The Prairie (7 page)

"The tick of the lock is as well known to the knaves, as the blast of a
trumpet to a soldier! lay down the piece—lay down the piece—should the
moon touch the barrel, it could not fail to be seen by the devils, whose
eyes are keener than the blackest snake's! The smallest motion, now,
would be sure to bring an arrow among us."

The bee-hunter so far obeyed as to continue immovable and silent. But
there was still sufficient light to convince his companion, by the
contracted brow and threatening eye of the young man, that a discovery
would not bestow a bloodless victory on the savages. Finding his advice
disregarded, the trapper took his measures accordingly, and awaited the
result with a resignation and calmness that were characteristic of the
individual.

In the mean time, the Siouxes (for the sagacity of the old man was not
deceived in the character of his dangerous neighbours) had terminated
their council, and were again dispersed along the ridge of land as if
they sought some hidden object.

"The imps have heard the hound!" whispered the trapper, "and their ears
are too true to be cheated in the distance. Keep close, lad, keep close;
down with your head to the very earth, like a dog that sleeps."

"Let us rather take to our feet, and trust to manhood," returned his
impatient companion.

He would have proceeded; but feeling a hand laid rudely on his shoulder,
he turned his eyes upward, and beheld the dark and savage countenance of
an Indian gleaming full upon him. Notwithstanding the surprise and the
disadvantage of his attitude, the youth was not disposed to become a
captive so easily. Quicker than the flash of his own gun he sprang upon
his feet, and was throttling his opponent with a power that would soon
have terminated the contest, when he felt the arms of the trapper
thrown round his body, confining his exertions by a strength very little
inferior to his own. Before he had time to reproach his comrade for
this apparent treachery, a dozen Siouxes were around them, and the whole
party were compelled to yield themselves as prisoners.

—With much more dismay,
I view the fight, than those that make the fray.
—Merchant of Venice.

The unfortunate bee-hunter and his companions had become the captives of
a people, who might, without exaggeration, be called the Ishmaelites of
the American deserts. From time immemorial, the hands of the Siouxes had
been turned against their neighbours of the prairies, and even at this
day, when the influence and authority of a civilised government are
beginning to be felt around them, they are considered a treacherous and
dangerous race. At the period of our tale, the case was far worse; few
white men trusting themselves in the remote and unprotected regions
where so false a tribe was known to dwell.

Notwithstanding the peaceable submission of the trapper, he was quite
aware of the character of the band into whose hands he had fallen.
It would have been difficult, however, for the nicest judge to have
determined whether fear, policy, or resignation formed the secret motive
of the old man, in permitting himself to be plundered as he did, without
a murmur. So far from opposing any remonstrance to the rude and violent
manner in which his conquerors performed the customary office, he even
anticipated their cupidity, by tendering to the chiefs such articles
as he thought might prove the most acceptable. On the other hand Paul
Hover, who had been literally a conquered man, manifested the strongest
repugnance to submit to the violent liberties that were taken with
his person and property. He even gave several exceedingly unequivocal
demonstrations of his displeasure during the summary process, and would,
more than once, have broken out in open and desperate resistance, but
for the admonitions and entreaties of the trembling girl, who clung to
his side, in a manner so dependent, as to show the youth, that her hopes
were now placed, no less on his discretion, than on his disposition to
serve her.

The Indians had, however, no sooner deprived the captives of their arms
and ammunition, and stripped them of a few articles of dress of little
use, and perhaps of less value, than they appeared disposed to grant
them a respite. Business of greater moment pressed on their hands,
and required their attention. Another consultation of the chiefs was
convened, and it was apparent, by the earnest and vehement manner of the
few who spoke, that the warriors conceived their success as yet to be
far from complete.

"It will be well," whispered the trapper, who knew enough of the
language he heard to comprehend perfectly the subject of the discussion,
"if the travellers who lie near the willow brake are not awoke out of
their sleep by a visit from these miscreants. They are too cunning to
believe that a woman of the 'pale-faces' is to be found so far from the
settlements, without having a white man's inventions and comforts at
hand."

"If they will carry the tribe of wandering Ishmael to the Rocky
Mountains," said the young bee-hunter, laughing in his vexation with a
sort of bitter merriment, "I may forgive the rascals."

"Paul! Paul!" exclaimed his companion in a tone of reproach, "you forget
all! Think of the dreadful consequences!"

"Ay, it was thinking of what you call consequences, Ellen, that
prevented me from putting the matter, at once, to yonder red-devil, and
making it a real knock-down and drag-out! Old trapper, the sin of this
cowardly business lies on your shoulders! But it is no more than your
daily calling, I reckon, to take men, as well as beasts, in snares."

"I implore you, Paul, to be calm—to be patient."

"Well, since it is your wish, Ellen," returned the youth, endeavouring
to swallow his spleen, "I will make the trial; though, as you ought
to know, it is part of the religion of a Kentuckian to fret himself a
little at a mischance."

"I fear your friends in the other bottom will not escape the eyes of
the imps!" continued the trapper, as coolly as though he had not heard a
syllable of the intervening discourse. "They scent plunder; and it would
be as hard to drive a hound from his game, as to throw the varmints from
its trail."

"Is there nothing to be done?" asked Ellen, in an imploring manner,
which proved the sincerity of her concern.

"It would be an easy matter to call out, in so loud a voice as to make
old Ishmael dream that the wolves were among his flock," Paul replied;
"I can make myself heard a mile in these open fields, and his camp is
but a short quarter from us."

"And get knocked on the head for your pains," returned the trapper.
"No, no; cunning must match cunning, or the hounds will murder the whole
family."

"Murder! no—no murder. Ishmael loves travel so well, there would be no
harm in his having a look at the other sea, but the old fellow is in a
bad condition to take the long journey! I would try a lock myself before
he should be quite murdered."

"His party is strong in number, and well armed; do you think it will
fight?"

"Look here, old trapper: few men love Ishmael Bush and his seven
sledge-hammer sons less than one Paul Hover; but I scorn to slander even
a Tennessee shotgun. There is as much of the true stand-up courage among
them, as there is in any family that was ever raised in Kentuck, itself.
They are a long-sided and a double-jointed breed; and let me tell you,
that he who takes the measure of one of them on the ground, must be a
workman at a hug."

"Hist! The savages have done their talk, and are about to set their
accursed devices in motion. Let us be patient; something may yet offer
in favour of your friends."

"Friends! call none of the race a friend of mine, trapper, if you have
the smallest regard for my affection! What I say in their favour is less
from love than honesty."

"I did not know but the young woman was of the kin," returned the
other, a little drily—"but no offence should be taken, where none was
intended."

The mouth of Paul was again stopped by the hand of Ellen, who took on
herself to reply, in her conciliating tones: "we should be all of a
family, when it is in our power to serve each other. We depend entirely
on your experience, honest old man, to discover the means to apprise our
friends of their danger."

"There will be a real time of it," muttered the bee-hunter, laughing,
"if the boys get at work, in good earnest, with these red skins!"

He was interrupted by a general movement which took place among the
band. The Indians dismounted to a man, giving their horses in charge
to three or four of the party, who were also intrusted with the safe
keeping of the prisoners. They then formed themselves in a circle around
a warrior, who appeared to possess the chief authority; and at a given
signal the whole array moved slowly and cautiously from the centre in
straight and consequently in diverging lines. Most of their dark forms
were soon blended with the brown covering of the prairie; though the
captives, who watched the slightest movement of their enemies with
vigilant eyes, were now and then enabled to discern a human figure,
drawn against the horizon, as some one, more eager than the rest, rose
to his greatest height in order to extend the limits of his view. But
it was not long before even these fugitive glimpses of the moving, and
constantly increasing circle, were lost, and uncertainty and conjecture
were added to apprehension. In this manner passed many anxious and weary
minutes, during the close of which the listeners expected at each moment
to hear the whoop of the assailants and the shrieks of the assailed,
rising together on the stillness of the night. But it would seem, that
the search which was so evidently making, was without a sufficient
object; for at the expiration of half an hour the different individuals
of the band began to return singly, gloomy and sullen, like men who were
disappointed.

"Our time is at hand," observed the trapper, who noted the smallest
incident, or the slightest indication of hostility among the savages:
"we are now to be questioned; and if I know any thing of the policy of
our case, I should say it would be wise to choose one among us to hold
the discourse, in order that our testimony may agree. And furthermore,
if an opinion from one as old and as worthless as a hunter of fourscore,
is to be regarded, I would just venture to say, that man should be the
one most skilled in the natur' of an Indian, and that he should also
know something of their language.—Are you acquainted with the tongue of
the Siouxes, friend?"

"Swarm your own hive," returned the discontented bee-hunter. "You are
good at buzzing, old trapper, if you are good at nothing else."

"'Tis the gift of youth to be rash and heady," the trapper calmly
retorted. "The day has been, boy, when my blood was like your own, too
swift and too hot to run quietly in my veins. But what will it profit to
talk of silly risks and foolish acts at this time of life! A grey head
should cover a brain of reason, and not the tongue of a boaster."

"True, true," whispered Ellen; "and we have other things to attend to
now! Here comes the Indian to put his questions."

The girl, whose apprehensions had quickened her senses, was not
deceived. She was yet speaking when a tall, half naked savage,
approached the spot where they stood, and after examining the whole
party as closely as the dim light permitted, for more than a minute
in perfect stillness, he gave the usual salutation in the harsh and
guttural tones of his own language. The trapper replied as well as he
could, which it seems was sufficiently well to be understood. In order
to escape the imputation of pedantry we shall render the substance, and,
so far as it is possible, the form of the dialogue that succeeded, into
the English tongue.

"Have the pale-faces eaten their own buffaloes, and taken the skins from
all their own beavers," continued the savage, allowing the usual moment
of decorum to elapse, after the words of greeting, before he again
spoke, "that they come to count how many are left among the Pawnees?"

"Some of us are here to buy, and some to sell," returned the trapper;
"but none will follow, if they hear it is not safe to come nigh the
lodge of a Sioux."

"The Siouxes are thieves, and they live among the snow; why do we talk
of a people who are so far, when we are in the country of the Pawnees?"

"If the Pawnees are the owners of this land, then white and red are here
by equal right."

"Have not the pale-faces stolen enough from the red men, that you come
so far to carry a lie? I have said that this is a hunting-ground of my
tribe."

"My right to be here is equal to your own," the trapper rejoined, with
undisturbed coolness; "I do not speak as I might—it is better to be
silent. The Pawnees and the white men are brothers, but a Sioux dare not
show his face in the village of the Loups."

"The Dahcotahs are men!" exclaimed the savage, fiercely; forgetting
in his anger to maintain the character he had assumed, and using the
appellation of which his nation was most proud; "the Dahcotahs have
no fear! Speak; what brings you so far from the villages of the
pale-faces?"

"I have seen the sun rise and set on many councils, and have heard
the words of wise men. Let your chiefs come, and my mouth shall not be
shut."

"I am a great chief!" said the savage, affecting an air of offended
dignity. "Do you take me for an Assiniboine? Weucha is a warrior often
named, and much believed!"

"Am I a fool not to know a burnt-wood Teton?" demanded the trapper, with
a steadiness that did great credit to his nerves. "Go; it is dark, and
you do not see that my head is grey!"

The Indian now appeared convinced that he had adopted too shallow an
artifice to deceive one so practised as the man he addressed, and he was
deliberating what fiction he should next invent, in order to obtain his
real object, when a slight commotion among the band put an end at once
to all his schemes. Casting his eyes behind him, as if fearful of a
speedy interruption, he said, in tones much less pretending than those
he had first resorted to—