother'smilk. In short, they lavished upon their unmoved captive a torrent ofthat vindictive abuse, in which the women of the savages are so wellknown to excel, but which has been too often described to need arepetition here.

  The effect of this outbreaking was inevitable. Le Balafre turned awaydisappointed, and hid himself in the crowd, while the trapper, whosehonest features were working with inward emotion, pressed nigher to hisyoung friend, as those who are linked to the criminal, by ties so strongas to brave the opinions of men, are often seen to stand about the placeof execution to support his dying moments. The excitement soon spreadamong the inferior warriors, though the chiefs still forbore to makethe signal, which committed the victim to their mercy. Mahtoree, whohad awaited such a movement among his fellows, with the wary design ofconcealing his own jealous hatred, soon grew weary of delay, and, by aglance of his eye, encouraged the tormentors to proceed.

  Weucha, who, eager for this sanction, had long stood watching thecountenance of the chief, bounded forward at the signal like ablood-hound loosened from the leash. Forcing his way into the centreof the hags, who were already proceeding from abuse to violence, hereproved their impatience, and bade them wait, until a warrior had begunto torment, and then they should see their victim shed tears like awoman.

  The heartless savage commenced his efforts, by flourishing his tomahawkabout the head of the captive, in such a manner as to give reason tosuppose, that each blow would bury the weapon in the flesh, while itwas so governed as not to touch the skin. To this customary expedientHard-Heart was perfectly insensible. His eye kept the same steady,riveted look on the air, though the glittering axe described, in itsevolutions, a bright circle of light before his countenance. Frustratedin this attempt, the callous Sioux laid the cold edge on the naked headof his victim, and began to describe the different manners, in whicha prisoner might be flayed. The women kept time to his cruelties withtheir taunts, and endeavoured to force some expression of the lingeringsof nature from the insensible features of the Pawnee. But he evidentlyreserved himself for the chiefs, and for those moments of extremeanguish, when the loftiness of his spirit might evince itself in amanner better becoming his high and untarnished reputation.

  The eyes of the trapper, followed every movement of the tomahawk, withthe interest of a real father, until at length, unable to command hisindignation, he exclaimed--

  "My son has forgotten his cunning. This is a low-minded Indian, andone easily hurried into folly. I cannot do the thing myself, for mytraditions forbid a dying warrior to revile his persecutors, but thegifts of a Red-skin are different. Let the Pawnee say the bitter wordsand purchase an easy death. I will answer for his success, provided hespeaks before the grave men set their wisdom to back the folly of thisfool."

  The savage Sioux, who heard his words without comprehending theirmeaning, turned to the speaker and menaced him with death, for histemerity.

  "Ay, work your will," said the unflinching old man; "I am as ready nowas I shall be to-morrow. Though it would be a death that an honest manmight not wish to die. Look at that noble Pawnee, Teton, and see what aRed-skin may become, who fears the Master of Life, and follows hislaws. How many of your people has he sent to the distant prairies?"he continued in a sort of pious fraud, thinking, that while the dangermenaced himself, there could surely be no sin in extolling the merits ofanother; "how many howling Siouxes has he struck, like a warrior in opencombat, while arrows were sailing in the air plentier than flakes offalling snow! Go! will Weucha speak the name of one enemy he has everstruck?"

  "Hard-Heart!" shouted the Sioux, turning in his fury, and aiming adeadly blow at the head of his victim. His arm fell into the hollow ofthe captive's hand. For a single moment the two stood, as if entrancedin that attitude, the one paralysed by so unexpected a resistance, andthe other bending his head, not to meet his death, but in the act ofthe most intense attention. The women screamed with triumph, for theythought the nerves of the captive had at length failed him. The trappertrembled for the honour of his friend; and Hector, as if conscious ofwhat was passing, raised his nose into the air, and uttered a piteoushowl.

  But the Pawnee hesitated, only for that moment. Raising the other hand,like lightning, the tomahawk flashed in the air, and Weucha sunk to hisfeet, brained to the eye. Then cutting a way with the bloody weapon, hedarted through the opening, left by the frightened women, and seemed todescend the declivity at a single bound.

  Had a bolt from Heaven fallen in the midst of the Teton band it wouldnot have occasioned greater consternation, than this act of desperatehardihood. A shrill plaintive cry burst from the lips of all the women,and there was a moment, that even the oldest warriors appeared to havelost their faculties. This stupor endured only for the instant. It wassucceeded by
a yell of revenge, that burst from a hundred throats, whileas many warriors started forward at the cry, bent on the most bloodyretribution. But a powerful and authoritative call from Mahtoreearrested every foot. The chief, in whose countenance disappointmentand rage were struggling with the affected composure of his station,extended an arm towards the river, and the whole mystery was explained.

  Hard-Heart had already crossed half the bottom, which lay between theacclivity and the water. At this precise moment a band of armed andmounted Pawnees turned a swell, and galloped to the margin of thestream, into which the plunge of the fugitive was distinctly heard. Afew minutes sufficed for his vigorous arm to conquer the passage, andthen the shout from the opposite shore told the humbled Tetons the wholeextent of the triumph of their adversaries.