CHAPTER XIV
THE TESTIMONY OF CROW WING
The natures of the white man and the red are so opposed that it wasimpossible from the beginning of our North American history that eithershould really understand the sentiments and desires of the other. In theeyes of the Indian the most stoical and repressive white man was littlebetter than a garrulous old woman. The "Yenghese," as the Indians calledthe English, were less criticised on this point than were the French;but the latter, being an imitative race, more easily adapted themselvesto the manner and life of the red man, and therefore won his confidenceif not his respect.
Crow Wing displayed neither astonishment at finding the two white boyshere, nor pain at the serious accident which had overtaken him. And itwould have been a waste of time to urge him to explain more fully hisbeing in this neighborhood. When he was ready to speak he would do so,and long after Lot Breckenridge was asleep, rolled up in his blanket andwith his feet to the fire which blazed at the opening of the hut, didEnoch wait for the story. Crow Wing waited until he had slowly smokedout the little brass-bowled pipe which he carried with tobacco in apouch at his belt. This pouch of tobacco and another of parched Indiancorn, were all the provisions the ordinary Indian carried when on themarch. The forest must supply his larder from time to time as he hadneed; and if game was scarce the red man went uncomplainingly with emptystomach.
"Harding and Lot found much pelt?" he said, questioningly, waving hishand at the bales of furs in the back of the shelter.
"So-so. We can't complain, Crow Wing. You were trapping, too?"
"Yonder," replied the Indian, pointing to the west. "Crow Wing look attrap; wolves met him; wolves very hungry; make much mad when hungry.Umph!"
"And they attacked you right away?"
"Umph! Me shoot; then club gun. Hit tree first time; break gun; then runsome more. Catch foot and fall; much hurt. That all."
"Are you alone at your camp yonder?"
"Umph!" said the Indian, nodding affirmatively.
"You had better stay here till your foot's well. I reckon that gun canbe repaired, too. Only the stock is broken."
The Indian's eyes gleamed, showing that this statement pleased himvastly. Crow Wing's "fire-tube" was his most precious possession. "Methought no good," he said.
"I know of a man in Bennington who can fix it," declared Enoch. "Haveyou many pelts at your camp?"
On his fingers Crow Wing showed how many beaver skins, otter pelts, wolfhides, and other and less worthy furs, he had obtained. He also statedthat he had three steel wolf traps and two beaver or otter traps whichhe had obtained from a farmer for whom he had worked.
"We can bring 'em all over here. Lot and I will go for them. You can'tget around on that foot much for several weeks. It's bad. You 'tend campand stretch pelts, while Lot and I look out for the traps. Then, when wego home, you take one third of the pelts."
Crow Wing thought of this silently for a moment and then held out hishand with gravity. "Good! Crow Wing go to Bennington with Harding andLot; sell pelts there and get gun fixed. Umph!"
Although Enoch had suggested this scheme upon his own responsibility heknew Lot would agree to it. Really, it was a good thing for all three.Crow Wing's gun was useless, and his lame foot made traveling next toimpossible for a while. But he could keep camp all right and look afterthe pelts. The traps the Indian had would be of much service to thewhite boys and would increase their own gains not a little. So upon thisamicable basis the Indian joined the party and the next day Lot andEnoch, directed by Crow Wing, traveled to the Indian's camp and packedback both the traps and the skins.
The boys learned that Crow Wing's people now resided in New York colony,on the shores of Lake George, and that the young warrior had not beeneast of the Twenty-Mile Line since the raid of Simon Halpen upon theWidow Harding's cabin. By patient questioning Enoch learned that Halpenhad lived for months at a time with the tribe, but that he was not anadopted member of it, and was not altogether trusted by Crow Wing'speople.
"When burn cabin, old chief--my father--be told. Injins friends withBennin'ton men; friends with York men, too. But Hawknose," the Indian'ssobriquet for Simon Halpen, "sent away. He never come back."
"You have hunted with him?" said Enoch, with some eagerness. "You werewith him that day--you know--long ago; the day the Yorkers came up toJames Breckenridge's farm?"
Crow Wing made no reply for some time, gazing with gloomy eyes into thefire. Finally he said, speaking in an oracular manner, yet brokenly ashe always did, for the English tongue was hard to him: "Jonas Hardingnot friend to Injin; Injin not friend to him. You friend to Crow Wing.You fight Crow Wing; fight 'um fair; when foot well we fight once more?Umph!"
Enoch laughed. "I'll wrastle you any time you like, Crow Wing. But youcan beat me running."
The Indian, undisturbed, went on: "You not like father; you not speakInjin like he be slave-man; Injin free!" and he said it proudly, for theredskins looked down upon the negroes because they were the slaves ofthe colonists. "Hawknose no like Jonas Harding; he own your land; he buyit from Great Father of York and he buy it from Injin. All land Injin'sonce," he added, with a cloud upon his face. "Injin come with Hawknoseto measure land; white man bring little thing to measure it; JonasHarding throw Hawknose in creek and more white men beat him. White man,like Injin, feel he squaw when beat. Hawknose mad; tell Injin he killJonas Harding; drive you from land."
"But father was killed by a buck in the forest," said Enoch, carefullyhiding the emotion he felt.
"Umph!" grunted Crow Wing, and would say nothing further at the time.
Lot, although he had been often a companion of the Indian when thelatter lived near his uncle's farm, looked upon him just as he did uponSambo, Breckenridge's slave boy. He had played with him, swam with him,learned to use the bow and arrow under Crow Wing's instruction, and hadgained something of forest lore from the Indian youth; but he had norespect for him, or for his peculiarities. He had not learned at 'SiahBolderwood's knee of the really admirable qualities of these people whomthe whites were pleased to call "savages." Lot made no objection to CrowWing's joining them, for his presence, and the use of his traps, was avery good thing for them. He patronized the Indian, however, and was notabove suggesting that, as the redman was so ignorant, it would notreally be necessary to divide the pelts in even thirds at the end of theseason.
"The trader won't give him but about so much for them, anyway, no matterhow many he offers," he said to Enoch. "You know how it is with them.Injins can't count and the traders fool 'em and cheat 'em. We'd bettertake some of his ourselves and so get some good out of them."
"That isn't honest, Lot!" cried Enoch, hotly.
"Huh! it's honest enough. We won't be cheating the Injin, for they'll dohim no good. And there's no use in the traders makin' so much on him."
"Then we'll go with him and see that the traders treat him honestly,"declared young Harding.
"Zuckers!" exclaimed the careless Lot. "Catch me putting myself out thatway for a redskin."
"You're glad enough to use his traps, Lot!" cried Enoch. And the two oldfriends came very near having a falling out over the matter. Lot simplyfollowed the example of the older settlers whom he knew. It was noparticular sin to cheat an Indian. They were too much like children tolook out for themselves in a bargain, anyway.
But as week followed week, Crow Wing's manner toward Enoch Hardingshowed that he had adopted him, Indian fashion, as "brother." Not thatthe red youth displayed any affection; that was beneath a brave. But heappreciated Enoch's respectful treatment of him. Crow Wing treasuredthis in his mind and, when the spring came, and they packed their balesof furs by canoe and hand-sled to Bennington, and Enoch took pains tomake the traders pay the Indian quite as liberally as they did Lot andhimself for his furs, his gratitude blossomed in its fulness.
Lot went home to see his mother; but Enoch took Crow Wing to the Hardinghouse with him and gave him an old canoe in which the red youth couldmake his way by water and po
rtage to his home on the shores of LakeGeorge. Crow Wing did not go near the house when Enoch met his motherand the younger Hardings after his long absence; but he sat down todinner with them and if he used his fingers oftener than his huntingknife to prepare his food it was not remarked, for forks were not alwaysused by the settlers themselves at that day. His gravity awed theyounger children, while Bryce admired his proportions openly. The Indianyouth was certainly a magnificently built fellow.
Before he went away he sat beside the creek and silently smoked afarewell pipe while his white friend waited for his last words. Enochbelieved Crow Wing had something to tell him regarding Simon Halpen andthat the time for speech had come; but knowing his nature the whiteyouth had not tried to hurry this confidence.
"Hawknose come here once more--what you do?" Crow Wing asked, when thepipe was finished.
"Simon Halpen is my enemy. If you have an enemy what do you do?"returned Enoch, with some emotion.
The Indian nodded. "Hawknose, Jonas Harding's enemy. No deer kill JonasHarding. Hawknose yonder then," and he waved his hand toward thedeer-lick at which the dead settler had been found three years before.
"How does Crow Wing know that?" queried the white boy, eagerly.
"Crow Wing there, too."
"You saw him----" began Enoch, but the Indian cut him short with anemphatic "Umph! No see. Hear shot. Shot kill doe. Jonas Harding killdoe. Gun empty."
"Yes, we found the gun and the dead doe. And there were marks of a bigbuck all about the place and father--was dead."
"Hawknose there," said the Indian, gravely. "Crow Wing see him--running.Pass him--so," with a gesture which led Enoch to believe that therunning Halpen had crossed the Indian's path within a few feet. "He nosee Crow Wing. He run fast--look back over shoulder. And blood--blood onshirt--blood on hands--blood on gun! Go wash 'em in river. Then runmore."
"You saw him running away from the lick?" gasped Enoch. "But there wereno footprints but father's near the place. Only the hoof prints of thebig buck."
"Umph! Crow Wing no see big deer; no hear 'um. But see Hawknose run,"said the Indian significantly.
"But I can't understand how Halpen could have killed him, Crow Wing. Hedid not shoot him, and if he had been near enough to strike father down,why did his moccasins leave no mark?"
The Indian rose gravely. "Some time we see. Crow Wing come back here.Harding go with him to deer-lick. Look, look--find out, mebbe."
"But after three years how can anything be found?" demanded Enoch, indespair.
"Will see," returned Crow Wing, and, without further word, entered thecanoe and pushed out into the river. Nor did he turn about to look atthe white youth once while the canoe was in sight. But he left EnochHarding stirred to his depths by the brief and significant conversation.The youth did not understand how Simon Halpen could have compassed hisfather's death; yet Crow Wing evidently suspected something which he hadnot seen fit to divulge.
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