The Prairie

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  --Methought, I heard a voice. --Shakspeare.

  The water-courses were at their height, and the boat went down the swiftcurrent like a bird. The passage proved prosperous and speedy. In lessthan a third of the time, that would have been necessary for the samejourney by land, it was accomplished by the favour of those rapidrivers. Issuing from one stream into another, as the veins of the humanbody communicate with the larger channels of life, they soon entered thegrand artery of the western waters, and landed safely at the very doorof the father of Inez.

  The joy of Don Augustin, and the embarrassment of the worthy fatherIgnatius, may be imagined. The former wept and returned thanksto Heaven; the latter returned thanks, and did not weep. The mildprovincials were too happy to raise any questions on the character of sojoyful a restoration; and, by a sort of general consent, it soon came tobe an admitted opinion that the bride of Middleton had been kidnappedby a villain, and that she was restored to her friends by human agency.There were, as respects this belief, certainly a few sceptics, but thenthey enjoyed their doubts in private, with that species of sublimatedand solitary gratification that a miser finds in gazing at his growing,but useless, hoards.

  In order to give the worthy priest something to employ his mind,Middleton made him the instrument of uniting Paul and Ellen. The formerconsented to the ceremony, because he found that all his friends laidgreat stress on the matter; but shortly after he led his bride intothe plains of Kentucky, under the pretence of paying certain customaryvisits to sundry members of the family of Hover. While there, he tookoccasion to have the marriage properly solemnised, by a justice of thepeace of his acquaintance, in whose ability to forge the nuptial chainhe had much more faith than in that of all the gownsmen within thepale of Rome. Ellen, who appeared conscious that some extraordinarypreventives might prove necessary to keep one of so erratic a temperas her partner, within the proper matrimonial boundaries, raised noobjections to these double knots, and all parties were content.

  The local importance Middleton had acquired, by his union with thedaughter of so affluent a proprietor as Don Augustin, united to hispersonal merit, attracted the attention of the government. He was soonemployed in various situations of responsibility and confidence, whichboth served to elevate his character in the public estimation, and toafford the means of patronage. The bee-hunter was among the first ofthose to whom he saw fit to extend his favour. It was far from difficultto find situations suited to the abilities of Paul, in the state ofsociety that existed three-and-twenty years ago in those regions. Theefforts of Middleton and Inez, in behalf of her husband, were warmly andsagaciously seconded by Ellen, and they succeeded, in process of time,in working a great and beneficial change in his character. He soonbecame a land-holder, then a prosperous cultivator of the soil, andshortly after a town-officer. By that progressive change in fortune,which in the republic is often seen to be so singularly accompanied bya corresponding improvement in knowledge and self-respect, he went on,from step to step, until his wife enjoyed the maternal delight of seeingher children placed far beyond the danger of returning to that statefrom which both their parents had issued. Paul is actually at thismoment a member of the lower branch of the legislature of the Statewhere he has long resided; and he is even notorious for making speechesthat have a tendency to put that deliberative body in good humour, andwhich, as they are based on great practical knowledge suited to thecondition of the country, possess a merit that is much wanted in manymore subtle and fine-spun theories, that are daily heard in similarassemblies, to issue from the lips of certain instinctive politicians.But all these happy fruits were the results of much care, and of a longperiod of time. Middleton, who fills, with a credit better suited tothe difference in their educations, a seat in a far higher branch oflegislative authority, is the source from which we have derived most ofthe intelligence necessary to compose our legend. In addition to what hehas related of Paul, and of his own continued happiness, he has addeda short narrative of what took place in a subsequent visit to theprairies, with which, as we conceive it a suitable termination to whathas gone before, we shall judge it wise to conclude our labours.

  In the autumn of the year, that succeeded the season, in which thepreceding events occurred, the young man, still in the military service,found himself on the waters of the Missouri, at a point not far remotefrom the Pawnee towns. Released from any immediate calls of duty,and strongly urged to the measure by Paul, who was in his company, hedetermined to take horse, and cross the country to visit the partisan,and to enquire into the fate of his friend the trapper. As his trainwas suited to his functions and rank, the journey was effected, with theprivations and hardships that are the accompaniments of all travellingin a wild, but without any of those dangers and alarms that marked hisformer passage through the same regions. When within a proper distance,he despatched an Indian runner, belonging to a friendly tribe, toannounce the approach of himself and party, continuing his route at adeliberate pace, in order that the intelligence might, as was customary,precede his arrival. To the surprise of the travellers their message wasunanswered. Hour succeeded hour, and mile after mile was passed, withoutbringing either the signs of an honourable reception, or the more simpleassurances of a friendly welcome. At length the cavalcade, at whose headrode Middleton and Paul, descended from the elevated plain, on whichthey had long been journeying, to a luxuriant bottom, that brought themto the level of the village of the Loups. The sun was beginning to fall,and a sheet of golden light was spread over the placid plain, lendingto its even surface those glorious tints and hues, that, the humanimagination is apt to conceive, forms the embellishment of still moreimposing scenes. The verdure of the year yet remained, and herds ofhorses and mules were grazing peacefully in the vast natural pasture,under the keeping of vigilant Pawnee boys. Paul pointed out amongthem, the well-known form of Asinus, sleek, fat, and luxuriating in thefulness of content, as he stood with reclining ears and closed eye-lids,seemingly musing on the exquisite nature of his present indolentenjoyment.

  The route of the party led them at no great distance from one of thosewatchful youths, who was charged with a trust heavy as the principalwealth of his tribe. He heard the trampling of the horses, and casthis eye aside, but instead of manifesting curiosity or alarm, his lookinstantly returned whence it had been withdrawn, to the spot where thevillage was known to stand.

  "There is something remarkable in all this," muttered Middleton, halfoffended at what he conceived to be not only a slight to his rank, butoffensive to himself, personally; "yonder boy has heard of our approach,or he would not fail to notify his tribe; and yet he scarcely deigns tofavour us with a glance. Look to your arms, men; it may be necessary tolet these savages feel our strength."

  "Therein, Captain, I think you're in an error," returned Paul, "ifhonesty is to be met on the prairies at all, you will find it in our oldfriend Hard-Heart; neither is an Indian to be judged of by the rules ofa white. See! we are not altogether slighted, for here comes a party atlast to meet us, though it is a little pitiful as to show and numbers."

  Paul was right in both particulars. A group of horsemen were at lengthseen wheeling round a little copse, and advancing across the plaindirectly towards them. The advance of this party was slow and dignified.As it drew nigh, the partisan of the Loups was seen at its head,followed by a dozen younger warriors of his tribe. They were allunarmed, nor did they even wear any of those ornaments or feathers,which are considered testimonials of respect to the guest an Indianreceives, as well as evidence of his own importance.

  The meeting was friendly, though a little restrained on both sides.Middleton, jealous of his own consideration no less than of theauthority of his government, suspected some undue influence on the partof the agents of the Canadas; and, as he was determined to maintainthe authority of which he was the representative, he felt himselfconstrained to manifest a hauteur, that he was far from feeling. It w
asnot so easy to penetrate the motives of the Pawnees. Calm, dignified,and yet far from repulsive, they set an example of courtesy, blendedwith reserve, that many a diplomatist of the most polished court mighthave strove in vain to imitate.

  In this manner the two parties continued their course to the town.Middleton had time, during the remainder of the ride, to revolve in hismind, all the probable reasons which his ingenuity could suggestfor this strange reception. Although he was accompanied by a regularinterpreter, the chiefs made their salutations in a manner thatdispensed with his services. Twenty times the Captain turned his glanceon his former friend, endeavouring to read the expression of his rigidfeatures. But every effort and all conjectures proved equally futile.The eye of Hard-Heart was fixed, composed, and a little anxious; butas to every other emotion, impenetrable. He neither spoke himself, norseemed willing to invite discourse in his visiters; it was thereforenecessary for Middleton to adopt the patient manners of his companions,and to await the issue for the explanation.

  When they entered the town, its inhabitants were seen collected in anopen space, where they were arranged with the customary deference to ageand rank. The whole formed a large circle, in the centre of which, wereperhaps a dozen of the principal chiefs. Hard-Heart waved his hand as heapproached, and, as the mass of bodies opened, he rode through, followedby his companions. Here they dismounted; and as the beasts were ledapart, the strangers found themselves environed by a thousand, grave,composed, but solicitous faces.

  Middleton gazed about him, in growing concern, for no cry, no song, noshout welcomed him among a people, from whom he had so lately partedwith regret. His uneasiness, not to say apprehensions, was shared by allhis followers. Determination and stern resolution began to assume theplace of anxiety in every eye, as each man silently felt for his arms,and assured himself, that his several weapons were in a state forservice. But there was no answering symptom of hostility on the partof their hosts. Hard-Heart beckoned for Middleton and Paul to follow,leading the way towards the cluster of forms, that occupied the centreof the circle. Here the visiters found a solution of all the movements,which had given them so much reason for apprehension.

  The trapper was placed on a rude seat, which had been made, with studiedcare, to support his frame in an upright and easy attitude. The firstglance of the eye told his former friends, that the old man was atlength called upon to pay the last tribute of nature. His eye wasglazed, and apparently as devoid of sight as of expression. His featureswere a little more sunken and strongly marked than formerly; but there,all change, so far as exterior was concerned, might be said to haveceased. His approaching end was not to be ascribed to any positivedisease, but had been a gradual and mild decay of the physical powers.Life, it is true, still lingered in his system; but it was as if attimes entirely ready to depart, and then it would appear to re-animatethe sinking form, reluctant to give up the possession of a tenement,that had never been corrupted by vice, or undermined by disease. Itwould have been no violent fancy to have imagined, that the spiritfluttered about the placid lips of the old woodsman, reluctant to departfrom a shell, that had so long given it an honest and an honourableshelter.

  His body was placed so as to let the light of the setting sun fall fullupon the solemn features. His head was bare, the long, thin, locks ofgrey fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. His rifle lay upon hisknee, and the other accoutrements of the chase were placed at his side,within reach of his hand. Between his feet lay the figure of a hound,with its head crouching to the earth as if it slumbered; and soperfectly easy and natural was its position, that a second glance wasnecessary to tell Middleton, he saw only the skin of Hector, stuffedby Indian tenderness and ingenuity in a manner to represent the livinganimal. His own dog was playing at a distance, with the child ofTachechana and Mahtoree. The mother herself stood at hand, holding inher arms a second offspring, that might boast of a parentage no lesshonourable, than that which belonged to the son of Hard-Heart. LeBalafre was seated nigh the dying trapper, with every mark about hisperson, that the hour of his own departure was not far distant. The restof those immediately in the centre were aged men, who had apparentlydrawn near, in order to observe the manner, in which a just and fearlesswarrior would depart on the greatest of his journeys.

  The old man was reaping the rewards of a life remarkable for temperanceand activity, in a tranquil and placid death. His vigour in a mannerendured to the very last. Decay, when it did occur, was rapid, butfree from pain. He had hunted with the tribe in the spring, and eventhroughout most of the summer, when his limbs suddenly refused toperform their customary offices. A sympathising weakness took possessionof all his faculties; and the Pawnees believed, that they were going tolose, in this unexpected manner, a sage and counsellor, whom theyhad begun both to love and respect. But as we have already said, theimmortal occupant seemed unwilling to desert its tenement. The lamp oflife flickered without becoming extinguished. On the morning of the day,on which Middleton arrived, there was a general reviving of the powersof the whole man. His tongue was again heard in wholesome maxims, andhis eye from time to time recognised the persons of his friends. Itmerely proved to be a brief and final intercourse with the world on thepart of one, who had already been considered, as to mental communion, tohave taken his leave of it for ever.

  When he had placed his guests in front of the dying man, Hard-Heart,after a pause, that proceeded as much from sorrow as decorum, leaned alittle forward and demanded--

  "Does my father hear the words of his son?"

  "Speak," returned the trapper, in tones that issued from his chest, butwhich were rendered awfully distinct by the stillness that reigned inthe place. "I am about to depart from the village of the Loups, andshortly shall be beyond the reach of your voice."

  "Let the wise chief have no cares for his journey," continued Hard-Heartwith an earnest solicitude, that led him to forget, for the moment,that others were waiting to address his adopted parent; "a hundred Loupsshall clear his path from briars."

  "Pawnee, I die as I have lived, a Christian man," resumed the trapperwith a force of voice that had the same startling effect upon hishearers, as is produced by the trumpet, when its blast rises suddenlyand freely on the air, after its obstructed sounds have been heardstruggling in the distance: "as I came into life so will I leave it.Horses and arms are not needed to stand in the presence of the GreatSpirit of my people. He knows my colour, and according to my gifts willhe judge my deeds."

  "My father will tell my young men, how many Mingoes he has struck, andwhat acts of valour and justice he has done, that they may know how toimitate him."

  "A boastful tongue is not heard in the heaven of a white man," solemnlyreturned the old man. "What I have done, He has seen. His eyes arealways open. That, which has been well done, will He remember; whereinI have been wrong will He not forget to chastise, though He will do thesame in mercy. No, my son; a Pale-face may not sing his own praises, andhope to have them acceptable before his God."

  A little disappointed, the young partisan stepped modestly back, makingway for the recent comers to approach. Middleton took one of the meagrehands of the trapper, and struggling to command his voice, he succeededin announcing his presence. The old man listened like one whose thoughtswere dwelling on a very different subject, but when the other hadsucceeded in making him understand, that he was present, an expressionof joyful recognition passed over his faded features--"I hope you havenot so soon forgotten those, whom you so materially served!" Middletonconcluded. "It would pain me to think my hold on your memory was solight."

  "Little that I have ever seen is forgotten," returned the trapper: "Iam at the close of many weary days, but there is not one among them all,that I could wish to overlook. I remember you with the whole of yourcompany; ay, and your grand'ther, that went before you. I am glad, thatyou have come back upon these plains, for I had need of one, who speaksthe English, since little faith can be put in the traders of theseregions. Will you do a favour to an old and dying man?"
r />   "Name it," said Middleton; "it shall be done."

  "It is a far journey to send such trifles," resumed the old man, whospoke at short intervals, as strength and breath permitted; "a far andweary journey is the same; but kindnesses and friendships are things notto be forgotten. There is a settlement among the Otsego hills--"

  "I know the place," interrupted Middleton, observing that he spoke withincreasing difficulty; "proceed to tell me, what you would have done."

  "Take this rifle, and pouch, and horn, and send them to the person,whose name is graven on the plates of the stock,--a trader cut theletters with his knife,--for it is long, that I have intended to sendhim such a token of my love."

  "It shall be so. Is there more that you could wish?"

  "Little else have I to bestow. My traps I give to my Indian son; forhonestly and kindly has he kept his faith. Let him stand before me."

  Middleton explained to the chief what the trapper had said andrelinquished his own place to the other.

  "Pawnee," continued the old man, always changing his language to suitthe person he addressed, and not unfrequently according to the ideashe expressed, "it is a custom of my people for the father to leave hisblessing with the son, before he shuts his eves for ever. This blessingI give to you; take it, for the prayers of a Christian man will nevermake the path of a just warrior, to the blessed prairies, either longer,or more tangled. May the God of a white man look on your deeds withfriendly eyes, and may you never commit an act, that shall cause Him todarken His face. I know not whether we shall ever meet again. There aremany traditions concerning the place of Good Spirits. It is not for onelike me, old and experienced though I am, to set up my opinions againsta nation's. You believe in the blessed prairies, and I have faith in thesayings of my fathers. If both are true, our parting will be final; butif it should prove, that the same meaning is hid under different words,we shall yet stand together, Pawnee, before the face of your Wahcondah,who will then be no other than my God. There is much to be said infavour of both religions, for each seems suited to its own people, andno doubt it was so intended. I fear, I have not altogether followed thegifts of my colour, inasmuch as I find it a little painful to give upfor ever the use of the rifle, and the comforts of the chase. But thenthe fault has been my own, seeing that it could not have been His. Ay,Hector," he continued, leaning forward a little, and feeling for theears of the hound, "our parting has come at last, dog, and it will bea long hunt. You have been an honest, and a bold, and a faithful hound.Pawnee, you cannot slay the pup on my grave, for where a Christian dogfalls, there he lies for ever; but you can be kind to him, after I amgone, for the love you bear his master."

  "The words of my father are in my ears," returned the young partisan,making a grave and respectful gesture of assent.

  "Do you hear, what the chief has promised, dog?" demanded the trapper,making an effort to attract the notice of the insensible effigy of hishound. Receiving no answering look, nor hearing any friendly whine, theold man felt for the mouth and endeavoured to force his hand betweenthe cold lips. The truth then flashed upon him, although he was far fromperceiving the whole extent of the deception. Falling back in his seat,he hung his head, like one who felt a severe and unexpected shock.Profiting by this momentary forgetfulness, two young Indians removed theskin with the same delicacy of feeling, that had induced them to attemptthe pious fraud.

  "The dog is dead!" muttered the trapper, after a pause of many minutes;"a hound has his time as well as a man and well has he filled his days!Captain," he added, making an effort to wave his hand for Middleton, "Iam glad you have come; for though kind, and well meaning according tothe gifts of their colour, these Indians are not the men, to lay thehead of a white man in his grave. I have been thinking too, of this dogat my feet; it will not do to set forth the opinion, that a Christiancan expect to meet his hound again; still there can be little harm inplacing what is left of so faithful a servant nigh the bones of hismaster."

  "It shall be as you desire."

  "I'm glad, you think with me in this matter. In order then to savelabour, lay the pup at my feet, or for that matter put him, side byside. A hunter need never be ashamed to be found in company with hisdog!"

  "I charge myself with your wish."

  The old man made a long, and apparently a musing pause. At times heraised his eyes wistfully, as if he would again address Middleton, butsome innate feeling appeared always to suppress his words. The other,who observed his hesitation, enquired in a way most likely to encouragehim to proceed, whether there was aught else that he could wish to havedone.

  "I am without kith or kin in the wide world!" the trapper answered:"when I am gone, there will be an end of my race. We have never beenchiefs; but honest and useful in our way, I hope it cannot be denied,we have always proved ourselves. My father lies buried near the sea, andthe bones of his son will whiten on the prairies--"

  "Name the spot, and your remains shall be placed by the side of yourfather," interrupted Middleton.

  "Not so, not so, Captain. Let me sleep, where I have lived, beyond thedin of the settlements! Still I see no need, why the grave of an honestman should be hid, like a Red-skin in his ambushment. I paid a manin the settlements to make and put a graven stone at the head of myfather's resting place. It was of the value of twelve beaver-skins, andcunningly and curiously was it carved! Then it told to all comers thatthe body of such a Christian lay beneath; and it spoke of his mannerof life, of his years, and of his honesty. When we had done with theFrenchers in the old war, I made a journey to the spot, in order to seethat all was rightly performed, and glad I am to say, the workman hadnot forgotten his faith."

  "And such a stone you would have at your grave?"

  "I! no, no, I have no son, but Hard-Heart, and it is little that anIndian knows of White fashions and usages. Besides I am his debtor,already, seeing it is so little I have done, since I have lived in histribe. The rifle might bring the value of such a thing--but then I know,it will give the boy pleasure to hang the piece in his hall, for many isthe deer and the bird that he has seen it destroy. No, no, the gun mustbe sent to him, whose name is graven on the lock!"

  "But there is one, who would gladly prove his affection in the wayyou wish; he, who owes you not only his own deliverance from so manydangers, but who inherits a heavy debt of gratitude from his ancestors.The stone shall be put at the head of your grave."

  The old man extended his emaciated hand, and gave the other a squeeze ofthanks.

  "I thought, you might be willing to do it, but I was backward inasking the favour," he said, "seeing that you are not of my kin. Put noboastful words on the same, but just the name, the age, and the time ofthe death, with something from the holy book; no more no more. My namewill then not be altogether lost on 'arth; I need no more."

  Middleton intimated his assent, and then followed a pause, that was onlybroken by distant and broken sentences from the dying man. He appearednow to have closed his accounts with the world, and to await merely forthe final summons to quit it. Middleton and Hard-Heart placed themselveson the opposite sides of his seat, and watched with melancholysolicitude, the variations of his countenance. For two hours there wasno very sensible alteration. The expression of his faded and time-wornfeatures was that of a calm and dignified repose. From time to time hespoke, uttering some brief sentence in the way of advice, or askingsome simple questions concerning those in whose fortunes he still tooka friendly interest. During the whole of that solemn and anxious periodeach individual of the tribe kept his place, in the most self-restrainedpatience. When the old man spoke, all bent their heads to listen; andwhen his words were uttered, they seemed to ponder on their wisdom andusefulness.

  As the flame drew nigher to the socket, his voice was hushed, and therewere moments, when his attendants doubted whether he still belongedto the living. Middleton, who watched each wavering expression of hisweather-beaten visage, with the interest of a keen observer of humannature, softened by the tenderness of personal regard, fanc
ied he couldread the workings of the old man's soul in the strong lineaments of hiscountenance. Perhaps what the enlightened soldier took for the delusionof mistaken opinion did actually occur, for who has returned from thatunknown world to explain by what forms, and in what manner, he wasintroduced into its awful precincts? Without pretending to explain whatmust ever be a mystery to the quick, we shall simply relate facts asthey occurred.

  The trapper had remained nearly motionless for an hour. His eyes, alone,had occasionally opened and shut. When opened, his gaze seemed fastenedon the clouds, which hung around the western horizon, reflecting thebright colours, and giving form and loveliness to the glorious tintsof an American sunset. The hour--the calm beauty of the season--theoccasion, all conspired to fill the spectators with solemn awe.Suddenly, while musing on the remarkable position, in which he wasplaced, Middleton felt the hand, which he held, grasp his own withincredible power, and the old man, supported on either side by hisfriends, rose upright to his feet. For a moment, he looked about him, asif to invite all in presence to listen (the lingering remnant of humanfrailty), and then, with a fine military elevation of the head, and witha voice, that might be heard in every part of that numerous assembly theword--

  "Here!"

  A movement so entirely unexpected, and the air of grandeur and humility,which were so remarkably united in the mien of the trapper, togetherwith the clear and uncommon force of his utterance, produced a shortperiod of confusion in the faculties of all present. When Middleton andHard-Heart, each of whom had involuntarily extended a hand to supportthe form of the old man, turned to him again, they found, that thesubject of their interest was removed for ever beyond the necessity oftheir care. They mournfully placed the body in its seat, and Le Balafrearose to announce the termination of the scene, to the tribe. The voiceof the old Indian seemed a sort of echo from that invisible world, towhich the meek spirit of the trapper had just departed.

  "A valiant, a just, and a wise warrior has gone on the path, which willlead him to the blessed grounds of his people!" he said. "When the voiceof the Wahcondah called him, he was ready to answer. Go, my children;remember the just chief of the Pale-faces, and clear your own tracksfrom briars."

  The grave was made beneath the shade of some noble oaks. It has beencarefully watched to the present hour by the Pawnees of the Loop, andis often shown to the traveller and the trader as a spot where a justWhiteman sleeps. In due time the stone was placed at its head, with thesimple inscription, which the trapper had himself requested. The onlyliberty, taken by Middleton, was to add--"May no wanton hand everdisturb his remains!"