CHAPTER V.
"Groves freshened, as he looked, and flowers Showed bright on rocky bank, And fountains welled beneath the bowers, Where deer and pheasant drank; He saw the glittering streams, he heard The rustling bough and twittering bird."
BRYANT.
The mind of Ohquamehud dwelt upon his meeting with Holden. Sleeping orwaking, the image of the latter pursued him. But it was not alwaysin the shape of the Recluse that the vision appeared. More often itassumed the form of a young man, in the garb of a western hunter, witha rifle in his hand. Then rose up, in connection with him, boundlessforests, through which the deer stole noiselessly, and the screechof the catamount was heard. And then again he hunted, and as heapproached the game he had shot, Holden approached and claimed it ashis; or he was on a war-path, and stumbled against a log, and fell;and as he strove to rise, the log was changed into Holden, whograppled him in a death-struggle--wherever he was, and whithersoeverhe turned his eyes, there was the young man, seeming to be, andyet not to be Holden, and haunting him like a shadow. As theseimaginations possessed themselves more and more of the Indian's mind,he began to fancy himself the victim of some incantation, with whichhe naturally connected the Recluse as the cause; and, finally,by continual brooding on the subject, both his appetite and sleepdeserted him. His moodiness at length attracted the attention ofPeena. Ohquamehud was lying on the floor of her hut, his head restingon his hand, and he had been for some time gazing in the fire. Thesimple noon-day meal had barely been tasted, and that in silence.
"Have the hands of Peena," she said, "forgot how to prepare his food,that the eyes of my brother turn away from it with displeasure?"
"The hands of my sister have not lost their skill, but Ohquamehud isnot hungry."
"Ohquamehud is a warrior, and Peena is but a weak woman, and he willnot be angry," she added, hesitatingly.
The Indian waved his hand, with dignity, as if inviting her toproceed.
"Ohquamehud sees the heart of his sister, and he knows that it loveshim, for he is the brother of Huttamoiden. Why does he cover up hisface from her, and hide his grief? Is she unworthy," she added, layingher hand on his shoulder, and looking affectionately in his face, "tolisten to his voice?"
He turned towards her, and paused before he said--
"The stone in the path of Ohquamehud is very small, and will not hurthis feet."
"Peena, then, will try to remove it. She has strength to move smallstones."
She ceased, and continued looking at him, without adding a word, as ifshe had said enough, and awaited a reply.
"Why should Ohquamehud speak?" he said, at last; "the breath of theLong Beard will blow away his words."
A look of vacancy overspread the face of the squaw, as if she failedto apprehend his meaning.
"My brother's words are dark," she said.
"Has not the powawing of the Long Beard brought back the spiritof Huttamoiden's cub from the happy hunting-grounds, and does not,therefore, the face of Peena turn to him as the sun-flower to thesun?"
"The Great Spirit loves the Long Beard, and the Long Beard loves hisred brethren."
"What! a Yenghese love an Indian? Yes, as a wild-cat loves the deerwhen he sucks his blood, as the water loves the fire it extinguishes.The lips of Peena speak foolishness."
"If Peena feel grateful to the Long Beard, why should that anger herbrother? Could he look into her heart, he would see his face as in aclear stream."
It was not in human nature to withstand the soft voice and pleadinglooks of the woman. The momentary fierceness passed away from thecountenance of the Indian, a milder expression assumed its place, and,in a gentle tone, he said--
"Peena shall hear. She is like a stone which, when spoken to, repeatsnot what is said, and not like a brook that sings an idle song. Mywords shall enter her ears, but they will not descend to her tongue.Listen! the Manitou has troubled my thoughts, and sent a bird to tellme, that the hands of the Long Beard are red with the blood of mybrothers."
"It was a lying bird," she exclaimed vehemently; "it was an owl thathooted untruth from the dark. When lifted the Long Beard a hatchetagainst my tribe?"
"The voice was as the voice of the waterfall," he continued. "It spokeindistinctly, and I understood but half."
"Why should not Ohquamehud talk with the Long Beard? The words of eachshall be sweet to the other, and they will learn to have one heart."
"It is well," said the Indian, "Peena is a wise woman, and Ohquamehudwill speak with the white man."
It needed only the suggestion of the squaw to carry into effect aresolution already more than half adopted.
The Indian rose, and proceeding to the river, which was but a dozenrods distant from the hut, unloosed a canoe, and directing its courseup the stream, was lost, in a few moments, from her view.
The appearance of Ohquamehud indicated no hostility when he presentedhimself before the Recluse, whom he found weaving baskets in frontof his cabin, nor did his visit seem to surprise the latter. For aninstant the Indian looked with disdain upon an employment which hiswild education had taught him was fit only for women; but suppressingthe expression of a sentiment that might have interfered with hispurpose, with a quiet dignity, and, as if in answer to a wave ofHolden's hand, he seated himself on a large stone by his side. Fora time he was silent, as if either out of deference to the superioryears of the other, or because he wished to collect his thoughtsbefore he began the conversation. Finding, however, he could obtainfrom the Solitary no further sign of recognition, he spoke in his ownlanguage.
"My brother has a big heart. He is making gifts for the beautifulwomen of his nation."
"Indian," replied Holden, "think not to deceive me. At this momentthou considerest this an occupation unfit for a man."
"My brother has very long eyes. They can see the woodpecker on therotten tree across the river, but they reach not here," laying hishand upon his breast. "The Holder of the Heavens loves not to seethings alike. He therefore made the leaf of the oak to differ fromthat of the hickory, and the pine from both, and also the white racefrom the red. And, for the same reason, he taught the white man tomake big lodges of wood, and brick and stone, and to swim over thewaters in large canoes with wings: while to the red man he gave theforests and prairies, with the deer, and bear, and buffalo, and causedhim to dwell in very small wigwams made of bark. And so, also, hetaught my white brother to weave beautiful baskets, but denied theskill to my father's son."
The Indian must have supposed he had seriously offended his newacquaintance, to induce him thus elaborately to attempt to averthis suspicions. However that might be, the Solitary resumed theconversation as though he felt no resentment.
"There is wisdom in thy speech. The Great Spirit loves variety, and itis he that maketh men to differ. But there was once a time many moonsago, when thy ancestors builded great houses and dwelt in cities, andsailed over the seas in winged-canoes."
The Indian cast a quick, sharp glance at the Solitary, as if he wishedto read his very soul. For a moment he looked as though he doubted theevidence of his senses. But recovering his composure, he said:
"The thoughts of my brother are very high, and his voice like thesound of a great wind."
"Thou comprehendest me not. Know then, Indian, that innumerable yearsago, there lived far towards the rising sun, twelve tribes, called the'Children of Israel,' whom the Master of Life greatly loved. And theyhad wise and brave Sachems, who led them to battle, and their feetwere red with the blood of their enemies. But they became wicked, andwould not hearken unto the words of the Great Spirit, and He turnedhis face away from them. So their enemies came upon them, anddespoiled them, and drove them from the land. Two of the tribes stilllinger near the rising sun, but ten wandered far away into distantcountries, and they are thy fathers."
The Indian listened with great attention, and upon the other pausing,said:
"Has the Manitou told all these things to my brother?"
"No, Indian; the Great
Spirit speaks not now to his people as he didwhen the world was young. But," he added, as if struck with the follyof continuing a conversation of this character, "the path is long thatled me to this truth, and it would weary thy feet to travel it."
"My brother is wise, and cannot lie, and I am a child. My ears drinkin his words. The legs of my brother are long, and he has been a greattraveller. Was it near the rising sun he learned the language of thered man?"
"Indian, I have never been nearer the rising sun than thou. But tellme the object of thy visit. Why dost thou seek me now, when but a fewdays since thou didst chide the squaw for her willingness to obligeme?"
"The lips of Ohquamehud spoke folly. He did not then know that thisbrother had talked to the Master of Life, who granted to him the lifeof Huttamoiden's child. The blood of Huttamoiden runs in these veins."
The explanation was perfectly natural, and whatever suspicion hadarisen in Holden's mind vanished. It seemed not surprising that theIndian, who also, by uttering his name, had proclaimed himself aPequot, should be willing to form the acquaintance of one who hadproved himself a friend to his tribe, and probably was invested in hisimagination with the qualities of a "great medicine." But, thoughto Holden's high-wrought fancies, the recovery of the boy had seemedmiraculous, and he could not avoid connecting his prayers with it,yet he shrank from directly claiming so great a power as the Indianascribed to him.
"The issues of life and death are with the Great Spirit," he said. "Athis pleasure he breathes into our nostrils, and we live; or he turnsaway his face, and we die. Let not my brother give too much credit toa worm."
The wily Indian, from the other's altered tone and manner, perceivedhis advantage, and was not slow to use it.
"Because my white brother loved his red brethren, he sought them intheir lodges, and there they taught him their language. So when theboy was departing for the happy hunting grounds, my brother rememberedtheir kindness, and held the child by the hand, and would not let himgo."
The face of the Solitary worked with emotion while the other wasspeaking.
"Would that I could explain," he said. "But thou art unable tounderstand. How canst thou know a Christian heart?"
"The heart of Ohquamehud is a man's."
"Aye; but a savage knows not, and despises forgiveness. I was astately pine, whose branches mingled with the clouds, and the birdscame and lodged therein. And a storm arose, and thunders rolled,and the lightning struck it, and its pride and glory tumbled to theground. And it was burnt up, all save this blasted trunk." He utteredthis with a wild frenzy, and as if hardly conscious of the presence ofanother.
"Doth the lightning fall from a clear sky?" said the Indian, aftera pause. "It is long since a black cloud burst over the ancienthunting-grounds of the Pequots."
"Where the streams run toward the setting sun, the thunderbolt struck.Why was it not me instead of those dearer to me than life?"
"A bird hath sung to Ohquamehud that the land is pleasant, and thehunter only extends his hand to find something to savor his broth andto cover his feet."
"It is a land of streams, and mountains, and forests, and the deerand the bear still are plenty. When the Creator made it, he smiledand pronounced it good; and there, as in your fabled hunting-grounds,might men be blessed but for their passions."
"The red man loves his friend, and hates his enemy."
"To hate is a devilish feeling. It comes not from the Good Spirit."
Ohquamehud rose and stood before Holden. It seemed to his bold andferocious temper, that he could not, without cowardice, hear assailedand not vindicate, a principle that had been inculcated upon him fromyouth, and formed a sacred portion of his creed. As he stood up, theblanket fell in graceful folds from his shoulders, around his person,and he stretched out a hand to solicit attention.
"Listen," he said; "the tongue of Ohquamehud is one: it will speak thetruth. Because the Great Spirit loved his children, he made them tolove and to hate, and both are pleasant. The south wind is sweet whenit comes in spring to tell that winter is past and the starved Indianneed no longer shiver over the fire; and sweet are the kisses ofWullogana to Ohquamehud, and dear are the voices of his little oneswhen they meet him from the chase, but sweeter than the sighs of thewind of spring, or the caresses of Wullogana, or the laughter ofhis children, is it to strike an enemy. His flesh is good, for itstrengthens a red heart. The wolf will never become a lamb, and thewolf is the totem of my clan. Ohquamehud has said."
It would be impossible to describe the conflicting emotions of Holdenduring this savage speech. Whatever might have been the wild incidentsof his youth, or whatever his wrongs and sufferings, the time was longpast, and he had supposed all stormy passion subdued, and his heartchastised to resignation and submission. He listened at first withunmixed horror to the Indian's declaration, but as the savage went on,the words became more and more indistinct, till they lost all meaningor were converted into other sounds, and, as in a dream, made thealiment of his thoughts. The whole conversation, and the very languagein which they spoke, contributed to produce this state of mind. Lostto all around, his soul was far away. He saw a cabin beside a mountaintorrent, overshadowed by immense trees. It was summer, and the birdswere singing among the branches. The door of the cabin opened, and ayoung and beautiful white woman stepped out, holding a child by thehand. Suddenly it was night, and the cabin on fire, and he heard theyells of savages, and saw them like so many demons dancing round theflames; then hush, all again was still, and darkness brooded over thespot, lighted only by a flickering brand.
The bosom of Holden heaved convulsively, and his brain reeled.
The Indian watched his changing countenance with an eager look asif he revelled in his agony. Not a hard drawn breath, not a singleexpression escaped his notice. He saw the eyes of the Solitary flash,then settle into a dreamy gaze as if looking into a dim, unfathomabledistance, then shut, as if he tried to exclude some horrid sight.Suddenly, with a shudder, Holden sprang to his feet.
"Accursed Shawnees," he cried; "they have done this deed. But forevery drop of blood they shed a river shall flow. Dog!" and he seizedthe Indian with a strength to which madness lent additional force, anddashed him to the ground, "thou art first delivered into my hand."
He staggered toward the fallen man--stopped--glared at him a momentand with a wild cry rushed into the hut.
The Indian, who had immediately risen from the fall, and stood withfolded arms regarding his motions, slowly gathered up his disorderedblanket about him and stalked towards the canoe. A gleam of ferocityshot over his face as he resumed the paddle, and softly breathing thesingle word "Onontio," pushed from the shore.
The Lost Hunter Page 6