CHAPTER XXXIV.
Oh, how this tyrant, doubt, torments my breast! My thoughts, like birds, who're frighten'd from their nest, Around the place where all was hush'd before, Flutter, and hardly nestle any more.
OTWAY.
Our story now reverts to the Indians, of whom we have for so long madelittle or no mention. It is in vain for us to attempt to control thecourse of our tale, and to compel it, as it were, to be content withthe artificial banks of a canal, stealing insensibly on, with uniformsmoothness, to its terminus. Whatever we may do, it will assert itsliberty, and wander in its own way, foaming down rocks and ruggedprecipices, like a mountain stream, at one moment, at the next,stagnating into a pool, and afterwards gliding off in erraticwindings, roaming like Ceres, searching through the world for her lostProserpine. Not ours to subject the succession of events to our will,but to narrate them with such poor skill as nature and a defectiveeducation concede, trusting that a homely sincerity, if it cannotwholly supply the place of art, may palliate its want.
Peena, the partridge, or Esther, as she was more commonly called bythe whites, heard, with an exquisite delight, that the little boy;whom she had left on the steps of the house, in New York, and nowdiscovered to be Pownal, was the son of Holden. Nothing could havehappened more calculated to deepen the reverence she had long feltfor the Solitary, and to convince her--though no such argument wasnecessary--that he was a "great medicine," or one peculiarly thefavorite, and under the guardianship, of Superior Powers. Sheherself seemed controlled by the Manito that watched over Holden, andcompelled, even unknown to herself, to guard his interests. For was itnot she who had preserved the child? Was it not she who had placedhim in a situation to become a great and rich man?--for such, to hersimplicity, Pownal seemed to be--was it not she who had brought fatherand son together, and revealed each to the other? As these reflectionsand the like passed through her mind, a shudder of superstitionthrilled her frame, and she turned her attention to the considerationof how she might best fulfill the designs of the Manito. For it willbe remembered, that, although nominally a Christian, she had notwholly cast off the wild notions of her tribe, if it be, indeed,possible for an adult Indian to do so. The maxim of Horace:
"Quo semel est imbuta recens servabit odorem Testa diu,"
is of universal application, nor has it ever greater force than whenreference is had to ideas, connected with the terrors of an unseenworld, and where the mind that entertains them is destitute of theadvantages of education.
Esther, it may readily then be supposed, did not delay after theirarrival, to go to see both Holden and his son. She could not beholdagain, and recognize the child she had preserved, in the young manwho stood before her, without strong feeling, nor could Pownal lookunmoved upon the gentle and timid woman, to whom he was so muchindebted. Esther knew again the string of coral beads she had leftupon the boy's neck, and ascribed it to the whispers of the GreatSpirit, that she had allowed them to remain. She did not return fromher visit to Pownal empty handed. In fact, she was loaded with as manypresents, of such articles as suited her condition and half-civilizedtaste, as she and the boy, Quadaquina, who commonly accompanied her,could carry. It was the mode which naturally suggested itself toPownal, as alike most pleasing to Peena, and most calculated toimpress her mind with a sense of his estimate of her services,especially as there was connected with the gifts a promise, thatduring his life her wants and wishes should all be supplied. Peenanow felt herself the happiest and richest of her tribe, and her heartglowed with devotion towards those who had been the means of investingher with wealth, and the consequence attached to it.
"Hugh!" ejaculated Ohquamehud, in amazement, as the squaw and her sonthrew down upon the floor of the cabin the rich red and blue cloths,and hats, and shoes, and other articles which Pownal had pressedupon them. The exclamation escaped involuntarily, but, with a naturalpoliteness, the Indian asked no questions, but waited till it shouldplease the squaw to furnish an explanation.
The sweet-tempered Peena saw his desire, and turning to the boy, shesaid, in their native language, in which the three always conversedtogether:
"Speak, Quadaquina, that the eyes of thy father's brother may beopened."
The boy, in obedience to the command of his mother, and withoutlooking at the Indian, tersely replied:
"They are the gifts of my white brother with the open hand, the son ofthe Longbeard."
Ohquamehud appeared offended, and he asked, in a sharp tone:
"Is Quadaquina ashamed, when he speaks to a warrior, to look him inthe eyes, and did he learn his manners from the pale faces?"
The boy turned round, and gazed full at the other, and his eyesglistened, yet it was in a low, soft tone he replied:
"Quadaquina is a child, and knows not the customs of warriors, andchildren turn away their eyes from what they do not wish to see."
Ohquamehud's face darkened as he said:
"The arts of the Longbeard have blown a cloud between me and mykindred, so that they cannot see me, and it is time my feet wereturned towards the setting sun."
"It is the fire-water that puts out the eyes of Ohquamehud, and makeshim forget what he owes to the wife of Huttamoiden," exclaimed theboy, with suppressed passion.
"Peace, Quadaquina," said his mother. "Ohquamehud is not now theslave of the fire-water. Go," she added, detecting, with a mother'ssagacity, the tumult in the mind of the high-spirited boy, "and returnnot until thou hast tamed thine anger. Wolves dwell not in the cabinof Peena."
The boy, with downcast eyes, and obedient to his mother, left the hut.
In explanation of this scene we may say, that, unhappily, like mostIndians, Ohquamehud was addicted to the use of spirituous liquors,his indulgence in the fiery gratification being limited only by hisinability at all times to obtain it. Although unable to indulge hisappetite in the cabin of Esther, he occasionally procured strongliquors in the huts of the other Indians, with whom the practiceof taking stimulants was almost universal, and sometimes in suchquantities as utterly to lose his reason. Returned on one of theseoccasions, he demanded rum from Esther, and, upon her refusal to giveit, struck her a blow. This so exasperated the boy, Quadaquina, whowas present, that, with a club, he prostrated the drunken man, which,indeed, in the condition he was in, was not difficult, and would, hadhe not been restrained by Peena, have inflicted a serious injury, ifnot killed him. Ohquamehud never knew that he had been struck, butascribed the violent pain in his head the next day to the fire-water,and the contusion to a fall. Peena, while lamenting the excesses ofher relative, felt little or no resentment towards him; but not sowith the boy. He despised Ohquamehud for the miserable exhibitions ofimbecility he made in his cups, and hated him for the violence to hismother.
"Look," said Peena, pointing to the articles, and desirous to removethe rising discontent from the mind of the Indian, "the heart of theyoung Longbeard (for she had no other name for Pownal in her language)is large. All these he took out of it for Peena."
"Accursed be the gifts of the pale faces!" exclaimed Ohquamehud. "Forsuch rags our fathers sold our hunting-grounds, and gave permissionto the strangers to build walls in the rivers so that the fish cannotswim up."
"Peena sold nothing for these," said the squaw, mildly. "Because theyoung Longbeard loved Peena he gave them all to her."
"Did not Peena preserve his life? But she is right. The white face hasan open hand, and pays more for his life than it is worth."
"The words of my husband's brother are very bitter. What has the boywhom Huttamoiden's arm saved from the flames, done, that blacknessshould gather over the face of Ohquamehud?"
"Quah! Does Peena ask? She is more foolish than the bird, from whichshe takes her name, when it flies into a tree. Is he not the son ofOnontio?"
"Peena never saw Onontio. She has only heard of him as one, who likethe red men, loves scalps. The Longbeard is a man of peace, and lovesthem not. The eyes of Ohquamehud are getting dim."
"The eyes of Ohquamehu
d are two fires, which throw a light upon hispath, and he sees clearly what is before him. It is only blood thatcan wash out from the eyes of a warrior the remembrance of his enemy,and nothing but water has cleansed Ohquamehud's. Thrice have Imeet Onontio, once on the yellow Wabash: again, where the mightyMississippi and Ohio flow into each other's bosoms, and a thirdtime on the plains of the Upper Illinois. Look," he cried suddenly,throwing open his shirt, and exposing his breast, "the bullet ofOnontio made that mark like the track of a swift canoe in the water.It talks very plain and will not let Ohquamehud forget."
"If the Longbeard be Onontio, his son has done my brother no injury."
"The gifts of the pale face have blinded the eyes, and stopped theears of my sister, so that she can neither see nor hear the truth.Who, when he kills the old panther, lets the cubs escape?"
"There is peace between the red man and the white on the banks of theSakimau. The long knives are as plenty as the leaves of the westernforests. Ohquamehud must forget the bullet of Onontio until he findshim on the prairie, or where the streams run towards the setting sun."
"My sister is very wise," said the savage, his whole manner changingfrom the ferocity, which had at first characterized it, to a subduedand even quiet tone. "But," added he, as it were despondingly, "lether not fear for the safety of the Longbeard. Ohquamehud is weakand cannot contend with so great a medicine." He turned away, as ifunwilling to continue the conversation, nor did Peena manifest anydisposition to renew it.
There was, however, something about the Indian, that alarmed thesquaw, as she had never been before, notwithstanding the pacificlanguage, with which he concluded. The time was drawing nigh forOhquamehud's return to the West, and, knowing his brutal temper, shefeared that under the influence of the spirituous liquors he indulgedin to excess, he might attempt to signalize his departure by some actof wrong and revenge, which would bring down destruction on himself,and disastrously affect the fortunes of the tribe. He evidentlycherished a bitter animosity toward Holden, whom he had recognized asa formidable enemy, and although a cool and wary savage when himself,and as capable of appreciating the consequences of an act as clearlyas any one and therefore likely to be deterred from violence, therewas no knowing what he might do, when stimulated by the frenzy thatlurks in the seductive draught. Peena knew the difficulty, withwhich an Indian foregoes revenge, and her apprehensions were the moreexcited by the attachment she felt for the two white men. Fears, vagueand unformed had before floated through her mind, but they now assumedconsistency, and she determined to take such precautions until thedeparture of her kinsman as should prevent harm either to himself orothers. With this view, the moment she was alone with her son, sheseized the opportunity to speak on the subject of her alarm. But,first she thought it necessary to reprove him for his feelings towardshis uncle.
"Whose blood," she inquired, "flows in the veins of Quadaquina?"
"It is the blood of Huttamoiden," answered the boy, erecting his head,and drawing himself up proudly.
"And who gave the bold heart and strong arm to Huttamoiden?"
"It was the mighty Obbatinuua, whose name men say is still mentionedin the song on the great fresh water lakes."
"He had two sons?"
"Huttamoiden and"--He stopped as if unwilling to pronounce the name,and turned with a gesture of contempt from his mother.
Peena supplied the omission. "Ohquamehud," she said. "He is a bravewarrior, and the Shawnees are proud of his exploits."
"He is a dog!" exclaimed the boy, fiercely. "The blood of Obbatinuuahas leaked out of his veins, and the fire-water taken its place."
"He is the kinsman of Quadaquina, and it does not become a child tojudge harshly of any member of his tribe."
"Mother," said the boy, gravely, as if he thought it incumbent onhim to justify his conduct, "listen. The hearts of Obbatinuua and ofHuttamoiden both beat in my bosom. They tell me that the son shouldremember the glory of his father. Quadaquina is very sick when he seesOhquamehud lying on the ground, a slave of the fire-water, with histongue lolling out like a dog's, and he disdains to acknowledge him asof his blood."
Peena was not disposed to blame the boy for his disgust atdrunkenness. It was a feeling she had herself most sedulouslycultivated by every means in her power, pointing out, as occasionoffered, like the Lacedemonians, its exhibitions in its worst forms,and contrasting the wretched drunkard falling, from degradation todegradation, into a dishonored grave, with the sober and vigorous man.She had succeeded in imparting to Quadaquina her own abhorrence of thevice, and was cautious not to weaken the impression.
"Enough," said Peena; "my son will grow up into a brave and good man;but if he despises Ohquamehud for his drunkenness, let him not forgethe is his kinsman. Hearken," she added, earnestly, and drawing theboy nearer, while she lowered her voice; "does Quadaquina know thatOhquamehud hates the Longbeard?"
"Quadaquina's ears and eyes are open," said the boy.
"Ohquamehud's feet will soon chase the setting sun," continued Peena,"but before he starts the fire-water may try to make him do somefoolish thing. Quadaquina must have love enough for his kinsman toprevent the folly."
"Not because Quadaquina loves, but because Ohquamehud is his father'sbrother."
"It is well. Ohquamehud must do the Longbeard no harm, and Quadaquinamust watch them both, and, if need be, warn the Longbeard of thedanger."
The boy, proud of the trust committed to him, promised to obey hismother and be watchful, and from that time commenced a system ofpatient vigilance, of which a white child would scarcely be capable,but which seems to be a part of the nature of an Indian. WheneverOhquamehud left the cabin Quadaquina sought no more to avoid him, butaccompanied him whenever invited, and if not, generally followed, soas not to lose him long out of sight. There was something about thetrust that agreed well with the cunning of the child. It had for him akind of fascination, like that which induces the hunter patiently, dayafter day, to pursue the track of the flying game, looking forward tothe moment of success, when all his toil is to be repaid.
As for Esther, she lost no time in starting off to apprise Holden andPownal of the danger she feared. As the canoe glided along under thestrokes of the paddle, which she knew how to use as well as anyman, she reflected upon the proper manner of communicating herapprehensions; but the more she thought on the subject, the moredifficult it appeared. She could not mention the name of her kinsmanas the person whom she suspected of an evil design. That seemed to hera sort of treason, a violation of the rights of relationship and ofhospitality. He might be innocent. She herself might be to blame forcherishing such suspicions. She knew not what evils the disclosure ofOhquamehud's name connected with the charge might occasion. He mightbe arrested and put in prison, perhaps, executed. The white people,in the opinion of the Indians, had never exercised much forbearancetowards them, and regarded them as an inferior race. The liberty orlife of an Indian was, probably, with them, but of little consequence.Besides, might she not be running some risk herself? But thisreflection weighed but little with the affectionate creature. Whilesuch considerations occurred to the ignorant and timid woman, shewas half tempted to turn back, and trust to the Manito or protectinggenius, who had thus far borne the Solitary triumphantly through allperils, but her fears at last prevailed over these scruples, and sheresolved to give the warning without making allusion to any person.
But Holden, a man naturally of great courage, and familiarized fromhis earliest years with danger, and the means of avoiding it, paid butlittle attention to the obscure hints of Esther. He did not even takethe trouble to inquire to what direction her allusions pointed.From whom, from what, had he to apprehend danger to his life? He hadvoluntarily embraced poverty; there was nothing about him to temptcupidity; he loved all the world, and would hardly, indeed, hesitateto sacrifice, if need were, his life for that of an another. Whatmotive could there be to injure him? He was not in the boundlessforest of the West, roamed by predatory savages, but in a land of law,and order, and r
eligion. Were he, indeed, in those regions which hadwitnessed the fiery trials and perils of his youth, caution would benecessary; but even then, he would have relied with confidence on hisown resources, controlled and directed by a shaping Providence. It wasnot probable that Holden thought at all of Ohquamehud, but if his mindrested for a moment on the Indian, it could not be with an emotion offear. The western pioneers feel their superiority too greatly tobe accessible to such apprehensions, and Holden had been too long ahunter of savages, to dread either their cunning or their force. Hadhe reflected on the subject, he would have seemed to himself to standin pretty much the same relation to a red skin that a grown man doesto a child; or, if the Indian were hostile, as the hunter does to thebears, and wolves, and catamounts, he pursues.
"Peena," said Holden, "I thank thee. It is not in human nature tobe ungrateful for affection, whatever be the color of the skin thatcovers the heart which offers it. But dismiss thy fears, and think ofthem as unsubstantial as the morning mist. And know that at all timesdoubt and fear are in vain. Thou canst not make one hair white andanother black. It is appointed unto all men once to die, but of thetimes and seasons, though fixed by the Master of Life with infalliblewisdom, and by a decree that may not be gainsaid, no man knoweth. Thearrow shot by the hand of Jehovah must reach its mark, though thouseest not its track in the clouds."
Somewhat more effect attended Esther's visit to Pownal, not that,indeed, she felt the same apprehensions for him as for his father, orwas able to inspire him with fears on his own account. Living in thevillage, and with habits so different from those of Holden, he wasvastly less exposed to a danger of the kind she apprehended. Thebullet or the knife of the savage would not be likely to reach himin the streets of Hillsdale. For it is no part of the tactics ofan American Indian to expose his own life. On the contrary, he isconsidered a fool who does so unnecessarily. Stratagem is prized aboveforce, and he is the greatest warrior who, while inflicting an injury,takes care not to expose himself to harm. Esther knew all this, andfor these reasons, perhaps, if with Holden she was vague, with his sonshe was oracular. Consequently, Pownal only laughed at her, when shespoke of himself, as well, indeed, he might, but when she referredto his father, the case was altered. Not that any clear, well-defineddanger presented itself, but as in low, monotonous tones the squawproceeded, darkly hinting at what she would not explain, an oppressionfell upon his spirits as strange as it was painful. We can liken itto nothing with more propriety than to that dim sense of terror anddiscomfort which is sometimes observed in the inferior animals at theapproach of an eclipse or the bursting of a hurricane. Yielding to themysterious monitor, and prompt in action as he was rapid in judgment,Pownal proceeded instantly to seek his father.
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